Synopsis: So many people at the academy were loud, doing their best to take up space and be seen, or even just teenagers unaware of just how much space their energy can take. Not you - youâd always been quiet, so youâd gone largely under the radar until your final year. Now? Youâve caught the attention of someone youâd never have expected.
Tags/Warnings: Julius x GN!Reader, fluff, artsy!reader, Julius is Like That sorry, set during the events of S1, spoilers for the Grand Festival, cuddling, character injury (not reader)
Word Count: 4,281
The academy was the place where everyone who was anyone attended, training as mages and aiming to ascend to the heights of the tower, becoming high mages, and for some even members of the magia vander. It was a noble pursuit, in your opinion, and much the same as your peers, you wanted to reach the tower after graduation. Youâd content yourself with becoming a magical researcher though, leaning more about what magic is capable of, and the monsters that spawn from the dungeon to improve the lives of those around you - including dwarves and non-mages.
That was something that growing up as a commoner granted you, you werenât as taken by the rhetoric surrounding those who couldnât use magic. It seemed to be woven into every area of life, particularly in Regarden, with most of your fellow students issuing disdain to the local dwarves living down slumland street. Not to mention, one Will Serfort. You couldnât say you knew the boy particularly well - he was like you in certain ways, he seemed to keep to himself. Whatever his goals for remaining at the academy through ridicule, abuse from staff, and all the trouble he faced.. you figured it must be a goal worth pursuing. He was strong for persevering despite everything. He had Colette, and you supposed that must be enough for him - and Worknerâs perference for him hadnât gone unnoticed, that certainly had to help.
You on the other hand? There was a few people youâd spend mealtimes with and you could count on when you went into the dungeon to gather your praxis credits. You could call them friends for sure, but you were fairly sure youâd part ways with them once you reached the tower, or if any of you didnât. Friendship through proximity rather than a real bond between you all. It was a shame for sure, but not something you let bother you, not anymore. You were sure thereâd be more people in the dark faction at the tower that you could find friendship with. After all, that was your plan. To the tower, join the dark faction, train as a high mage.
Many of your classmates spent a lot of their downtime researching, practicing, studying - it made sense really, especially with exams so close. Everyone was scrambling for last minute credits, gathering new spells they could use in the all-student praxis at the end of the year, just preparing to leave the academy in general.
You?
You liked to draw.
It was something youâd enjoyed ever since childhood, and your parents had never discouraged you. Some part of them hadnât truly expected you to get into, and succeed in the academy - you knew that without ever needing to be told - but, youâd done it. It was a fairly useless skill for a mage, but it certainly meant you were less tense than a lot of your fellow students at this time of year. You had a surefire way of relaxing that didnât involve something dangerous, or sweating. It was preferable, in your opinion.
There was no shortage of muse though, amongst those around you who chose to duel and train and push their limits. In particular, the top students made incredible models. Perfect form, arched bodies, elegant shapes, all effortless. Lihanna, Wignall, Sion - you were even partial to drawing Will, mostly for that sweet, puppy dog look he got sometimes when talking to Colette. But your favourite person to draw, quite annoyingly, was one Julius Reinberg.
He was a complete and utter ass, the worst sort of noble. He was entitled, a snob, but he was also handsome and talented, and all too aware of it. Lihanna and Wignall, the other two members of the top three, at least maintained illusions of prim politeness. Julius had no such intentions - he seemed to effortlessly glide to the top on innate skill, never breaking a sweat, stepping on anyone he needed to in order to reach the heights he planned. He was one of the few students you knew that truly believed he could ascend to the rank of magia vander. It was admirable, despite all his foul traits.
Irritatingly though, he made a fantastic model. His effortless skill, the composure he maintained, that glint he got in his eye right before he did something to inconvenience others. If anyone were to flick through your sketchbook, they might just think you were obsessed.
And you werenât.. to be clear. Mostly.
But then there was something to be said for assholes, wasnât there? Just something about them that was charming, stubbornly so, no matter how hard you tried to tell yourself that he wasnât, that he was the sort of scum whoâd spit on you and never think twice about it. Unfortunately, the appeal just wouldnât fade.
You sat in another class, waiting idly for the professorâs arrival. It was a sort of recap class, covering content from other years at the academy - exam preparation, effectively. You were quite sure you had extensive notes on whatever it was, so youâd already mentally dedicated the session to using your classmates as muses to create more art, with your sketchbook tucked inside your class notebook.
Youâd positioned yourself near the back of the classroom, but not quite the back row, after all you wouldnât be able to see anyone from back there. The classroom was filled with senseless noise, chatter amongst friends, quills idly scratching over paper. You were doodling magic, finishing a sketch youâd started in a spellwork class the day before - several of Juliusâ trademark ice roses. Maybe it was the focus on getting the shading right, or the shape, that prevented you from realising that someone was looming over you.
âWhatâs this?â A smug voice asked. Your muscles wound tight, jaw clenched, eyes widened marginally. No. Absolutely not. Julius was the one looming over you.
âHm? Oh, I draw.â You replied softly. Much of the classroom around you went quiet as others sensed the disturbance, curious to see just what had caught the young master Reinbergâs attention.
âYou draw? Yes, I can see that. But those are mine.â Of course he knew, there was something distinctive about the roses that he created from the tip of his wand, so precise and artistic in their own right that there was no way you could hope to deny it.
âYeah, I like drawing magic.â It was the best excuse you could come up with under pressure. Your fingers twitched, the urge to close your sketchbook away screaming in your mind, but you were aware it would only make you look more suspicious.
âAnd mine caught your eye? Well, thatâs only natural.â Juliusâ smirk was maddening, truly. But your eyes caught his sharp canines, and all you could think was that you needed to draw them more often.
You might be just a little doomed.
âIce magic is beautiful.â You said, a simple, passive statement that you hoped was believable, because it was true. Of all the magics, ice was often your favourite to draw. Potentially because you almost exclusively drew Juliusâ ice magic, but that was neither here nor there.
âWell, continue as you please. Iâm happy to inspire the lesser amongst us.â And alright, that stung, but at least he hadnât flipped out, or tried to see more of your sketchbook.
Blessedly, Julius seemed content with that, and he took his seat beside one of his friends, and struck up a conversation with them. Safe, for now. You knew better than to expect he would leave you alone after that discovery.
The next time Julius stepped into your space was during another practical lesson. Youâd been one of the first to demonstrate against the golems, and then had set up at the side with your charcoal and sketchbook pressed against your knees, watching the demonstrations from Lihanna, Wignall and Julius. They were all brilliant, and youâd captured small moments from each of them. But Julius dominated the two page spread as he always did. The way his fingers held his wand, the look in his eyes when he struck, the art of his ice magic curled around the golems.
Youâd heard him coming this time, but you didnât move or look up until he spoke.
âIâm not your only muse then?â He asked. You glanced up, noting that he was smirking slightly, brows raised with calm interest.
âAh, no. I sketch a lot of people.â
âBut mostly me.â Julius said, and it wasnât a question. After all, the two pages were covered in several of him, studies of different poses and parts of his body, where there was just one Lihanna and one Wignall. Damn.
