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suguwu · 2 months

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MOON EATER I TWO

"But truly, Master Diluc—why am I here?"

"I would wed you," he says, flexing his hands in his lap. "If you are amenable to it."

minors and ageless blogs do not interact.

masterlist

pairing: diluc ragnvindr x f!reader

notes: hopefully this posts bc dividers are giving me trouble but mostly i hope you enjoy!

content: marriage of convenience, politics, some manipulation, pining, jealousy, some blood and gore.

wc: 5k

You take the Ragnvindr name on a mild autumn day.

It’s a simple thing, Diluc thinks. Two signatures side by side, yours jagged like a cliff face, his flowing like a peaceful river current. He watches the ink sink into the paper as Jean clears her throat.

He glances up at his old friend; her eyes—the gentle blue of the early morning sky—soften. He stiffens. Jean has always worn her heart on her sleeve and now, the smile that curves her lips is a dandelion thing, delicate and fleeting. There’s something melancholic to it.

“Congratulations,” she says, quiet but firm. “May the breeze bring its blessings to your union.”

The wind curls in through the window, catching against the marriage certificate, the edges of it fluttering in the sudden puff of air. The breeze swirls through the office, tugging at your simple dress with cheeky fingers, sending your earrings dancing. You laugh, free and delighted, and Diluc’s chest tightens.

(Your little sailboat spun around in the current, small enough that the water churned around it like a storm-struck sea.

“I’ll get it!” Diluc called as he rolled his pant legs up, exposing skin as pale as the moon, dusted with freckles, cinnamon on top of cream. He waded into the river before you could protest. The water was cold, eddying around his legs, and he grunted as he reached for the toy. It drifted away from his grasping fingertips like a crystalfly rising to the sky, just out of reach. He reached out further, stretching as far as he could over the deeper water, where the current grew teeth. He grit his teeth as the boat bobbed along, buffeted on all sides by the rippling water. He stretched further, rising to the tip of his toes, a stubborn ballerina.

“Be careful!” Kaeya called from the shore.

Diluc startled. He tumbled into the deeper water, yelping as it swallowed him in its frostbitten mouth. The current spun around him, sinking its teeth into him, but he sputtered his way to the surface. It tugged at him as he treaded water. Diluc spat his soaked hair out of his mouth as he looked for your boat, but it was long gone.

Kaeya and you met him in the shallows. Diluc stood, grimacing as his clothes suckered to him, still heavy with cold water.

“Are you okay?” Kaeya asked.

“Yeah,” Diluc said. He looked at you. “Sorry about your boat.”

You stared at him for a moment, eyes wide. Then you laughed, loud and echoing, as bright as the sunlight reflecting off the river’s surface. Diluc’s heart fluttered against his ribcage.

“You’re an idiot,” you said, but there was almost something fond in your voice. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Diluc beamed.)

The wind dances around Jean’s office for a moment more. It undulates around you, ruffling the pristine cecilia pinned sweetly into your hair, and your laugh billows out like campfire smoke once more. The breeze plays over Diluc’s neck, tugging at the crimson strands of his hair, making them dance like flames.

Finally, the breeze dies out, but only after it makes the marriage certificate flutter once more.

“Well, well,” Lisa purrs from her place beside Jean, gazing out from beneath the rim of her hat with a bemused expression. “A blessed union indeed.”

“You think so?” you ask, and you’re back to that rosebud smile.

Lisa nods. “Of course, cutie. With that timing? There’s hardly anything else it could be.”

Diluc meets Jean’s wide eyes. He thinks of fish mouthing along the top of a pond, but the expression is quickly gone as Jean gathers herself.

“Well,” you say, glancing over to Diluc, your eyes shining, reflecting his own image back at him. Your ability to be unreadable has plagued Diluc over these last few months; he supposes he shouldn’t be surprised you give nothing away now. “An auspicious start to our union, husband.”

“Yes,” he says, unable to conjure up any other words, too caught on being called husband by you.

Lisa chuckles before reaching out for the certificate. She signs as a witness with a flourish, even though her handwriting is atrocious. Jean takes it next; her signature is looping and beautiful, curling like sweet pea tendrils.

You tilt your head. “Is there anything else needed?” you ask Jean.

“No,” she says, handing off the certificate to the Knight’s clerk that has just appeared at the ring of a bell. “You’re legally married. Congratulations again.”

“Thank you,” you say. “You’ll be at the party, yes?”

Jean nods.

“Wonderful,” you say. “We’ll see you then.”

“Actually,” Jean says, “I was hoping to speak to Sir Diluc for a moment.”

He blinks.

“Of course,” you say, before murmuring a goodbye. You sweep out of the office, brushing past Diluc as you do. He breathes in and the scent of you fills his lungs, with the sweet addition of the cecilia’s pollen. The door closes behind you.

“What is it?” he asks Jean roughly.

“Sir—”

“I’m not a knight anymore.”

She flushes, the apples of her cheeks pinkening like ripening strawberries. The air goes ozone heavy, the breath before a lightning strike. He glances at Lisa; she smiles sweetly despite the static electricity crackling around her. Jean lays a hand on her shoulder.

“Of course,” Jean says to Diluc as the ozone starts to fade away. “My apologies, Master Diluc.”

“What is it?”

She coughs. “I understand that you don’t like the Knights, Master Diluc, but it’s important that they’re present at your wedding celebration.”

He stiffens. “Why?”

“There will be several diplomats attending, including representatives of the Qixing,” she says, looking mournful. “The Knights will need to be present as a protective measure.”

“My staff are—”

“Not Knights of Favonius,” Lisa says. Diluc frowns at her; she flashes her teeth in a lazy smile. “It needs to be the Ordo, not civilians.”

“Won’t the Qixing have their own people?”

“Yes. But the Knights will need to provide an escort anyway.”

Diluc grits his teeth.

“Master Diluc,” Jean says, far too gently. “It is only for a night.”

He bristles. “One night is one too many,” he snaps.

Jean’s face hardens. “This is a matter of national importance. It is not a suggestion, Master Diluc. There will be Knights present as security at your wedding celebration.”

(The blood on his face was still hot.

It dripped down his cheek, but Diluc paid it no mind. He reached out with a shaking hand to his father, his body propped up against the carriage like a broken puppet. The gash on his father’s side was deep enough that Diluc could see the white glint of bone, like teeth in the crimson mouth of the wound.

“Father,” he gasped.

His father grabbed his wrist as he reached for the wound to put pressure on it. “Diluc,” he wheezed, his rich voice breaking over the syllables. “Please.”

Something opened in Diluc’s chest; it poured, and poured, and poured.

He knew what he had to do.)

Leather creaks as he clenches his hand into a fist at his side. Jean’s eyes dart to it, but she stays firm, her lips set into a thin line. In this moment, he realizes she looks every inch the Grand Master, with her head held high and her blue eyes burning like a comet through the sky.

“I’m sorry, Master Diluc,” she says. “We cannot budge on this. And your wife has agreed.”

“Fine,” he snaps. “But only for the celebration, not before or after.”

Lisa opens her mouth, but Jean holds out a staying hand. “Very well,” she acquiesces.

“Is that all?”

“Yes, Master Diluc,” Jean says, her voice soft and a little bit sad. “That’s all.”

He strides from the room without a goodbye. The door clicks shut behind him, the guard outside it coming to attention. Diluc pays no attention to him, heading towards the exit.

He’s almost to it when he realizes there’s no sign of you. He halts, glancing around with a furrowed brow. There’s not even a hint of your scent to guide his way. He closes his eyes for a second, resigned to his fate, but before he can ask the guard if he’s seen where you went—

“My, my,” a velvet voice purrs out. “Lost your new wife already, Master Diluc? Impressive.”

He sighs. He turns around to face Kaeya, meeting his pale lilac eye with a scowl. The other man smiles, an indolent curve of his lips, a fat cat lounging in a golden patch of sunlight.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” Kaeya asks, raising a perfect brow. “I’ve barely said anything.”

“Good. Let’s keep it that way.”

Kaeya laughs. “I’ll keep your wife’s message to myself, then, shall I?”

“Didn’t know you were a delivery boy now.”

Kaeya’s eye crinkles with his smile. “I made an exception for her.”

Diluc takes a deep breath and ignores that. “What’s the message?”

“Oh? I can talk now?”

“Sir Kaeya.”

The knight hums. “She’s at Good Hunter. She says you should join her for lunch. And surely you won’t keep a lady waiting, will you?”

Diluc turns on his heel. Behind him, Kaeya laughs, an airy puff of sound.

“You’re welcome!”

Diluc ignores him and makes his way to Good Hunter. Most of the townspeople leave him be as he strides through town. He takes the long way around, trying to give himself time to shake off the remnants of his conversation with Jean. He comes to Good Hunter from the opposite side, and he catches sight of you from the terrace above the little plaza. You’re chatting with Sara, a small smile on your lips. He pauses to watch you for a moment. The afternoon sun is casting shadows around the plaza, but it haloes you, burnishes you gold.

Sara laughs, barely audible over the hubbub of the plaza. Your smile quirks at the edges, picking up on her joy, and Diluc thinks of how the moon has no light of its own, that it only reflects what it’s given.

As if sensing his gaze, you glance towards him. You wave, elegant and sure, and Diluc nods back to you before he realizes that the two Fatui stationed just beside the terrace are waving back. He grits his teeth. He stalks past them on his way to the stairs; they quail before the scowl he knows is carved into his face.

By the time he reaches you and Sara, though, he’s managed to calm himself. He comes up beside you and tries to ignore the soft heat of you.

“Master Diluc,” Sara says. “We were just discussing some menu possibilities for your reception.”

Diluc raises a brow. “I thought Adelinde was taking care of the preparations?”

“She is,” you say smoothly. “I told her I’d bring some of her notes to Sara when we went into town today.”

“I see.”

“Is that all you need?” Sara asks.

“Actually, I was thinking we would get lunch here. What do you think?” you ask, turning to Diluc with a little smile.

“I had intended to go to the Angel’s Share to check in,” he says.

“Oh,” you say. “Let’s get something to bring there, then.”

Diluc sighs. He wonders briefly if Adelinde had put you up to this—she’s always vexed by how often he forgets to eat while he is working.

“Very well,” he says. “Sara, we’ll have an order to go.”

She nods and takes your order. As she steps away to prepare it, you and Diluc step to the side as well. The two of you are quiet for a few long moments. Diluc tugs on his glove, fixing the way it sits on his wrist, the buttery leather sliding back into place.

“I had hoped to return to the winery by midafternoon,” you say. “Will your work be finished by then?”

“You don’t need to wait for me,” he says. “I can take a horse if you wish to take the carriage.”

You blink slowly, a gentle sweep of your eyelashes. They catch the sunlight, the fan of them casting sweet shadows on the top of your cheeks. “I don’t mind waiting for you.”

“Oh.”

You smile, a slow bloom of your lips. “Besides,” you say, “I should think it would be interesting to see exactly how Master Diluc runs his tavern. I’ve heard you bartend. And that you’re good at it.”

He can feel the tips of his ears start to heat. “I do bartend on occasion.”

“You’ll have to make me a drink sometime.”

“As you wish.”

Sara calls out for you then, her voice a sharp, bright chirp that cuts through all the plaza’s noise. You hum, stepping back to the counter. Diluc follows you quickly, pulling a pouch of mora free from his belt. He reaches around you to hand it to Sara.

“Thank you, Master Diluc,” she says, sounding amused. She starts to count out his change as you whip around to look at him.

“I could have paid,” you say, nose scrunching up the smallest bit.

(“Don’t do that,” you said, nose scrunched up into something crinkled and ugly as you batted Diluc’s hand away.

“Sorry,” he said softly, drooping like a wilting flower. You glanced up at him. Sighed.

“Just sit,” you said. “You can watch.”

“Okay!”

Diluc plopped down beside you. You were pressed shoulder to shoulder; you were a long line of cool skin against the pyro-enhanced heat of him. He leaned into you to better see what you were doing and grinned when you didn’t pull away.)

“I’m aware.”

You examine him for a moment before shaking your head. “Thank you,” you say to him. “I suppose.”

Diluc accepts his change from Sara, leaving a hefty tip, and then hoists the basket of packaged food onto one arm. Tentatively, he offers the other to you; you tuck your hand into the crook of his elbow without hesitation. He catches himself before he makes a sound.

The walk to Angel’s Share is quiet. You return any greetings you receive, but you don’t stop, allowing Diluc to continue leading you. He’s deeply aware of your hand on him; it feels as if you’ve sunk beneath his skin, singed a mark into his bones. You give a little squeeze that makes his breath stutter. He walks a little faster, but you don’t seem to notice, matching his pace unconsciously.

“Morning, sir,” Charles says as the two of you slip inside Angel’s Share. He pauses for a moment as he takes in your presence. “Miss.”

“Good morning, Charles,” Diluc says as he locks the door behind him; he’s long learned that people will try to come in no matter the posted hours. “How is set up going?”

“Business as usual, sir. Is there something I can do for you? Wasn’t expecting you today. Didn’t realize you were in town.”

Diluc clears his throat. “We had an errand to run,” he says. “I thought I’d take a look at the books while I was here. I’ll—we’ll be in the office.”

“‘Course.”

Diluc starts to head towards the office. You follow him after a moment, calling out a quiet goodbye to Charles. The door to the office sticks a bit; as always, Diluc makes a note to get it fixed. You watch him force it open with a little smile on your lips, but you don’t say a word. He watches you take in the small, meticulously organized office before you cross the threshold and settle in one of the chairs before the desk. Somehow, you make it look like a throne.

He sets the basket of food on the desk, careful to avoid the few papers lying on it. “I’ll get some utensils,” he says.

You nod. He stands there for a moment, unsure if he should say anything else, but you’re starting to unpack the basket, carefully moving the papers to the side. He steps out of the room and blows out a quiet breath. It takes him a moment to realize that he’s rubbing at the crook of his elbow, where your hand had rested.

When he comes back to the office, you’re settled in the chair, the basket fully unpacked. You’re pursuing one of the books that had been stacked in the corner, your brow crinkled as you read. You glance up as he steps through the door and smile. It’s that rosebud smile of yours. Something in Diluc aches, deep in his bones.

(Kaeya’s smile was tentative as you tugged him along, your fingers laced together. Diluc frowned at the sight, running up to meet the two of you.

“Where have you been?” he demanded.

“We just went to the sandbearer tree, Luc,” Kaeya said, his violet eye wide.

“You didn’t wait for me!”

“You were taking too long,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “And we’re back now, aren’t we?”

“I guess,” Diluc said, kicking at the dirt of the courtyard. “Did you climb it?”

“Yeah!” Kaeya chirped. “We went really high, too!”

Diluc frowned, his brow thunderous. “I wanted to climb too.”

“Okay,” you said. “Let’s go, then.”

Diluc perked up. “Really?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Great!”

You smiled at him, as sharp and golden as the amber mountains of Liyue, and his heart pounded.)

You tilt your head in question. Diluc shakes himself out of the cobwebs of memory and steps closer.

“Shall we eat?” you ask.

“Yes,” he says, rougher than he means to be. “Let’s.”

You smile, flower petals yet unfolded.

He wonders if he’ll ever see you smile for real again.

—

This is, Diluc decides, worse than any battle with the Abyss has ever been.

Your wedding reception is in full swing, the music rising to the winery’s rafters, carried by the light breeze winding through the open doors. Beyond them, the sunset is pouring across the horizon, dotted with bruised clouds that are limned with orange, a fiery kiss on a painter’s palette. The crowd spills out into the vineyards like wine, pooling together in small groups. Several people are well on their way to drunk, and Diluc watches them with a frown, glad the harvest is already done.

The Knights, of course, are doing nothing. They’re stationed around the vineyard and the winery itself, but most of them are watching the festivities with wistful expressions on their faces. They’d be useless if they were needed. Diluc’s staff, on the other hand, are casually moving through the crowds, light on their feet, their eyes sharp. Someone shifts in the shadows at the top of the stairs; Diluc doesn’t need to look to know it’s Adelinde surveying the winery from above with shrewd jade eyes.

