#selkie spouse

[heartfulselkie]

@blur0se is right

We only have very serious conversations in the Spouse House obviously

[bittersweetresilience]

CHAT BLANC

anne carson / gregory alan isakov / nicole homer / unknown / david foster wallace / yves olade / frank bidart / adonis / normal-horoscopes / lisa marie basile / amanda palmer / georges bataille / desireé dallagiacomo / sophokles / gillian flynn / jackparse / ada limón / margaret atwood / fortesa latifi

a webweave for my beloved @heartfulselkie

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 258

Halfas are like selkies. Or more like they’re similar to many animal spouses of myths and legends, trapped in (mostly) human forms should they lose their cloak. 

That at least, Vlad warned Danny about within the first time of realizing what the other was. It’s a line neither will cross- not even the timeline where Dan came into being. An unspoken acknowledgement of not crossing such a boundary no matter what happened. 

Even after his parents’ deaths. After Jazz’s near-death and coma. 

It’s not exactly something Danny thinks of, really, especially not that he’s now survived highschool and practically moved across the country. Not to mention the fact he has Ellie and Jordan to care for. But it definitely comes to mind the moment Dan- only five at the moment- screams for him. And he’s not going to let anything happen to his kids

[superiorsturgeon]

In Northern European folklore, Selkies are mythical creatures possessing the ability to shapeshift between a seal and an attractive human by wearing a sealskin coat. According to legend, a fisherman may capture and marry a Selkie by stealing and hiding their coat, but if the Selkie ever finds the coat they will return to the sea and never be seen again.

Jaune: *wearing a cable-knit sweater and whistling a tune while walking down to the seaside with a bucket and tall boots* 😗 🎶

????: *splashing and bathing*

Jaune: Hm? I wonder who that could be? *peeks around a rock*

Selkie!Pyrrha: *naked and bathing happily in the surf*

Jaune: HOLY CRAP A NAKED WOMAN!! 😟

Selkie!Pyrrha: *turns around* 😕 ?

Jaune: HOLY CRAP SHE’S GORGEOUS!!!! 😱

Selkie!Pyrrha: Oh no! A fisherman! 😨

Jaune: *covering his eyes* AH!!! SORRY! I didn’t mean to spy on you! 🫣

Jaune: *gropes blindly and finds a rich seal-skin coat* H-here! You must be cold!

Selkie!Pyrrha: *takes the coat in dumbfounded surprise* Did he just…give it back? Just like that? 😦

Jaune: M-my name’s Jaune! I’m so sorry again, m-maybe if I see you later I can m-make it up to you? If you never want to see me again I’ll understand!

Jaune: *flees in panic*

Selkie!Pyrrha: *puts on her coat and turns into a seal* That was weird, he didn’t try to keep me as his wife even when he had my coat!

Selkie!Pyrrha: *slips into the water* What a shame! He was cute!

A few days later…

Jaune: *once again walking on the shoreline* Hmm?

Selkie!Pyrrha: *coyly watching as Jaune walks around the corner* Oh! It seems you came across me again! And my coat is all the way over there out of my reach…!

Jaune: *covers his eyes* Whoops! Sorry, let me just…

Jaune: *hands Pyrrha her sealskin coat and backs away*

Selkie!Pyrrha: *annoyed seal noises* What’s with him? Doesn’t he want a selkie spouse? 🤨

A few more days later…

Selkie!Pyrrha: Oh, how tragic for me! I have been discovered by a cute blonde fisherman and my coat is out of my reach!

Selkie!Pyrrha: There is nothing to stop the blonde fisherman from taking my coat and making me his-

Jaune: *climbs down from tall rocks* Phew! Got your coat back! I don’t know how it got all the way up there, but I bet you must be cold without it!

Jaune: *presents Selkie coat to Pyrrha while trying not to stare at her* 😅

Selkie!Pyrrha: *frustrated seal noises* Take the hint! 🤬

The day after…

Jaune: *mending nets and minding his own business* 😗🎶

Selkie!Pyrrha: *suddenly throws her coat over Jaune’s head from behind* 😠

Jaune: MMPH!! 😨

Selkie!Pyrrha: *bundles Jaune up and tosses him over her shoulder*

Selkie!Pyrrha: *happily carrying her new husband away* Oh no! A cute fisherman has taken my coat and I am bound to be his spouse! I suppose I shall have to make the best of my new life! 🥰

Jaune: *still muffled by sealskin* Mm-mmph, mm…?

Selkie!Pyrrha: Why, yes! Fresh fish and shellfish sounds lovely for our dinner, new husband! 😊

[sailor-aviator]

Amhrán na Farraige

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Selkie!Reader

Summary: For centuries there have been legends of beautiful women who disguise themselves as creatures from the sea, only coming to land to sate their curiosity about the world above. Bradley was a simple man who had a taste for simple pleasures. A whole life spent at sea meant he was accustomed to these tales, but nothing prepares him for the reality of them.

Content Warning: ANGST, smut (brief, p in v), Pregnancy, References to the supernatural, Third person narrative, Some fluff, Dub-con, Kidnapping, Forced marriage (kind of, you'll see), Stockholm Syndrome, Some domestic violence (against spouse and towards children. Nothing heinous, just some grabbing and shaking), Anger, Celtic myths/legends, Celtic songs, Depression, Lies, Men driven mad, Descriptions of blood. I think I got everything, but PLEASE let me know if I missed anything.

Word Count: 13.2k

Helpful pronunciations (not exact, but close):

Amhrán na Farraige - [oh-ron nuh far-ig-uh] "Song of the Sea"

Sidhe - [She] "Fairy" (Also there's a whole etymology thing with this but yeah)

Mo Chroi - [moh khree] "My heart"

Mo Ghrá - [moh graw] "My love"

Mo Mhuirnín - [moh wor-neen] "My beloved"

Mo Stóirín - [mo store-een] "My Little Treasure"

Song One (The cliffs) || Song Two (The end)

God was not real, of this Bradley Bradshaw was sure and certain. At the very least, if he had existed at all, he was surely dead now. Or perhaps he was a neglectful deity. Bradley had seen too much death and hardship in his life to think otherwise.

He had seen men gasp for an unhearing god as they lay on battlefields, blood coursing out the holes in their bodies as tears streamed down their unseeing eyes. He had seen children starve, begging their still mothers for food that would never come, not while hardship endured in the land. He had heard the wails of women as their sons, brothers, fathers, and husbands never returned home, hand reaching out for an embrace that would never be returned.

All eyes looked to God, but God did not look back.

The only thing Bradley was sure of, was the existence of the fair folk, the Sidhe his mother had always called them. The beings who walked the between, never staying long in this world or the next.

“That shadow that lingers in the corner of your eye?” She had smiled, stroking the hair out of his face. “That’s the fair folk, honey. Always watching, but never seen. If they see let you see them, Bradley, then it’s already over. They’ve gotten you.”

His mother had done her best to keep him sheltered from the horrors of the world, but death and famine followed the people along the coast. His father had died in a shipwreck off the coast when he was young, and while his mother had done her best to keep her sorrow hidden, Bradley often caught her eye turned towards the sea. She disappeared when he was only sixteen.

Bradley had heard stories of people being taken by the fair folk, lured to the hills beyond the town, some never to be seen again, while others came back different. He wondered if the men who had gone off to war had been taken, replaced with something hollow, something not quite all there. Had his mother been taken by the Sidhe? Taken to the land beyond to be with his father? Or had her sorrow and longing for her long-dead husband become too much all at once, the grips of the icy waters too tempting an offer to resist?

It didn’t matter anymore, though. Bradley was alone and took work where he could, soft hands of youth turning to calloused hands of adulthood. His once bright eyes grew dull from the monotony of the jobs at sea, life becoming routine as day after day he boarded a ship to earn his livelihood.

As he grew older, the wages from the odd jobs allowed him to purchase his own vessel, a small boat that rocked in the choppy waves as he hunted the seals that littered the coasts.

He remembered watching from the small house he and his mother lived in as the creatures hopped out of the water to lay on the rocks. He would inch towards the door until she caught him, a stern look on her face as she scowled at him.

“If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times,” she scolded him, hands on her hips. “You leave those creatures alone. They’re not doing anything to bother you.”

“Elijah’s da’ hunts them,” he remarked once, only serving to deepen her scowl.

“He does,” she muttered. “And he’s a lucky man that the selkies are a forgiving lot.”

“What’s a selkie?” Bradley had asked, eyes lighting up in intrigue. His mother regarded him for a moment before gesturing for him to sit in one of the chairs by the fireplace. Bradley settled in, eyes eager as he waited for his mother to explain.

“The selkies are fair folk of the sea,” she began, eyes serious as they darted above his head to look out the window towards the beach. “They may look like seals, but underneath their blubber and fur, they look like people just like you and me. They’re beautiful, Bradley, but curious to a fault. They walk on land in human form, shedding their seal skin once every seven years.”

“Why seven?” He had asked, voice small with wonder.

“Just the way the magic works,” she had replied with a shrug. “You can always tell when a seal is a selkie based on the size. The bigger the seal, the more likely it is to be a selkie, Bradley. Killing it and taking the skin will earn you pay, but you’ll have blood of the fair folk on your hand. Remember that.”

And he had remembered, for a while at least. He would watch the seals as they basked on the rocks, always wondering if the ones that met his curious gaze were one of the fair folk - a selkie.

Now the years had passed, grown from a small boy into a man of large stature. He commanded respect from those in the small, seaside village. Long had the days passed when his mother had warned him of hunting the seals and long had passed the days when he took those warnings seriously. He had joined the few who hunted the creatures around the rocky shores, braving the misty seas to earn himself a living.

He sat in his boat, the waves rocking him side to side in the way they often do during misty weather. Bitter cold clawed at his skin, numbing his fingers as he waited. Waited for something to come out of the water. Waited for any sign that he would earn a meal.

He fiddled with the ropes that lie around the floor of the boat, tying knots that he would need later. Undoing them, tying them, undoing them again. Anything to keep himself occupied while he lay in wait.

His breaths came out as white puffs of clouds, matching the ones surrounding him. Ice water clung to the whiskers on his upper lip, dripping down to run along his jaw and throat. He shifted, burying himself further into the warmth his coat provided. It was worn. He would need a new one soon. All the more reason to keep hoping for a prize catch.

The sound of disturbed water drew his attention towards the shore, and he slowly crept forward to peer over the side of the boat. A large seal bobbed at the surface, taking slow, deep breaths of the cold air that surrounded them. Slowly, Bradley reached for his harpoon, watching as the seal floated closer and closer. He raised his arm slowly, taking aim. He took a breath. Then another.

He released the harpoon just as a wave crashed into the side of his boat, sending the weapon veering off course. The harpoon struck the seal’s side, creating a gash that seeped blood into the water. The seal gave a pained cry, diving down into the murky depths of the sea, and Bradley cursed.

He stared at the spot where the seal had disappeared, already feeling the pangs of hunger stab at him. His nostrils flared as the desperate sense of anger welled up within him. How could he have been so careless? The size of that pelt would have brought in enough money to last him months. He heaved a sigh, pulling the rope to bring the harpoon back towards him. His fingers dipped into the icy water, the pain of it distracting him momentarily from his despair.

Bradley tossed the harpoon to the floor, the item landing with a thud as he slumped onto the bench. He buried his face in his hands, mind moving with blinding speed. He could still earn enough money to survive, he thought to himself. He could still do this. He just had to be more careful next time, should wait until he’s closer so he doesn’t miss. Still, his mind wandered back to the seal. The sheer size of it had his mind drifting back to the stories his mother had always told him. Of course, Bradley was older now, and he wouldn’t be scared by tall tales. However, the foolishness of youth still clung to him, for though he was now considered a man, he was barely twenty-two summers old.

Bradley heaved a sigh, sitting up and rubbing his hands together to create some warmth that would awaken his freezing fingers. He gripped the oars in his hands and began to row back to shore, the sun already dipping towards the horizon. He was always tempted to stay out past dark, but the older fishermen and hunters warned him of the dangers that came about at night. While Bradley was a fool, he wasn’t stupid.

He neared the dock that stood on the beach outside his home, moving to secure the boat to one of the posts when something caught his eye.