âYou did well today.â You said, rather than directly commenting on his observation.
âI do well every day.â Your gaze returned to the piece youâd been working on then, finishing a few lines to connect everything properly, and sat up straighter to look at the spread properly, scanning each sketch for their faults, and where things could be improved. Julius didnât speak again for some time, and when he did, he was much closer.
You startled slightly, looking over to notice that heâd crouched down to get a closer look, lips pursed with interest.
âWell, theyâre far from perfect,â he started, and again.. ow, âbut I suppose it canât be helped when youâre this far away.â Oh. That was surprisingly understanding, if worded poorly. He wasnât wrong - details were easier to miss the further you were from the thing you were attempting to draw.
âIt can be hard.â You agreed, looking back down at the page. With him this close, you could see that the angle of his nose was off, his fingers not quite right.
âYouâll have to get closer next time.â And then in the next instant, he was standing again, sweeping away to join his friends like heâd never spoken to you at all.
How odd.
With days between each interaction, you were always first left reeling, and then wondering whether itâd truly happened at all. Between each interaction youâd had, heâd gone right back to pretending that you didnât exist at all. Surely you were misremembering, or simply confusing fantasies with reality?
But then he kept returning, so it mustâve all been real.
The next time he approached you, it was while you were with your friends. Youâd decided to take the afternoon off together to just enjoy the sunshine on campus grounds, lounging lazily on the grass together. Julius approached without hesitance, stopping right in front of you.
âYou.â He said, eyes fixed squarely on you. Your friends eyes flicked between each other, all attempting to discern whether they were expected to intervene, or if they could just watch the chaos.
âMe.â You replied, because truly.. what else were you supposed to say to that?
âCome with me.â
Oh. What?
âOh, I was-â
âI didnât ask what you were doing, I said come with me.â You supposed he wasnât wrong. You looked at your friends, who all just shrugged. Cowards. You stood, lifting your bag up onto your shoulder as you went.
âDo you have your things?â Julius asked, eyes flicking only briefly down to look at your bag, before they returned to your face.
âMy.. oh my sketchbook and charcoal? Yes.â He nodded, then turned on his heel and walked away. You followed shortly after.
He led you away from where youâd been with your friends, back through the academy building, and into another courtyard where his own friends were. Oh, he truly was shameless, wasnât he? Once he was back in their vicinity, he struck up a conversation, as if you werenât there at all. Like he assumed youâd know what it was he wanted from you, and would follow his silent demands.
And granted, you did sort of want to. Stupid Julius. A part of you wanted to just stand and watch, acting as if you didnât know what he wanted from you, just to make a point of not bending to his will. You were too tired for that after the end of a long week. So, you sat aside on a stone bench and pulled your supplies from your bag.
You started to sketch.
It was easy enough to let your hands lead without too much real thought put into the actions. Your hands often led rather than your brain when you sketched. Sketching Julius was also familiar. You watched as he sat around with his friends, chatting about seemingly nothing in particular, casting a few spells just to show off to them. You were fairly sure they werenât really friends, not the way other people had friends - they were more-so his lackeys, or his followers. Not that it was any of your business.
Each time Julius changed position, or went to cast a new spell, you put a skeleton of the pose on the page so you wouldnât lose it, then would go back to fleshing out the drawings that youâd already started. So close to him, it was easier to get the finer details, like the light curl pattern at the ends of his cyan hair, or the way his lashes formed around his eyes. The slope of his nose, and the curve of his cupids bow. Things that were quite easy to let yourself get distracted by.
The sun was beginning to set by the time Julius stood, and heâd turned to face you, as if expecting something. You lifted your sketchbook and turned it for him to see.
âBetter.â He said, inspecting each sketch with slightly narrowed eyes, looking for imperfections. âNot quite as perfect as the real thing.. but better.â And that seemed to be all he was prepared to deign you with, because then he was gone.
It started a sort of routine. The sort you never wouldâve expected him to the one to initiate. If Julius planned on doing spell-work out of class, he made sure to find you and bring you along; if he was to demonstrate in class, he made sure that you were watching first; and on weekends he would steal you away from your friends so you could just sit in his vicinity and sketch him. He seemed to take some sort of pride in being âyour museâ, and watching your sketches improve with time, slightly more accurate with each iteration. You werenât complaining too much, it was quite good practice.
The Grand Festival had arrived before you knew it. The morningâs events had passed without much fanfare, and youâd felt youâd made a good demonstration of what you were capable of in the magic craft event, and for the afternoon you would take a spot in the stands to watch the crown attack. Everyone high in the ranks was competing, so you knew itâd be a good show.
Julius found you before you could disappear up one of the staircases into the stands, slender fingers wrapped around your wrist.
âI hope your participation in magic craft this morning hasnât swept away your attention to detail.â He remarked.
âYou watched me partake?â You asked, brows raised slightly with surprise.
âMy spot in the rankings is secure, but Iâd be a fool not to at least take note of the other mages around me,â ah, of course, heâd not really been watching you, just another observer, âbut thatâs not important right now.â
âWhat did you need?â
âI expect this event to be quite the show for me - I hope youâll have charcoal in hand.â You werenât sure what youâd been expecting really, of course he wanted you to be drawing.
âIâll get your best angles.â You replied, containing the sigh you wanted to let out. Youâd been looking forward to just enjoying the event, but you supposed now youâd need to make sure you at least got something of Julius.
âYou donât seem as enthused as usual.â He remarked, eyes narrowed.
âItâs been a long morning, is all.â You didnât bother mentioning that you didnât think youâd been scouted based on your performance, or that youâd not had the opportunities you thought you might to show off, or that you just wanted to quietly watch and stew on both those things.
âWell, I expect to hear you cheering when I reach the stadium.â He squeezed your wrist lightly, then he turned to leave as he always did. Dramatically, academy cloak fluttering.
Sure. Okay. You could do that.
So, you did. And, despite your earlier reluctance, you had to admit that Julius gave you plenty of opportunities to capture him in ways you never had. He was brilliant, and he looked it. Youâd probably have ended up sketching him even if heâd not asked, despite your original plan to just observe. Damn him and his handsome face.
Your heart near stopped when you realised he was going to attack Will. Then Sion turned on Will, his own teammate, and Julius was trapped with Colette and- everything was a mess. You could hardly keep up at all.
It wasnât until Mike announced that Julius was, in fact, inside the stadium that you understood. Ars Weiss. A spell allowing him to clone himself.
Brilliant. He really was brilliant.
You cheered his name with a grin, and you caught his eye as he glanced up into the stands only briefly. It almost felt as if heâd looked up just to find you, to ensure you were cheering for him as heâd asked. The moment didnât last long, but it was long enough to make something inside you flutter. Stupid feelings.
And it all went down hill from there. One moment heâd been about to claim the crown for himself, because it certainly wasnât for his team, and the next? Will had him on his ass. You couldnât help being just a little proud of Will, because he was brilliant too in his own way.. but shit. He looked brutalised.