(“Young Master Diluc,” Adelinde said. “Young Master Kaeya.”

Both boys flinched. When they glanced up at her, she was watching with sharp, verdant eyes, the green of them gone to seaglass in the low light, washed out into something softer.

Diluc and Kaeya exchanged a glance. They’d been careful when they sneaked out the balcony door, tired of the never-ending parade of guests, desperate to loosen their starched cuffs. No one was looking their way.

Somehow, Adelinde always knew.

“Hi Adelinde,” Diluc chirped. “We were just getting some air!”

“Right,” Kaeya said, after Diluc jabbed him with an elbow. “It was…stuffy in there…”

Adelinde stared down at them before her stern face softened. “You shouldn’t be out here alone,” she chided.

“Please, Addy?”

She sighed.

“Alright,” she said. “But I’m staying out with you.”

“Okay!”

She melted into the shadows. In time, Diluc forgot she was even there at all.)

Adelinde shifts again, stepping further back in the shadows, her eyes gleaming in the candlelight. Diluc watches, but she moves again, and she’s gone. Even with his discerning eye, if she’s there, he can’t tell.

He refocuses when you touch his hand. It’s a ghost of a thing, a gentle brush of your fingers over the back of his glove, but it scorches through him like a forest fire. He glances at you.

You’re resplendent in the candlelight, your skin aglow and your painted lips curving like the crescent moon. There are cecilias pinned in your hair again, the cream petals dainty as they catch in the breeze, revealing golden stamen tucked between the petals like treasure. He’s sure that if he touched one silken petal, it would bruise under his fingertips.

You wear them like they’re made for you, nature’s finest crown. The breeze ruffles the delicate petals once more, loosening a flower. The bloom threatens to fall, a collapsing ballerina, and Diluc reaches out without thought, pressing it back into place with careful fingers.

“Ah, the sweetness of youth,” someone says, and Diluc jerks back as if burned.

It’s a Liyuen who carries himself with the quiet confidence of someone with influence. He’s older, his hair gone gray as riverstones, but he stands tall. He speaks in Liyuen for a brief moment, the phrase just familiar enough that Diluc can recognize it as a formal greeting.

You smile, your eyes crinkling with it.

“Zhiming,” you say, bowing slightly. “Thank you for coming. I know the journey is long.”

The older man inclines his head. “Not nearly long enough to keep me away from something as important as this.”

You laugh, covering your mouth behind your hand. Your wedding ring flashes in the candlelight. “You’re too kind,” you say. “Diluc, may I introduce Zhiming of the Liyue Qixing? We work together on trade policy.”

Diluc gathers himself at the mention of the Qixing, though he’s very aware that the tips of his ears must be bright red. “A pleasure,” he says, nodding to the older man. “Diluc Ragnvindr. The Dawn Winery is very grateful for our continued partnership with the trading unions.”

The other man eyes him for a moment, his deep brown eyes keen. A hawk’s assessment. Diluc meets his gaze.

“As are we,” Zhiming finally says. “May it continue for many years.”

Diluc nods.

“Are you staying long?” you ask lightly.

“For quite a few days,” he says. “The Knights of Favonius have kindly agreed to provide me an escort around Mondstadt during my stay. Hilichurls have been gathering of late, apparently.”

Diluc can’t help his scoff.

Your smile ripples as Zhiming raises a brow. “Is this news to you?” he asks.

“No,” Diluc says. “My staff works hard to keep the road to the winery clear of them.”

“Not the Knights?”

“The Knights are inefficient at best,” Diluc says. “My staff is much more capable.”

“I see,” Zhiming says thoughtfully. His gaze darts to you for a moment, a lightning strike glance. “How unfortunate.”

“Diluc exaggerates,” you say with a little laugh, resting your hand on Diluc’s forearm. You squeeze and he stiffens. “He simply prefers his staff, since they’re handpicked. Now please, Zhiming, go enjoy yourself. Yumei is here.”

A flush settles onto the older man’s cheeks, darkening them. “Oh. It would be rude to not say hello, wouldn’t it?”

“Very,” you say, a smile curling on your lips. Zhiming dips his head in farewell before disappearing into the crowd.

Your smile shifts as you turn to face Diluc. He finds that you’re once again unreadable, a still, serene pond with murky depths. You lean in close; his heart skips. He can smell the cecilias, can smell the delicate notes of your perfume, the salt of your skin. He catches himself before he sways forward to be even closer.

“What was that about the Knights?” you ask.

“The truth.”

“I understand that you’re upset—”

“You understand nothing.”

You take in a breath. Your eyes gleam in the candlelight, knife-edged. Your mouth tilts, lips thinning into a gash, and Diluc thinks of the way the crab broke beneath your hands all those years ago.

“Your quarrel with the Knights is your own,” you say softly. “I will do nothing to involve myself in it. You may have your opinion of them, and have it freely, but you will never disparage them in front of a foreign guest. Do you understand me?”

Diluc sets his jaw.

“It is hard to have my opinion freely when you constrict it so.”

“Master Diluc—”

“I have a right to speak my mind on the Knights and their poor performance.”

“Do you truly have no thought for their image?”

“If the Knights are so concerned about their image, they should do something about it. Perhaps if they tried being competent—”

“Shut up,” you bite out, and Diluc is so taken aback that he actually does.

You meet his stunned gaze steadily, and suddenly, he is back in the dark of a thick pine forest, the crunch of fresh snow under his boots, the endless, unyielding cold sinking its teeth into his very bones.

He thinks he sees why the Harbinger likes you so much, now. You must remind him of home.

“I would ask that you think of the consequences of saying such a thing,” you say, voice frostbitten, so different from your usual careful tones. “Of what it means to dismiss our country’s protectors in front of a foreign agent.”

That gives Diluc pause. “I—”

“Hadn’t thought that far? Yes, that much is clear to me.”

Someone coughs. Diluc glances up and the grin he sees makes him want to groan. Kaeya tilts his head, his navy hair flowing down his shoulder like the night sky chases the sunset. His smile sharpens into something sly.

“Out of the honeymoon stage so soon? Such a shame,” he says.

Diluc resists the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. “What do you want, Kaeya?”

Kaeya hums. In the candlelight, his lilac eye has darkened to the color of a fresh bruise. It glitters like frost. “Why, nothing from you, Master Diluc.”

Diluc frowns.

Kaeya turns to you. “From the bride, however—a dance?”

He holds out a hand, his long fingers unfurling like petals. He bows too, ever-dramatic; a smile flutters to life on your lips.

“Of course, Sir Kaeya,” you say, placing your hand in his. He curls his fingers around yours delicately and Diluc thinks of trailing ivy, how it swallows everything it touches.

He watches Kaeya lead you through the crowd, artfully spinning you through it, a thread through the needle’s eye. There aren’t many people dancing, but the musicians strike up a tune for the two of you. You murmur something to Kaeya; the man’s smile grows sharp, a fishhook grin. He whirls you away, your skirt flaring like a blossom. The two of you move like silk, rippling and flowing together. You laugh as Kaeya bends you back over his arm.

Diluc looks away.

—

It’s late by the time the reception begins to wind down, the silver moon a lonely mirror hanging high in the velvet sky. Diluc watches from the courtyard as people begin to drift home, laughing their way along the road to Springvale and the city, their joy spiraling to the sky like smoke.

You’re laughing too. He watches as you bid goodbye to a couple in Liyuen clothing, bowing slightly to them as they start down the path. The next group to leave is a group of merry-makers, their cheeks flushed with alcohol and their voices booming. He loses sight of you among them and takes a single step forward before he catches himself.

“I hadn’t thought of you as a worrywart,” Lisa says as she sweeps up beside him. He wrinkles his nose as the scent of the roses she’s wearing woven into her hair reaches him; they’re cloying, the aroma heavy in the air.

“I’m not.”

She laughs. “If you say so.”

He stares out into the vineyard again. The group has moved on, a few laughs coming from them as one of Diluc’s workers corrals them away from the vines and back onto the path. You have apparently had enough, as you’re coming back up to the winery, tugging at your dress to keep the hem off the ground.

(“Maybe we shouldn’t,” Kaeya said as he eyed the path up the mountain. It had churned into a thick, oozing mud with the rain that trapped the three of you inside yesterday. “If we get dirty—”

“It’s just clothing,” you said, already hopping over the worst of the mud.

Diluc hesitated. His father would scold them if they got too dirty. But you glanced back at him, a challenge burning in your gaze, and he scrambled after you.)

“Hi,” you say, a little bit breathless. “Is that everyone?”

“There’s a few more stragglers inside, darling,” Lisa says.

“Including you?” you ask, but you’re smiling.

Lisa’s lips quirk. “Including me. Jean’s helping clean up.”

Diluc frowns. “She doesn’t need to do that—”

“Oh, I know,” Lisa says. “But you know how she gets. I’ll convince her in a few minutes. I just wanted to see Master Diluc carry his bride over the threshold.”

Diluc starts. He glances at Lisa and for the first time, he notices the tipsy flush in her cheeks, the way her bright green eyes are hazy, a morning mist over a lush valley. Her smile is a little bit wicked.

“We hadn’t intended to—”

“Oh?” she says. “But it’s tradition, Master Diluc.”

“We’ve hardly been traditional,” you say wryly. “Stop trying to get a rise out of him, Lisa.”

The mage pouts. “You’re no fun.”

You smile serenely. “So you say.”

“I suppose I’ll go get Jean,” she says, “before she starts washing dishes.”

She sweeps off without another word. The scent of roses lingers behind her, sweetening the air. You sigh. “Sorry,” you tell Diluc.

“Is that something you would want?” he blurts out.

You blink. Light from inside slants golden through the windows; it highlights your eyes, makes them gleam. “Pardon me?”

“Being carried over the threshold,” he says. There’s warmth rising in his cheeks and he can only hope that his blush isn’t as crimson as his hair. “I can do that. If you want it.”

A smile unfurls on your lips. “It’s fine,” you say. “But it was kind of you to offer.”

Diluc nods, tugging at the cuff of his glove.

You tilt your head, that same little smile on your lips, but you don’t say anything. Diluc glances away, taking in the way the crystalflies are fluttering through the vines, glowing softly. They’re flecked through the darkness like stars. When he glances back, you’ve gathered your dress and are making your way towards the doors to the winery. He flexes his hand and casts his gaze back to the vineyard.

“Diluc,” you call. “Are you coming?”

He glances at you. You’re haloed by the light of the winery’s open door; it limns you with gold. Your face is hidden in a broad stroke of shadow, but Diluc thinks he sees the starlight gleam of your smile before you turn to step into the winery.

Diluc does the only thing he can.

He follows.

#genshin x reader #diluc x reader #diluc x you #diluc ragnvindr x reader #diluc ragnvindr x you #bee writes genshin #fic: moon eater

175 notes · View notes

zwhoreo · 10 months

Note

what if Luffy meets Reader's ex? I just read your latest fic (it's so good) and my brain started imagining that scenario but if it was reader’s ex.

I can imagine him pouting and getting touchy with you in the presence of the ex.

loved this request tyy!! had a lot of fun writing this <3

(the previous fic anon is referring to is this one!)

meeting your ex - luffy x gn!reader

angsty fluff

summary in request, Luffy gets upset and protective when he meets someone who hurt you in the past

contains: mentions of a toxic past relationship/*unspecified* relationship trauma

words: 1.5k

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It’s a windy day and you’re someplace familiar. Gold sunset hits the lake, the water is orange and violet, and you’re sitting on a bench and watching children setting model sailboats made from paper or wood out into the tranquil crowd of tiny white sails. You wanted to show Luffy a beautiful place on the archipelago you grew up on, now that the ship has landed back, by pure chance, where you had first met. You were so excited when the islands peaked over the clouds and the crew agreed to stop for a couple days. Luffy is happy when you’re happy, and when there’s an island, and when there’s someplace he can play in shallow water, like there is this evening.

You close your eyes for a moment and go into a sleepy meditation, making sure you know where Luffy is before you let your mind wander, lulled by the world around you.

Luffy is jealous of the children with the little sailboats, he doesn’t quite know why but he thinks it would be so fun to push one out into the lake, something to make up for not being able to dive in himself, or go sailing right now. He thinks the sails are pretty and the little details are so interesting. So he prances over immediately when he sees a man sitting on the stone ledge over the water, about to let go of a little boat with a tiny blue hull, swaying in the water.

The man looks up at Luffy and gives him a quick smile, as Luffy crouches next to him and peers over his shoulder down at his hands.

“I like your boat. Can I touch it?” he asks and the man laughs a little and shrugs, saying sure, so it’s quickly plucked out of the water into Luffy’s arms.

“You can set it out into the lake for me, if you want,” the man says cheerfully, gesturing at their sparkling reflections.

“Really?? Awesome!” Luffy can’t believe his luck, and with his legs hanging over the edge he sets the sailboat down and makes some little splashes so it’ll drift away.

And so they talk for a few minutes, about the island they’re on and how the man grew up here, which makes Luffy excited because now he’s confirmed to himself that everyone from this island might be cool enough to be his friend.

“I like you. You’re fun,” he says happily, after finally telling the man his name and how he’s a pirate.

“Well, I liked meeting you. Heh, I was just dragged here by my girlfriend, she loves it here.” And the man gestures to a dark-haired girl sitting in the sunset nearby.

Seeing this as a perfect invitation, Luffy points at you and says happily, “that’s [name] and we’re dating and we came here together!”

Of which the man looks up and grows icier, which confuses Luffy a little.

“C’mon… let’s go say hi…” he says and takes the man’s hand, wanting to be back with you all of a sudden. That name he heard has ticked something deep in his mind that he can’t place right now.

“Yeah, guess I can.” The man lets Luffy bring him to you.

You open your eyes and think you’re seeing things for a moment. Your heart sinks in your chest when you see him, the man you were with years ago who you wanted to forget, holding Luffy’s hand.

“[Name,]” the man says simply. And you just stare ahead with a lump in your throat.

You murmur his name, you say finally, quietly, “hi.”

“Ooh, are you two friends?” Luffy looks between you curiously, not consciously picking up on anything strange yet, rolling a little on his feet from creeping nerves. And when there’s a silence in the air he makes a little anxious sound, not understanding.

“You’ve got a boyfriend now, huh?” your ex says, slightly patronizingly, a too-familiar voice that makes your skin crawl, “haha, he doesn’t really look like your type.”

Luffy doesn’t know what this means. The man seemed so nice, why isn’t he getting along with you?

“Why’re you here?” you ask coldly, glaring at your ex with a silent I want you to go away.

“[Name!] Why’re you being mean to sailboat guy??” Luffy says finally, getting frustrated with you now that you’ve seemingly ruined the fun he was having with a new friend.

“That’s my ex,” you say to him finally, looking at the ground, looking upset enough to reach Luffy’s heart.

“What? Your old boyfriend?” Luffy stares at your ex and then it clicks. “Oh…”

That’s where he’s heard the name before. There was a night early in your relationship where you had to sit Luffy down, curl up in bed with him, and talk about how you were scared to be with someone again because of the damage in your heart. You seemed so sad and vulnerable then, something Luffy doesn’t ever forget because it hurt him to see you like that. He held you and gave you words of encouragement that he loves you and he’d never, ever do anything like that to you. You cried in his arms, that got to him so badly, he hates seeing you cry. You clung to him, you were in pain.

But it was so hard for Luffy to really understand. This wasn’t concrete to him, he was upset for you but he couldn’t really grasp what relationship trauma meant, he’s been with one person, you, and that was perfect and he couldn't comprehend having a relationship be unhappy like that.

But now it’s more concrete, now that this man is standing in front of him, now that he’s watching you sink into yourself again.

Luffy rushes to your side and takes you into his arms, trying to pull you and force you to lay your head on his shoulder so you don’t have to look at your ex anymore. But Luffy is staring daggers at him, bristling in anger. He makes your ex watch as he kisses your hair and holds your hand and squeezes you around the waist, little gestures of protective affection.