It floated in the water, a silvery grey blob that moved with the tide. Bradley’s eyes narrowed as he tried to place what it was in his mind. The blob slapped up against the side of the boat, and it was then that he realized what he was looking at. It was a perfectly preserved seal pelt, much like the one he had just seen. He supposed that it had fallen off a cart on the way to market, the winding roads by the cliffs being one of the few ways to make it into town. It wasn’t unusual for things to be knocked off of carts, finding their way onto the beaches and eventually into the sea.

Bradley wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth, not after his blunder. He scooped the pelt into the boat, laying it out to dry before lifting himself onto the dock. It would be days before he could take it to the market to sell, and he hoped no one recognized it when he did make his way into town.

An odd feeling overcame him in that moment, a feeling of unease and tension winding up his spine and gripping his throat. The feeling told him he was being watched, but by what, he did not know. His eyes darted around, expecting to see one of his neighbors by the house, but no one stood atop the cliff. The wind picked up around him, the cold of it stealing the breath from his lungs, and he curled in within himself to try and preserve some of the warmth he had left. The feeling told him he was making a mistake, but he ignored it, surmising that what he felt was guilt at having come into fortune from another’s strife.

Bradley shook his head to rid himself of the feeling, taking one last look around before trudging across the beach and up the path to his home.

The house was cold, but not for lack of warmth. Bradley kept the rooms heated well. No, the house lacked the happiness that made it a home, and this was something he was keenly aware of. It had been a home once, way back before his mother had disappeared.

Now, Bradley existed within its walls, hoping one day that he would find himself ready to settle for one of the pretty girls in town, the ones that smiled at him sweetly whenever he deemed it necessary to venture in. Perhaps he would finally give in to Orla’s flirting. She was a sweet thing, always filling his cup more than she ought to, setting it down in front of him with a bat of her eyes. She wasn’t a bad choice.

Bradley shook the thoughts from his head. He couldn’t entertain the idea of taking a wife, not when his circumstances were so uncertain.

He settled further down into his chair, feet propped up by the fire, the glowing embers serving to help warm him from his time out in the cold air during the day. The wood cracked and popped as the fire consumed it, and Bradley soon found himself dozing off. Exhaustion seeped down to the very marrow of his bones, his muscles stiff from the hours spent hunched over on the boat. His eyes began to flutter shut, urging him to embrace the sweet oblivion that came with sleep.

His body jerked, eyes snapping open. He wasn’t sure what had startled him at first, his heart hammering away in his chest as he let out a shaky breath. His ears perked, eyes darting as he waited for whatever it was that had roused him. He didn’t have to wait long, a second cry sounding from outside.

It was one of pure, unadulterated sorrow. The cry of someone so grief stricken, they sounded almost like an animal. A chill ran down Bradley’s spine at the sound, and cautiously he moved to stand, heading towards the front door. Every fiber in his body screamed at him to leave well enough alone, but he worried that someone might be heart or in trouble. Grabbing his coat, he slipped back into his boots and walked out the door.

The cold was something he thought he should be used to at this point, but it still shocked his system every time he stepped foot out into it. The moon was the only source of light save for the faint, orange glow that filtered out of the windows of his house. The air stung his lungs, and he suppressed a shiver that threatened to run up his spine. The cry had sounded far, coming from towards the beach if he had to guess. He began to walk, boots crunching against the dirt path as it gave way to sand. The waves crashed against the shore like thunder, so loud that he almost didn’t hear the faint cries coming from further down the strip of sand.

He almost missed her huddled in the sand, back pressed up against one of the large rocks at the edge of the shoreline where sand met grass. Her head was buried in the crook of her arms, shoulders shaking as she cried, quiet whimpers wracking her body.

“Miss?” He called out once he was a few feet away. “Are you okay?”

Her head snapped up, hair falling in her face as sorrow filled eyes peered up at him. The look of her knocked all air out of his lungs, and for a moment he couldn’t focus on anything but how beautiful the woman in front of him was.

“Can’t find it,” she croaked. Her voice was still sweet sounding despite the hoarseness of it, and Bradley found himself captivated even further by her. His eyes left her face then, realizing for the first time that she was naked.

“Oh my god,” he murmured, rushing forward as he shrugged off his coat. “Here, take this.”

He wrapped the coat around her smaller frame, the material dwarfing her. Her lips trembled, though Bradley suspected it wasn’t from the cold. She didn’t seem to see him as she continued muttering to herself, eyes darting wildly between her hands and the sea.

“Can’t find it,” she said again, her voice growing in pitch as the desperation took hold.

“Can’t find what?” Bradley asked, brow furrowing in confusion as he glanced around the beach. “Did someone hurt you? Where are your clothes?”

A choked cry spilled past her lips as a fresh wave of tears began to stream down her face. She shook her head wildly, hands darting out to grasp at his shirt. Her fingers seemed to push him away and pull him closer at the same time as another wail climbed up her throat.

“Can’t find it!” She shrieked, eyes growing wider as she stared at the water. “Wanna go home.”

“Where is home?” Bradley asked, his own anxiety beginning to peak as he gripped onto the woman’s shoulders. Her eyes glanced to his, but they did not see him.

“Between the light, between the dark,” she whispered, eyes boring into him. “Between the cold, between the warmth. Between the moon, between the sun. Between the north, between the south.”

The between was something Bradley’s mother had always cautioned him about.

“It’s where the fair folk live, Bradley,” she had told him. “They don’t live here, but they don’t live fully in the other. They’re from somewhere in between.”

He shook the thought from his head. He knew he was being superstitious, ridiculous even. The fair folk were prideful beings, surely one wouldn’t be sitting here talking with him like this.

And yet, as Bradley looked upon this woman, heard how she spoke, a voice in the back of his mind whispered to him that there was something strange about her. Something…otherworldly.

“Are you alone?” He settled on, trepidation clear in his tone. “Is there someone I can go get for you?”

“Can’t go home,” she muttered, eyes turned longingly to the sea as tears streamed down her face. “It’s too late.”

Bradley heaved out a sigh. He would have to take her home, let her rest and try again in the morning.

“Can you stand?” He asked her. She said nothing, nails biting into the skin of her arms as she continued to stare out at the water. Bradley reached out to her, Taking her arms gently to help her stand. Her lips curled in a wince, hand flying to her side. His eyes flickered down, and for the first time noticed the dried blood on her side.

“You’re hurt,” he frowned, moving closer to inspect the wound, but she shied away from him, her own frown tugging on her lips. His tongue darted out to wet his own nervously, as he glanced from her to the house.

“My house is a bit of a ways up the hill,” he started, nodding towards it. Her gaze was more focused now, eyes flickering towards where he gestured. “Do you think you can make it?”

She didn’t respond, instead tilting her head to the side as she regarded the distance. Finally, she nodded, and Bradley felt his shoulders sag in relief. The wind whipped around them, and he was reminded of how cold it was. It would be best to get her inside as soon as possible, though he couldn’t help but notice that she seemed holy unaffected by the freezing temperatures even though she stood in nothing but his coat.

He waited for her to move towards the house, but she remained still, watching him watch her. Finally, he pressed his lips together and began to walk towards the house, boots crunching against the ground once more. The woman made no sound as she moved behind him, her gaze fixated on him the entire time.

He paused outside the front door, hand hesitating above the knob. Slowly, he turned to look at her once more. Her eyes stared back at him, eyes that reflected the orange glow cast into the night, eyes that swirled with knowledge that Bradley could only dream of. She said nothing as they watched each other, those sorrowful eyes watching him with curiosity, so much like seals that littered the shores. Bradley sucked in a quick breath before turning around to push the door open.

The warmth was welcome, and he felt some of the tension ease from his shoulders as he stepped into the main room, turning to watch as the woman stepped across the threshold. Her eyes darted around, taking in the various pieces of furniture and decorations that were scattered about as Bradley closed the door softly behind her. She took a few more tentative steps into the house, head cocking to the side in such an unusual way as to further confirm what Bradley was slowly accepting.

She walked past him, eyes glittering with intrigue as she came up to the fire. She crouched down, head still tilting to one side, and Bradley was captivated by the sight of this beautiful woman bathed in the light of the fire in his home. Before he could react, she reached a hand out into the flame, letting out a startled, pained yelp as she retracted it. A whimper left her lips as Bradley rushed forward, kneeling in front of her and taking her hand in his.

“Why would you do that?” He asked, no real heat behind his tone as he inspected her fingertips. “Don’t you know it’s hot?”

Her fingertips were a little pink, but otherwise no real damage had been done. She stared at him with an unreadable expression, eyes still studying him. He hesitated for a moment before moving to stand, keeping her hand in his.

“I can show you to your room,” he told her, tugging on her hand lightly. Her eyes scanned him from head to foot and then back again before allowing him to pull her to her feet. The two padded down a small hallway before he pushed the door open to a bedroom that had long stood unoccupied. He tugged her inside, motioning for her to sit on the bed. She sat obediently, watching and waiting for him to make his next move.

“I’ll be right back,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck as he exited the room. He made his way to the washroom, grabbing bandages, a cloth, a bowl, and a pitcher of water. He returned to the room quickly, finding that the woman had not moved an inch in the time he was gone. He sucked in a breath as their eyes once again met, wary meeting curious. He set the items on the bedside table as he gestured at her.

“You’ll need to take that off so I can see the wound,” he murmured, heat rising to his cheeks as he glanced at her uneasily. She paid no mind to his discomfort, easily shedding the coat and exposing her naked body to him as simply as if he had asked her to close the door. He cleared his throat, eyes darting down to look at the angry-looking gash on her side. The wound appeared to be superficial, but he couldn’t be sure until he cleaned it.

He turned to ready the cloth, keeping the bowl of water close so he could rinse if he needed to. Tentatively, he reached a hand up, running his fingers over the dried blood upon her skin, eyes darting up to search for any sign of distress. Her face remained impassive as she watched him, and Bradley’s jaw clenched as he began to wipe gently at the wound.

He had been correct in his initial assessment, the gash was more of a flesh wound and thankfully wouldn’t require stitching. He grabbed some of the salve he had brought in, applying a decent layer before wrapping a bandage around her midsection. Bradley tried not to think of how close he was to the woman, of how beautiful she was, especially when she seemed wholly unbothered by his presence.

“I, um,” he stuttered, cursing his nervousness, “I can bring you something to wear. I still have some of my ma’s things.”

He didn’t wait for her to answer, not that she would give him one if the last half hour had been any indication. He made his way down the hall to the door he had not opened in years, taking a deep breath to steady himself before pushing inside.

The room was just as his mother had left it all those years ago, the only thing having changed was the layer of dust that coated everything. Bradley moved quickly to the wardrobe on the far side of the room, opening it to reveal several different clothing options. He grabbed what he could carry, making sure to grab some of the sleeping garments before heading back down the hall. The woman sat unmoved once more as he appeared, draping the options on the chair to his left by the vanity.

“I wasn’t sure what you’d like,” he said lamely, gesturing towards the clothing, “so I grabbed what I thought might look nice.”

The woman’s gaze moved slowly to the clothing before she rose to her feet. She padded across the room, not a sound from her as she walked over towards where he stood. Her eyes darted up to his for a moment before back down to the clothes. Small hands reached out to pick up one of the nightgowns he had grabbed, eyes studying it with a frown. Her hands tightened on the fabric, a look of despair washing over her face and disappearing just as quickly before she slowly eased it over her head, letting it drape down her form. She reached her hands up to pull her long hair out of the confines, letting it run down her back as she stared up at him.

There was something inherently wild about her, something that sent Bradley’s heart racing as he looked at her standing there in the room. She looked so out of place but so at ease with her surroundings, and he could hardly stand it.

“My room is just down the hall,” he told her, shoulders pulling back a fraction as he regarded her. “If you need me, I’ll be there.”

He gathered the things he had brought in, moving to leave when she grabbed his shirt, stopping him. He glanced at her from over his shoulder, brow furrowed in confusion as he waited for her to speak.

“Do you hear them?” She asked, voice barely above a whisper. “They’re calling for me.”

Bradley listened in the silence that followed, and it was a second before he heard the quiet, distant barks of seals mixed with the keen of something he could not place - something not quite human, not quite animal. He looked at the woman, her eyes having grown distant once more as a tear slid down her face. Bradley sucked in a quick breath as a shudder ran up his spine.

“You should get some sleep,” he whispered, breaking the silence. “You seem like you’ve had a long day.”

The woman looked at him once more, sadness swelling within her eyes before she slowly nodded, letting him go. She turned towards the bed, padding silently across the room once more.