Wignall claimed the crown in the end with that trademark polite smile. Youâd rushed down from the stands by then, taking the steps two at a time, almost falling in the process. Julius. It was the only thought on your mind. You had no idea what youâd do when you reached him, but you couldnât just sit and do nothing.
It wasnât until he was already up in the infirmary that you were allowed to see him. Mostly patched up, but regaining his energy after the huge toll using ars weiss had taken on him. You slipped quietly into the infirmary room, not wanting to disturb him if you could help it, and he looked so peaceful. You gently lowered yourself into the seat beside his bed, sketchbook in your lap. He was asleep - so you continued sketching. It was quiet, the only real sound in the room the sound of both your breathing, and that was enough to make the lack of real sound less suffocating, enough for you to focus and finish all the half-baked sketches youâd started during the crown attack.
When he came to, you didnât notice at first, not until he coughed. Your eyes met his, and you had the feeling heâd already been watching you for some time.
âHow are you feeling?â You asked, then winced because really, that was probably a foolish question.
âLet me see.â He demanded rather than answering, lifting a slightly shaking hand to ask for your sketchbook without words. You didnât think about it as you handed it over.
Not until Julius was pushing to sit more upright, and the sketchbook hit his blankets. Losing the page. When he picked it up, it revealed a new page, one heâd never seen. One of him.
You sat, dread pooling in your gut as he flicked through more and more pages, taking in all the things youâd drawn that youâd never shown him, things from before heâd noticed your habit of drawing him that first time. Heâd joked more than once about you being his admirer, but you could tell he hadnât truly believed it. Not until now.
âThese are..â he paused, finally landing on the page from today. Him, looking intimidating and capable from the crown attack. Youâd like to think youâd perfected the slight upturn of his lips, the small scrunch of his nose. Youâd been studying after all, on his instruction.
âIâll.. go.â You mumbled, reaching to take your sketchbook back, but Julius held it out of your grip. His eyes flicked up to find yours, like he was looking for something on your face that he hadnât discerned just yet.
âHow long have you been doing this?â He demanded, but you suspected his voice didnât come out quite as stern as heâd intended.
âA while,â youâd known before youâd said it that âa whileâ wouldnât be enough, âa few years.â
Years. The word felt heavy.
âI suppose I was right all along then, you are an admirer of mine.â You didnât really know how to respond to that. You cleared your throat softly, lowering back down into the chair beside his bed. Your hands folded in your lap, and you kept your eyes down as you braced for what came next - no doubt some sort of perfectly crafted insult that would hit you where it would hurt most. That was Julius, after all.
But it didnât come.
You chanced a look up at him beside you, and instead he looked almost.. in awe. He was flicking back through the sketches.
âThese..â
âAll from this year.â
âThe others?â
âMy dorm.â
Julius turned to meet your eyes then.
âShow me.â He demanded, but not in the way he usually demanded things. Softer.
âWhat?â
âI want to see them. All of them.â
âOh you donât. Theyâre not going to get any better by going backwards.â
âI want to see them anyway.â Youâd never heard Julius Reinberg sound earnest before.
So you stood, slowly, and brushed your hands off, slightly clammy.
âYouâre coming back, arenât you?â He asked, stopping just short of reaching for you, like heâd almost stopped you from leaving despite what heâd asked for.
âIâm coming back.â
And you did. You sat on the edge of Juliusâ infirmary bed while he looked through each sketchbook in turn. Heâd started with the oldest one, and watched as over time your sketches became less varied. Sketches of other students remained rudimentary, details wrong, but the ones of him only improved. Other students slowly disappeared, until it left only Wignall, Lihanna, Sion, Will and Julius himself, more than any of the others.
He finished back on the page from today, and his thumb traced over a charcoal line across the page, one that shouldnât be there.
âYour hands are steady, you never make mistakes like this.â He observed, attempting to remain neutral.
âOh. I panicked when..â you trailed off, not really wanting to bring it up. He heard the words anyway. When youâd realised that Will was going to win.
âI shoved everything into my bag and rushed out of the stands. Drawing stopped being important when the dust cleared and you were down.â
Neither of you spoke for some time after that, Julius absently running his thumb over a blank spot on the page.
âYou rushed to me.â He mumbled, eyes fixed on the page. You couldnât begin to guess what was going through his mind, but it was obvious he was thinking deeply about it.
âI did.â The confession felt heavy, but also as if it were a weight off your chest.
âWhy?â
Why? When heâd been nothing short of rude, often even cruel. When heâd given you hardly even a moment of his full attention. When he didnât deserve it.
He didnât need to say it aloud for you to hear those things in his voice.
âBecause I admire you.â It felt like the only fitting response you possibly couldâve given. Slowly, Juliusâ hand shifted across the stark white sheets of the infirmary bed, until it found your own. He held it gently, not lacing your fingers together, but turning your hand palm up.
Callouses from handling your wand, charcoal smudged over the insides of your fingertips from how you gripped it. He traced a finger around the edge of your palm. You took his hand with your free one, and guided him to lay his flat to be sandwiched between yours.
Nobles were expected not to date, not to be seen sullying their good names and causing mischief. Julius was no exception. You had no doubt heâd never held hands with someone before, never navigated a moment that felt like this. That made something in your chest flutter.
âThis is enough.â You assured him, slowly linking your fingers together. He watched the action intently, studying it as he had your various drawings of him through time.
âWhat if I want more?â
âYou wouldnât be you if you didnât - you always want the most.â It was true enough and you both knew it. The strongest magic, the highest position, the most out of every moment.
âThen come closer.â
He didnât kiss you, that was sort of what youâd been expecting. Julius Reinberg never did the expected, though. Instead, he pulled you into his side and simply had you lay beside him. Both on your sides, faces inches apart and breathing each others air, your fingers linked between your bodies.
He was right. This was more, and it was better.
âIf I must.. I suppose I admire you as well.â He offered softly after a moment. âThey finally look like me.â This time, you laughed, and judging by the look on Juliusâ face? He liked it.
New fandom alert. I've tagged my perms, and my all fluff - if you don't want to be tagged in this fandom's content in future, you can fill out the form again and adjust what you'd like to be tagged in
If you'd like to tip me you can head over to my Kofi
Lil personal post - not gonna claim I'm going on hiatus or anything cause truly I could say this today and get a wave of creative motivation tomorrow bc I saw the sun and this all changes
But as of rn I have not sat down to write in quite a while. I started a fic, the next time I sat down was seven days later, I got another couple hundred words in and couldn't finish it
Motivation is at an all time low, I think I've once again kinda pushed myself too far (posting every other day kinda IS an insane amount even if I am unemployed) so this is my:
I'm not dead but if you don't see me for a month dw that's normal, I'll be back. Fanfic writing cannot keep me away, I'm just mentally ill. The creativity will come back around. No long post ab my mental health or anything cause we all know you don't care, and I'm not here for sympathy, or to explain that
Just - I'm not dead, I'm okay, see you when I see you
Synopsis: The existence of merfolk is a secret, and you're one of the people keeping it. You have grown up alongside several of the guppies in the local school, and now one of them rushes to your aid when you need it most
Tags/Warnings: Ijichi x GN!Reader, merfolk!Ijichi, human!reader, childhood friends to lovers, near-death experience, getting together, confession,
Word Count: 2,843
The fact that there was merfolk living off the coast near your home, in a little bay owned by your family, was a well kept secret amongst locals. Many things crept in shadows and went bump in the night, but for the sake of those very creatures, their existence was a secret from those who might take advantage of them. Sacred to the people who protect them.