He’s feeling territorial, not letting you leave his arms even though you feel like trying to run away. He wants to show your ex that you’re his and only his and, as your ex looks at him with raised eyebrows, Luffy starts talking and makes things worse.

“Why’d ya hurt [name?] Why’d ya do it??” You can’t see Luffy’s face but flecks of saliva hit your cheek because he’s spitting as he shouts.

Your ex laughs nervously, incredulously. “What do you mean?”

“Please, Luffy… let’s just go…” You’re trying to pull him away but he won’t move.

“You made [name] cry! And nobody does that!!” Luffy yells and you freeze with humiliation as your ex stares at you. You don’t look him in the eye.

“Luffy…” you beg, just wanting it all to stop, “I wanna go home…”

He lifts you up, hands on your thighs to support you as he stalks, cat-like, towards your ex, who raises his hands and laughs again.

“I’m gonna beat you up!” Luffy says, voice cold and harsh as stone.

And your ex says, “hey, relax, I’ve got a girlfriend now. You don’t need to be jealous.” And he’s still smirking which makes Luffy angrier.

“You didn’t ever deserve someone like this. You’re mean. You’re…” Luffy is gripping you so tightly that your skin is going red beneath his fingers, it feels like he’s never going to let go again. “You’re terrible and I hate you!” he shouts.

“LUFFY!” You struggle free so you can pull him by the arms away from the lake, away from the man who stands there in silence with his arms crossed, you squeeze your eyes shut so that will be the last time you ever see him again.

“I don’t like him,” Luffy mutters as he wipes his eyes and holds your hand tightly, walking so close to you that you struggle to stay on the sidewalk.

“Me either.”

The sun is almost fully set now and it’s getting a little cold. With the slightest hint of weather change you’re pulled into a caring embrace as Luffy tries desperately to shield you from anything that might make you uncomfortable or sad right now. His hands run through your hair as you walk in silence, heading back to the ship. He looks down at you, loving and protective eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly.

You manage a smile, leaning in for a gentle kiss.

“It’s over now, right? It’s ok,” you whisper against his cheek, “I’ve got you now, right?”

“Mmgh.” He makes a sound of appreciation as his face rests in your hair. “I love you.”

And it feels so nice to hear that from someone who means it.

#luffy x reader #luffy #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece fanfiction #luffy x y/n #luffy x you #luffy fluff #luffy x reader fluff #luffy x gn!reader #luffy x reader angst #luffy angst #one piece ask blog #one piece fluff

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lawrenceleemagnuson · 11 months

Text

Léon Spilliaert (Belgium 1881-1946) Sailboat at Sunset (1922) watercolour and gouache on paper 49 x 59 cm.

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spacecowboyhotch · 8 months

Text

Boundless Ch 1: The Rigid Hunter

summary: he’s looking for her— hunting her.

pairing: witch hunter!marc spector x witch!reader

contents: enemies to lovers, mentions of murder/torture, marc is a broken asshole, injury, blood mention

gif credit: @perotovar

wc: 2.4k

an: welcome to the boundless universe! i’ve really enjoyed writing this so far, i love the concept. i’d really love to build it together, so if anyone has any questions, thoughts, headcanons swirling around in your brains please feel free to come talk to me about these two! i hope that y’all like this and i’m excited to hear your feelings on it. 🤍

boundless masterlist | moonknight masterlist

Marc remembers the day he found out the legends were true. Say your prayers, lock your doors, and sprinkle your salt because they’re out there. Witches and wizards walk the streets looking for opportunities to spread pain and suffering. They look like us, and talk like us. But they can’t feel like us, love like us, care like us.

He was 10 years old the first time he witnessed the violence that comes with being in his family . He watched with horror as his parents tied up one of his teachers. She spewed nonsense, objects flew, and fires burned. Each hunter chose their weapons and that day he’d watched his parents use daggers he thought were for show.

He was afraid at first. He didn’t want to kill, didn’t want to be violent like her— like his mother. And though eventually he had succumbed to violence, realizing that there was no way to fight it, that it was in his blood, he always vowed that he would be different. Despite his disdain for witches, he has never been ruthless. He has always killed them quickly, painlessly with mercy, never been one to taunt them as they meet their deaths.

Today, almost 20 years later, Marc’s crossbow is slung over his shoulders, one of his hands resting over the dagger on his hip as he slowly makes his way through the forest. He’s hypervigilant and jumpy, eyes roaming the greenery that fades into orange and yellow and red. He’s ready to defend himself at the drop of a hat.

He’s looking for her— hunting her. The full moon is tonight, and witches always flock to their dens, charging their crystals, infusing their spells with the magic of the celestial being. Her den and a handful of others are in these woods, just on the outskirts of a camping resort so as not to draw too much suspicion. Time and time again witches fail with anonymity— he and his family follow the breadcrumbs they leave and pick them off one by one.

He’s looking for her darkness. He’ll know it when he sees it, he’s seen many dens and killed more witches than he can count. They surround themselves with smoke and blood and evil. This one will go down just like all the others, he’s sure. She’ll be just as vile, conniving. Just as eager to beg for her life when he lines the tip of an arrow up with her eyes. Emotionless and self-serving with a heart that bleeds black.

It’s easy to get distracted by the sights around him. He loves autumn, the symbolism of how even as an organism fails and dies, there’s beauty to be found. It gives him the hope that maybe there’s something to be found in him too despite all he’s been through.

There’s something soothing in the sound of leaves crunching beneath the weight of his boots. There’s a waterfall in the distance that feeds into the creek he’s following. Where there’s water, there’s life.

He continues up the stream, noticing the remnants of a paper sailboat coated in wax tangled in some brush on the bank. He bends to pick it up, noticing words sprawled across the side.

Sail under Hecate’s moon.

The words heighten his senses— she’s close, within walking distance of the area. And while that can mean a wide variety of things, Marc is prepared for the worst, to walk miles and miles if he has to. Standing quickly his eyes scan the area, wary of her. There is no one to be found, not an inkling of life in his sights so he carries on.

He nearly makes it to the waterfall when across the creek he hears the rustle of leaves and his heart lurches in his chest. No matter how many times he faces a witch, there’s always the unpredictable— they could have anything up their sleeves. Thousands of spells and enchantments and potions, each one more horrible than the next. His hands slick with sweat reach back, drawing his crossbow to line up with his sight.

Deer.

Two of them make their way to the bank, bending to drink, paying him no mind. His heartbeat slows and shakes his head, letting out a silent sigh of relief as he lowers the bow.

Marc’s eyes return to the waterfall that’s a short distance in front of him. He could simply go around, and walk a short distance so that he could get to the top of it at a steady incline. But that would be too easy for him. He was taught to never take the easy way, that anything that holds weight in this life is a challenge. It must be difficult for it to mean anything in his mother’s eyes. He still doesn’t quite understand why after all this time, her opinions have a hold on him. He bats the thoughts of her away as he eyes the rocks to the left of the waterfall’s mouth.

They are damp sure, but not completely slick and unclimbable. The summit of the waterfall is much higher than it looked far away, but he thinks nothing of it as he steps forward and begins to climb. The hood of his cape falls as he puts one hand above another, exposing his dark curls.

A bush behind him rattles and he glances over his shoulder, eyes going wide as he realizes how vulnerable he is right now. There’s nothing he could do if he were to face her now, this high up is too far of a jump to do it safely. The best course of action is to finish the climb, it’ll grant him a better vantage point to get his bearings and height is always an advantage in combat. But when Marc turns around, looking up to his goal, there’s a crow— the largest crow he’s ever seen in his life, cawing loudly in his face. He’s startled, losing his grip on the rocks, feet slipping as they try to find purchase and he falls, grunting as he hears his flesh and bone tearing and cracking before he goes unconscious.

When Marc wakes sometime later, he hurts all over. There’s a splitting ache in his head, and a pain much sharper and dangerous sitting in his leg. He can handle pain, he’s been trained his whole life, day in and day out to handle much more than a slip in some gnarly wood. He blinks up to the trees, taking shallow breaths. If he can just lay here and gather his strength he should be able to get up.

What would his mother say if she could see him? All the things she said all his life, he imagines. Baseless shouts of this is not his calling, that he was meant to weld or harvest or research. That his attempts at living for Randall are in vain. Like he wasn’t bred for this. Like the mistakes he made has tainted his blood, taking away his right to hunt.

He tries to sit up and pain screams in his side. Had he broken some ribs? He lays back again, trying to get enough air to his brain so he doesn’t pass out again. His attempts are futile and soon, he drifts out again.

Somewhere in his mind, he can hear the graceful patter of feet near him. He feels when he is picked up by something as large as it is fluffy. A wolf maybe, taking him back to her cubs for a meal. He wonders if it would be such a bad way to go if it meant he’d never see his mother again.

A little while later his surroundings change. He’s somewhere soft and warm. Everything inside him is on edge. His instincts tell him that he’s unsafe, that he must get up and go, but his body is in no state to do so. He can’t even open his eyes, can’t speak a word, let alone take any steps.

Something—someone guides his head up, tipping a cup to his mouth. “Drink this,” A soft voice says to him gently.

He wants to resist but he’s weak to this person’s will. Whoever it is pours a steady stream of the liquid down his throat. It’s thick, warm, and tastes like black currants, mint and citrus. His body goes a little numb, relaxing further into the bed he’s laid in.

His pain waxes and wanes even as he sleeps. Though he isn't conscious, sometimes can feel the way his body cries and aches. He can feel the heat of healing, feel his muscles and bones scraping against each other as they slowly move back into place. He’s grateful for the braviety, happy to sink into a deeper place of unconsciousness, to run from the discomfort.

Marc wakes gradually. He first wiggles his toes, feeling the numbness in his right leg. He taps his fingers softly, enjoying the fullness of whatever bed he lies in. He tries to stretch his neck but he’s quite stiff and decides to just open his eyes. To do the inevitable and face his reality. When his eyes open, he frowns at the sight of paper boats hanging from the ceiling.

Paper boats, covered in wax, sailing under Hecate’s moon.

Marc knows right away where he is. He’s too warm. He can smell moss. The room glows from the outside in, candles lit but somehow he still feels the darkness. Maybe it is the deep dark reds and purples of her linens and furniture. Maybe it’s the white wolf that sits near the fireplace, eyes as dark as the night sky as it watches him. Or maybe the sense of dread as he takes in his surroundings, as he realizes he’s been made. He tenses, turning his head until his eyes meet hers.

Marc’s mouth drops open, going dry. She’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen— her soft mouth raised in a smile, her eyes clever. There are no words, just sensations that contradict each other. He feels wonky like his body can’t decide if he wants to stay or go. His brain tells him that he should fight, that he should leave. His heart pounds loudly in his chest as adrenaline builds. But in the pit of his stomach, there is nothing but ease as he looks into her eyes. All of this leaves him utterly confused and then some.

When he continues to stare at her quietly, she says, “You’re awake.”

He’s in the witch’s den and here she is, smiling down at him because she’s got him in her grasp. He’s not sure why she hasn’t killed him yet. He should be more afraid. He should kill her.

Where’s his weapon?

“Don’t. I don’t want to hurt you. Or paralyze you, drug you— maim you. Especially after fixing you up, I’d be destroying all my work,” She muses playfully, looking down into her book.

Marc’s eyes go wide with shock. Is she being funny?

“You know who I am,” He states, ignoring the way his heart starts to beat more quickly.

She nods, looking up from the pages, “The sigil on the crossbow made it pretty obvious.”

“You saved me anyway.”

“The wolves would’ve eaten you alive.”

“That would’ve been better than being taken hostage and killed by a witch.”

“You aren’t taken hostage— I’ve nursed you back to health. If I wanted you dead I wouldn’t waste my energy. I would’ve watched them feast,” She says matter of factly.

“Spoken like a true witch,” Marc scoffs.

She narrows her eyes at him, “You know nothing about me.”

“I know everything about you. My whole life is about you. Your kind,” He corrects.

“News flash Spector, I’m just as human as you are.”

“You might look human but our hearts don’t beat the same. You’re a monster, it’s in your blood.”

His words punch her in the gut. She knows that witch hunters are cruel, she’s been taught that all her life. Spell writing, potion brewing, ingredient harvesting, and the all-important learning to murder witch hunters in any and every fashion. There are many rules to be followed in witchcraft— regardless of one’s craft or coven but the most important of them?

If you see one, there should be one less in the world.

She knows they’re raised to hate her as much as she’s raised to hate them. But the hate never stuck. It was drowned in curiosity, in a yearning for peace and understanding. Because how dare she want to live a life that is fruitful and soft. How dare she see the humanity in them. She blows out a breath, eyes raising to the ceiling as she tries to keep her tears in. Even as her heart aches, it roars, begging to retaliate. Begging to lash out and hurt him. She ignores that urge like she always does, wiping at her eyes.

He sees the way her tears twinkle in the soft candlelight— she truly is beautiful. He quickly bats the thought away again. Beauty can only run so deep in her, she is a witch after all. It stops at the surface, he knows that. But, he feels bad for making her cry. She’s a witch, the bloodsucker of the human race. He shouldn’t care if she lives or dies, let alone if she cries. But before he can think better of it, an apology sits on his tongue. He doesn’t get the chance to say it.

“You’d prefer to be alone,” She sets down her grimoire and stands, reaching for a cloak that’s hung on the wall. “I’ll go to look for matching wood to repair your crossbow, part of it broke during your fall. Don’t try anything stupid, your leg is still setting.”

The white wolf that hasn’t taken its eyes off of him makes growls under its breath and Marc glares.

“Neither of us is going to hurt you. She simply wants you to be kinder to me. How a wolf knows that and you don’t….” She clicks her tongue in scolding, turning to look at the wolf, “Come along, Nimbus.”

He watches them leave, letting out a deep breath when he’s finally alone. He’s still confused. He doesn't understand her.

Kinder to her? She must not understand their dynamic— she must be out of her mind. That much is clear since she’d brought him back to her den to help him instead of killing him. Could he really trust that? A witch so unstable? She could’ve brought him here to nurse him back to health for a challenge, all to kill him again. That makes more sense, that aligns with all of his previous experiences. There must be ulterior motives for why she’s brought him here. He won’t fall into this trap.

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boundless taglist: @campingwiththecharmings, @grogusmum, @ninebluehearts, @mdnigts

#marc spector x reader #marc spector x witch!reader #marc spector x fem!reader #witch hunter!marc spector x witch!reader #witch hunter!marc spector #moonknight fanfiction #marc spector fanfiction #boundless #not sfw #arson writes

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arsvitaest · 9 months

Text

André Brasilier, Voiliers (Sailboats), ca. 1973, watercolor on paper

#André Brasilier

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arlana-likes-to-write · 1 year

Text

Second Chance - Chapter 1

Master list

Warning: mention of a car accident/coma, mention of having cancer and treatment not working anymore.

Word Count: 3.3 k

You stepped out of the taxi after paying the man and giving him a generous tip. He was nice. You learned that being a taxi driver was his second form of income, he was helping his daughter pay through medical school. So you didn’t feel bad slipping him an extra $50. You stood on the sidewalk of New York City, fixing your beanie that rested on your head. It wasn’t cold but people always gave you weird looks when they saw your bald head. You stared at the Avengers Tower. Letting out a shaky breath, you ventured inside. You didn’t want to be here but it was your last resort. You much rather be on your sailboat, miles away from any land mass but life had other plans for you. Those plans included talking to a man who was your biological father. You pushed open the door and stepped into the excited lobby.

People walked around with a purpose. Arms filled with papers and briefcases and even small Stark Inventions. You were ignored by some and offered a small smile but others as you walked over to the receptionist. According to her nameplate, her name was Rebecca and she was talking to a man that wasn’t thrilled at what he was being told. Soon he stormed off mimicking a child throwing a tantrum. As you stepped forward, her phone rang. She gave you a kind smile and answered, “Stark Industries, how can I help you?”