Bradley closed the door behind him as he left, hands shaking as he listened for the click of the latch before putting away the items in hand. He put out the fire, washing the room in darkness as he dragged a hand over his face. With a glance towards the hall, he crept towards the front door, opening it and shutting it behind him carefully as to not make a sound. The cries from before could be heard louder now, and Bradley thought his heart would burst from his chest from the unease that enveloped him.

The moon still shone bright, lighting his path down towards the dock and his boat. The waves lapped against the shore, the cries louder the closer he came. His boat knocked against the wooden stands of the dock with every crash of the waves, and sitting there, on top of the bench, lay the pelt.

Bradley’s heart quickened at the sight, a sense of dread filling him at what he might find once he inspected it. His boots clicked against the wood as he made his way down to the edge. He kneeled down, snatching the pelt from its perch and into his hands. It was soft, nearly dry. He ran his hands over it, inspecting it closely as he squinted in the dark.

He was lost in the sensation of the pelt, how smooth and soft it felt in his hands, and for a moment he allowed himself to close his eyes and compare it to how soft the woman’s skin had felt under his fingertips earlier. He was pulled from his thoughts as the soft fur transformed into a matted and cracked mess. His eyes flew open, breath catching in his throat as he took in the bloodied tear down the side of the pelt.

Right where the gash on the woman was.

There was no denying it in his mind now. The woman in his home was one of the Sidhe - a selkie.

The cries grew louder, and Bradley’s head whipped up to stare out into the water. He couldn’t see them, but knew they were out there, searching for a sister that was lost to them. His grip on the pelt tightened, and his heartbeat thundered in his ears. He scrambled back to his feet, boots stomping against the wood and then the ground as he ran back to the house. His mind raced with thought after thought as his lungs burned from lack of oxygen. His hand reached out to open the door, but he stopped short, fingers hovering over the knob.

The cries off in the distance sounded as he stared at his front door before looking down at the pelt in hand. He could return it to the woman, let her return back to the sea she called home. But a more sinister thought crossed his mind. Why should he give it back? The woman was safe with him, after all. He could protect her from those that wished to hunt her, keep her warm and fed like a man should. He could love her, give her a life beyond what the sea had to offer. The memory of her skin under his fingertips once again rushed to the forefront of his mind, and he allowed his hand to drop back to his side. Yes, he would keep the pelt. Keep it hidden away where she nor anyone else would ever find it.

He turned on his heel, running towards the small shack just a few yards away from the house, ripping the door open and stepping inside. The structure held mostly items necessary for fishing and repairing his boat, but an old trunk sat in the back, practically hidden by various tarps and other objects. The cries of the other selkies grew louder, almost like they could sense the pelt in his hands and were coming to find it.

Bradley pulled the trunk out into the open, moving to the workbench and grabbing one of the keys that sat in the top drawer. He kneeled down in front of the trunk, unlocking it and opening the lid with a quiet creak. Inside lay old photos and trinkets that his father and mother had collected over their years together. He pulled a few items out before placing the pelt gently into the trunk, covering it back up with the aforementioned items.

He closed the lid, locking it. The wailing cries coming to an abrupt and sudden stop as he did so. He stayed there for a moment, the only sound to be heard being his heavy breathing and the waves crashing against the shore below. Slowly, he moved to stand, shoving the trunk back where he found it and hiding it away once more. No one would think to look in there. No one would know what he kept hidden. He tossed the key back into the top drawer, stepping out of the shack and back into the night.

The air was still around him, eerily so, and Bradley made his way quickly back to the house. His fingers were numb, whether it be from cold or nerves he wasn’t sure, but the tension didn’t ease as he closed the front door quietly behind him, his back pressed against it for a moment as he listened for any sound that the woman might have heard him. Hearing nothing, he toed his boots off, setting them by the door before making his way quietly towards his room, noting that no light shone under the woman’s door. He changed quickly for bed, crawling under the blankets as if they might shield him from the consequences of his actions that evening. He took a few calm, steadying breaths before closing his eyes.

Sleep did not come easy to him that night.

The first morning had been awkward, Bradley rising with the dawn to find the woman already sitting at the dining table, fingers fidgeting with the sleeves of the nightgown. Her eyes darted up to meet his as he entered the room, stopping short at the sight of her.

“You’re awake,” he murmured, shock clear in his voice as they stared at one another. She blinked at him, saying nothing. She seemed perkier this morning, albeit still cautious as she watched him walk further into the room. Bradley grabbed the box of matches from the shelf, taking one out and striking it with a pop. The woman jumped at the sound, eyes flickering to the watch as he leaned down to light the stove, shaking the match out once he was done.

“What is that?” She asked, and Bradley turned to look at her in surprise.

“What is what?”

“The colors,” she supplied, nodding at the burnt match in his hand. She pointed towards the fireplace. “They were in the cave over there last night as well.”

Bradley’s gaze flickered over to where she pointed before landing back on her.

“It’s called fire,” he started slowly, a frown tugging on his lips. “I use it to cook things and keep the house warm.”

“Fire,” she repeated, testing the word out on her lips. “It hurts.”

“It can,” Bradley agreed, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “You shouldn’t touch it.”

She nodded solemnly, clasping her hands out in front of her. She watched as he began to prepare breakfast, turning on the toaster and slicing up the fish to cook in the pan.

“I like those.”

Bradley turned back around to find the woman sitting with most of her torso on top of the table, her legs stretched to accommodate her. Eyes shone with delight at the sight of the fish, and Bradley arched a brow at her.

“Yeah?” He hummed. She nodded enthusiastically, tongue darting out to lick at her lips.

“There’s lots of them,” she told him. “They swim in groups and they’re easy to catch. The fishermen catch them using nets.”

“They do,” Bradley nodded, laying a strip of the mackerel down in the pan. It began to sizzle, and he was struck with how hungry he truly was.

“What are you doing?”

He jumped, turning to look where the woman now stood, eyes wide as she watched the fish cook down. He stared at her for a moment before turning his attention back to the fish, flipping it over before it burned.

“I’m cooking,” he told her. The woman leaned forward, sniffing at the food before wrinkling her nose.

“It smells weird,” she muttered, and Bradley laughed.

“It smells fine,” he smiled, sliding the fish onto one of the plates on the counter. “You’ve just never had it cooked, I’ll bet.”

He ushered her back towards the table, setting the plate down at the spot she just occupied and handing her a fork. He turned back towards the stove, laying another slice of the fish down as the woman took a tentative bite. Chewing slowly, she perked up as the taste rushed over her, shoveling more into her mouth with a satisfied purr. Bradley soon joined her, chuckling as he watched her. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so light, the last time he laughed so freely.

“You should slow down,” he smirked, taking a bite from his own plate. “You don’t want to choke.”

She peered up at him, pausing in her feast as she considered his words. She cocked her head to the side in that curious way before taking a slower bite, looking up at him for approval. The two ate in silence for a few moments before Bradley cleared his throat, drawing her attention.

“My name is Bradley,” he said, glancing up at her as he swallowed a mouthful of fish.

“Bradley.”

“What should I call you?” He asked, and she frowned in confusion.

“What do you want to call me?” She asked him.

“Don’t you have a name?” He chuckled, disbelief coloring his voice. Surely even the fair folk had names to give. Her face drew tight in sorrow once more, and Bradley felt a twinge of pain in his chest at the sight. Her gaze slowly turned towards the window where the sea lay just out of sight.

“Only the water knows my name,” she told him, grip loosening on her fork as it clattered against the plate. “Only it can say it.”

Bradley watched her. Watched how her breathing grew ragged. Watched how her eyes glistened with unshed tears for a home she would not return to. Her lips trembled, and Bradley cleared his throat.

“I need to head into town,” he said. “Need to see a man about a job. Do you want to come with me?”

She turned to look at him, eyes still hazy from wherever she had let herself wander. She blinked once, twice.

“I suppose,” she whispered finally. Bradley nodded, clearing the plates from the table.

“You’ll need to change,” he told her. “You can’t go out wearing that.”

She looked down at her nightgown with a frown before looking back up at him.

“It’s, uh,” he stuttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s not appropriate for others to see you dressed like that.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Just,” he blew out a breath, “please pick a different dress?”

She gave him a sour look before standing and disappearing down the hall. Bradley blew out a breath before moving to clean the kitchen area. The woman reappeared, wearing a simple, blue dress. Bradley nodded in approval before his eyes landed on her bare feet.

“Stay here,” he told her, walking down the hall to the far bedroom. He walked in, straight up to the wardrobe and began rummaging through until he found a pair of his mother’s old shoes. He reappeared in the kitchen, handing the woman the shoes with a shy smile.

“I don’t know how well they’ll fit,” he started, “but they should work until we get you some new ones.”

She eyed them distastefully, nose wrinkled in disgust.

“I don’t want them,” she said finally, moving to hand them back to Bradley. He shook his head.

“You need them. They’ll protect your feet, and people will expect you to wear them.”

She scowled, pushing them forward once more, but Bradley stopped her.

“Please, mo chroi,” he pleaded. “Just while we’re in town. You can take them off as soon as we’re home.”

Her gaze softened at the endearment, and reluctantly, she shoved her feet into them. He helped her lace them, calloused fingers making nimble work of them, and soon they were ready to go. He grabbed a thin jacket for himself while he made sure to hand her the heavy coat to combat the frigid air outside. The walk to town took about an hour, and the weather was sure to still be cold and damp as it often was during the time between spring and winter.

Bradley turned to her, a thin-lipped smile on his face as his hand rested on the door. He gave her a once over.

She looked like any other person upon first glance, but if you stared too long, something wild shone on her person that drew you in. Like it would suffocate you if you stared too long. He sucked in a breath, torn between keeping her in his sight and making her stay. If she came, the townsfolk would surely be able to guess that she was not a mere human girl, but if she stayed? If she stayed, she might find the one thing he hoped she never would.

“Alright,” he breathed. “Let’s go.”

Weeks had passed, and the two had developed a routine of sorts. Bradley had started work as the lighthouse keeper, walking every day down the path along the cliffs to clean and polish the light that guided ships to shore. When he finished, he began work on the nets for when he ventured out into the sea to catch fish. It was a steady source of food, and food was not something Bradley took lightly. Memories of what it felt like to go hungry when there was so little to go around, fueled his drive to ensure there was enough, always enough and plenty to spare. He showed mo chroi how to prepare and salt the fish they couldn’t eat, showing her how to store it for future meals.

She was a quick learner, performing the tasks diligently as the days passed, and soon she took over most of the household chores. The widow Callahan checked in on them from time to time, her wise eyes studying the new woman of the house every time she came by.

“Be careful, young man,” she’d always say, dark eyes narrowed up at him. “You may have tamed her now, but the fair folk were not meant for gilded cages. Don’t give her what you cannot spare.”

Bradley would assure her that he wouldn’t, but in truth, he had no idea what she was telling him. He was content with how things were, content to have a partner by his side to help with the work he had done by himself for years. He still caught her staring longingly out at the waters she once called home, but the longing looks grew farther and farther apart the longer she stayed with him, resigning herself to her new life on land.

He was mending a tear in one of the nets when she appeared beside him, silent as always. He was used to it now, no longer startling every time she appeared around him without a sound. He became attuned to her presence, sensing when she came and when she left.

She said nothing to him at first, content to watch him as he worked, and he was content to keep working. It wasn’t until she kneeled beside him, gentle hand placed on top of his arm that he stopped.

“What is it, mo chroi?” He asked, gazing up at her. The sun was sinking towards the horizon, casting a faint golden glow onto the summer evening. Bradley couldn’t help but to admire her beauty in the dimming light, eyes glittering and skin smooth as porcelain as they looked at him. She wore only a white chemise, something she was prone to do when it was just the two of them. She didn’t like the heavy, scratchy feel of the dresses, only wearing them when there was company or when the two ventured into town. Bradley complied with her whims, finding it hard to say no to her.

“Why do you not have a woman?”

The question caught him off guard, eyes widening as his jaw went slack.

“What?” He blinked, scrambling to make sense of her question. She hummed, pressing closer to him. Bradley found it hard to think with the feel of her soft, warm body so close to his, one hand tracing over the planes of his chest as she continued.

“The men in the village,” she pressed, eyes never wavering as they bore into his own, almost hypnotic in the way they captured him, “they all have a woman to keep them company, to hold them, to love them. But you do not.”