You grew up in your small coastal down, your parents telling you stories of the beautiful creatures in local waters, how they lived lives parallel to your own. You were seven when you met him - he was about the same age. Youâd been wandering along golden sands just as the sun set on the horizon, looking for seashells you could collect to make a necklace. You hadnât heard him coming, as absorbed as you were in your little self-given task. The crashing of the waves was a familiar friend, yet you didnât notice as her dulcet tones were disturbed by a new presence. He didnât speak, you werenât sure he had figured out how out of the water at that age. But his hand reached for your bucket, gently tugging - not to take, but to catch your attention. Youâd startled and leapt back, but catching sight of his grey tail, you knew exactly what he was. Not who, not yet, but you knew he was special. One of the people of the coast.
He lifted a shell up into your line of sight - large, unbroken, perfect for arts and crafts. You held out your bucket, and he set it gently inside to ensure that it wouldnât break on the way down to meet the others. Youâd lowered yourself down to your knees to meet his eyes with a smile, and waved. He waved back.
It was the start of something special.
His parents had tried to warn him off from socialising with humans, yours had tried to explain to you that the merfolk should be left alone, lest the wrong person discover their existence. It stopped neither of you.
When your grandmother moved in, needing more support than she previously had, you swapped rooms with her, which gave you a room that faced out towards the ocean. It was perfect for your meet ups, the ones that everyone pretended they didnât know were happening. Youâd see him from your window, the same time each time, just as the sun kissed the horizon - actual numbers irrelevant. Youâd climb from your window and rush down the rocky ledge that led to the sands, unseen by tourists who would use the stairs, and heâd swim along until you were tucked away inside a small natural cave, where the two of you could be yourselves together until the sun had disappeared entirely, and your stomachs rumbled, declaring it time to return home.
He learned to speak when you were nine, keeping himself just immersed enough in the water to channel water in through his gills, and make use of it to make his voice audible above the water. When you were twelve, you harassed a local teenager into giving you lessons on diving, not quite scuba diving just yet but diving all the same, so you could dip below the ocean waves to be in his home with him too. You spent much of your young lives side by side, even coming from such different worlds.
His name was Ijichi. He was the same age as you. He was a pilot fish merfolk, which explained the colouring of his tail, with alternating grey and black stripes. He showed you how his gills worked, let you touch his fins just to see what they were like, and in return you showed him human TV shows and let him trace a finger over your unwebbed hands and feet. You learned together, about yourselves and each other.
You sat on the beach, ten now (or nearly, anyway), tucked away into a smaller cove away from prying eyes. In your hands were a bucket and spade, with other tools scattered around you. Itâd been a long day, for a ten year old, and youâd just wanted to relax. The beach was your safe place. You didnât startle when Ijichi appeared anymore, he entered your space as easy as breathing, and you welcomed him there. His tail flicked in the shallow waters, his elbows pressed into the grains of sand, supporting his chin as he watched you build a sand castle.
âWhat are you doing?â He asked eventually.
âIâm building a sand castle.â Youâd explained, with all the seriousness a ten year old could muster. It was serious business, after all.
âWhy?â Ijichi had followed with a slight tilt of his head, the sign for true curiosity rather than teasing. He didnât often tease, it wasnât really in his nature.
âBecause..â you trailed off, pausing slightly, âitâs fun, I guess.â Ijichi nodded, and silence lapsed again for a while. The sort of silence that was charged with energy, telling you that it wouldnât last for long.
âCan I help?â And he did.
He would take your bucket out to gather water, letting you wet the sand just a little more to make your structures more stable. He used slightly sharp nails on webbed hands to more cleanly carve shapes in the sandâs surface, and he brought shells from beneath the waves to decorate it with. It was nothing short of a masterpiece, until the waves washed it away like it did everything else.
âWhatâs the point if it washes away?â He asked, looking at the spot where your project had previously stood proud.
âWe get to do it again.â And when you were so young, it felt profound.
Your mother had teased once, asking if you thought he was handsome, and youâd denied the very thought. He was your very best friend, you couldnât imagine ever seeing him like that. He wasnât anything, he was just.. Ijichi. Though, if there was a way for you to dive down beyond the waves beside him and never come back, you thought you might make that choice, with very little hesitation. To get true time with him outside stolen hours before sunset.
As you got older, you spent more time in the sea. You learned to surf, took real scuba diving lessons, and learned more about the coast itself. You attended university online, taking a course on marine biology. You became increasingly passionate about marine life as a whole, and how it could be preserved.
You spent evenings swimming along seabeds in your gear, Ijichi at your side, helping to clean up plastic and rogue human debris away from the local wildlife, packed securely into bags you could take with you to properly dispose of. It was small, but the local population of merfolk were grateful. Everyone knew who you were by now, and youâd started seeing more and more of the other merfolk over time. You met Ijichiâs friends, and his family. You swam with them sometimes too, your scuba gear actually allowing you to communicate with them, to a certain extent anyway.
They became your friends just as much as his. But nothing could overshadow the special bond you had between yourselves. You were best friends, and always would be. Youâd said once that he was your other half, and you believed it whole heartedly. There was nobody else out there that could ever dream of understanding you the way he did.
You had boyfriends. They came and they went. None of them ever met him, of course, but he knew plenty about them. Youâd don your gear and swim down to meet with him, lay on the shallow ocean beds and gossip like teenagers in a movie, side by side, looking up at the glittering ocean surface the way humans looked at the stars. Heâd never liked a single one of them, and you truly couldnât blame him, you had horrible taste in men.
Satoru had once teased and said that you should give up, and just date Ijichi. The two of you had laughed at the very thought, and gotten into a playful game of chase with him, swimming far beyond where you shouldâve. You always did. Your mother had once said it would get you killed one day, but you knew it wouldnât. Ijichi would never let that happen to you.
You were an adult now, and still you visited the coast at least once a week, taking a break from the struggles of corporate life to relax with your best friend. Youâd hop onto your surfboard and let yourself drift until he found you, unseen hands pulling you further and further from the sands until it was safe for him to rest his chin on the tip of the board to speak with you, or on harder days youâd pull on your trusty scuba gear and dive beneath the waves to lose yourself in the culture beneath, fully indulging in time with your best friend.
The weather never stopped you, even when it shouldâve. Your years of experience and close relationship with so many merfolk made you confident. Some would say too confident. Too comfortable with the oceanâs kindness, when she could be just as easily cruel.
The day was overcast, the forecast set for rain, but nothing to write home about. A few clouds could never keep you off your surfboard.
You climbed aboard and kicked away from the shore, idly letting yourself drift with feet hanging in the warm waters. Ijichi always showed up eventually. For now, you just let yourself relax. Eyes closed, face turned up to the sky even if the sun wasnât there to warm it. Occasionally, if he was busy with something, one of his friends would come by to find you and keep you company in the meantime, usually Yu if anyone. He was sweet, a gentle guy. He reminded you of a puppy at the best of times.