“Take your time,” you whispered and zoned out to the conversation she was having on the phone. You looked at the stuff she had on her desk. It was filled with family photos, and a few figurines but what caught your eyes was a picture of Rebecca on a research boat, holding a measuring tape to get the length of a black tip reef shark. You loved ocean conversation. You double majored; in marine biology and mechanical engineering in college then got your doctorate in marine biology.

“Hi,” you looked back at Rebecca. She was exhausted. “How can I help you?”

“Hi, Rebecca,” you said, putting your arms on the counter. “I’m looking to speak with Tony Stark,” you suppressed a groan. “I’m guessing you get a lot.”

“Do you have an appointment?” You winced.

“So no but I tried. I called and I was told he wasn’t available till 6 months from now,” you didn’t have the heart to tell her that in 6 months you’d probably be dead. “And I can’t wait that long. It’s really important.” She gave you a look that screamed, ‘I hear that all the time.’

“Look, the best I can do is schedule an appointment in two months.” It was better but you needed to see him today. Your eyes went back to the picture of her on the research boat. You recognized someone else in the photo, Captain Henry Mills. You were close to him. He allowed you to shadow him when no one else would because of your age. It was a cheap card to play but you were desperate.

“Is that you with Captain Mills aboard the Auro?” You asked, pointing to the picture. She seemed surprised.

“How-how do you know him?” She questioned. You smiled.

“I got to join him for a trip when he was researching mating patterns of black tip sharks on how global warming is affecting them,” you explained. “What were you doing with him?”

“I was helping him track sharks off the coast of Florida,” she said. “I won a contest that paid for the entire trip.” She blushed.

“Are you interested in marine biology?” You asked. She nodded.

“I take night classes,” Impressive. Now that you looked at her she didn’t seem that much older than you.

“Look, I’m not normally this type of person but I know Henry well. He took a chance on me when no one else would. If you call Tony and tell him that someone that knew Jessica Stone is here to see him then I will get you back on that boat with him,” she looked conflicted. It was a little unethical to put her in this position but you were desperate. She sighed.

“I can call him but I can’t promise he’ll see you.” You smiled, it was better than nothing.

“Thank you! Thank you! You are beautiful.” She smiled, picking up her phone.

“Hello, Mr. Stark. I-” Pause. “I know you are busy but I have someone here that wishes to speak with you,” you rolled your eyes. “She said she knows Jessica Easton.” Another pause. “Jessica Easton,” Rebecca repeated. “Will do, sir. Yes sir.” She hung up. “He said to take the elevator to the main floor and he’ll meet you there once he finishes in his lap.” Your stomach dropped. You did it. You managed to see him.

“Thank you!” You said, snapping out of your shock. You must have looked like a fish out of water. “Thank you! I promise you I’ll get back on the Aurora.” She laughed, blushing slightly.

“I’m glad it worked out. Have a good one.”

“Bye!” You waved and headed towards the elevator. You pressed the button and waited for it, bouncing on the balls of your feet as you waited. Finally, the metal doors opened and you walked in.

“Hello, Miss,” a female’s voice said overhead. The doors closed behind you. “I am FRIDAY, an AI created by Mr. Stark, who will meet you on the common floor. May I have your first and last name for my voice recognition software?”

“Woah! That is so cool!” You weren’t surprised that Tony had an AI software that controlled the entire tower. Maybe once the heavy conversation was out of the way you could ask to see how he did it. “Oh, sorry. My name is Y/n Easton.” The elevator began to rise.

“Welcome to the tower Miss. Easton,” you thanked the AI and were grateful for the silence. Your leg began to shake as anxiety began to find a home in your bones. You suffered from anxiety from a young age, your mom used to say your head was filled with too many thoughts. You slowly exhaled for 5 seconds and inhaled for 5. You did it a few times before the elevator door opened and you stepped out. It was quite beside the TV that was playing. You were staring at the few Avengers on the floor.

“Hi,” you said, waving. You recognized the people in front of you immediately. Sam Wilson was sitting on the couch with Steve Rogers by his side. Behind them were Wanda Maximoff and Vision, standing in the kitchen. They stared back at you, a level of confession written all over their face.

“Hello?” Steve slowly said. “Can we help you?” You shook your head.

“No,” you didn’t elaborate further, choosing to look around the floor. They had a beautiful view of the city. Their eyes were still on you. “I’m just waiting for Tony.” They relaxed immediately.

“Pop a squat stranger,” Sam said, hitting the spot on the couch next to you. “Sam Wilson.” He introduced himself.

“Steve Rogers.”

“I know who all of you are,” It was hard not to know. The Avengers were everywhere. With their fight against Thanos and bringing half of the population back, it was impossible to not know who they were. “I’m Y/n Easton,”

“So Miss. Easton,” Vision said, you turned to face the android. “How are you acquainted with Mr. Stark?”

“Old friends,” you said. Wanda turned her head to the side, matching the way a dog did when they didn’t understand a sound. “It’s complicated,” Sam laughed as you turned back around.

“That is the only way to describe Stark,” you giggled, putting your attention on the movie they were watching. The Sound of Music. You were surprised by the movie choice since the man watching it fought in the very war it was depicting.

“Sound of Music?” You questioned. “Kind of a strange movie to watch when the man sitting next to you is old enough to have lived through it.” The others laughed as the tips of Steve’s ears turned pink. You smiled.

“We have to show this fossil some of the classics,” Sam said. “And between you and me I love Julie Andrews.”

“Who doesn't,” Wanda said from the kitchen. “She’s a national treasure.”

“The Nazis apparently,” Steve deadpanned. The living speech devolved into laughter at his joke and it died down as a pair of footsteps walked over. You turned around to see the one and only Tony Stark. He looked like he saw a ghost. His eyes were wide.

“Hi,” you said, standing up to face him. You knew all about the man standing in front of you. You just never saw him in person. He was created by what the papers wrote about, the interviews you watched, and your mother’s letters.

“You look so much like her,” you said. You smiled. You got that a lot. Everyone said you and your mother were twins.

“I got that a lot,” you told him. “Besides my eyes.” Jessica’s eyes were blue and yours were brown. “She said I got my eyes from my dad.” His brown eyes flickered to yours. “Hi dad,” The room was silent besides the pounding of your heart you could hear in your ears.

“Oh shit,” Sam whispered. You heard a slap followed by a yelp but your eyes didn’t leave Tony, trying to gauge his reaction. Sam’s comment snapped him out of his trance

“Why don’t we go talk somewhere private?” You nodded, picked up your bag, and followed him. You ignored the eyes on your bag. The silence between you and Tony wasn’t awkward but tense. He opened a door and held it open for you. It was a simple office room with a desk and TV. You sat down and Tony closed the door and then sat down next to you. You weren’t sure to start this conversation. Hell, you never thought you would need to have this talk. “I didn’t know Jessica was pregnant. She never told me. Are you sure-?”

“That I’m your daughter?” You cut him off. He nodded. It was a valid question. You wondered if other people have come forward and claimed to be the billionaire’s kid. You unclipped your bag and pulled out an envelope. “I found this,” you handed it to him. You watched him open it. It was a letter written by your mother the day you were born. She included a photo of you. “She was going to tell you. There are more letters all addressed to you.” Tony held the picture of you in his hand. You pride yourself on the ability to read people’s micro-expressions. Those expressions showed the person's true feelings when they tried to hide behind a mask. Tony went through a mix of sadness, anger, and happiness.

“Why didn’t she tell me?” He asked, putting the letter and picture back into the envelope. “I would have been there for you.”

“Would you have?” You asked. You didn’t want to hurt him with the question but you were curious. “Maybe she didn’t think you could have been. You both became successful so maybe it was for the best.” Tony sighed, rubbing his hand across his face.

“Does she know you are here?” He asked. You smiled, looking down, and shaking your head.

“No,” she whispered. Gods, you missed her so much. “She died 6 years ago. We were in a car accident. I woke up from a 2-week comma and she never did.” It was a hit-and-run. The police tried to figure out who caused the accident but the trail went cold. “During the Blip, I went through her stuff and found these letters. I put the pieces together.”

“I’m sorry,” he tried to keep his voice from shaking. You’ve thrown a lot at the man. “What your mother and I had was brief but she was an amazing woman.”

“I know,” you said. She was a remarkable woman, putting herself through law school and working her way up to become a state attorney all while being a single mother.

“Are you living in the city?” He asked. You were surprised by the sudden change in the conversation.

“I am,” you moved here at the beginning of the year. So you’ve only lived in the city for 4 months. It was easier than commuting to your doctor's.

“We could get you a room here,” he said. “So we can get to know each other.” He added quickly. Oh. You weren’t expecting that. To be honest, you weren’t sure what to expect from America’s Playboy.

“I’d like that a lot,” you said. He smiled.

“Great, I’ll show you around.” Tony stood up and opened the door, almost running into Pepper Potts. You saw Tony panic not expecting to see his wife.

“Sam told me I could find you here.” That didn’t surprise you. Sam seemed like someone to cause trouble. She looked at Tony to you then back to Tony.

“Mrs. Potts,” you said, standing up and extending your hand. “My name is Y/n Easton. I’m a huge fan of how you’ve transformed Stark Industries.” She shook your hand.

“Your mother was Jessica Easton,” you nodded. “I was sad to hear of her passing. My condolences.” She glanced at Tony with a tilt of her head as if she was trying to put all the pieces together. “Tony, what’s going on?” That was your cue to leave.

“I’ll be in the kitchen,” you said, putting your bag on your shoulder. You didn’t miss the pleading look from Tony for you to stay. Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen. You left with a smile.

Tony watched as the door closed the door behind him and felt all the air leave his lungs. Your question stumped him. Would he have been there for you? His gut instinct was to say yes. He would have been there; to see your first steps or hear your first words. But he had to be realistic. Everything he created was here, not in DC. Now you were here and he wasn’t going to lose his second chance. First, he had to explain everything to Pepper. With a sigh, he sat down. “What’s going on, Tony?” She asked, sitting down in front of him. He pulled out the letter from Jessica and handed it to her.

“She’s my kid,” he answered. His wife blinked at him before opening the letter. “Jessica and I slept together, once maybe twice before you and I were together,” he rubbed his hand over his face. “I didn’t know she was pregnant.” Pepper was silent as she put the letter away and tapped it against her hand. “Please say something.”

“What does she want?” Tony wasn’t stupid maybe a little dense but not stupid. You were here for a reason and he had a feeling it was a medical reason. Maybe you needed help with bills. God knows he could fork over a few hundred to help.

“She hasn’t said.:

“And this,” she pushed the letter back to him. “Is the only proof that you have that she’s yours.” Tony nodded. Pepper sighed, resting her chin on her hands. “Tony..”

“I know, I know this whole thing is ridiculous,” he stood up and leaned on the back of the chair. “We’ll do a DNA test but if she is mine and she needs help I can’t turn her away,” he looked at the door you left through. “When I’ve already missed so much.”

“Okay,” his head snapped back to look at his wife so fast he almost gave himself whiplash. “Okay, we’ll help her.”

“We?” Tony questioned. Pepper rolled her eyes and stood up, walking over to him.

“Yes, we,” she said. “We do things together.” Tony kissed her, cupping her cheeks with his hands as he tried to pour every ounce of love he had for the woman standing in front of him.

“Have I ever told you that you're amazing?” He asked. Pepper laughed.

“It’s always good to be reminded,” she smiled.

You sat at the kitchen island staring at the glass of water. You’ve learned to manage the symptoms but some days were better than others. There was a deep ache in your bones today. You contributed to all the emotions you were feeling. You fished a bottle of ibuprofen out of your back and took two pills, washing it down with water. “Here,” you jumped at Wanda’s voice. “Sorry,” she placed a small bowl of gelatin and a sleeve of saltine crackers in front of you.

“I’m guessing you know then,” you said, taking a small bite of the gelatin. She nodded, smiling sadly at you.

“I didn’t mean to,” she said. “Sometimes I just travel into people’s minds.” You weren’t mad at her. They were all going to find out shortly. “Have you told Tony?”

“Not yet. He’s explaining to Pepper who I am. Can you imagine being a fly on that wall?” Wanda giggled but soon her laughter stopped and her smile fell.

“Is your treatment not going well?” She asked. You bit your bottom lip. There was no reason to lie so she could see through your mind.

“No,” you admitted. Before you could explain more you saw Tony walk over to you.

“Ready for a tour of the tower?” You nodded, downing the rest of the water from the glass and taking the role of saltines as you stood up. You ignored the look Tony gave you, questioning why you had those. That conversation would come, all in due time.

Touring the tower was a whirlwind and it didn't help that your body protested every step. But you put on a brave face and listened to Tony explain all the features of the tower and met some of the other Avengers. You were impressed and excited to explore after a much-needed nap. At the end of the tour, you were joined by Pepper and walked outside to one of the tower's many patios.

It was beautiful outside and the patio provided a great view of the city. “I’m going, to be honest with you both,” you looked at the couple sitting next to you. “I was never going to reach out. You were living your life and I was living mine and I had no reason to. But I need help,” you took off your beanie. “About a year ago I was diagnosed with acute myelogenous leukemia or AML. I’ve gone through chemotherapy and treatment but now it’s not touching it. My doctors said I need a bone marrow transplant and you are all I have left.”

“There is no one on your mom’s side?” You shook your head, playing with the beanie. It was a gift from your old neighbor back in DC.

“Mom was an only child. I’ve met her parents once and it was at her funeral,” you looked back at them. “I know this is insane and I came here and turned your life upside down so I’m not expecting anything. I just-” you sighed, rubbing your hand over your bald head. “I’m a little out of options here.” You laughed.

“How long are they saying you have?” Tony asked. You looked back at the city skyline. You hated this. You hated telling people you were dying because of the pity in their eyes.

“6 months. Another year if I’m lucky.” You didn’t look back at them. “But you know life has been good for me.”

“We’ll help you,” you looked at the couple in front of you. Tony wasn’t looking at you with pity but determination. Pepper had love in her eyes and it was something you haven’t seen since your mother.

“Yeah?” You questioned. Pepper nodded.

“We’ll figure it out. Together.”

Welcome to this AU! I’m excited to show you what I have in store!

#tony stark x pepper potts #tony stark x reader #tony stark x daughter!reader #tony stark #pepper potts #pepper potts x reader #steve rogers x sam wilson #Steve Rogers #sam wilson #wanda maximoff x vision #wanda maximoff #Vision #marvel #Marvel AU #second chance #yelena belova x reader #yelena belova x you

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shallowseeker · 6 months

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The destruction of the family diner in SPN's 14x13 Lebanon:

So many family & Dean symbols

Zachariah appears in front of a GARAGE (Al's Automobile Garage - Automobile Repairing). The light spotlights closed wooden doors, a callback to Castiel's arrival.

Papers and wrappers blow in the wind. There's a shopping cart with a big tire in it. Shopping is another family motif.

Cas joins him from the side of the shopping cart. (Combat isn't Zach's strong suit, I'm guessing, so he needs a specialist with him at all times.)

The next shot includes more CHECKERBOARDED patterned papers, a call-forward to the family unit/family diner. They're restaurant wrappers, strewn about like garbage, the specter of the trampling of the family diner.

Zachariah is disgusted by it, shaking his foot like it's dog poop.

"Earth. You're always stepping in something."

///

Dean's family diner

Zachariah and Cas enter the diner. The triangular neon sign "PSYCHIC" is lit up behind them, its eye peering at the audience. (I think it's a callback to Pamela, anther one of Dean's first contacts with Cas.)

This family diner is a pizza parlor called Big Little B&E Palace Pizza & Pasta. (Or something like that; probably just B&E.) To quote Shaggy from Scoobynatural, it's "like, a great Italian pizza place."

Also B&E -> like "breaking and entering."

///

The menu's got something for everyone:

The Classic Italian, The Greek, the Bacon Double Cheeseburger (Dean), Deluxe Hawaiian (Jack), Garden Veggie (Sam), Super Supreme.