Bradley’s eyes darted back and forth between her own, words failing him. She lifted a leg, resting it in between his own as she straddled his thigh. The hand that rested on his arm trailed up to play with the curls at the base of his skull, her body flush with his now as his hands came up to rest on her thighs. The hem of her chemise rode up to reveal smooth thighs that had Bradley reeling with lust. She leaned forward, a purr on her lips as she trailed her nose along his jaw and up to his ear.

“Is it me?” She asked softly, hand splayed on his chest as her lips brushed along the shell of his ear. A shudder ran up along Bradley’s spine at the sensation, mind growing hazy and clouded with lust for the creature before him.

“Am I yours?” She breathed, meeting his eyes once more. The air between them was charged, and for a moment Bradley could think of nothing but the way she felt against him. The way her lips hovered over his.

He lunged forward, pulling her impossibly closer as their lips melded against one another. He was spellbound, captivated, obsessed. His hands tightened on her thighs, and she sighed against his mouth, spurring him on to nip at her bottom lip. She granted him entrance, gasping as he licked hungrily into her mouth, the sweet taste of her driving him mad as a hand slid up to press against her lower back.

She wasted no time lifting herself off of him long enough to free him from the confines of his trousers, small hands gripping his hardening length. He let out a pleasured groan, head tilting back as she stroked him slowly before positioning herself atop him. There was no buildup between them, Bradley gripping at her as she slowly eased herself down onto him. A keen left her lips as he stretched her, mind numbing pleasure coursing through his veins as her velvety walls fluttered around him.

Her eyes were closed tight as she rested on top of him, her hips flush against his as her hands rested on his chest for balance. Bradley had never seen a more beautiful sight. Slowly, she rolled her hips against his, breathing ragged as she built a rhythm. Bradley laid against the wood of the dock as he watched her take her pleasure from him, a hand running up her stomach to rest between her breasts. He could die a happy man right then and there.

Her pace grew faster as she approached her climax, whimpers and cries spilling past her lips as she rode him, and Bradley pushed himself into a sitting position, careful to not disturb her. A hand rested on her back as he nuzzled into the space between her breasts where his other hand had just been. The sleeve of her chemise fell off her shoulder, and Bradley lifted his face to nip and lick at the skin there. He could feel his own high approaching as she ground down on him, and his free hand rose up to wrap around her throat, squeezing gently. She froze, hips stopping as they locked eyes. The only sound to be heard between the two of them was their ragged breathing.

For a second, Bradley thought he had crossed the line, but she made no move to remove his hand. The two stared at one another for a long moment before one of her hands came up to rest atop his own, squeezing them lightly as she began to move her hips once more, slower this time, drawing out the inevitable. He groaned at the sensation, feeling his stomach tense as her eyes never left his, her gaze intense as she chased release. Her walls fluttered and tightened around him, and with a final cry, she came, her head thrown back and her hot, wet cunt milking his own orgasm out of him with a shout. His spend coated her walls, leaking out around him as he shuddered and fell back against the dock with eyes pinched closed. Her hips still moved against his, drawing out every ounce of pleasure she could, giving herself to him with every movement.

She was his now, he had marked her.

Her hips finally stilled against his, and he could feel her staring at him. Her fingers trailed up his chest, along his jaw, before finally stilling on his lips. Bradley peeled his eyes open slowly, and he would have sworn he had died and gone to heaven for if he didn’t know any better, he would have thought he was looking at an angel. The setting sun cast a halo around her head as her hair blew in the wind, hypnotic eyes boring into him as the golden glow of the evening enveloped her. His lover smiled down at him softly, fingertips stroking his lips before leaning down to press her own against them.

She didn’t look to the sea much anymore, her longing gazes turned to brief flickers as she went about her days. Still, there were nights when her eyes would glaze over as the sound of seals calling out in the night made their way up to the confines of the house. Bradley would watch as her lips trembled briefly, the look in her eyes growing farther away until suddenly she would snap back to the moment, offering him a loving smile as she continued her mending.

Her stomach began to swell in the autumn months, and Bradley often found himself reluctant to leave her side. He would place a hand on her stomach, eyes lighting up in delight every time he felt a kick to it. He’d rest his head on top of her, muttering sweet words and promises to the babe that grew within. She would rest her hand on his head, stroking his hair soothingly as the fire crackled in front of them.

They were happy.

There was one night, however, when Bradley came back from the village to find his wife no longer at home, and panic overtook him. He tore through the house, ripping open every door he could find until he was faced with a horrifying possibility. He ran outside to the old shack, nearly ripping the door off of its hinges in his haste to open it. His eyes scanned the dark interior, his lantern casting shadows across the walls as he sighed in relief at the realization that his secret was still hidden underneath tarps and old traps.

His brow furrowed as he stepped back out onto the open cliffs, the wind whipping around him as he scanned the dancing grass. His eyes stopped at the edge of the cliff, terror gripping him once more at the thought that his lover might have done the unthinkable. Had she tried to return to the depths from where she came? Her body would not survive the plunge, not without the skin that lay hidden in shadows. He trudged towards the edge of the cliffs, the wind biting his skin and seeping to his bones as his heart thundered in his ears. He peered down at the rocks below, stopping only when a song sounded on the wind.

Little sister, sister hu ru

My love, my sister hu ru

Can you not pity o hol ill eo

My grief tonight hu ru

The voice was beautiful and full of sorrow, cries carried on the wind and out to the sea. Bradley swung the lantern towards the rocky path that led up to the lighthouse, the moon casting ribbons of silver that silhouetted the tall structure.

I am a poor woman hu ru

Sad and miserable hu ru

I climbed up o hol ill eo

Ben Sgrìobain hu ru

Bradley moved quickly through the grass and up the path, the sound of the song growing louder with each step he took. The stone structure stood proud against the backdrop of the sea, the waves crashing against the rocks below, almost drowning out the song as he rounded the walkway, finding his wife standing on the edge of the cliff.

I didn’t find there hu ru

What I wanted hu ru

A girl o hol ill eo

With hair like a daisy hu ru

Tears streamed down her face as he watched her, her hair whipping in the wind as her hands cradled her heavily swollen belly. Her feet were bare, and she wore a thin chemise that did little to protect her from the gusts that enveloped her body. No sobs left her as she finished her song, only the look of someone who had been lost, lost and never found in a world that was not her own. Bradley sucked in a breath, lips pressing firmly together before he stomped towards her. He dropped the lantern at his feet, the flame within dying at the impact as he gripped her shoulders and whirled her around to face him. Her eyes grew wide as his rage flooded to the surface, nostrils flaring and fingers digging into her skin hard enough to leave bruises.

“What were you thinking?” He hissed, shaking her with every accusation. “You scared me half to death! What are you doing out here dressed like this? It’s too cold for you to be out here with nothing to protect you. I thought you had-”

He gestured towards the cliffs, the words dying on his lips as he choked on a sob. The tears sprang to his eyes unexpectedly, rolling down his cheeks as his hands gripped onto her even tighter. If he held on tighter, she would never leave, would never return to the sea, would never leave him. He couldn’t bear the thought of being alone again, not when he had tasted a life that was shared.

She stared at him, eyes wide and searching as the wind danced around them. Her hand slowly reached up to cup his jaw, thumb smoothing over the stubble that grew there.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, voice almost lost on the wind. She leaned forward, and Bradley lurched back, eyes wide and scared as they watched her. The two stayed like that for a moment before she moved once more, hand holding his face in place as she brushed his nose with hers before pressing her lips to his in a gentle kiss. Tears continued to stream down Bradley’s face as his eyes flickered closed, embracing her as different emotions swirled inside him.

“Never leave me,” he begged in a whisper against her, one hand dropping down to cup her stomach as he rested his forehead against hers. He opened his eyes to find her already looking at him, black water dancing in her gaze.

“Never, mo ghrá.”

Their son was born a month later, loud cries spilling into the night as Bradley waited outside with some of the older men from the village. His head perked up at the first wail, eyes shining with excitement as her screams were replaced by those of the infant. The widow Callahan opened the front door moments later, apron covered in blood as she wiped her hands on a rag.

“You have a son,” she announced with a small smile, and Bradley grinned so hard, he swore his face would split in two. The men around him clasped him on the back, cheers ringing out in the night as they opened up spirits brought with them for the occasion. Bradley was keen to see his wife and son, but one of the men shoved a mug into his hands.

“Have a drink first, lad,” he hollered with a laugh. “The misses and the wean will still be there after.”

Bradley downed the drink as quickly as he could, much to the amusement of the others. He shoved the cup into the hands of the man nearest to him, not waiting for it to be refilled as he made his way into the house. The widow Callahan was cleaning up her supplies along with her apprentice when Bradley entered the room. His wife lay propped up in the bed, a small smile on her face as she cooed at the small bundle in her arms. Her eyes flickered up to his for a moment before back down. He crossed the room, easing down gently beside her on the bed. The babe gurgled, eyes closed as he yawned, and Bradley felt his heart swell.

He reached a hand over to run a finger over his son’s hands, heart dancing in his chest when the babe gripped it, small hand so strong for someone who was only moments old.

“What should we call him?” Bradley asked, cuddling into her side, exhaustion seeping through her.

“I thought we might call him Ronan.”

Bradley paused. The meaning of the name was not lost on him, and his gaze flickered to her profile for a moment before nodding.

“Ronan,” he murmured, eyes turning back to his son, nodding. “Aye. I like it. Ronan it is then.”

The babe gurgled once more, and Bradley reached over to take him in his arms, cooing softly as the bundle fussed.

“We should let your mother rest,” He whispered to the baby, a small smile on his wife’s lips as she nestled into the inviting warmth of the bed, her eyes drooping as she fought to remain awake. “She’s had a long day, don’t you think? It’s not easy bringing someone into the world.”

He tore his eyes away from his son to gaze at her, adoration shining bright as he reached a hand to smooth the hair out of her face.

“We’ll be here when you wake up,” he promised, bouncing the baby lightly as he moved to stand, his eyes already fixated back on the bundle in his arms. Her eyes followed him as he walked towards the door, lips curled into a smile as she slipped further and further into oblivion.

Bradley offered her one last smile as she fell asleep, walking towards the main room and sitting down by the fireplace, the orange glow of the fire bathing the two in the warm light. The men outside still celebrated, and Bradley rolled his eyes, smiling down at his son.

“I wanted to talk to you, man to man,” he started, rocking the baby in his arms. “I can’t guarantee you an easy life, Ronan. In fact, it might be a hard one. What I can promise is that I’ll be by your side as only a father can be for his son.”

Ronan cooed, opening his eyes for the first time to look up at his father, and Bradley’s heart soared.

“You’re born from two worlds, you know,” Bradley continued, a small frown tugging on his lips as he considered what this would mean. “A living bridge between the seen and unseen, but what does that mean for you, I wonder.”

The fire popped as it consumed the wood, the crackling the only thing heard besides the faint sound of Ronan breathing. The men had left to continue their drinking in the village, and soon even the widow Callahan and her apprentice left, bidding him a good night as they did. Bradley said nothing to them in response, eyes trained on the baby in his arms even as the sun rose above the horizon.

Ronan grew quickly, much to Bradley’s surprise, and soon he was toddling around and talking, a smart lad whom Bradley found he never had to instruct more than once, eager to take on the responsibility of being the eldest. Two years after he was born, another bundle joined their home, a boy they named Rían who grew to fill the house with peels of laughter everywhere he went. His wife showed no more signs of longing for the sea, too enamored with her children to pay much mind to the sea which she once called home.

Three years after Rían was born, they welcomed Cillian into their fold, a quiet babe who grew into a curious and bright little boy. Bradley was happy with his life and even prouder of his family. He soon began teaching Ronan how to weave nets for fish and how to fix the traps they used to catch the migrating salmon, and it wasn’t long until Rían joined them. Cillian was too young, staying behind with his mother as the other three made their way out to sea to bring home food for the next day.

Their evenings were spent sitting by the fire, the boys playing with their toy soldiers as their mother worked on her mending, Bradley resting from a hard day’s work as he smoked a pipe, a habit he had picked up to help ease the tension he often felt these days as he grew older. It was on one such evening that Cillian pulled on the skirt of his mother’s dress, eyes so much like hers as they gazed up in curiosity.

“Ma,” he chirped, earning her attention. She smiled down at him, setting down her latest project to give him her full attention.

“What is it, mo mhuirnín?” She asked.

“The people in town say you’re not from here,” he continued, earning the attention of the two other boys and Bradley as well. “If you aren’t from here, then where do you come from?”