So, when twenty minutes had passed, and still there was nothing, you began to worry. Itâd never taken this long for someone to come find you. You pushed off with more purpose, laying on your stomach on your board and using your arms to continue further from the shore. Deeper into the oceanâs waves. She began to fight harder against your travels, but nothing as silly as currents and waves had ever stopped you before.
You leaned over the edge of your board and pushed your head beneath the water, opening your eyes to look around. Sure enough - nothing. Where were they? For the first time in almost twenty years, were you not going to find company beneath the waves?
âJust one miscalculation at sea can cost you your life.â Noah had told you.
âIâm not stupid,â youâd replied, aged sixteen and trying to convince him to give you proper scuba lessons, âI know not to swim too far, and to respect the sea. Itâs dangerous out there.â
You kicked your leg out to give you the momentum to lift your head. It hit your board instead. The force of your kick, combined to disorientation from pain, and you already being off-centre with your head beneath the surface, and the waves around you? It was the perfect storm.
Your board tipped.
You scrambled to right yourself, but once you were under the waves, it was difficult to get back out again, especially as far out as you were. Your board wouldnât flip, and it was drifting away. The currents suddenly felt stronger than they had before. You kicked, forcing yourself not to panic, desperately pushing towards the surface, but it only seemed to get further away.
Where was Ijichi?
âThe ocean scares me sometimes.â Youâd told him, laying on the damp stones of the cave you called your secret hideout.
âWhy?â Ijichi had asked, eyes wide with confusion,
âIt kills humans all the time. We canât swim as good as you.â
âI wonât ever let you get hurt!â He declared it like a promise, and when he took your hand in his, squeezing it, it felt more like a vow.
Your lungs burned. Your legs were struggling more and more against the rush of the waters around you. Your arms ached.
âYouâre going to get yourself killed one day,â your mother had scolded, but you knew it came from a place of concern, âyouâre too reckless.â
âIâll be fine. I have Ijichi!â Youâd insisted in return.
âAnd what about the day when he doesnât show up?â
You hadnât thought that day would ever come.
You wanted to close your eyes, but you knew if you did, then all hope really would be lost. You could hardly tell which way was the surface anymore, focusing mostly on not opening your mouth in an attempt to get air. Things seemed oddly dark.
Your eyes drifted closed, and your lips parted just slightly. The first rush of water shocked you enough for your eyes to fly open again, but the adrenaline didnât change that you had no air. You couldnât swim anymore. Your eyes burned - from the salt or tears you couldnât be sure.
That time, you squeezed your eyes closed against a wave of deep, resonant grief.
The ocean is a dangerous place for people who canât breathe from beneath its surface. Somewhere along the way, you seemed to have forgotten that. In your next life, you swore to yourself that you wouldnât forget that important lesson.
One second.
Two seconds.
Three.
Nobody was coming to save you.
Your lips parted again, accepting your fate. They said it was one of the worst ways to die, drowning. You could say now that you understood why.
You blinked, a final glance around before it all faded to black.
You blinked once more.
Someone was there - or were you seeing things? Was your brain just desperately supplying images that could bring you comfort? You couldâve sworn youâd heard something too, but it seemed far away, you couldnât make it out.
At least you wouldnât die alone, even if it was just a vision.
Hands gripped your waist roughly, and lips smashed against yours. It wasnât a kiss though, rather fingers wrapped around your jaw and tugged your lips apart, and sucked. What the fuck? Water was pulled from your mouth, and then air was breathed in. Air. You could breathe.
Your lungs filled with oxygen, and still unsure who your saviour was, you wrapped your arms around them to keep them close. To stay alive.
You opened your eyes again. Ijichi. He had come to save you, and he was slowly swimming the two of you towards the surface. He was filtering air from the water around you, and breathing it into your lungs.
You broke the surface with a loud gasp, coughing as more water poured from your mouth. Satoru was there then, forcing you up onto your surfboard, your other friends swarming in to make sure you were okay. Alive. But your eyes were fixed on Ijichi.
âI wonât ever let you get hurt!â
It echoed in your mind like a mantra, and nothing else being said reached your ears.
âAre you okay? Youâre staring.â Ijichi said, and it took you actually seeing his lips move to realise he was speaking to you.
âYou saved me.â You managed to rasp, even with your throat raw from the struggle.
âI was nearly too late.â He replied. His fingers found the edge of your surfboard, then yours, taking your hand softly. Like he was scared you might break.
âBut you werenât.â
The hung heavy in the air. The others watched on in silence.
âI wasnât.â He finally said with a small nod. You still hadnât looked away. You couldnât.
Years of friendship passed through your mind in an instant. Falling asleep on the beach beside him, playing games as children, becoming a part of his friend group, and then his family too. Boyfriends who werenât even half the man that he was, and he was literally only half man. Humans who had never measured up. Those times as teenagers where youâd touched each other clumsily, learning each other and yourselves beyond just the hairs on your arms, and the scales on his tail. Being each otherâs first kisses. Your first everythings. Claiming there would never be anything but friendship between you.
But it had always been him, hadnât it? From the moment youâd met.
You reached to cup his face, and pulled him into a kiss. Around you, your friends laughed, clapped and cheered.
âShouldâve known itâd take almost dying to make you see what the rest of us did.â Suguru remarked with a small smirk, but you didnât care. You supposed your friends were allowed to tease, given how stupid youâd always been.
âWhat about you?â You asked Ijichi softly, your noses still gently brushing together from how close you were.
âIâve been waiting.â
When you kissed again, it felt like finally coming home after a lifetime at sea.
Synopsis: Yuuji handles the social media for his family business, and in a pinch, he reaches out to you to help out with something he has planned for it
Tags/Warnings: Yuuji x GN!Reader, social media manager!Yuuji, fluff, childhood friends, friends to lovers, first kiss
Word Count: 1,592
Welcome to the family part 4
You had known Itadori Yuuji since the both of you were fifteen years old, still with light in your eyes and believing you could be anything, before reality had torn that away from everyone you knew. The two of you had never been particularly close, but you ran in similar circles, shared some friends in common. After graduation, youâd lost contact with him near immediately, since most of the contact youâd had before was forced by close proximity, but every now and then he still liked your Instagram story, or you his. That sort of passive âIâm still aliveâ that modern social media was uniquely equipped to provide. It was nice, to get those little peeks into his life, and see where things had taken him, and how it differed from the other people youâd known back then.
So, all in all, you really hadnât been expecting to wake up on an otherwise normal day to a text from him.
Last youâd heard from mutual friends, he was studying at university, what he was studying you couldnât have answered even with a gun to your head, but he was.. there. From his text you learned that he was also working for his dadâs tattoo and piercing parlour, running their social media page to help them get clients. Huh. The text itself was long, and largely apologetic for messaging you so randomly just to ask for something, but he was in dire straits. Heâd had a plan for something to film that day, but his extra set of hands had dropped out last minute, claiming sickness, and he needed someone else. You had, apparently, come to mind.