Next to the menu, there's a bronze Roman warrior bust.

On the wall, two coats hang among the mass of coats, touching -- a gray one reminiscent of Dean's dead guy robe and something khaki-tan like Cas's.

///

Cut to Cas, directly positioned in front of the menu and next to the warrior bust. Cas will be shot in view of this threatening bust for much of this scene.

Zach orders Cas to get ready to murder everyone. The lights above the cashier counter burst. We get a shot of Cas powering up that bears some resemblance to the shot of Godstiel at the end of season 6.

When he powers up the windows of the family pizza diner light up, garnering the attention of Sam and Dean, who happen to be RIGHT OUTSIDE 528 B & E.

///

Shot of Cas powered up and ready to kill. The Roman soldier bust remains in the shot.

Enter Sam and Dean.

When Dean calls for Cas, the bust drops from the shot, but only for a second. Instead, we see more of the family diner menu. However, when Dean pleads, "Cas, you know us!" Cas hardens.

"I don't know you." And suddenly, the bust is back in the shot.

Dean's expression is like whiplash. Ow.

"Kill them."

Warrior--pizza--Cas. It's a mockery of Dean's family.

///

The fight & destruction of Dean's family diner

Cas attacks Dean first--throws him into two silver serving trays.

Cut to Zachariah choking Sam...in front of sailboats from Italy, Lago di Garda. (Famously, Lake Garda has something for everyone with its colorful towns, majestic castles, ancient Roman ruins, sun-kissed beaches, vineyards, amusement parks, and historical sites.)

These paired sails bring to mind Mary & John. Or Dean & Cas.

Side note: Absolutely hilarious that Zach blames Sam for the disturbance. Dean is the one who made the wish.

///

Dean is on the defense, but whacking Cas with a silver platter is pretty much like hammering an unmovable wall. Cas just keeps coming. He backhands Dean face-first into a brick wall.

Side sidenote: I'm glad the boys' angel blades hadn't disappeared yet. A few minutes later and the timeline might've eaten them, leaving the boys defenseless.

Side side sidenote: Although Dean favors Cas with the blunt end of the angel blade, quickly getting disarmed in the process, Sam's not that nice. After dispatching Zach, he attacks Cas with the pointy end.

Cas punches Sam in the face...and then backhands Dean again. Sam comes for more, gets the vector of his blade blocked, and gets choked again.

Cas throws Sam into one of the family diner table, spilling the meal the three Lebanon friends had been enjoying. The destruction of the family meal. The tablecloth is the same checkerboard pattern than Zach trampled earlier.

Elbow to Dean's face. Dean gets thrown into the shelf of dishes. The glasses on the top shelf shatter. Both white mugs fall, too. Everything shatters, and Dean falls into the glass. The destruction of the metaphorical kitchen, the domestic space with coffee cups.

#help #lebanon #i can't get screenshots with my computer cause it won't run my dvds rn #SO #here you go #i'll add pics later maybe #i'll rb it when i do #my computer hates me sooo much

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misforgotten2 · 3 months

Text

Cakes in the shapes of a house, a sailboat, some indecipherable geometric symbol, and a knit toilet paper roll cover.

Betty Crockers Cake and Frosting Mix Cookbook - 1966

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writing-intheundercroft · 8 months

Text

Your Ivy Grows // Introductions

AO3 Link

Ominis Gaunt could not see, but he could feel.

He could feel the long thickets of grass outside of his Aunt Noctua’s home. He could feel the sand down by the beach, grainy and coarse as he ran from her, giggling. He’d learn to feel the bumps on paper (braille, the muggles called it) from books Aunt Noctua bought from London so he could read. Ominis could feel his little wooden sailboat splash through the water of the tide pools, the sting of salty air touching the tip of his tongue.

He could feel the disdain his mother had for him, and the indifference of his father and siblings. Everyone had told him how much his mother had wanted another baby boy, but it seemed her enthusiasm had died down once she realized the task of childbearing was finally behind her. She’d produced an heir and a spare for the Gaunt lineage, as well as three daughters to serve the bloodline. Mrs. Gaunt was done, a triumph in the eyes of other pure blood families. What they didn’t know was that Ominis was always at his Aunt Noctua’s; for as long as he could remember, he’d been sent in a carriage, alone with just a house elf to escort him to the beach house.

Ominis could feel Aunt Noctua’s love. It was the only love he’d ever come to know. She was more of a mother to him than his own, and despite the fear he felt traveling without sight in a thestral drawn carriage, the second the carriage landed and the doors opened, he knew he would be greeted by Noctua’s warm arms. Aunt Noctua read him bedtime stories, sat with him at the dinner table, and skipped with him along the beach. Much to his father’s dismay, she’d taken him to buy a wand, and after an entire month of researching echolocation spells, she’d taught the little blind boy how to use his wand to see.

“Ominis darling, come here.” Noctua called.

He was ten years old, just about to turn eleven in July. In four months, he’d be off to his first year at Hogwarts—his first time ever spending more than a month away from Noctua.

Ominis held his wand up, the tip glowing red as he guided himself to the garden. Noctua was sitting in her garden beds, tending to her beloved flowers. He knelt down next to her, feeling her linen apron before he fell to his knees in the dirt. He remembered his father complaining Noctua’s garden was too unruly; she’d merely laughed, claiming she liked it that way.

“What are you doing today?” He asked timidly, rocking back and forth on his heels.

“I’m working on the ivy.” Noctua announced. “You must be diligent with it; it can easily overgrow and take over the other plants. You’ll be the steward of this house one day Ominis, I’d like for you to learn so you may take care of it yourself.”

“Won’t I have a gardener?” Ominis quipped.

Noctua snorted. “Not with the way your father spends.” She took his hand, helping him feel the leaves of the lush ivy below him. “Feel this—you shouldn’t let it grow any longer than this, otherwise my violets will be completely overtaken. But take care not to trim it too far back, otherwise the snakes won’t have anywhere to hide.”

Ominis nodded, holding his wand up in his other hand. “Will I learn how to care for ivy in Herbology class?” he quipped.

Noctua let out one of her booming laughs. “Oh no, sweetheart. You’ll learn about far more exciting plants in your lessons. Magical ones, with many purposes. Ivy is just a regular plant.”

He wrinkled his nose. “Then what’s the point of it?”

Noctua put her palm on Ominis’s pink cheek. “It’s pretty, and I like it. It doesn’t need to have a point besides that.” She put down her trimming shears, dusting dirt off on her apron. “And besides, plants are living beings, and life itself is magic. They bring me joy.”

“You bring me joy,” Ominis stated.

“Sweet boy.” Noctua pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “You bring me great joy as well. I fear this house will be quite lonely without you come September.”

“Can I stay?” Ominis pouted. “You can tutor me. I don’t need Hogwarts; you’ve already taught me so much.”

Noctua sighed. “You’ll be happy to go to Hogwarts. I loved it when I was there–I made many great friends, and I’m sure you will too.”

He pouted even more. “I don’t need anyone else besides you, Aunt Noctua.”

“I won’t always be here, my love.” Noctua murmured. “A day may come when I need to leave, and you’ll need to be very brave and take care of this beautiful house for me.”

Ominis swallowed thickly. He didn’t ever want to think about a day like that coming for her.

“Madame Noctua, luncheon is nearly ready. Would you like Golly to set it up in the garden for you?” a little voice rang. It was Golly, Noctua’s house elf, a plump little thing with warm rosy cheeks. She’d been Noctua’s beloved house elf for as long as Ominis could remember, and was always the one to accompany him in his carriage rides.

“Thank you, Golly. Yes, let’s take lunch in the garden.” Noctua announced. She stood up, holding her hand out to Ominis to grasp. “Lunch, and then we’ll play down by the water, hmm?”

It had been a simple day. There were no presents, no visitors, nothing particularly special about it to single it out from every other day Ominis spent with her. But he could remember her being a little sad after their tea, shutting herself in her study afterwards. She had sent a letter to Ominis’s father, supposedly about the research she’d been conducting on their renowned ancestor, Salazar Slytherin.

Ominis heard her muttering a word under her breath that haunted him for ages. Scriptorium , she’d called it. A secret room at Hogwarts that no one had ever found before, supposedly where Slytherin’s greatest research was being hidden. Aunt Noctua had been sure it would prove the Slytherin had interests outside of blood purity, and that there was more for the Gaunt family to aspire to.

Ominis went to Hogwarts that September, and wrote to Aunt Noctua every week. He met his two best friends, Sebastian and Anne Sallow, and he told her all about the twins and their antics. Come June, he wrote to Aunt Noctua one last time, apologizing that he would not be able to spend the summer at the beach house; he’d be in Feldcroft with the twins and their uncle.

Noctua wrote back to him, sorry that they’d miss one another, but sincerely happy that he’d made honest, good friends. She told him that she’d be off on an adventure, and that she’d write to him as soon as she could. Feldcroft wasn’t far from her destination, she’d teased. Perhaps if she was successful, she could visit him before summer’s end and meet his friends.

Ominis never heard from Aunt Noctua ever again.

_____

Ominis had been coerced by his mother into dinner at Gaunt Manor; he should have known there were strings attached and that Marvolo would have an assignment for him. The three of them now sat in silence at the long, splintered wooden dining table; Marvolo, seated at the head of the table, with his cold, austere mother on the right. Ominis was to his left, poking at the remnants of his dinner.

“So, I have a new charge,” Marvolo said easily, setting his cutlery down. “And a job for you this summer.”

Ominis raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me, a charge?”

Marvolo hummed. “Yes. A gentleman I work with has left his daughter in my care for the summer, and I need someone to mind her while I’m in London.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Ominis grumbled, playing with the tarnished silver fork in his hand.

“I most certainly am not,” Marvolo sneered, his attitude shifting swiftly, as his moods often did. “And if you ever want to see a knut of your inheritance, you’ll do as I say.”

Ominis inhaled sharply. “You can’t seriously be asking me to play governess for the entire summer.”

“I need someone to mind the girl,” Marvolo explained. “Someone to supervise her, make sure she keeps herself in line. You do this for me,” Ominis could sense his brother’s heavy hand pointing at him, “And you and your little farm boy will get the money you need to take your world tour.”

Ominis frowned at the mention of Sebastian. He loathed whenever his family mentioned him. His chosen family would always take higher precedence than those of his blood. Sebastian was his real brother; the two of them had planned to take a year-long tour around the world together, but Sebastian was still trying to come up with enough money to sustain their travels. Ominis could get the money easily enough from his family’s trust, but Sebastian was toiling day in and out working at Flourish and Blotts to fund his travel expenses, and refused a single galleon from Ominis.

“That,” Marvolo took a sip of his wine. “And you can finally have Noctua’s house.”

“You have her up at Noctua’s house?” Ominis’s ears perked.

His Aunt Noctua’s home was dear to him; he’d spent most of his childhood there, cast away from the family manor. Out of sight, out of mind, Ominis thought. His mother had no patience for his blindness, and his father nearly forgot his existence. As Aunt Noctua had never been declared dead, merely missing, the home sat unoccupied. Marvolo had brought it up in conversation a few times–mostly to complain about it being a money pit, or about it being too close to a muggle village. It was a modest manor off the coast, hours away from any wizarding kind, perched on the ledge of a seaside muggle town. Ominis hadn’t been there since the summer before his first year at Hogwarts.

Ominis knew Noctua was dead, having discovered her body with Sebastian and their peculiar friend during their fifth year. They’d had to leave her bones behind; despite feeling horrible about her final resting place being the door to the Scriptorium, Ominis would never, ever be put in a situation where an unforgivable curse was his only way to safety. He was sure Aunt Noctua would understand.

“It’s been cleaned up; the old house elf is still there, minding her at the moment.” Ominis could sense the frown on Marvolo’s face. “You’ll live there, keep an eye on her, and stay out of trouble.”

“Why does she need minding? Does she not have a nanny of her own to do so?” Ominis inquired.

Marvolo sighed. “She’s rough, I’ll leave it at that. Feral little alley cat of a child, already scared off the three governesses we’ve tried to stick with her.”

“And pray tell, why has her father left her in your care?” Ominis crossed his arms and leaned back against the wooden chair. His brother was the last person who should ever have the responsibility of a child; he had no patience for it, nor a modicum of emotional intelligence.

“Her father owes me a debt–and a daughter is all the currency he has. Can’t risk him ‘accidentally’ misplacing her, like he’s done with all the rest of his collateral.” Marvolo explained.

Ominis soured at the thought. He knew his brother dabbled in unsavory business, and no matter how he tried to frame it, he was clearly extorting this man with his daughter’s life.

“Last question. Why me?”

Marvolo snorted. “You’re the only chap available. Given your deficiencies , I don’t think you’ll be too busy during the social season this summer. Perhaps another year.”

Ominis tried his best not to flinch at his brother’s insult. Ever since their father had gone senile, Marvolo had taken up place as head of the family. He was responsible for the family trust, and had carefully chosen each of their sisters’ husbands. Ominis was nearly twenty one, and he was surprised his brother hadn’t surprised him with some meek, sniveling pure blood bride. Marvolo himself had been married for a few years already, with no children in sight. He hardly spent enough time with his own wife, choosing the company of his many mistresses in London instead. Ominis knew Marvolo blamed his poor wife for their misfortune, but he secretly hoped it was his brother’s own misdeeds that caused their inability to procreate. However, if times truly became desperate for the Gaunts, it would mean the family lineage was left to Ominis’s hands—an idea he truly loathed.

Ominis stood in the foyer, fastening his cloak around his neck as he made his departure. With his wand securely stowed in his pocket, he didn’t notice Marvolo sneak up behind him. The two brothers couldn’t have been more different, physically and emotionally. Marvolo had the typical Gaunt look, with dark hair, hooded eyes, and terrifyingly large figure. Ominis greatly favored his mother’s side of the family with his blond hair and lithe figure. Thanks to Noctua, he also had a trait most of his family lacked—kindness.

“Don’t fuck this up, brother.” Marvolo sneered. “It’s a simple job, get it done and you’ll have what you need.”

Ominis shuddered as his domineering brother backed away, and apparated back to his London flat as quickly as he could.

_____

Ominis stood at the edge of the blustery cliff, gazing out onto the water. He’d do so often with Noctua when he was a boy, punted off to stay with her so he’d be out of his older siblings’ way when they returned from Hogwarts. He never minded it though–Noctua had been the only light he’d ever known before he met Anne and Sebastian.

Speaking of friends, Sebastian had begged him not to take on the job. He’d have the money by the end of the year, he reassured Ominis. There would be no need to stoop down as low as Marvolo to fund their trip. But Ominis couldn’t bear to watch his best friend spend seven days a week peddling books for sickles, and anyways, he wanted to see how the old house was faring. So now, he stood just yards from the house’s gates, clutching his suitcases, ready to take on the role of guardian. Ominis’s stomach churned with nerves; he’d never spent much time around children even when he was a child himself, so he wasn’t even sure how he’d talk to a girl.

When he pushed through the front door of the house, he took in a deep inhale. Despite the musty smell, it reminded him of his childhood. Ominis raised his wand, alerted to the presence of a smaller being in front of him, and let a smile grace his face.

“Golly, it’s good to see you.” He knelt down, getting on the same level as Noctua’s house elf.

“Master Ominis, it has been so long,” the old house elf croaked, patting his hand. “My, you have grown into such a fine gentleman. You look so much like my Mistress Noctua.”

Ominis’s smile faltered. “Yes, I do miss her.”

Golly the house elf beckoned him in. “I’ve prepared the mistress's old chambers for you to sleep in during your stay. Let me take your cases.”

“Absolutely not, Golly. I’m triple your size, I’d never let you carry any case of mine.” Ominis declared. “Leviosa,” he muttered, the suitcases now floating behind him as he ascended the creaky stairs.