The silence was heavy in the room, not a soul moving as the words hung in the air. His mother’s eyes glazed over slowly as she thought about the home she left behind so many years ago. A look Bradley had not seen since before their first son was born made its way onto her face, and his heart began to thunder in his chest. Time seemed to stand still as she considered her words.

“Between the here, between the now. Between the day, between the night. Between the land, between the sea. Between the awake, between the asleep. Between the real, between the myths. That is where I am from,” she told him, a hand coming up to cup his chin gently. In that moment, Bradley remembered the wild that dwelled within his wife, the constant call from within to return back to the sea. He remembered that while he grew older, she remained forever the same, never changing. He remembered the fear that gripped him each night at the thought that she might leave, and rage filled him.

“Enough,” he snapped, drawing all four pairs of eyes to him. Bradley was a kind, easygoing man, not prone to anger, and the sight of him now shocked his children, fear flashing in their eyes at the look of anger that clung to his face.

“I won’t hear another word,” he hissed, grip tight on the pipe in hand. He gestured wildly at his children as they sat, paralyzed with fear. “To bed, all of you!”

They did not need to be told twice, scrambling to their feet as they hurried down the hall, the sounds of doors shutting behind them. Regret filled Bradley almost instantly, but it was not enough to quell the fear that still raged on inside of him. His eyes watched the hall before sliding over to look at his wife. Her head was bowed submissively, an impassive look on her face as she continued her mending, and Bradley settled back into his chair, an air of unease settling in around him.

It was a few weeks later when Bradley had taken the two older boys off that his world turned upside down.

Cillian was a curious boy, too curious for his own good, one might say. He loved to experience the world around him and oftentimes found himself in more trouble than he could handle. His father had warned him to stay away from the old shack that stood by the cliff, telling him that there were things in there that could hurt him if he wasn’t careful. Cillian heeded the warning, but grew more and more curious the longer it remained unexplored. It was for that reason he found himself opening the door, the creeks of the old hinges causing him to turn around to make sure he wasn’t heard. Confident that his actions still remained a secret, he crept into the dark shack, eyes wide as he took in the different trinkets strewn about.

It was nothing of import, mostly old tarps and broken traps his father had not seen fit to fix yet. An old desk sat against the far wall, and as Cillian crept farther and farther into the room, he noticed how more and more things lay stacked atop one another, as if trying to convince him to turn back. There was something that called out to him though, and the need to find what it was became stronger with each passing second. The pull pulsed around him, almost like a heartbeat as he inched closer and closer to the far side of the shack. It wasn’t until he came upon an old chest that the energy suddenly calmed, almost like it disappeared and Cillian reached out his little hands to try and pry the lid open. It did not budge, locked so that prying eyes would not find what was not theirs to seek.

Surely there must be a key? His eyes scanned the area around him, frowning when one couldn’t be found. His gaze landed upon the desk, and he stumbled over the items strewn about as he made a beeline for the lone piece of furniture. His hand reached up to drag the top drawer open, little legs stretching as far as they could to allow him to look inside. There were several keys that lay on the bottom of the drawer, but only one was carved ornately enough to match the old chest. Grinning at his prize, he seized it in his little fist, scrambling back over to the chest.

He let out a giggle as the key slipped easily into the lock, twisting it until a click could be heard. Looking behind him to make sure he was still alone, he lifted the lid of the trunk slowly. He vibrated with excitement at the thought of the treasures he might find, only to be met with the sight of trinkets tossed haphazardly inside. He reached a hand in to rummage through the piles of junk, frowning at the piles of nothing. He was about to close the lid once more when his fingers brushed against something soft, and his breath caught in his throat. He gave it a tug, but the object did not move. Huffing, he wrapped both hands around the object, grunting as he tugged it free from the confines of the trunk. He fell back with the force, landing against an old crate with a thud and a shout. He scowled at the crate, rubbing his backside before turning his attention to the prize at hand.

It was a seal pelt, the silver reminding him of the moonlight that danced through his window at night, the same beams that glittered atop the water of the sea. His hands ran over it, delighting in how soft it felt against his skin, and with a grin, he wrapped it up in his arms and ran out of the shack into the late afternoon sun.

His mother was hanging laundry out to dry, the sheets billowing in the wind as she pushed hair out of her face. Her stomach was swelling once more, just enough to be noticeable through her dress.

“Ma!” He cried out, running to her quick as his little feet could carry him. “Look what I found!”

She smiled down at him, gaze adoring before landing on the item in his hands. Her smile faded, the faraway look from that terrible night when his father had lost his temper returning to her face as she beheld the pelt in his hands.

Bradley and his sons walked up the path, smiling amongst each other as they hurried home, eager to be reunited with their mother and brother. Bradley’s eyes darted up the path, itching for a glimpse of his wife when his eyes landed on the scene unfurling before them. Her hands reached out to the pelt his youngest son held up to her, and his stomach dropped as he blanched.

“No!” He shouted, breaking out into a sprint up the path, but it was too late. Her fingers wrapped around the pelt, and something awakened inside of her, something long thought dead. A grin stretched across her face as she snatched the skin into her arms, letting out a delighted cry as she ran down the path, narrowly avoiding her husband’s arms and past her children. Bradley stopped short, turning on his heels to chase after her, legs pushing as hard as they could in a desperate attempt to catch her, hand reaching out to grab her. He was so close, fingers brushing the ends of her hair, but the call of her nature was stronger than any love he carried for her. She threw the pelt around her shoulders, a laugh leaving her as her feet touched the water, and with a leap into the air, the woman was once more a seal, landing in the water with a quiet plop. Bradley continued after her, feet pushing through the resistance of the sea as he clawed his way forward.

“Come back,” he cried, water up to his waist now. “Come back!”

It was no use, his wife was gone, stolen back by the sea, and tears streamed down his face as he scanned the surface for any sign of her. The water was oddly calm given how frantic he had become, and the despair inside him rose to a fever pitch, released in a guttural cry as he unleashed his anguish for the sea to hear.

“You promised!” He screamed, throat strained with the force of it. He let his face drop into his hands, clawing at the skin of his face as his eyes darted wildly all around like he was a man possessed. Sobs wracked through his body as the reality of what happened settled over him.

“Come back.”

Bradley was not the man he once was, and he would never be again. The house felt cold and empty with his wife gone, and he could not find it in him to do much of anything. Numbness filled his bones, the sorrow of losing that which he loved too much for his mind to bear. Most days were spent along the shore, desperate eyes searching for any sign of his wife before one of his children was able to coax him back to the house, usually well after the sun had disappeared below the horizon.

He didn’t eat much, sullen gaze turned down towards his plate, but never eating more than a mouthful or two of whatever was placed in front of him. His face grew gaunt as the weeks turned to months, dark circles growing under his eyes.

A house that was once filled with laughter now served as a tomb, the once happy memories enshrined within its four walls. The children no longer laughed, no longer played. The love of their mother was no longer there to keep them warm. Few words were uttered amongst each other, and no one was quite able to meet the eyes of another.

Utensils scraped against each other, not a word spoken as all eyes remained cast downward.

“I saw a seal today,” Rían whispered, jumping as the sound of metal dropped against a plate. Bradley’s eyes bored into his son, a haunted look on his face as he turned to him.

“What did you say?” He asked, leaning forward, tears gathering in his eyes. Rían stared at his father before casting a nervous glance to Ronan. Bradley pushed out of his chair, kneeling in front of his son as his hand gripped his shoulders painfully. Rían whimpered, trying to get out of his father’s grasp.

“Where did you see it?” Bradley rasped, voice croaking from under use. His nails dug into the boy’s skin, a pained cry spilling out of Rían’s lips. Ronan scrambled up out of his seat, hand wrapping around his father’s arms to try and pull him away from his brother.

“Tell me where you saw it!” Bradley shouted, shaking the boy roughly, eyes wild and unseeing.

“Da please!” Ronan hollered, pulling with all his might, and Bradley’s grip loosened, sending Rían flying back into his chair with a cry. Tears streamed down his face as he stared at his father, limbs trembling from fear. Bradley’s eyes focused, seeing his son for the first time in that moment.

“Rían,” he whispered, eyes darting around to look at the other two. Cillian sat on the opposite side of Rían, tears streaming down his own face as his bottom lip trembled in terror. Ronan stood behind him, face unreadable as stone as he watched his father.

“I’m,” Bradley breathed, stumbling to his feet as he ran a hand through his hair. “I’m so sorry.”

He didn’t wait for a response, exiting the room in a hurry.

The next day had them returning to their new normal. Ronan took charge of the fishing, bringing home what he could, which was just enough to keep everyone fed. Rían had taken up the housework in the absence of their mother, Cillian helping where he could at his young age.

Bradley’s days were spent at the shore, watching and waiting for a love that would never return to him. His thoughts often turned to the happier memories, of days spent in her embrace, the feel of her lips against his, the way she smiled at him. He longed for it. Longed for the time when he didn’t feel so alone, so listless.

The children had changed in the months since their mother left as well.

Ronan had taken up the mantle of provider, taking what he could to the village to barter and trade, but few would do dealings with someone who was not wholly human, mistrustful eyes that had once been focused on his mother now turned to him with disdain.

Rían’s once bright laughter was now nothing but a memory, something thought about only in passing now as he worked his way through the chores that needed doing. He slowly forgot how it felt to smile.

Cillian, who had once been the most inquisitive of the bunch, now never strayed far from his brothers, never moving far from sight. He did only as he was told, and his brothers started to wonder if he ever used to talk at all.

Much like every other night, it was Ronan who bade his father to return to the house once the sun set, frost hanging in the air now that winter was upon them. Bradley allowed himself to be pulled back to their home, head hung low as he trudged up the path behind his son. He sat in his chair by the fire, hand stretched out to hold someone who was not there as he stared into the flames, eyes unseeing, and his children wondered if they would forever see the unseen.

One by one, the boys left for bed, Ronan being the last to bid his father a goodnight, a frown tugging on his lips before shaking his head and disappearing around the corner.

Bradley sat motionless as the minutes turned to hours, still as a statue as he continued to mourn.

A knock sounded at the door, and he shifted in his seat. Another knock had his head turning in that direction. Who would be calling at that time of night? Slowly, he rose from his chair, walking towards the front door. He grasped the handle, twisting it and pulling it open.

The night was dark, the moon, which normally cast light onto the path that led down to the beach, was hidden behind the clouds. Bradley stared into the night, unfeeling and unmoving. He moved to close the door when a song rang out, the voice so alarmingly familiar.

Hò i hò i hì o hò i Hò i hò i hì o hì Hò i hò i hì o hò i Cha robh mi m' ònar a-raoir

'S mairg san tìr seo, 's mairg san tìr 'G ithe dhaoine 'n riochd a bhìdh Nach fhaic sibh ceannard an t-sluaigh Goil air teine gu cruaidh cruinn

His eyes alighted in recognition, tearing out of the house and onto the path as fast as his feet could carry him. The voice grew no closer as he ran, breaths coming out ragged as he gulped for air. The waves crashed against the shoreline as loud as thunder but never drowning out the voice he had longed to hear.

Hò i hò i hì o hò i Hò i hò i hì o hì Hò i hò i hì o hò i Cha robh mi m' ònar a-raoir

'S mise nighean Aoidh mhic Eòghainn Gum b' eòlach mi mu na sgeirean Gur mairg a dhèanadh mo bhualadh Bean uasal mi o thìr eile

He stopped, spinning wildly in search of her, crying out in frustration when he saw no one. A scream ripped its way through him, desperate and haggard as he continued to spin, only stopping when he caught sight of something on the dock. The same dock he and his lover had spent countless afternoons on, basking in the glow of each other and sharing stolen touches. He walked slowly towards it, boots crunching in the sand and then knocking against the wood as he came to the end of the dock. His eyes glistened with unshed tears as he kneeled down beside the small bundle.

Hò i hò i hì o hò i Hò i hò i hì o hì Hò i hò i hì o hò i Cha robh mi m' ònar a-raoir

Thig an smeòrach, thig an druid Thig gach eun a dh'ionnsaigh nid Thig am bradan thar a' chuain Gu Là Luain cha ghluaisear mis'

His hands reached out, stopping when the bundle moved, a gurgle sounding. His heart skipped a beat, the cold seeping through him in the winter’s night. It was then that the clouds moved, allowing the moon to shed light down on where Bradley crouched.