Youâd stared at the text for a while, umming and ahhing over the decision, but you figured - what the hell? It got you out of the house, youâd get to see Yuuji, and heâd promised to pay for lunch. What did you have to lose?
When you spotted him across the street two hours later, your first thought was that he hadnât changed even a little bit. Still the same relaxed but happy boy you remembered - though maybe a little broader than before.
âYuuji!â You called to get his attention since he wasnât looking, instead fiddling with a camera in his hands, but the sound of his name made him look up nigh immediately, like a dog with ears perked. It was almost cute, but you shoved that thought down quickly.
âHey!â He waved, and a little flutter in your stomach followed Hell no. Not today. You pushed that away too - no old crushes were going to crop up and ruin your day, no matter what your traitorous heart said. You jogged across the street to meet with him, exchanging a brief hug, both your smiles broad.
âSo, whatâs the plan?â
The plan, you quickly learned, was street interviews. Kind of. It was more like a bit of a game show - he had a sign prepared that said âfree prizes if you can answer our question correctlyâ with a collection of random piercing, tattoo and hair related questions to ask people. Then, to go with it, three little wheels they could spin - one for hair, one for tattoos, and one for piercings. It was elaborate, but fun, and you had every faith that people would join in without hesitation. Yuuji gave you the choice between operating the camera and being in front of it, but you quickly chose to remain out the way of the lens. No thanks.
So, with you left to guard everything, Yuuji put up the sign and took off wandering the streets nearby to find volunteers, phone set to loud with instructions to call him if someone approached you to partake. And as expected - plenty of people were interested in joining in.
Every attempt was filmed, the epic failures and the big successes, though Yuuji had admitted maybe four would get used at most, or the concept would quickly get tired. Part of offering it to so many people was to get them in the door, and either returning, recommending them, or leaving reviews online. You had to admit that it seemed like a good strategy. With his instruction, you managed to film everything fairly successfully - granted, your main job was pressing the button to start and stop filming as needed, but you still felt pretty proud of yourself. You hadnât messed up even once.
Lunch was quiet, the two of you sitting side by side on the little table Yuuji had folded out to hold the wheels. Youâd been a little nervous itâd fold under your weight, but Yuuji had joked that heâd catch you before you ever hit the ground. It was easy to talk to him, always had been, Yuuji was just that sort of person. He was personable, and his joy was contagious. Heâd hit a rough patch just before graduation, but it seemed like he was past it now, stronger than ever with his family close and a career that was going well alongside his academia. You shared a little about how your own life was going, what had happened since graduation that he mightâve missed.
You even gossiped a little about your ex, and Yuuji seemed a little more interested in that than youâd expected. Asked about if heâd treated you well, why you ended up splitting up. It was sort of funny to rehash something with someone who hadnât been there for the journey, sharing the things that shouldâve been glaring red flags at the time. He was sweet, it seemed like he really cared.
His hand rested on the table once heâd set aside his little plastic sushi container, chopsticks tucked inside. It was just close enough that you could feel that his hand was warm, his pinkie occasionally brushing against you. It was such a little thing but it made your heart rush just a little, your face warm, and you hoped he put it down to the sun beating down from above rather than his closeness. He didnât comment, so you felt like you were probably, hopefully, safe.
Yuuji was a total natural in front of the camera, it was admirable. He was just as personal on screen as he was in person, and it was honestly impressive to see. He made people who started uncomfortable feel more comfortable, and even the people who walked away without a reward didnât walk away feeling upset or stupid. He really had a special effect. It was effecting you too, you couldnât deny it, the way your stomach twisted when he smiled at you at the end of a clip, the way your pulse raced the one time he winked at you, you didnât even remember why heâd done it, but the moment was burned into your mind.
There was nothing more frustrating than for an old crush to resurface so palpably in one moment, just from seeing him in person after so long. It really hit you full force, the fact that those feelings had never really gone away.
During one particularly long clip, your mind wandered back to the ex youâd told him about. Everything he did wrong, on some level you were comparing him to Yuuji in your mind. Those times he hadnât shown up, that you knew Yuuji wouldâve. The times where he forgot things you knew Yuuji wouldnât. You hadnât even been doing it consciously, if someone had suggested at the time that you were comparing him to Yuuji, youâd have scoffed at it. But looking back? You think you were.
Just as you were finishing helping pack up, you noticed that Yuuji had stopped. You looked up from where youâd been taking apart the camera tripod to put it away, a brow raised with curiosity.
âSomething wrong?â You asked him.
âYou should have a turn. Yâknow, since you were such a big help.â
âIâve been with you all day, I know the answers.â You pointed out with a soft laugh.
âI know.â He simply replied, and you couldâve been imagining that flush on his cheeks, but you were sure that you werenât.
âAlright.â You confirmed, pushing up to stand fully upright again. He asked you one of the questions from his clipboard, and of course, you answered it easily - practically recited the answer he had written down.
âOne more. A harder one.â He said, and you relented without a fight.
âGo on a date with me?â Yuuji asked, and for a moment you couldâve sworn your heart had stopped entirely. You stared at him for a moment, just long enough that someone else mightâve panicked, but not Yuuji. He just kept smiling at you, slightly bashful, a hand rubbing over the back of his neck.
âI- what?â
âYou donât have to but.. I wouldnât have forgiven myself if I missed my chance again.â That was the final nail in the coffin. You blinked once, then twice, then rather than answering you stumbled across the small distance between you to slam your lips against his.
It was clumsy, and both of you had to laugh into it, trying to shake off the slight pain from the force of contact, but neither of you pulled away. Yuujiâs hands cupped your face, they were warm and slightly worn, the sort that comes from regular exercise. Your arms looped around his neck, fingers playing idly with the hairs at his nape.
âIs that a yes?â He asked when the two of you parted.
âYes. Iâd love to go on a date with you.â
Synopsis: Jin is starting to expand his repertoire, and his middle sonâs suggestion was to start offering colour to his clients, and considering who their clientele usually was he figured it was a good idea. He needs a model though, and he happens upon you.
Tags/Warnings: Jin x GN!Reader, barber!Jin, client!reader, fluff, pre-relationship, small age gap (29/40s), wingman Yuuji,
Word Count: 1,878
Welcome to the family part 3
Expanding the services he offered into colour just sort of made sense. Cutting hair was all well and good but working out of a tattoo and piercing parlour attracted a certain sort of client, the ones that were happy to maintain their bangs and undercuts for themselves to save a few bucks, so they werenât quite as regular as the average person. Besides, it wasnât like people had never asked, his clients were also the types to dye their hair regularly, and many of them had asked if he did, or would ever, offer colour. Heâd always just replied ânever say neverâ but at a meeting with Sukuna and his friend Uraume who helped out the business with their finance degree, his middle son suggested it was time to expand. Start small with natural colours and slowly work up to things like vivids and neons - Uraume with their red highlight agreed, and was willing to help out on that front, since apparently their current place was increasing prices to something they werenât willing to pay anymore. So it all made sense.