As he pushed the door open to Noctua’s bedroom, Ominis bit down on his lip. It all felt so familiar to him as he walked around, feeling everything—the four poster bed, the big bay window with a deep seat attached to it. Even the smell of the linens felt familiar, despite being freshly washed. The sea breeze always left a salty note on the cotton.

“I could’ve stayed in my old apartments, you know.” Ominis murmured.

Golly shifted back and forth. “Your new ward is staying in them. I thought the mistress’s apartments would be best suited for you.”

“And where is she?” Ominis quipped. “I should meet her before supper.”

Golly sighed. “Probably down by the beach. She’s not very good at following rules—reminds me quite a bit of your sisters when they were younger. Master Marvolo hired three ladies to oversee her, and each quit within a week.” Golly uttered the girl’s name, tutting her tongue. “You shall see her at supper, I suppose. Please, get some rest and freshen up. I’ll have the meal set in two hours.”

Ominis dallied for half an hour, laying about the bed before he decided to unpack his trunks. He only brought clothes, books, and some parchment and dictation quills to write home to Sebastian. The desk had been cleared of its former mistress’s possessions, and it felt odd to set it up with his own belongings. Ominis dragged his hands against every square inch of the mahogany desk; he remembered exactly where things belonged. Noctua’s perfume bottles would be in the center, letters and notes littered on the left edge next to her quills and ink pot.

Ominis shook his head. If he were ever to be master of the house, he had to start getting used to the furniture being his. He splashed water on his face to freshen up, and got dressed for a formal dinner. Ominis only ever dressed up for meals with his family, but it felt far too casual to be informal in front of his ward.

Ominis descended the stairs, the scent of a rich roast chicken guiding him to the dining room. Golly had set up a full seven course meal, which was far too decadent for Ominis’s taste. She had always spent time laboring over Ominis’s favorite foods as a child, and he didn’t have the heart to tell her that he no longer liked figgy pudding. But it had been years since he’d seen the little house elf, and he wanted to make her feel useful after being lonely in the house for so long. Golly hummed as she set the dishes on the table, clearly happy to no longer be alone in the house.

Ominis listened to the clock chiming and frowned. “Where is she?”

Golly sighed loudly. “Wouldn’t count on her to be on time, Master Gaunt.”

“But your feast will have gone cold.” He complained. Disrespectful child , he thought.

Ominis sat at the table for another thirty minutes, waiting and tapping his feet against the marble floor. He was about to stand and barge out of the house looking for the girl, when he sensed a figure sauntering into the dining room.

“Golly, I’m back.” A feminine voice called out. “What’s for dinner?”

Ominis raised his wand, a bit taken aback. When Marvolo had said she was a girl, Ominis assumed a child–but the person entering the dining room was a woman , probably his age. She was tall, and he could sense her hair swishing around, as if it were in two long braids. He could smell the scent of the coast lingering on her frock, and the mud on her shoes.

Ominis stood up abruptly. The girl stopped in her tracks, glaring at him.

“Who are you?” she snipped.

Ominis cleared his throat, bowing his head slightly. “I’m Mr. Gaunt. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

She said nothing, slowly approaching the table. “You aren’t the Mr. Gaunt I know,” she stopped right in front of him, appraising him. “You’re…much younger. Certainly more handsome.”

Ominis brushed the back of his neck, fighting the blush he could feel creeping on his face. “You’re referring to my older brother, Marvolo.”

She sniffed. “Yes, much more handsome. Your brother is quite brutish.” He could feel her eyes raking over him.

“I may be blind, but I can sense you staring,” Ominis snipped. “And it’s rather unladylike.” He maneuvered to the chair next to his, pulling it out for her.

“I wasn’t raised to be a lady, Mr. Gaunt,” she taunted him as she sat down. “But if that’s what Marvolo desires of me, he’ll have it.”

Ominis frowned as he sat back in his chair. He wasn’t sure how his older brother was so well acquainted with the young woman, and he certainly didn’t want to know.

The two of them sat at the dinner table, the silence thickened the air. For quite some time, Ominis could only make out the sound of teeth gnashing on meat, and Golly humming from the butler’s pantry.

“How did you find your travels?” The girl quipped, the soft clatter of her silverware breaking the silence of the room.

“Quite nice. I used to spend a lot of time here as a child, and I missed the journey.” Ominis hummed. “Weather is delightful this time of year.” He felt silly, exchanging pleasantries about the weather with his house guest. If he were truly to be the man of the house, he should brush up on better conversation topics.

The girl cleared her throat. “I didn’t know Marvolo had a brother,” she admitted. “How much younger are you?”

Ominis stiffened, blinking his unseeing eyes at the table. “Fifteen years. I was born while he was away at Hogwarts, so we’re not very close.” He paused for a moment, narrowing his eyes. “You didn’t go to Hogwarts. I would’ve known you.”

“Father wanted me to stay close to home; his profession is quite dangerous, so he couldn’t imagine me being far away.” she said simply. “Mother tutored me though.”

“And what does your father do?” Ominis inquired.

She hesitated. “Rare artifacts. One might call him a treasure hunter. We traveled frequently with him.”

“And life on the road is much safer than Hogwarts?” Ominis probed.

“I quite liked it.” she sniffed. “I’m well traveled, I’ve studied all over the world, rather than being cooped up in a dodgy old castle.”

“It’s not dodgy,” Ominis rolled his eyes. “It’s fantastic, one of the best places to be.” Ominis counted Hogwarts as one of his happiest places–Hogwarts, the Sallow cottage in Feldcroft, and Aunt Noctua’s home.

She shrugged. “Then you haven’t traveled enough.” She tilted her head, changing the subject. “I find it strange they sent a man to watch over me, not another governess.”

“Well, I’ve heard you’ve chased all the nannies away.” Ominis chuffed.

She smiled at that, and he bit down on his lower lip to hide his smile. “I’m twenty, I don’t need a governess. I was hoping they’d send a companion, but I suppose you’ll have to do.”

Ominis set his cutlery down, wiping his mouth politely. “Look, I don’t mean to imprison you here. I won’t say that I understand exactly why I’ve been charged with your care, but I promise to treat you with respect and make sure you have everything you need for your own comfort.” he hesitated. “We both clearly have duties to our family to attend to, but I won’t restrict you. Go about your day as you wish, and I’ll do the same.”

Ominis could feel her heated stare. She leaned back in her chair, playing with the end of one of her braids. “You and your brother couldn’t be more different.”

He tipped his wine glass towards her. “I consider that a high compliment.”

_____

His ward had retired to bed, and Ominis decided to take a walk around the property. He swirled a glass of wine in his hands as he stomped through the yard towards Noctua’s garden. Perhaps he could hire a groundskeeper to tend to the land once the house was passed down to him. Poor old Golly deserved a retirement; he could free her once he became the master of the house. He’d pay her a fair wage, just like Noctua used to…

Ominis wasn’t much of a drinker back in London; Sebastian always enjoyed hanging out with their classmates at the Leaky Cauldron, and he was a happy drunk. Ominis, on the other hand, would be drunk just from social exposure. He normally found drinking alone a bit depressing, but something about being in a house that was almost his made him feel like celebrating. Golly had opened up one of the good bottles from the cellar, and he wouldn’t let it go to waste. He felt good; the tangy red liquid had him feeling warm all over, and the salty breeze from the nearby ocean was just as intoxicating.

He didn’t need his wand—Ominis could retrace his exact steps to the garden gate, having made the journey hundreds of times as a little boy without a wand. Once, Noctua had made him count his paces, and he still found himself doing so as he approached the wrought iron gate. He put a hand out to pull it open, frowning when his hand met air instead of the handle.

It was already open.

Ominis pulled his wand out of his pocket, taking a large gulp from the glass in his other hand. He knew it was ungentlemanly, but he wiped his mouth with his billowing sleeve. Wand raised and tip lit red, he pushed forward to see who might be in the garden so late. It was nearly eleven o’clock at night, and he was the only one out of the house. Ominis readied himself for a duel in case it was an intruder–his heart raced, hoping he wouldn’t have to defend the women in the house.

Ominis heard the soft hum of a voice in the distance; they were singing to themself, kneeling on the ground. he could also hear the sharp slice of shears, and the sound of branches and leaves being piled up on the ground. He held his wand in the direction of the sound, sensing the outline of a young woman on the ground.

It was his house guest; she was kneeling on the ground in her nightgown, her two braids dangling as she leaned over the garden beds.

“What are you doing?” Ominis barked.

She startled. “Oh, Mr. Gaunt. I didn’t realize you’d be walking out here so late.”

“What. Are. You. Doing.” Ominis seethed.

He could sense her standing up, wiping her hands on her lap. “I was tending to the garden—Golly mentioned the old owner was a dab hand at herbology, and the whole thing was teeming with weeds, it was a shame. I’ve been trying to fix the garden beds, they’re all so overgrown with ivy. You know, it can be an invasive species if planted too close—“

“Don’t!” Ominis yelled, kicking the shears away. He knelt down on the ground, his wand discarded, feeling the garden bed. “You’ve trimmed it too far back.”

The girl scoffed. “Excuse me, I know what I’m doing. Besides, if you let it overgrow, snakes can start burrowing underneath.”

“You’re disrupting them,” Ominis growled. “Leave it be! This isn’t your garden.” He patted the ground; Noctua’s violets were gone. “What have you done with all the flowers? Where…where did you get those shears?”

He knew the girl was staring at him oddly. “I found them in the garden shed; Golly said I could use them and the apron. Mr. Gaunt, I’m only trying to help—“

She was wearing Aunt Noctua’s apron, he realized. Her apron, her shears, her garden, all in the hands of a stranger.

“Well, stop it.” Ominis growled. “You’ve ruined it. And take that apron off, it isn’t yours.” He bellowed, perhaps louder than he should’ve been, given the late hour. He patted around the ground, trying to get a sense of the landscape. It all felt so different, everything familiar was missing. Noctua’s daffodils, violets, and her beloved bluebells were all gone . “What are you even doing out of bed?” Ominis barked. “It’s terribly improper for you to be out here at this hour.”

“I’m sorry,” The girl mumbled. “I could go to town, get some seedlings. It was just in such bad shape–”

“Get out,” Ominis hissed, waving her off. “Go back to the house, go back to bed, and stay out of the garden!”

She backed away. “I-I-I’m sorry. I’ll leave you.” Without his wand he couldn’t see her retreating form, but he could hear her bare feet thumping the ground as she ran.

Ominis took a deep breath. He knew it was unkind to have yelled at her—he didn’t even know the girl. But the garden was Noctua’s, no one else’s. It was up to her to decide what was a weed, what was overgrown, what to take away or prune. When Ominis was little, he only ever acted on her orders, making sure the garden was exactly to her liking. Noctua loved her little plants, each and every one, even if they didn’t have any magical purposes.

Life itself is magic, she once said.

But Noctua was dead, the garden was too neatly trimmed, and the snakes didn’t have a refuge to hide in. The house no longer had Aunt Noctua’s warmth; it no longer felt like her.

Ominis stayed in the garden and wept.

#hogwarts legacy fan fiction #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x oc #ominis gaunt x reader #noctua gaunt #marvolo gaunt

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sipsteainanxiety · 2 years

Text

give my all (to you) [1] || katsuki b.

pairing: merman!bakugou katsuki x reader

word count: 8.6k+

mentions: no pronouns used, scientist reader, second person, this is fashionably late but i blame my broken laptop, not edited, hey rmb when i said the estimated wc would be 20k... that was a lie...

masterlist

One of the perks of the university you went to was the immense funding of graduate research projects. All you needed was a proposal, a list of materials, and a contract stating that you would not abuse the money funded to you for purposes other than research. If they deemed your thesis worthy, you would be given a package that could either partially or fully fund your project. You were lucky enough to be considered and chosen as one of the students to receive full funding with your proposal centered around ocean acidification and the effects it had on coral reefs. One rented sailboat and set of scuba diving gear later, you found yourself drifting lazily out in the vast waters of the Pacific Ocean with nothing but the marine life for company.

Of course, the only thing you could do out here was collect and document samples. Most of the analysis had to be done back at the university building, where all the proper equipment for checking general water chemistry—like salinity and carbonic acid levels—were stored. You did have some high-powered microscopes to inspect the water and coral, so you supposed there was still something you could do as you sailed back and forth from the shore and open waters. In hindsight, though, there wasn’t really much for you to do out here other than swim around and record the numerous species littering the reefs near the ocean floor. You didn’t mind; you considered this a much needed vacation from the cruel life of a student in grad school. And if your money-hungry university was funding everything then hey, who were you to not take at least some advantage?

The first week, two weeks, was nothing but smooth sailing. You stayed out for a week or so taking samples, monitoring coral growth rates, and exhausting your food supply, then you would head back to the university to take a few day’s break to do some analysis and update your mentor. The routine persisted, and you had fallen into a state of expectancy towards the blissful nothingness that awaited you in the miles and miles of salt water and open air.

What you didn’t expect, however, was the fucking mermaid. Or rather, the merman.

For the entirety of week three, there were times when you felt you were being watched. This was odd since you were sure there was no one but you out on the ocean—unless you were being spied on by a dolphin, which you doubted. You’d first noticed it as you were numbering vials of ocean water out on the deck, papers, pens, and tubes scattered all around you. At the time, you’d just brushed it off, thinking that the heat of the sun was just getting to you. Now though, the burning feeling of being stared at was too persistent to be ignored.

As you scuba dived near the bright and colorful reefs a few days after that first occurrence, you could’ve sworn you kept seeing something dark and... large swimming at the very corner of your vision. You chalked it up to a dolphin again, maybe a curious shark, but something in your gut twisted at the thought of it possibly being something else. In curiosity or fright, you would never know, but you were all too aware that getting hurt while you were in the middle of the ocean was not the ideal situation to be in.

What you did come to eventually notice was the diminishing amount of coral samples you had collected over the few weeks you had been out on the open waters. By ‘diminishing amount’ you meant they were just. Completely gone. At first you thought you had simply misplaced them, but after scouring your little boat from top to bottom, left to right, front to back, you realized they weren’t anywhere to be found. What you did find, however, were empty, labeled jars scattered around the deck. The very same jars you had been using to put the samples in. This wouldn’t have been so concerning if you had company, but you were alone and starting to wonder if you were either very forgetful or… well, you didn’t even want to consider the other option.

The entire situation was puzzling, especially since it hadn’t been a problem for the first three weeks you had been collecting the coral samples. You scratched your head at the predicament and decided to just collect some more, this time making sure you had documented and stored them properly in the special thermoregulated box you had purchased. A few days later, however, they were gone, plucked right from the box as though they had never been put in there in the first place, and the jars once more were scattered along your boat.

Now, you wouldn’t call yourself mental or delirious at this moment, but you were really starting to wonder if staying out in the blazing sun all day was a good idea.

It wasn’t until you woke up one night to the motion of your boat canting to the side that you finally uncovered the truth behind the missing samples. And boy, you would’ve believed that they had just grown legs and walked away rather than this.

Blinking rapidly in the dim lighting provided by the full moon, you slowly raised yourself from your little cottage bed, trying to prevent yourself from rolling to the side as the boat leaned heavily to the right. You could practically hear your heart pounding in your chest as something heavy slapped itself onto what sounded like the deck. Frozen in place, you waited as the boat swayed side to side before assuming its original upright position. The boat’s cabin, where you slept, was separated from the outside deck by a door. It brought you a little bit of comfort, knowing that whatever had heaved itself onto your boat couldn’t see you (and hopefully get to you if it happened to be dangerous).

Breathing bated, you listened to what sounded like slithering sounds coming from beyond the door, mind racing with the possibilities of what could be out there. Maybe a curious octopus? A seal? You were stumped. Part of you really wanted to know what the fuck kind of marine animal had managed to pull itself onto your boat, but the other part just wanted to hide under your blankets and hope it would eventually go away. Those two parts battled it out for a few moments before you eventually found yourself silently tossing off the covers, bare feet coming into contact with the cool, wooden floor of the boat.