It was often said that Cillian was the son that bore the largest resemblance to his mother, but gazing at the babe in front of him, Bradley knew that this was the child his wife carried before she left. His hands crossed the distance to pick her up, hands gentle as he cooed down at her. He was struck then by the discovery that she was wrapped in silvery grey fur, the same size as a seal pup.

The baby let out a tiny cry, and Bradley shushed her softly, rocking her gently. He and his wife had discussed different names before that fateful day, but only one stuck out to him as he gazed at the babe in his arms.

“Aisling,” he whispered reverently, holding her tighter to his chest as tears streamed down his face. Aisling let out another cry as Bradley moved to stand, never taking his eyes off of her.

“‘s alright now,” he cooed, turning back towards the house. “Your da is here now, mo stóirín.”

His fingers wrapped around the fur with a frown. The small bundle in his arms would never leave him, not like her mother had. He would see to it this time.

Hò i hò i hì o hò i Hò i hò i hì o hì Hò i hò i hì o hò i Cha robh mi m' ònar a-raoir

A/N: I kid y'all not, this fic has been on my mind for MONTHS ever since someone suggested it. Selkies have always been one of my favorite stories from Celtic legends, and I really hope I did this justice because it was such a pleasure to write and pour my heart and soul into. I highly recommend you check out the stories if you have time because a lot of the inspiration for this fic came from them!

Another quick note as I wrap up here, I wanted to touch on the meaning of the names I chose. Ronan actually translates to "seal" or "oath, promise." Rían (pronounced Ree-on) means "king" or "ocean" depending on the etymology. Cillian (pronounced kill-ian) means "war, strife." Finally, Aisling (pronounced Ash-ling) means "dream, vision."

The first song I actually looked up the English translation, but it's a song sung by a woman who was stolen by the fae, calling out for her sister to come and help her. I thought it would be interesting to see it used in the reverse. The second song is actually one said to be sung by the selkies themselves, very fitting for this fic, I think.

Thank you all so much for reading this one! As always, reblogs and comments are appreciated. You can also find me on AO3 under sailor_aviator. Until next time!

[thefoxtherapist]

Seal Skin

tags: Selkie!Tartaglia x gn!reader, Tartaglia’s real name, fluff

Ajax swore he looked everywhere, at least, everywhere he usually left the item in question. He could only frown as he ran a hand through his messy ginger hair; he was starting to panic. He had one last hope, that perhaps you had seen where he left it.

He entered the living room surprisingly silently, causing you to jump when he appeared beside where you were standing in front of the shelving unit. "Ajax-" You breathed, clutching the book you were holding to your chest.

You seemed to have been cleaning for some time, he realised as he looked around the very neat living room. But still, no sight of his seal skin. Dull blue eyes turned their attention to you.

"You know the seal coat I keep in the closet beside the door?" You nodded. "Have you seen it?"

"The seal- oh! I moved it to your bedroom closet while I was cleaning, sorry!" You seemed casual in your apology as it dawned on him you had handled the coat. Did you really not know? Ajax assumed you mustn't. "Is something wrong? I'm really sorry about touching your things."

"No! No, I'm not mad or anything." He shook his head at you, his signature smile breaking out over his face. That and a faint but obvious pink blue across freckled cheeks. "But... When you take a selkie's coat, it is pretty much the sea equivalent of marrying them. Usually, at least." His smile was soft as he watched your expression rapidly switch between various emotions.

He couldn't help it when his smile morphed into a laugh when you dropped the book onto the ground. "Pfft! You should see your face right now! Oh man." He doubled over, arm around his stomach as he laughed loudly at you.

"I'm the sea equivalent of married to you now?!" You could only stare at the laughing ginger in your living room, your mouth wide open. He did look happier now than he usually did, and even in spite of the accidental situation, you couldn't help but want to hear him laugh like this more. "This sounds like you're fucking with me, Ajax. Are you serious?"

"Mhm! By selkie law, we are now married! My looooveeeely spouse!" He wasn't going to bring up the origin of the law, how and why it changed. That was far too depressing for the current moment. No, he'd keep this cute, light. Ajax straightened out, taking a deep breath and exhaling.

He took your hands in his, closing the gap between you two. He had to avoid stepping on the book on the floor. You squeezed his hands, shaking your head at his antics. "Now that we're married, you can wear my skin whenever you want. It is very warm, after all."

"You're ridiculous, Ajax!" But you sighed, smiling back at him. "You're real lucky you're so cute, mister selkie." You reached up, gently kissing his cheek. Being bound by the sea to one another wasn't the worst thing that could happen to you. He was cute, sweet. Ajax always held such adoration in his eyes when he looked at you.

You were more than worthy of his seal skin, he decided.

[witchofthesouls]

I really like the idea of a Selkie bride having a good time as G1 Soundwave’s spouse because he's generally hands off due to his hectic schedule and massive workload and hasn't demanded any "spousal rights" from his new "roommate" that keeps breaking into his habsuite.

There's a new half-naked weirdo that somehow, someway, at some point in time, had managed to bypass all the security systems and everyone's sensors. She's haunting the halls of the Nemesis in repurposed sails, draped in oily-slick pearls, carved sea glass, and painted shells, dripping seawater and kelp everywhere. There's a faint whiff of fish guts, smoky meat, and salt when they're around. Out of everyone, the Selkie is the only one who made significant progress with massive damage in the blocked corridors and sealed sections from the crash landing. The immense pressure and saltwater doesn't phase her.

And out of everyone to figure out that it isn't a Cybertronian, it's not the telepath or Starscream's paranoia, it's fucking Skywarp because he still remembers the tales of his tribe before he was stolen away.

[thepenultimateword]

Halloween is over but you can write monster shipping prompts anyday. Just saying

Good point. I wasn't sure if you meant monster x monster or monster x human ships, so I did both.

Monster Ship Prompt List

Satyr is the owner of a popular cozy tea shop. However, when they begin receiving mysterious threats, their world is turned upside down. More unfortunate, the detective assigned to their case is a lycanthrope something neither their human or goat instincts trust.

Human gets a nice job at an expensive shop. It's such a nice shop that the owner managed to get a golem to guard it. As Human makes small talk with the golem every day, they' become more and more drawn to them. They wish they could ask them out on a date, but they know the golem physically cannot leave their post.

The gorgon has gotten used to isolation. Even when they can hide what they are, they have to be careful not to cause any accidents. But then they meet the golem who is already stone.

A human is cursed with a monster shape and outcast from the city to the creature infested wilderness outside. They’re pretty sure they’re going to die until another monster takes them in.

A vampire aristocrat arranges their own marriage to a lower class vampire in order to escape the stifling walls of the court. The lower vampire accepts for sake of the financial benefits, but they’re stressed about how to handle their new spouse and are confused why they even chose them in the first place.

An orphaned werewolf is adopted into a vampire family as a child and spends their life set apart from the rest of the community. If they aren’t being tortured by their peers, they’re being over protected by their family, so when they meet a vampire who is as outcast as them, they can’t help but be drawn to them.

A merperson and a selkie meet on land in human form. They find a lot in common with the mutual love for the sea, but scared they’ll freak the other out they each hide their true form.

One day, a fancy goblin strolls into eleven land and shocks everyone by proposing to eleven royalty. They’re even more shocked when the elf accepts.

The giant found the human in their neighbor’s garden trap and decided to take them in as a pet rather than see them squashed. But the human is unlike any animal they’ve ever encountered, actually capable of learning giantic language! Part of them thinks they should let the human go, but they also don’t want to lose their new companion.

Alien came to earth to study humans, but they met Vampire first. Vampire is surprised to find someone so accepting of them, and Alien now think all humans drink blood and can’t stand being out in the sunlight.

[captain-mj]

I really love your Selkie!Soap au. Maybe Ghost could discover a bit more about Selkie culture, and the generational trauma that Soap might have?

YES!! Love this! Direct continuation of the previous post

Ghost brought Soap a deer. Soap stared at it for a minute before laughing. "What do we do now?"

Ghost hummed. "I'll clean it and cook it for you." And you'll fall in love with me.

"I see." Soap smiled. "Need any help?"

"No, I got it. It's bloody work but if you want sit with me..."

So they sat together in the little shed, both mostly quiet but the radio was playing. Soap watched him work and Ghost tried not to glance at him too often. He wore a surgical mask but that was more for cleanliness than anything else.

They ate well, both of them sitting next to each other as the sun set.

Soap ended up stealing some of Ghost's off his plate despite there being plenty of food still in the kitchen but it was fine. He glared at Soap who only smiled at him.

A ringtone sounded and Soap froze. It sounded like a personal one.

Ghost didn't move for a moment, waiting for Soap to pick it up. Soap just stared for a minute, picking at the food for a second before remembering himself and answering.

"Hey, dad."

Ghost perked up immediately. He had heard next to nothing about Soap's dad. He wondered if he was a selkie too. Or something else.

"Yes, sir. I am on leave, but my..." There was a pause before Soap swallowed. "My coat holder commanded I come with him."

Ghost frowned a little, but he stayed quiet.

"Yes. It's new. I haven't had... Yes, sir." Soap was visibly wilting. "I am... He's commanding me back. Sorry, sir." He hung up after a second and quietly put his phone down.

"I take it your dad is not... good?"

"No. I hope you two never have to talk, but its best he doesn't know we're close." Soap rubbed his arm, looking tiny and cold. Ghost scooted closer.

"Are you alright?"

"It's how he always is. He was excited someone has my coat again. That I'm at your mercy. He's a fucking prick." Soap looked down. "My mom can't leave him or else I'd never talk to him again."

"He... has her coat?"

"Yeah. I tried to find it. Took a couple slaps for it. But I never could. Swear I tore that place apart looking."

Ghost pulled Soap closer. "I see."

"He's such a bawbag."

"Is she the only selkie you know?"

"No. I know a few. All of them are like her. Trapped in their positions. Either as a spouse or caretaker or worker or..." Soap sighed. "No choice. No control. Stuck until either the coatholder dies or we get lucky."

Ghost was quiet for a while before reaching over and pulling him closer. "You... want this, right?"

"I do. Don't worry. You gave it back. You're a good man." He leaned into him. "My sister got lucky. She's just human. My other sister is a selkie but dad... protects her a little more. I think it's because she's the baby."

"Coatholder. Is that what you guys call them?"

"Not the most creative name, but yeah. Gets the message across. For a while Master was used but... yeah, it felt just a little too degrading." Soap hummed and shoved the plate towards him. "He'll want to meet you. I can try to lie and keep you from him. I don't... I don't want him to know it's my choice. If he knows..." Soap started to breath heavier, holding on to Ghost.

"Johnny, you're okay. He can't do anything to you."

"It's not me I'm worried about." Soap said softly. "If he gets upset he takes it on her and..."

Ghost winced. This entire situation reminding him just a little too much of his own time growing up. "If your mom had left your dad, would you have grown up a seal?"

"No. She likely would've abandoned me." Soap answered honestly. "It sucks but that's reality. I would've been left with him and my sisters. Can't blame her. She didn't choose to have me."

Ghost frowned and gently touched his chin, making him look at him. He smiled awkwardly. "You know when I came back from the military, the first thing I did was wait in my mom's kitchen."

"Why?"

"For my dad to hit her. He did eventually. He always did. It was all the excuse I need. I dragged him outside and beat him to hell for it."

Soap looked surprised. "Damn."

"Mom kicked me out for it. But she didn't let him back in the house either and that's all that mattered to me." Ghost took a deep breath. "I should meet your dad."

"Simon. You can't beat up my dad."

"I could, but I just think I should meet him. I want to meet your mom too."

Soap didn't look convinced but he nodded. "Alright, Si. Alright." He kissed his hand gently, looking tired. "Mind if we go to bed?"

Ghost hummed. "Course not. I'll see you in the morning."

"I'll be in the spare room, of course." Soap smiled at him, a hint of teasing there.

Ghost followed him like a shadow until he got to his door and then went to his own room.

Once he was in bed, he stared up at the ceiling quietly. He thought of Soap's mom, the gentle voice on the phone and how Soap shrank back.

It must be hard. Trusting Ghost of all people with so much. Even now, the thought occurred to him that it wouldn't be very hard for him to take the coat back. Or even just hurt him. They were alone in the middle of the woods.

And Soap still trusted him.

If it was anyone else, he'd call them an idiot for trusting the Ghost, but he knew as well as Johnny did that Ghost was harmless to him.

Did those other selkies think their human was harmless? Was their first meeting them taking the coat? Demanding so much from them?