It was a solid plan, and so once heâd found an online course heâd thoroughly vetted and made sure was actually accredited the way it claimed, he got to work on learning. It was little things, like touching up Yuujiâs roots where theyâd started growing in dark brown, because he liked to match both his big brothers and keep both the pink and brown in his hair. Every little bit of practice helped, and honestly he felt good about the whole thing - he felt like he was taking to it like a duck to water.
While heâd ended up in blue collar job, it wasnât for his lack of academic ability, and the chemical element of understanding and working with hair dye just made sense to him in the way that other things didnât. Choso had looked at it once and just grimaced and shook his head.
All that meant that Jin was progressing faster than heâd expected, moving from naturals to fashion colours, and looking to progress into vivids. The issue with that being his sons were no longer willing to be his test subjects. For some reason, none of them were interested in having bright green hair - their loss, really, Jin thought he had quite a nice plan in mind for how itâd look. Yuuji had stepped in to save them all the trouble by suggesting he do a post on their social media, offering a free colour appointment to someone willing to come in and let him practice on them, and let them take pictures for his portfolio. Jin thought it was brilliant, and all three brothers sighed in relief.
It took a few days for Yuuji to get everything together that he needed, and while Jin was antsy, his baby boy had never done him wrong before. Eventually, almost a week after heâd first mentioned wanting to start practising vivids, Yuuji came to tell him that an appointment was booked in for the next day, since heâd had it free, with someone willing to let him do whatever he wanted, as long as they also got a trim. The dream. He got to planning a few things, options to pick between in case the volunteer decided there was something they really didnât want, or a certain colour wouldnât look as good against their skin. He was nervous, but beyond excited.
âHi, you must be Yuuji.â You said as you approched the pink haired boy at the front desk, warm smile on your face, hoodie zipped up half way.
âAnd you must be our special volunteer.â He replied, pressing a few buttons on the keyboard before his full attention was turned to you.
âYou sure about this?â He asked, and you could tell it was him genuinely checking in rather than a lack of faith in his father.
âIâm sure. If I hate it, I can just shave it all, Iâve been looking for an excuse to do it anyway.â Yuuji seemed shocked, but he laughed, and shook his head.
âThatâs the spirit, I guess.â
Jin appeared then, and Yuuji was truly his mini-me, aside from the dark brown of his sonâs undercut. He exchanged some small talk with his son quietly, ruffled his hair, then turned to you.
âReady?â
âHell yeah.â
He talked you through everything, explained his thought process, and honestly it mightâve been the most thorough consultation youâd ever had. You could tell that getting this right was important to him, and you had a feeling heâd be a damn good colour specialist once heâd had the time to build his confidence - and that started today, with you.
You agreed to a âstarry nightâ sort of idea heâd had, a primarily dark purple colour, but with highlights in deep navy, turquoise and a softer purple, so that when your hair moved it would give the effect of looking like the night sky. It was ambitious, but you figured worst case scenario, you dump black over the top and walk away unscathed, or you really do shave it all as a last resort. At the very least, you were sure youâd have a nice time.
And you did - you were there for hours. Your hair needed to be lightened first, and Jin was very attentive with your hair health, wanting to make sure it was treated with all the treatments he had deemed as a good idea to help maintain hair integrity - you figured it was a little overkill but hey, it was free - then came the parting and the colouring, one by one, slowly working around your head. It was therapeutic, and he was great at conversation. You werenât usually the sort of person who chatted with hair dressers or barbers, you liked to just be quiet, maybe listen to the music playing, scroll on your phone a little. Talking to Jin was easy, though. He made it easy, really. There was just something about him that compelled you to be honest, to keep finding new things to say just so you could hear his voice again. He was softly spoken, everything with a small smile, like nothing could possibly bring down his gentle spirit. It was both refreshing, and endearing.
You even talked a little bit about his life, about raising three boys on his own, with only the help of his own father to make things work. Heâd taken up working in barber shop sweeping hair after the death of his wife, something he could do part time on top of his work from home gig to help make ends meet. Then when heâd gotten a booth of his own for cutting hair, in a salon rather than a barber shop, heâd been able to take his sons. Choso was responsible, Sukuna anti-social, and Yuuji pleasant so they didnât cause trouble, and if anything the clients liked them. Heâd made things work, and that had been how they ended up with the family business they had.
âOh, sorry about that- you donât want to hear some old man talking about this stuff.â He said with a soft laugh, shaking his head as he stepped back, inspecting his work on your hair.
âActually itâs pretty inspiring. Honestly, I could listen to you talk forever.â You replied in earnest, and you had a feeling that if Jin were a younger man, he might have blushed. Instead, he just cleared his throat and busied himself with moving some bottles and bowls around.
âProcessing time.â He declared, and offered you a tray of snacks while youâd be stuck in the chair doing nothing. He didnât go far, mostly working on cleaning up the mess heâd made, bowls and hair dye bottles, and even splatters of colour on the floor. It was peaceful really. Yuuji came in for a while to chat with you, and figure out what you wanted to do for the pictures of the colour, if it turned out well, while Jin just sat aside and observed.
âHeâs a good boy.â Jin remarked once Yuuji was gone, back at the front desk.
âHe does seem like a good guy.â
âHe must be around your age,â Jin remarked, trying his best to be casual, âright? Like.. 21?â And at that, you had to laugh.
âOh, itâs been a long time since someone thought I was 21. Iâm nearly thirty.â Jin looked absolutely dumbstruck. You waited for a moment for him to compose himself, amusement sparkling in your eyes all the while.
âIâm not sure I believe you.â
âI can show you my ID. Iâm 29.â He shook his head, still struggling to believe you.
âWell, you look great then.â Jin settled on, then seemed to panic slightly as if he wasnât sure it was the right thing to say, but then just nodded, committing. For a moment, the two of you maintained eye contact, just smiling at each other with amusement. It felt almost tangible between you, the weight of it. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips, his parting, ready to say something else. That was when the alarm heâd set to rinse your colour out rang, startling you both and breaking the tension.
The rinsing process was much faster than colouring, and he even conditioned your hair to make sure itâd be soft. Then, he was careful with drying it, even asking how you usually did it so he could do it in the same way to ensure he got your style right.
When he was done, you were stunned. It looked incredible - getting this for free felt nothing short of criminal, and to think he was still so new? You couldnât stop looking at it, fiddling with your hair, tilting your head just to watch how the colours shifted when you turned, the light catching it in a new way.
âWell?â He asked with nervous anticipation.
âI could kiss you, Jin.â You replied with a grin, forcing your eyes away from the mirror to look at the man, finding that this time he was blushing, just a little.
âYou could just.. tell your friends.â He awkwardly offered, and you couldnât help laughing. You stood from the chair to give him a quick hug, and you did kiss his cheek.
âYouâre brilliant. I love it so much.â
Yuuji took the pictures of your hair for their socials, and you firmly pressed some cash into his hand as a tip to give to his father, knowing that Jin would never accept it himself. Yuuji just nodded, and tucked it into a notebook behind the front desk to give to his father long after you were gone.
âHere,â Yuuji said, handing you something in return, âheâd want you to have this but.. heâs not as brave as he used to be.â You looked down at the small slip of paper in your hand, torn out of one of Yuujiâs notebooks no doubt, and found a phone number scribbled there in blue ink.