As quietly as you possibly could, you crept up the few stairs to the door, keeping your stance slightly slouched as you neared the small, circular window positioned near the top of it. Most of the moonlight was coming from that little section of glass, allowing you to be able to see the outside somewhat better. And what you saw made you slap a hand over your mouth to prevent a gasp from escaping into the quiet night.

The first thing that caught your attention was the long, sleek, gradient-esque tail that glistened in the moon’s dim lighting. It was massive, spanning nearly the entire width of your boat. If you had to provide an estimate, you would say it was at least two meters long and consisted of approximately a quarter of a ton of pure muscle. Your eyes trailed from the dark, wispy tip of the tail, all the way to the middle of the creature’s body, where tangerine scales shifted gradually into sculpted skin. Human skin.

You were looking at a fucking merman.

I must be dreaming or something, you thought to yourself as you stared at him. He had the upper torso of a pro swimmer, muscles defined all along a lean torso that had rather broad shoulders. His skin was a light tan color and speckled with more tangerine scales, droplets of water dripping down from his chest and arms as he hovered over a hatch on the deck that led to a small storage space that contained all your research materials. Ash-blond, wet hair was plastered around his gilled neck and head, framing a sharply angled face with an expression that was pulled into a scowl. At first, you looked at him in awe, mind failing to comprehend the idea of merpeople existing in the depths of the ocean. Then, once you realized he was rummaging around and plucking your coral samples right from their box, your eyes narrowed.

So this was the cause of your missing work.

Now, you had two choices here. You could either confront this creature, beat the shit out of it for stealing your stuff, and go back to sleep unharmed. Or you could think about beating the shit out of it and just go straight to bed. You weighed both options heavily in your mind, eyes darting from the merman’s sharp claws, to his frankly terrifying look, and arms that could easily snap your neck like a twig. Then you looked at the jars he was scooping out of the box, weeks of work being tossed down the drain. Sure you could just change location and hope you would never see this fucking thing again, but it would set your project back by months and you did not have the time to spare. Mind made up, you took a deep breath and promptly slammed the cabin door open.

“Hey!” you shouted with more gusto than you were sure you had, hands on your hips as you set your expression into the fiercest one you could muster. You didn’t dare step closer, watching as he turned his head sharply to glare right at you with burning crimson eyes. Swallowing down your unease, you glared right back. “The fuck do you think you’re doing? That’s weeks of work you’re taking!”

He growled, a deep thing that rumbled from within his chest and made the hairs on your arms stand straight up. You didn’t let yourself waver, continuing to frown at him even as he raised himself up further with his tail, scarred arms loaded with jars. You crossed your arms as he used his tail to push himself over to you, internally screaming at just how much larger he was than you, your form completely drowned in his shadow alone. Please let me be dreaming. He looked down at you, lips pulled back in a snarl that showed off his shark-like teeth. This close proximity to you allowed you to see the thin, orange fins attached to the sides of his head—fins that were fanned out in a way that made him look even more threatening. Suddenly, you were feeling regretful.

When all he did was glare harshly at you, the hair on his head practically standing up straight, you decided you couldn’t just stand there in silence, waiting for him to either leave or bitch slap your body into the ocean. Huffing through your nose, you pointed to the jars. “I need those for a project I’m doing, and I can’t analyze them if your bitchass keeps stealing them before I can properly document them.” Could he even understand you? Judging by the way his gaze went down to the jars, then back up to your face only to narrow even further, you guessed he could.

“‘Stealing’?” he hissed out and you nearly had a heart attack at how pissed he sounded. Well, you didn’t know how he could speak English back to you, but you weren’t going to question the angry merman. “S’not yours.”

“What are you talking about, those are my samples—”

“Not fuckin’ yours,” he growled out louder than before and without even waiting for your reply, he dove into the ocean, using his tail to push himself over the railing of the boat in an arc that sent water splashing onto the deck. You gaped at the spot where he disappeared under the darkness of the water, your clothes slightly wet from the splash. For a few seconds, you just stood there, watching as the ripples from his landing in the water extended outwards. Then you made your way to the still-open hatch to check the contents of the box. It was completely empty. Cursing under your breath, you stood up and debated on what to do, but before you could even form a coherent thought, something hard hit the back of your head.

“What the—” You spun around abruptly only to let out a yelp and duck down as the jars that’d been holding your samples came sailing through the air towards you. Thank god they were plastic and not glass. “Did you seriously dump all my stuff?” you yelled out as you shot back up to your feet and sent a glare at the stupid merman whose head was just above the glistening water.

He glared at you, acting like he didn’t just purposely throw those jars at your head. “Shitty human. Damaging reefs.”

“It’s not—” You took a deep breath as your mind connected the dots of what he was trying to say. This must’ve looked really bad from his perspective. You felt kind of bad now. “Okay, look, I’m sorry if it seems like I’m harming the reefs, but I’m actually trying to help them by conducting research. I can take smaller samples if you want, but I just can’t not take any.” You tried your best to squint out at him through the moonlight, seeing him still staring at you.

“‘Help’?” he echoed, the word sounding more like a gruff statement than a question. You bit your lip as you thought about how to explain yourself in a way that would stop the merman from harassing you like this. Maybe you could scare him off by using a bunch of scientific jargon, but judging by his looks, it’d probably be safe to say it wouldn’t be easy to do so.

“Okay”—you sighed out, stepping a little bit closer to the rail of the boat so you could see the merman’s head easier—“basically, carbonic acid, which forms when carbon dioxide dissolves into the ocean and combines with water—” Off you went, explaining what was essentially equated as the abstract to your paper. You kept an eye on his expression, trying to gauge his thoughts on the topic, but it seemed like it was forever set in an irate look, so you didn’t know what was possibly going through his head. It likely was a good sign that he stuck around long enough for you to word vomit your thesis, but you doubted he understood a majority of what you were saying.

“—so by comparing my results with a paper from years ago we can see the effects of ocean acidification and start building on ideas to help coral reefs and… yeah…” You cleared your throat awkwardly, aware that you had talked so much your tongue had gotten dried out and the sky was starting to lighten ever so slightly. You stared at the merman, waiting for him to say, well, anything really. He stared back at you some more, his jaw shifting a bit before he promptly spat salt water at your face and ducked back under the water. You spluttered and blinked at the spot he disappeared, waiting for him to resurface, but when he didn’t, you huffed in exasperation, face dripping wet.

Merman or not, this guy was fucking rude.

The following morning, you were preparing for another dive to gather more samples to replace the ones you’d lost. You didn’t have any time to waste, especially since you’d been set back by weeks. Part of you really didn’t want to go in the water knowing there was a pissed merman swimming around, but the other part was curious. Actual merpeople? Living in the ocean? It was interesting, and the scientific side of you was itching to learn more—if you hadn’t dreamt it all up, that is.

Were you even sure that had all happened? It seemed less and less real, the more you thought about it, but the empty jars scattered on your deck proved otherwise. You knew what you saw, and you trusted yourself. You’d be fine. Probably.

You were still wary of trapping yourself in the water with a creature that clearly had an advantage. But you figured if he hadn’t harmed you last night, he had no reason to do so today. Hopefully. Just in case though, you stashed a small dagger in your diving pouch. For self defense, of course.

After ensuring the anchor was lowered, tugging on your wetsuit, checking your equipment, and gathering all the proper materials you needed, you slipped into the cool water and bobbed gently on the surface. You adjusted your dive mask and put the regulator into your mouth, doing another check on your oxygen tank and pressure gauges before finally ducking into the water.

The depths of the ocean never failed to amaze you every time you opened your eyes to take it all in. Once you adjusted to the shifting colors of teal, cerulean, and turquoise that surrounded you, a whole other world was revealed. Little striped fishes, the occasional turtle, sometimes even a dolphin would swim by as you dove deeper down to the floor of the ocean. Luckily, the reef you had been collecting samples from was not too far from the surface, so the sun’s rays were still able to reach you and provide light.

You found yourself hovering around a section of the reef that you hadn’t taken samples from yet. There were brightly colored anemones scattered here and there, waving gently through the water amongst patches of coral that reminded you of a brain. There was also a group off to your left that looked like long strands of red hair. Not too far from that were ones that looked like the sun, with yellow petals that extended outwards from the top of a stumpy, purple base. You had a camera on your boat to take pictures of the reefs to look out for coral bleaching over an extended period of time, but you only needed to use it once every week or so. No point in taking pictures every time you dove down—you’d have to sort through too many photos otherwise and it would be hard to see any minute differences in the reefs anyways.

There were some clown fishes darting around before you, along with the occasional shrimp and seahorse that swam away from your much larger form. You looked down at the diving pouch attached to your hip and opened it up so you could grab a small tube from one of the velcro loops inside of it, along with a pair of tweezers. These were the same tubes you used to collect water—only now, thanks to a certain pissed off merman, you were using it to store smaller pieces of coral. Honestly, those samples you’d been taking before in the plastic jars hadn’t even been that large. You rolled your eyes to yourself and glanced at the label you’d already put on the tube you withdrew so you could check what species of coral you’d designated it to.

A. cervicornis (Staghorn). You glanced around until you spotted the familiar, cylindrical branches of the Staghorn and swam towards it. Before you had even started taking samples from this particular reef, you had documented all the species of coral so you could prelabel your jars and tubes. It just made everything easier for you in the long term.

Fumbling only slightly, you uncorked the little tube and watched as the air inside was displaced by salt water. With it grasped in one hand and the tweezers grasped in the other, you leaned closer to the Staghorn and reached out to pick off the teeniest, tiniest chunk from the tip of one of its branches.

Only, before you could, something large moved in your periphery.

To your credit, you jerked to the side only slightly, wary if the thing was a shark that’d crept up on you or something. But no, it was the merman, looking just as pissed as ever once you snapped your head to the left to see him. You froze, one arm still extended out to the coral branch as you made eye contact with him and his bright crimson eyes.

Last night’s lighting hadn’t done him justice at all.

He really was fucking huge, basically dwarfing you in the water. The tangerine scales that littered his torso and made up a majority of his tail looked nearly gold in the sunlight filtering through the ocean. It was interesting seeing the way his tail followed an ombré gradient, ending with wispy, black flukes. His ash-blond hair waved delicately around his head and moved with the gentle flow of the current. You’d call him pretty if he wasn’t glaring at you so harshly, a suspicious look on his face.

Well, you thought wryly to yourself, at least now I know he’s real for sure I guess.

You watched as he slowly—fluidly—swam around you in a circle in a motion that was reminiscent of a shark circling its prey. His tail carried him forward in powerful movements, the muscles flexing constantly throughout it. His eyes moved to squint at the items in your hands, then at the goggles that covered your eyes and the regulator you held in your mouth. You didn’t dare move a muscle—you wanted to see if he would do anything. But after glaring at you for what felt like hours, he just swam over to the side of the reef directly opposite of you, and watched you through the coral.

You entered this sort of strange staring contest with him, waiting in case he did something else. When it became apparent that he wouldn’t, however, you decided to simply resume what you came here to do. This was fine. He could stare at you all he wanted, but it wasn’t going to stop you from working on your research.

With that, you plucked a tiny piece of coral from the Staghorn branch, then quickly stored it in the tube before recorking it. The merman was raptly watching your movements when you briefly looked at him, his eyes tracking the motions of your hands. You glanced down at the little waterproof watch you had attached to your wrist and pressed a little button at the side of it to mark the time of collection. Afterwards, you placed the tube back in your diving pouch, making sure to velcro it in its given spot so it wouldn’t float away. One down, nine more to go.

You kept an eye on the merman as you grabbed another empty tube, then read the name off of it so you could locate the next coral species you needed. H. coerulea (Blue coral). Off you went, swimming around in search of the familiar blue-branched species as your unexpected companion slowly followed after you. He kept his distance, of course, never getting too close or too far. But he was so focused and unrelenting in his gaze that you felt you were being assessed or something. He did this the entire time you were around the reef and only until you started to swim back up towards the surface so you could decompress did he finally dart away into the distance.

And so began the strange experience of being tailed by a merman.

Any time you ended up scuba diving in the ocean, he was always somewhat nearby, his—frankly unsettling—stare focused on you in an instant. You figured he wanted to keep an eye on you to make sure you weren’t taking any larger coral samples, if your first encounter was any indication. But he not only appeared as you were using your tweezers on different species, but also as you were installing calcification accretion units to measure calcium carbonate levels and coral growth rates. He even followed you as you took water samples and measured temperatures! Those didn’t even require you to be near the reefs!

He just never followed you when you were heading to the surface, not that you blamed him. Sometimes, though, as you sat on your deck writing down your evidence in your little science journal or monitoring your equipment, you could swear you’d see a head pop out of the water to watch you for a few seconds. Then it would be gone.

You supposed he was curious—or at least, that was what you wanted to think. He probably didn’t see many humans, which was fair. You didn’t see a lot of merpeople either. You both were equally as curious of each other, probably. Your gaze tended to drift to him swimming off to your side anytime you were in the water, watching his smooth motions and observing the way his tail propelled him through the water. He could probably crush you, rip you to shreds, if you thought about it. The idea was unsettling.

It wasn’t like you purposely went looking for him anyways. He just—showed up! Like he knew you were going to be there. Or maybe he was keeping a closer eye on you than you thought. You didn’t know if you should feel honored or alarmed that a very obvious predator of the sea was constantly watching you—you saw his sharp teeth and his strange, black claws. He was definitely a force to be reckoned with and you tried your best to keep your distance.

One day, however, you noticed he kept getting closer and closer.

Where he used to watch you from the opposite side of the reef anytime you were down here before, now he was practically right next to you. He’d even swim closer whenever you just wanted to roam around and watch the marine life. Maybe he was just getting bolder, you didn’t know. Maybe he wanted to intimidate you even further. Either way, you did your best to not be too bothered by him. If he wanted to watch you up close, then who were you to stop him? You could pretend that he was a curious dolphin or something.

He didn’t always stay close to you. There were days where he just didn’t interact or follow you at all, preferring to keep his distance. There were also days where he just wouldn’t show up. You didn’t mind, but it still made you wonder what he was thinking. He was surprisingly non-conversational—the first encounter you had with him was the most you’d heard him speak by far, and he hadn’t even said much in hindsight! To be fair, though, you were underwater most of the times when he’d show up. You couldn’t exactly hear him, especially when you had your dive mask protecting your ears.

Things between the two of you finally started to shift one day when you saw a turtle swimming around with a plastic bag wrapped around its shell.

It wasn’t uncommon for you to see a bunch of garbage floating around here and there. Hell, you’d even see plastic water bottles sticking out between coral branches sometimes. You always tried to clean up, even just a little, by collecting whatever trash you saw and storing it in a bag on your boat to throw away the next time you went to the shore.

So when you saw this poor turtle struggling to swim around due to a dumb fucking bag, you couldn’t help but to reach out to it.

The turtle had been trying to swim away from you as you attempted to get close to it, but somehow you managed to catch it and rip through the flimsy plastic to free its shell and flippers. It seemed much happier as it freely swam away, and you stared down at the plastic in your hand before you rolled your eyes and made your way back to the surface to toss the thing onto your boat.

A few days later, you were sitting on the edge of the deck, letting your feet dangle off the side of your boat to graze the water as you enjoyed the warmth from the sun and ambiance of the ocean. Your journal was sitting neatly on your lap as you bent slightly over it and scratched in the timestamps from your watch as well as the temperatures you’d recorded from the air and water for that day. You hadn’t seen the merman for a bit, seeing that you just spent the last few days monitoring your equipment and looking at samples with your microscope.

So imagine your surprise when you glanced up at the water only to see half a head peering at you from a few meters away.

You almost jolted in surprise, but you caught yourself and instead raised an eyebrow at the merman. His ash-blond hair was covering most of what you could see, but that didn’t stop him from continuing that strange stare of his. You haven't had the chance to look at him in the daytime eye-to-eye like this, so it was kind of weird when you both prolonged your eye contact. When his expression wasn’t scrunched up in anger, he had a very… inhuman feel to him. You didn’t know how to describe it—he was just eerily still in a way that felt unnatural. He was a merman, of course, so that was expected. But it was so easy to forget he wasn’t a human when he just looked so much like one—at least from the waist up.