Someone had done this before. Soap had mentioned someone had taken it before. On purpose. Had they hurt him? Forced him to do anything?

The idea of a younger Soap being controlled the way Ghost had read about in those stories made him feel sick.

He got up at some point and like the needle on a compass, he pointed towards his north star.

Soap was probably asleep. He also used the spare for a reason. Ghost shouldn't bother him. There were boundaries for a reason.

Soap's sad eyes popped back into his head. The distant look when he talked about the past or the others he knew.

He didn't knock in case he was asleep.

Soap jerked up immediately. "Jesus, Ghost you scared me. Something wrong?"

"Scoot over."

"What?"

"Scoot over." Ghost repeated, staring at him. Both their eyes reflected the light, both finding each other easily.

Once Soap did move over, Ghost climbed in with him. He pulled him safely to his chest and held him.

"No one is ever going to touch you again." Ghost mumbled into his hair. "I'm never going to let something like that happen to you again."

"You don't even know what they did." Soap knew exactly what Ghost was talking about, like always.

"Doesn't matter." Ghost squeezed him. "Never again."

Soap let Ghost hold him, putting his head on Ghost's shoulder. "Get some sleep, Simon. I know you must be tired."

Ghost slept better knowing Soap was safe with him.

[inbetweenhours]

How It Started VS How Its Going

Back on that @pinchhitsfromthevoid hype! This pinch prompt was for @dayables​ who I know got spoiled in the brainstorming chat (rip) but I still hope you enjoy how it turned out! You gave me the option of flower husbands which was absolutely not going to be passed up, as well as the prompt of Arranged Marriage AU. Since I just so happen to already have an arranged marriage au for them, I figured I may as well put some effort into actually showing it off since, despite my very long google doc of plot chicanery, I haven't actually drawn much for it or otherwise got much of anything to show for it.

The real trick here was balancing the angst and fluff. There was no way I wasn't getting out of this without, any angst. The problem was actually finding a suitable amount of fluff to balance this out lol. I knew I wanted to draw their wedding, since that's the whole base of the au and it directly emphasizes your request. The problem is that within the au, these two don’t really get to anywhere that's especially fluffy till weeks if not months after their wedding lol. That’s how I eventually settled on a kind of “before and after” of their relationship. 

Mirroring their less than favourable wedding day and first meeting with the renewal of vows they do near the end of their journey within my plot. Where they choose, despite already being stuck together, to have meaning behind their marriage.

Below the cut I’m gonna ramble about the lore  important to this piece from the au. Enjoy :]

Okay so first off- their “vows”! Instead of exchanging rings my idea is that the Ocean Empire and Rivendell each have a different giving for their wedding ceremonies.

Merlings have a selkie inspired pelt. Its technically their old skin. Young merlings are much more creature esq, and as they grow they grow out of that skin into a more humanoid form. However they tend to keep their pelts since they are pretty durable and are good for young merlings to protect themselves with and camouflage in the depths. As merlings continue to grow out of even that stage, their pelts become sentimental. kept close to their hearts. The lose of the plt is like a severing of oneself from their soul or heart. Its important for their mental health that they know where their pelt is and that is is safe. They’re not typically handled by people you don’t trust.

Which is why it is traditional that merling will trade pelts with their lover at their wedding. Its imbuing this trust that their partner will give the pelt back. As well it is a symbol of love and  soul, metaphorically giving that devotion and adoration to their partner.

Elves meanwhile are a type of fae. The rules I use for elves names are adjacent but not directly the same as other fae, such as the faeries of the overgrown. Elven names hold power over the individual still, but its far less than what a faerie might hold. It more a social power than anything else. Elves keep public and personal names. These “true” personal names can only be chosen by the elf themself. They are only given to people who you trust absolutely. May that be family, longtime friends, or lovers. Its not uncommon in Rivendell for lovers to not share their true names until their wedding day, though even if they have the vows are much the same. Giving their spouse the gift of their name, to use as they please. This is done both out of trust (much like the merlings pelts), trusting their lovers not to hurt them with their name. And more importantly it offers devotion to your spouse, which would be returned of course.

Now when it comes to Flower Husbands... this all falls apart. These two have not had a real conversation till their vows. They have no trust or love for one another, and are in fact quite afraid of each other. Neither want to give over something so terrifyingly precious to the other. 

Jimmy feels pressured to do so, despite Lizzie insisting he doesn’t have to, because he knows how a wedding should go. He knows the citizens of the Ocean Empire do not trust that his mother, The Empress, has made the right choice in allowing this marriage to go through. He knows if he doesn’t do his best to make this look and feel legit for them, then they’ll only have more problems in the future. And he really is trying to be responsible, trying to prove himself to his family and his kingdoms that he can do the right thing. He isn’t just the prince, the second born. He is loved by his country, deeply so, but nothing is expected of him. He wants to do one good thing for them in turn. Hell, he volunteered himself so that his sister wouldn’t throw away her preexisting courtship. He loves his family and his country, and he has never been asked to do a thing for them. He just wants to prove he can.

So he drapes his pelt over Scotts shoulders, careful and with the sudden understanding of how badly it hurts to see. How easily being separated from it would destroy him. And he can only hope Scott will return it soon.

Scott meanwhile doesn’t believe in another choice. He is the Chosen Champion of Aeor, god of Winter and Stasis. He is a representative of tradition for Rivendell. As much as he is fuming about the marriage, he has rarely acted out in his life. The golden child for so much of his adolescence that even when that love has left he knows little more than to hold his tongue and obey... for now. Still, he knows what is expected of him for the wedding. And despite there being no way for his family or the citizens to verify he abided by tradition in this instance, he is loyal enough to his god (and in fact fairly knows his god perceives him and he would know he wronged him) to not try and get around it. 

So he gives his name, as coldly and objectively as he can. It is not a gift, but Jimmy, traditionally, has a right to it through their union. He can only pray Jimmy be kind with it.

Ultimately both spouses are careless with their exchange. Scott misunderstands the importance of the pelt, and keeps it far to long. Jimmy misunderstand the weight of Scotts name, and speaks it carelessly. Its rough, and terrifying. But it leads them to understanding, to finding common ground and for the first time finding hope in their situation as they understand the other not as an enemy but as the only ally in the same situation as them.

Finally I’m gonna do a quick run through of details I was happy with, kinda lore relevant but with less flowery language on the plot.

At their wedding both are dressed in traditional wedding garb for their empires, as well I’ve referenced my board loosely to dress the crowd properly. Rivendell brides/grooms tend to wear white. It represents purity, white is typically only worn in formal settings o it wont be dirties anyways, and it doesn't represent either individual god. Allowing neutrality. Jimmy is wearing a loose cut deep blue outfit with small decorative. Dark colours but especially deep blues are traditional as they connect with both the deep waters and the sky, tying an individual throughout to the world and their life.

In their renewal of vows they wear nearly the same outfits, however Jimmy sports some golden Rivendell jewelry and Scott in turn sports some pearls in his hair much like how Jimmy had at their wedding. Its about the sharing <33

Wedding day was very formal, very controlled. Both of their hair pulled back and styled in very proper traditional ways. At their vow renewal everything was up to them, so Jimmy looks a bit more like himself (as messy as that may be) and Scott has both his kingship and his hair cut (lore) so he’s a feeling a lot more stable

Scotts wears gloves at his wedding, vs without gloves at renewal! Tied in, at his wedding Scotts hair and skin is patterned with growing frost as he gets cold feet (hah) and is very upset about the situation versus his renewals where he has much more control of his powers and very explicitly happy with the situation

That is all for now! Day I hope you liked the pinch! Everyone else i hope you liked the lore! I would love to do more with the au going forward, I have a growing plot document and love talking about it. If anyone wants me to expand on any thoughts, has questions about the plot or characters or otherwise, my inbox is always open and I am attentive to both tags and comments ;) <3

[bones-of-a-rabbit]

If ur not giving ur spouse a tiny surprise kiss whenever th mood strikes then what is even the heckling point

Also, selkie Reader (sort of) doing the banana pose that seals do when happy n content

[sea-owl]

Okay here's what I have so far for mythical creatures spouses. For those wondering this will be set in a universe where the Bridgertons are hunters. You may have seen that one shot I did already in this universe found here.

Kate, Shapeshifter:

Kate has probably not seen her real face in years, or at the very least has not let it be seen in public. While both she and Edwina possess this ability Kate is the one who far uses it more. Their changes are always more subtle, just to help along things and to blend in a bit more. If Kate uses the ability to make herself appear a bit older, a bit taller, or a bit more like an image where someone will take her a bit more seriously, all of it's to her advantage as head of the Sharma family then so be it. If it wasn't so well known that the Sharma family had no sons and two daughters she would probably have shifted her body into a man. Taking her father's form at least in the passed has helped, especially when his death was not public knowledge. When they came to England Mary had Kate promise not to change her form too much, or too noticeably. Kate agreed, she saw the reasoning as they are new to the ton don't do too much that could hurt Edwina's chance for marriage. Mary's reasoning was actually trying to get Kate to be herself more. Mary was hoping for Kate to get a shot of her own happiness and possible marriage while in England. But she didn't believe that possible without Kate showing some vulnerability, so she's starting by having Kate show her real or at the very least most subtly changed face.

One day in England Kate went out for a ride. This morning she just so happened to have her real face showing. Kate was tired from the journey and didn't have the energy to shift as she normally would. During the ride another rider appeared wearing black coat. Was he trying to race her? Very well it could be fun. Midway through their race something was off to Kate. Every time she tried to turn a certain direction the rider in the black coat would slow down or speed up just enough to block her path or force her to go in a different direction. This man was trying to lead her away from something. They slowed down enough to talk and taking a closer look at him her muscles tightened. A hunter, shit, and he saw he real face, double shit. Later on, her features shifted to just how she plans to be while in public among the ton she sees the hunter again. This time he's introduced as Viscount Anthony Bridgerton. Triple shit.

Sophie, Selkie:

Sophie's mother, Isabella, was once the bride to the Earl Richard Gunningworth of Penwood, or at least by Selkie law she was. While never legally married under human law, the earl had her pelt, which made her his bride. To the humans, Isabella was no more than a mistress. Day after day, Isabella would look for her pelt while Richard was busy with some task or the other. She always secretly suspected that her pelt would be moved to a different property from the one she was at. One day, by some stroke of luck, Isabella found her pelt and off into the night she went back to her pod. When she returned to her pod, she had discovered her pregnancy to Sophie and sadly passed on after giving birth. For a time, Sophie's grandmother raised her until she became too sick, and with no one left in the pod, there was no choice but to send Sophie to her human father.

Now unlike with her mother Richard didn't keep Sophie's pelt from her, but he did isolate her in the country estate with only the servants. And that is how Sophie lived, ignored but still having her pelt. When the old earl married Araminta and brought her two daughters to Penwood not much changed then either except little Posy who always seemed to prefer Sophie's company over her relatives. It was when the earl died that Sophie no longer had her pelt. Araminta took it, trapping Sophie under her control and forcing her to become a servant.

Things came to head after a costume masquerade. Posy claimed to be going as a mermaid, but the tail, it looked like Sophie's pelt. It wasn't, but to the untrained eye, it could easily pass for it. Sophie, unknown to Araminta, had also gone to the masquerade where she danced with a handsome gentleman. After that night, Sophie gained a new determination to find her pelt and leave. Even if she didn't have a pod to return to, and even if Sophie knew human customs better than selkie's, she was leaving as soon as she found her pelt. Araminta's cruelty of locking Sophie in her closet to polish shoes gave her a chance she needed. Posy revealed the truth of her decision after she came to unlock Sophie out of the closet why she chose that particular costume. In Posy's hands, there was more fabric than there was before. No, wait, it was Sophie's pelt. Posy had found it. Well, guess Sophie did have at least one pod mate.

A few years later, Sophie is ready to fist fight that damn horny hunter for her pelt back. How dare he use it against her so she'll come to London! Posy, who has remade her old costume into a look alike for Sophie's pelt, is bidding time so she can make the switch.

Penelope, Witch:

Penelope was born into a coven of witches from her mother's side. Penelope herself ended up being very talented as a mind witch. Some of her magic includes illusion, telepathy, mind reading, and mental manipulation. She's never sure if her father ever knew or just never paid attention enough to know what his wife and daughters were. For the longest time, they spent their time between Portia's homeland in Ireland and the Featherington country estate. Both homes gave Penelope and her sisters the freedom needed to learn their magic. Every time Lord Featherington went to London, it was usually by himself, Portia refused to go, with the majority of her daughters still learning, too many of those nasty hunters running around London.