It was creepy, you had to admit.

“What’s up?” you ended up asking the merman when he made no further motion to get closer or disappear back into the water. There had to be a reason why he was here now, right? He’d never done this before. The fins on his head moved towards you when you spoke and he raised his head further up from the water so that you could see the rest of his face. He looked unhappy, and for a moment you wondered what the fuck you could’ve done this time to upset him. But then he swam closer to you and lifted one of his webbed hands so that he could brandish a crushed Coke can.

You blinked at him, then stared at the can. “Uhh…” He waved his hand almost impatiently at you and let out an irritated clicking sound. You hesitantly reached out and took the can from him. “...Thanks?” He blinked at you—not a normal, human blink, but a sideways one with a second pair of eyelids that appeared translucent—then ducked back under the water.

You stared at the spot he disappeared. That was weird. You moved your gaze to the red can you held in your hand, then set it off to the side. You’d throw it away later.

From then on, the merman started bringing you trash. Crushed cans, plastic bottles, fishing lines, anything and everything that was man made. You caught on to what he was doing pretty quickly, but you found that you didn’t mind all too much. You didn’t expect him to initiate such contact, but it was kind of nice. It made you feel special, dumb as it sounded. You almost looked forward to seeing him approach you with garbage, which—when you thought about it—honestly sounded rather sad. But you’d take it over him stealing your research any day.

You were sitting on your deck, inspecting the coral samples you’d placed in the thermoregulated box you had, when you heard a clicking sound.

At first you ignored it, chalking it up to some strange sound coming from the boat or a dolphin or something. After all, it wasn’t unusual for you to hear the occasional odd sound from the ocean life—you just learned to let it settle naturally in the background of things as you tended to your duties. You were determined to stay focused on your work—at least until you finished inspecting the tube you held in your hand. You scribbled down a few things in your journal, not even registering the next few irate clicking sounds. That is, until they evolved into something else.

“Oi.”

That certainly caught your attention.

You looked up and raised an eyebrow when you saw a familiar ash-blond head poking up from the side of your boat. He was holding himself up with his forearms on the deck, the top of his hair just barely brushing against the lowest bar of the railing along the boat’s perimeter. He really was getting bolder and bolder—you hadn’t seen him dare to touch the boat since the first night you’d met him.

“Oh?” you drawled, setting down the tube back in its box and closing it before you ventured to scoot closer to the merman. You sat cross-legged a few feet in front of him, still wary of his sharp claws. He frowned at you, his ear fins swiveling in your direction, but otherwise didn’t do anything. That was an improvement. “He speaks?”

He scowled, an intimidating thing that reminded you, yet again, that you were not dealing with a human. “‘Course I speak.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you snorted, “I’d been wondering if I’d imagined the whole thing or not.” You looked at him curiously, watching the way rivulets of salt water slid down his unblemished face and scarred arms. This was so strange to think about. “Where did you even learn English? Did someone teach you?”

Maybe you shouldn’t have asked that. The merman bared his teeth at you, a hiss escaping through them that had you raising your hands up in alarm. “Nunya business,” he grumbled, his eyes narrowed into slits. That was fine. If he wanted to be private about certain things then you could respect that.

“Okay, okay,” you soothed him as much as you could with your voice, trying to show that you’d meant no harm. You lowered your hands back to your lap, where they fiddled with the pages of your journal that you hadn’t realized you’d brought with you. “I get it. No questions.” Concerning more sensitive topics, anyways. You had a feeling a lot of things would be trial and error when it came to him.

The merman let out a hmph, but otherwise didn’t say anything else. You noticed his eyes had fallen from your face and you followed his gaze to see he was looking at your journal. He couldn’t have had books where he came from, right? Unless he had his own version of them. Either way, you curled your hands around your journal and lifted up the cover so you could flip through the pages. His eyes sharply tracked your movements, curious.

“Interested?” you asked with a small smile. His eyes darted up to your face then off to the side to feign disinterest. He let out a scoff, as though he hadn’t wanted you to catch him staring like that, but eventually he looked back and gave you another one of his unwavering looks. You’d take that as a reluctant yes. You scooted a bit closer and turned your journal around before setting it down between the two of you, its pages spread out and open.

“I write down all my research in here,” you said as you flipped slowly from page to page. He leaned up and closer, his squinted eyes moving from side to side as he traced over the charts and observations you’d written. You wondered if he understood any of it—if he could read as well as speak. “Growth rates, temperatures, descriptions, measurements… It’s all in here.” You tapped a finger on one of the drawing’s you’d done from memory of a coral bed. “I’m not the best artist, but anything helps.” He seemed to linger on the sketches especially—maybe since they were the most familiar to him.

You turned your head and pointed over at the thermoregulated box somewhere behind you. The merman followed your finger, his head tilting to the side so he could peer around you. “All those samples are gonna be taken back to my university so I can do some more analysis and stuff. Since I’m taking small pieces at the edges of the coral branches it’s not harming the reefs, so you don’t have to worry about that. They’ll grow back.”

He looked like he was processing what you were saying as his eyes flicked up to your face and down at your journal. They were such an interesting shade of red, you thought to yourself, as you took the moment to observe him. You wondered if they were that color to help him see better in the deeper depths of the ocean.

“Uni… vershity?” he mumbled rather gruffly, as though testing the word on his tongue.

“University,” you enunciated, trying not to feel too self-conscious as he watched the movements of your lips. “It's a school for older people, basically.”

He hummed in a way that you figured was meant to be nonchalant. But this—you were certain—let you know he was much more curious about human things than he was letting on. You hid a smile as you watched him tentatively rub his wet fingers on the deck to dry them, then reach out to lightly touch the pages of your journal.

And after you explained all that you could about what you’d been collecting, observing, writing, drawing, he looked up at you and told you his name. Succinctly, quietly. As though he wanted to give you something in return for all the things you’d taught him at that moment.

Then he disappeared, back into the ocean he came from.

Life with Katsuki around certainly kept you on your toes.

He started appearing more and more at the edge of your boat, his strong arms holding himself up as he watched you do your usual routine. You wondered how he never got tired from hanging off the side of the boat, but you supposed spending an entire life swimming around in the sea would make anyone’s upper body strength nearly immeasurable. You almost envied him, but well, you supposed your strengths lay elsewhere.

Sometimes Katsuki just stared, content with quietly observing you. It was a bit awkward at first, but you grew used to it. Besides, the company was nice—you hadn’t realized you’d been feeling a bit lonely out on the ocean until you had him constantly around. He didn’t need to speak, but just being at the edge of your periphery was enough.

There were times, though, where he would get curious and ask questions. He didn’t ask them like a normal person—merperson?—would, you noticed, but rather he’d impatiently make a sound until you looked at him and then obviously stare at something until you got the hint that he was asking what you were doing. Sometimes you’d act like you didn’t understand until he got all huffy and decided to use his voice. It was a bit amusing. You figured out pretty quickly that he still didn’t like to speak all too much. Maybe he was aware that his English wasn’t the best, maybe he was still wary of you, but you assumed that he’d eventually get comfortable the more he hung around you.

You started thinking of things you could show him to entertain him more. You spent one night hunting around in your cabin for something, anything. You didn’t really bring much, in hindsight. You had books you read when you weren’t doing research, but you didn’t think those would be particularly useful for him, seeing that he couldn’t read. You made a note to grab some more random items when you went back to the shore.

The next time you saw him, you ended up snatching a sketchbook you brought with you, along with a pencil and a small, white towel that he could use to wipe his hands.

“Okay, here we go,” you said cheerfully as you kneeled down and set the sketchbook in front of him. He eyed you curiously then looked down as you flipped open the book to a fresh page and started writing out the alphabet on it. He could try copying them if he didn’t want to draw. “I don’t have too many things to show you, unfortunately, but I figured you could try drawing or writing or something in this.” You finished scrawling out the letter ‘z’ then wrote out his name underneath it. After a quick moment of deliberation, you wrote your name as well.

You turned the book around so he could look at what you’d written. “This is the alphabet,” you said as you circled the pencil around the page. “This is your name.” You tapped the pencil on top of the neat Katsuki, then shifted it over. “And this is my name.” He stared at the page in interest and you set down the pencil in the crease of the book before you held out the small towel to him. “Use this to wipe your hands. So you don’t get the pages wet.”

You waited patiently as he squinted and tilted his head while he observed the towel. After he deemed it worthy of his grasp, he reached out a hand and snatched it from you so he could bring it closer to his face. You leaned back to give him some room and watched as the muscles in his biceps tensed. He lifted himself up some more so he could get a better hold on the deck with his elbows. Then he started patting down his forearm a bit awkwardly. Eventually, though, he got confident enough that he was able to towel off his arms and hands before tossing the towel back at you. It landed on your thigh. You had to suppress a smile.

“Good”—you pushed the sketchbook closer to him—”do whatever you want with it.”

With that, you stood up and brushed your pants off. You didn’t think he’d appreciate it if you watched him so closely as he wrote, so you gave him some space as you went off to tend to your own tasks. You did watch him out of your periphery at times, however, especially as he shifted more on top of the deck so he could grab the pencil. He rolled it between two fingers a bit, then stared at the sharpened tip. You bit on the inside of your lip to stop yourself from making a sound, then turned so you could grab your own journal. It was a bit entertaining to watch him observe things like this. He probably hadn’t seen a pencil before—or used one, for that matter.

You noticed, after some time had passed, that he did end up getting the hang of using the pencil as he scribbled away. You supposed all those times of him watching you jot things down had paid off. He looked focused, his body now halfway on top of the deck as he rested on his stomach. His tail was still overboard, dipping into the water, but he’d made himself more comfortable as he held himself up on his forearm. He kind of reminded you of a child, with the way he was so invested in his work.

Later, once he’d disappeared back into the ocean, you walked over to the closed sketchbook and picked it up. He’d left the pencil on top of it, so you grabbed it and stuck it behind your ear as you flicked through the pages to see what he’d scrawled. You were curious, you couldn’t help it.

The page next to the one where you’d written the alphabet and names down were full of rough, solid lines. Like he’d gone all in without knowing how hard to press the pencil to the page. He got better, of course, the more you went down the page and flipped to a few others. The lines turned to scribbles. Then they formed shaky letters. You smiled lightly as you saw him attempting to scrawl out your name. On another page, he had some more random letters here and there before he wrote his name in large, chunky blocks. He was a quick learner. You were kind of impressed.

The page next to it had a doodle of what looked like a coral of some sorts. Maybe an anemone. There was a little fish next to it, with some wavy lines at the top that you supposed represented the ocean’s surface. You didn’t expect him to be the best artist out there, of course, but you had to admit his drawing skills rivaled some of your colleagues’ back at your university. You let out a breath of air and shut the book with a small snap.

You were out on the deck, getting ready for another dive, when you heard a splash followed by a familiar voice.

“Swimmin’?” Katsuki asked once he poked his head up and saw you messing around with your gear.

“Yeah,” you replied as you fastened your diving belt around your waist. Next went the buoyancy compensator and oxygen tank on your back. Today you intended to grab the pictures of the reefs and marine life you needed for your coral bleaching observations over time. You’d already grabbed your underwater camera and placed it in one of the pouches on your belt. “I just gotta check that I have everything…” Pressure gauge was fine, your regulator was hanging around your neck… You were pretty much set.

Katsuki watched with interest as you walked over to the opening in the rail around the boat and sat down on the floor so you could slip on your fins. He dropped back down into the water and swam a bit closer, eyeing up the wires and devices on your body.

“What’s…” He lifted his hand from the water and made a gesture behind him. You raised an eyebrow, then realized he was pointing to your oxygen tank.

“Oh, this just helps me breathe underwater,” you told him. When his eyes moved to watch you fasten the right fin on your foot, you continued on. “These help me to swim easier.” You extended your legs and wiggled your feet. He seemed really invested in them, for he moved closer until he was able to reach up and grab onto your ankle.

It was weird, feeling him hold you there. You didn’t dare move, aware that this was the first time he’d actively attempted to touch you. The one thing you’d learned, as you got to know Katsuki more and more, was that it was important for him to reach out first, not you. He was pretty tense most of the time, not to mention insanely aware. He twisted your foot this way and that, watching the way the fins moved with the motion.

“Weird,” he muttered as he trailed a clawed hand up from the bottom of your heel to the tip of the fin.

“You’re weird,” you retorted, trying not to squirm too much. You knew he was just curious, but still, you were ticklish!

Katsuki’s eyes darted up to you, as though realizing that he was indeed currently holding onto a human’s ankle. And before you could even open your mouth to say something, he grinned wildly—mischievously—as he abruptly yanked on your ankle. Hard.

You yelped as you went plunging into the ocean, the cool temperature making you tense up. Water went into your mouth and up your nose, an uncomfortable feeling that had you coughing and spluttering once you broke the surface to inhale gasps of air.

“N— Not cool!” you choked out as you rubbed the water out of your eyes. It stung slightly—you hadn’t gotten the chance to tug the mask over your face yet. You glared at him once you cleared out all the water—him and his smirking face. This merman was a fucking menace. “Asshole.”

He rasped out what sounded like a laugh. You honestly weren’t entirely sure. You stuck your tongue out at him and fastened your mask over your eyes. Two could play at this game. Once you placed the regulator into your mouth, you ducked beneath the water, not intending to wait for him to catch up to you—not that he couldn’t with how much of an advantage he had in the water to begin with.

You swam down, heading towards the reefs you could see in the distance. Katsuki swam in circles around you. He lingered behind you at times to watch the way you moved your legs, but he mostly swam ahead and waited for you by the reef. You came to a stop a small distance away from it and fiddled around with your pouch so you could pull out your camera. It had a small, digitized screen on it that allowed you to see what you were taking pictures of.

You held the camera up to your face and snapped a few pictures. Then you swam to a different area so you could take some more. It was a quick process, so you never were down here for too long on days like this.

You didn’t think Katsuki ever saw you use the camera before. He swam up to you from the reef, tiny bubbles following in his wake, and hovered close by as he watched the way you operated it. You turned to look at him then gestured to the camera as you positioned it between the two of you so that he could see the small screen. You pressed on the shutter button a few times so he could see what was happening. Then you brought it back up to your face so you could take a quick photo of him. You wondered if he ever saw how he looked before. You showed him the screen before the picture of him could disappear and he immediately brought his face closer to it.

Katsuki looked at you when the picture vanished, his hair flowing around his head like a strange halo. He pointed to himself, then gestured at the camera as though to say that’s me? You nodded and did the same motion to confirm. You had a feeling he wanted to look at the picture some more, but he’d have to wait until you processed and printed them out.

He did seem interested in the camera, so you held it out to him. His gaze flicked between it and your face for a moment, but he eventually grabbed it from you. He held it uncertainly in his hands, careful not to scratch it with his claws. You pointed to the big button he needed to use to take a picture, then held your hands up to your face to demonstrate what to do.

He caught on quite quickly.

You drifted leisurely around, enjoying the sights and marine life that surrounded you, as Katsuki swam to and fro, taking pictures of anything and everything. Now that he had a new human thing in his grasp, he seemed eager to use it as much as he could. He took some photos of you—your fingers raised in a peace sign—then darted off to take some of the fishes and plants.

You were fine with just watching him. And when he finally finished taking pictures to his heart’s content, he approached you to give the camera back, the light dancing through the ocean from the surface making him look absolutely breathtaking with the way it bounced off his nearly golden scales.

Fuck, you thought as you took the camera from him and watched him swim off into the distance. I’m really friends with a fucking merman.

#bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #3 weeks late but its finally here babeyy #katsuki x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou x y/n #bnha x reader #mha x reader #i didnt fucking expect this chapter to be 8k words oh my GOD #and the next ones are probably gonna follow this length too...#fml #aigmytykb #ew that abbreviation looks nasty LOL #like a keysmash

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