It was after Lord Featherington's death that Portia made the decision to move the coven to London, at least during the season. She was still the lady of a barony and with no husband or father it was technically her job to see to it until one of the girls had a son. Per her husband's will whoever has the first grandson shall inherit the estate. It's just her luck though that they somehow moved across street from one of the most prolific and celebrated family of hunters in London.

It's also just Penelope's luck that she accidentally knocked out one of these hunters via a magic blast to the face. Well shit, despite what Felicity argues, Penelope can't leave him in the streets. Not with clear evidence of her magic on him. Besides, maybe Penelope will learn some secrets while she heals him. She does love secrets.

Phillip, Vampire:

Now Phillip isn't an ordinary vampire like his father and brother. Phillip took after his mother, who is a lesser known type of vampire that is similar to fruit bats. So, instead of blood, he drinks the juices of fruit and nectar. It's how he got into botany both with regular and mystical plants. He's tired of traveling every six months okay? He's gonna be self sufficient damn it, and the extra income from trading plants used in potions helps too. His fangs are a bit smaller, but honestly, he doesn't need big ones when one's meal doesn't constantly move. He still has the characteristics and abilities of other vampires such as the pale skin, fangs, hypnosis, inhuman strength, and reflexes. I mean, he still is a vampire.

But due to Phillip not being a more traditional vampire has caused issues in his life. Starting with his father beating him every time he did something his father considered wrong or weak. Constantly saying Phillip wasn't good enough. The constant comparing between him and his brother George had left Phillip with a bit of imposter syndrome when word got back to him that he was now the heir to Romney Hall, something his father said Phillip will ruin.

Phillip finds it so ironic when his heir, George's blood, is also born just like him. Drinking the juices of fruit instead of blood.

Raising the twins is something Phillip is struggling with. While Oliver takes after him, Amanda is more traditional and requires blood to survive. The twins don't realize how they can come across yet either, what would be a harmless prank to a vampire is dangerous to a human. Plus the twins have this awful habit of using their ability to transport through mirrors to randomly pop in places and scaring people. This habit leqding a hunter who the twins just so happened to pop in on.

Michael, Werewolf:

Michael was born from a peace union between the hunters of Kilmartin and the werewolf pack that makes Scotland their home. Some of the hunters agreed with this some didn't. Fearful that despite the peace agreement a hunter might try to hurt her son Helen gave strict instructions to Michael to keep his wolf a secret, not even John could know. So Michael did, creating his Merry Rake persona so no one questions his disappearance every full moon, and make it seem like to the other hunters he would be so unreliable they wouldn't dare push him towards a hunter's lifestyle.

The irony is not lost on Michael when it turns out his mate is a hunter in her own right, and his cousin's fiancé soon to be wife. The moon goddess is laughing at him he just knows it. Now more than ever he's thankful for his Merry Rake persona. With his wolf screaming at him about their mate, and trying to hide said wolf Michael is ready to explode. Thank god he's not the earl on top that too, John better hurry up and have some pups soon so he can kick off the title of heir too. God could you imagine that mess? A werewolf as the earl of Kilmartin?

[gabessquishytum]

ok, Selkies then, right? Cool, I got my BA in literature and cultural studies for this moment.

So some neigboring Queen gives Hob this seal fur coat she found. She trying to tell to Hob that she's totally DTF, but Hob is just like "right, thanks," and has the coat put away and doesn't want to think about it cause he's not really ready for the whole marriage thing, it's all stupidly political and complicated and he'd rather just keep the gifts the suitors-to-be send over in a hall where he doesn't have to look at them.

Meal while, Dream has been looking for his coat left and right, and that sucks because he wants to be a seal again. Eventually, he find that it was sold at market to a woman who worked for the queen, and when he tracked her down, the woman informed him that the queen gave it to Hob.

So *heavy sigh* Drean has to go tell Hob that he, Dream, needs his coat back to go back home.

No one will let him see Hob, no one will tell Hob that Dream wants an audience. And Dream has to brake into Hob's bed chambers to demand the coat back.

When Hob wakes up, he sees this man over him and is like "well, something just awoke in me."

But Dream has no time for these sexy shenanigans, he wants his coat back and if Hob could just kindly point him to wear it's being kept, Dream can get it and be on his way home.

And Hob, very happy to be rid of the coat for a good cause, says "I can get that for you," and Before Dream can stop him, Hob get's the coat and hands it to Dream. Dream won't take it, so Hob just drops it in his arms, so Dream can't really refuse him.

Hib gives one of his warm and goes back to bed, but Dream follows him.

Hob explains that he doesnt need permission to leave, and Dream should return home.

And Dream meekly explains that returning the coat like this was akin to a marriage proposals, and Dream taking it basically meant they were married now, and it would be impolight for him to *a-hem* leave his husband wanting on their wedding night.

And Hob doesn't want Dream to feel obligated, but Dream's on board if Hob is, and who is Hob to argue if a beautiful husband gals into his lap?

Hob is like fuck yeah!! I don't have to do all the boring political matchmaking!

But of course he feels super guilty for accidentally trapping Dream into a marriage! He feels like such an idiot. But Dream is like "actually my family sent me onto land to try and find a spouse but things got complicated and I lost my coat so this is good, I can go home and tell everyone that I'm not useless!"

And Hob is like "useless?? Why would your family say that, you're obviously perfect???" And Dream blushes and decides that his new husband is rather lovely, actually.

Turns out that Dream is actually a selkie prince! His family kind of suck and he much prefers being Hob’s consort. Dream tries to let Hob have the coat back to show that he won't run away but Hob refuses because he's determined to let Dream have as much freedom as he needs to be himself. So Dream takes Hob to the sea and they swim together and have sex on the beach as a kind of big Fuck You to Dream’s terrible family.

Hob issues a proclamation that is basically like "if you fucking touch my husband or his coat i will have you personally murdered :))" and I like to imagine that they have lots of lovely little selkie babies together or alternatively adopt some babies who have lost their parents. And when Dream goes back to visit his family, they have to begrudgingly admit that he's done very, very well for himself.

[vala-dreams]

Okay I've decided there's way too little selkie Percy Jackson content on this webbed site so here's my contribution:

You know those awful tales where the (usually female) selkie's skin is stolen and she has to be the asshole thief's spouse until she can either steal it back or be rescued by someone else?

I'm thinking about percabeth in a similar situation.

Imagine this: Annabeth aboard the Princess Andromeda, after Luke convinces her and some other demigods to join him in his rebellion against the gods. She is twelve years old and filled to the brim with anger. The gods do not care about her, or any of their children. They are pawns to them—faceless soldiers to use and nothing more.

It is this anger that motivates her to join Luke. It is this anger that brings her here, standing on the deck of Kronos's ship, harpoon in hand, staring into the churning sea below. Storm clouds gather ominously above as thunder crashes distantly— a telltale sign of another fight between zeus and poseidon.

The world is in chaos, with the lightning bolt and helm missing (stolen) the gods have only each other to blame. Most coastal regions are underwater now, and the storms never let up. It's miserable. She hasn't seen the sun in weeks.

But it won't be so for long. The gods are sufficiently distracted, too absorbed in their petty squabbles to notice them (not that they were ever paying attention) and it leaves them free to carry out their plans without any interference.

So here she is, her anger churning in her mind like the sea below, her grey eyes scanning the frothing depths for any movement. Something flits in her periphery vision– a seal's tail lightly breaking surface, a tanned hand curiously pressing against Andromeda's hull, an echoing bark drifting over the waves. She clutches her harpoon tighter.

Tonight, Annabeth Chase is hunting selkies.

-------------------------------------------------

For context, this is a really underdeveloped au where Percy is born a selkie and Sally asks Poseidon to take them someplace they can hide from Percy the gods and the mortals. So Percy grows up half feral, swimming with seals and knowing nothing of the world on land. The only human he's ever seen is Sally. Due to Poseidon's protections the monsters never find them so Percy never ends up going to camp half blood.

Meanwhile in camp, Luke is staging his grand rebellion and needs a certain prophesied potential destroyer of Olympus to join it. All Annabeth sees in her dreams are green eyes in the depths.

[thetaledeliveryservice]

I love selkies. Can you do a horror based story with selkie rook from twisted wonderland please!!

The Selkie's Chosen Bride

The content below the read more is Yandere content and is part of a Halloween Event. You have been warned.

He was knocking at the door again.

Every night for the past month, without fail he would be at your door, hoping to be let inside. And every night you've huddled up on your bed, praying for him to just go away until sleep finally claimed you. Then he'd be gone in the morning, but you knew if you strayed too close to the shore when the sun was out he'd be waiting for you.

You'd heard tales of selkies growing up here in this coastal town, mostly from your grandfather as he regaled you with stories from his sailing days. He'd fill your head with images of sunken treasures, underwater cities that were home to mermaids, and of course of those strange creatures who could take on the form of a seal using a coat. You hadn't put much stock in them of course, they just seemed like the stories any loving grandparent would tell their grandchild that you could look back on fondly as an adult.

The stories had even come to mind when you freed that seal tangled up in that fishing net a month ago. But you didn't think much of it at the time. All you saw was an animal in need of help, and you didn't hesitate to take out your pocket knife and cut the poor thing loose. A small act of kindness to add a little more good to the world, and then you went about your business after making sure the animal wasn't injured.

It was later in the day, as you started to walk home from the pier with the fish you caught for dinner in hand, did you run into a man you had never seen before. Short blonde hair with fringed bangs, pale skin, sharp green eyes, and a very pleased grin on his face at the sight of you. In his hands was what looked to be a seal's skin, much to your hidden disgust.

"Mon amour, there you are! I was hoping to run into you!" He exclaimed as he stopped you right in your tracks. You only gave the man a confused look as he held the seal skin out to you.

"Um...What are you doing?"

"Giving you my coat of course. It's only customary that I do so for the one I've chosen to marry."

"WHAT?!" You shrieked as you jumped back in shock, causing him to chuckle a bit.

"You saved my life Ma Cherie, so it is only right that I give it to you in return. I promise I'll be a wonderful husband to you. I will happily provide for you, and make sure you never want for anything."

Saved his life...

You took another look at the seal skin, realizing that it looked like it belong to the seal that you had rescued that morning, and your thoughts drifted back to your grandfather's stories. Mainly, about how those who wanted to take a selkie as a spouse would steal their coat. And now one was handing you his willingly after you detangled him from a net.

You quickly gave him a no before running to your home and locking the door. You had no interest in taking a supernatural creature as a husband. You had heard countless times of how badly those ended, and you were not going to be added to the list. But of course, he had followed you home, bringing to what had become a part of your daily life.

Him knocking at the door, trying to persuade you to let him in every night. You avoiding the shore, knowing that he was there waiting for you with his coat in hand. There was no end in sight for this nightmare for you, it seemed like this cycle wouldn't end.

But he decided to end it tonight it seems, as you heard him start breaking down the old wooden door that kept him at bay for so long, and heavy footfalls began to make their way towards your bedroom.

[witchofthesouls]

I saw one of your questions in regards to the Transformers and various interactions with the fae, and it has me laughing at the idea that some of the Decepticons wouldn't be intimidated at first until they fuck around and find out.

Like with Rumble and Frenzy stealing something strange from the beach or the Nemesis having a supernatural creature enough to shake the entire warship, it won't be long before the Decepticons endure the fae's wrath and that's hilarious.

Look, I had ✨️ Thoughts ✨️

Selkies are shapeshifters, so what if they shift into a form that's suited to the thief's own species?

So now, Soundwave has a new spouse "roommate" of supernatural origins because of Frenzy's and Rumble's "Ohhh, check out this swag!" moment and the idiots lost it somewhere inside the massive chaos the their private quarters?

At first, the other 'cons are baffled, then snickering, and end up either terrified or put off because, despite her stunning looks, she is otherworldly, frighteningly bizarre.

The thing is, humans only recorded the tales of a seal-wife trapped in a human form upon land and separated from her colony.

There are no tales of a seal-wife living inside a massive ship at the bottom of the ocean, right at the bosom of the abyss and cradled between sea and earth.

(Oh, and that's a Kraken getting cozy with the Nemesis. At first, it was upset and apprehensive at another potential predator in its turf, but now it's quite delighted it's able to bear its titanic mass.)