âIs this-â
âHis number, not mine.â Yuuji assured you with a cheeky smile, then ushered you out the front door.
Yeah. You might text him later.
Maybe heâd be interested in telling you more about his life over coffee.
Heyy!! i absolutely LOVED Ink and Digits. I absolutely need more tattoo artist sukuna. Thank you omg :')
Hi angel tysm!! Tattoo artist Sukuna is one of my favourites for him and it'll definitely be appearing in more of my fics, like uni and roommates au fics
Synopsis: You see an Instagram post about Itadori Tattoo and Piercing parlour, which you wouldn't have even given a second glance if you'd not noticed your old high school classmate was working there. You'd been wanting to get pierced anyway, why not pay it a visit?
Well, that was one way to keep up with people from school you supposed. You hadnât seen any signs of Itadori Choso ever since youâd left high school, the two of you had been on speaking terms, capable of making small talk and getting along but you certainly wouldnât call the two of you friends. So, of course you hadnât heard from him since. Then, just scrolling your feed, you got an ad. Not in the traditional, paid to be in the algorithm way, just a normal local business doing advertising. A tattoo parlour at first glance, with an interesting interior that made you linger just long enough to see him. Choso. He was working as a piercer at his family business, apparently. You didnât realise the Itadoris were cool like that.
Youâd been planning on getting new second lobe piercings recently too. Well, it wouldnât hurt to check the place out, right?
So you decided to go on your next day off, an impulsive trip to the area the place was in, and you did some other light shopping while you were out. You headed in and spotted who you recognised to be one of the schoolâs top rugby players, Chosoâs brother Sukuna, leaning in the doorway talking to the receptionist. When the younger man turned, he looked like a more baby-faced Sukuna - the other Itadori boy, you supposed. You greeted him warmly, letting him make idle small talk until you managed to get in that youâd been thinking about getting a new piercing. At that, Yuuji - at some point heâd mentioned his name - gained a new laser focus and disappeared to find Choso.
When you saw him, it took a moment to really process what you were seeing. Heâd grown into himself almost. Dark eye bags and darker smudged liner around his eyes, with just a little bit of red on his top lid. His clothes were baggy, the same sort of style heâd had in school, something between grunge and punk and emo, but more refined, like he took more care to actually curate his outfits now than he had before. His jeans were black and baggy, with not one but two belts around his waist, one actually functioning to keep up his jeans and the other as an accessory, both black leather. His t-shirts were doubled up, one long sleeved and the other short sleeved, with the under shirt being black while the one on top was a heather grey, seemingly some sort of band shirt. Around his neck sat a thin, long silver chain, and shorter necklace layered with it, a tiger charm attached. In his ears was a large number of piercings, in black rather than the same silver as his necklaces, with black lip rings, doubled up on the right side. To top off his look, there was a strip of solid black over his nose, and you got the distinct feeling that it was tattooed rather than makeup.
âYou look familiar, do we know each other?â Choso asked, and it seemed like even his voice must have changed in the time youâd been apart, because it seemed deeper, a rasp to it that almost made you shiver.
âWe went to high school together,â you told him, followed by your name, and you watched those tired eyes widen just slightly with recollection before he nodded.
âSure. Did you need something?â He asked, hands pushed into the pockets of those jeans, before withdrawing a vape that you watched Yuuji wrinkle his nose at out of the corner of your eye.
âIâve been thinking about getting some more piercings, and I actually saw a post about this place on Instagram, so I figured Iâd come in and see it, talk to you maybe about what would suit me.â You admitted freely, followed by a simple shrug. Choso hummed and tilted his head as if studying you, then nodded, mostly to himself.
âYouâve got pretty good anatomy for most piercings, at a glance. What did you want?â
âI think just my second lobes, for now.â
âSure, Iâve got no appointments, I can take you now if you want.â
That was how you sat in Chosoâs chair for the first time, letting him pierce your earlobes, chewing gum as he focused.
At the end of your visit, when youâd paid up, you got a loyalty card. You hadnât seen a loyalty card in years. But, you supposed it did its job, because the next time the voice in the back of your mind was urging you to do something drastic, you thought back to that little card. Maybe you could get an extra stamp on your loyalty card.
It was your helix first, about a month after that first piercing he did. Then an industrial after another three weeks, then a nose stud, then your third lobes, then a conch, then a rook, then a snug.
Youâd filled the card, in the span of about a year.
Itâd been an otherwise totally normal day when a friend had mentioned nipple piercings. It was a passing comment, nothing even of note really, but for some reason it stuck with you. For several days in fact, it lingered in the back of your mind, and then your little Itadori Tattoo and Piercing Parlour loyalty card fell out from your phone case, filled and promising a free piercing, looking up at you.
You could go get your nipples pierced.
You ignored the thought at first, as impulsive as it was, but it persisted for days. Whenever you werenât wholly occupied, your mind would drift right back to that same thought. So, after a quick message to their Instagram page to check when Choso next had availability for a walk-in, you decided you would do it. You were going to get your nipples pierced.
You wished you couldâve taken a photo of the look on his face when youâd said it. Heâd been more than aware that youâd likely be back for your free piercing considering heâd been the one to point out that youâd filled the card at your last appointment, but he never wouldâve guessed that this would be the one you went for.
âDo you do that sort of thing? I guess I shouldâve started with that.â You said with a soft laugh, awkwardly scratching the back of your neck.
âOh, yeah, I do. The only thing I donât do is genital stuff, I wonât touch that with a ten foot pole. Too risky.â He replied, followed by a cough to clear his throat. So, he agreed to pierce your nipples for you.
The preparation process was familiar to you by now with how often youâd been to see him over the last year. Watching him get everything ready was honestly grounding, helping to get rid of some of those pesky lingering nerves flowing through you. It was fine - it was just Choso, just another piercing. You took off your shirt once heâd pulled the privacy screen, having called out a warning not to come through unless it was an extreme emergency. There was a brief moment where you sat there on the table, Chosoâs back still to you as he adjusted the curtain, and you considered changing your mind. Then, he turned, and got a full view of your bare chest, and you knew you couldnât. You wanted to go through with it.
So, Choso sat in his stool, and with his little wheeled tray table beside him, he lifted the needle. His movements were precise, practiced, as it always was when it came to the piercings he did. Youâd seen him pierce others as well as been pierced by him, you knew just how seriously he took his job. He didnât warn you, he never did, and you kept your eyes averted so you wouldnât tense preemptively.
The first one hurt like a bitch, making you hiss through clenched teeth, but it was over in an instant, replaced by the new jewellery you had. When his hands pulled away, you squirmed slightly, ignoring the unusual rush of pleasure. Not from the pain, just from the feel of Chosoâs hands on your chest, his breath on your skin. With him so close, you were able to breathe in his cologne that had become so familiar to you now, an almost grape soda-esque smell, wrapped in a peppery scent that contrasted the sweeter undertones that reminded you of maple syrup.
Then came the second nipple, because Choso had insisted on letting you get both for free, rather than making you pay for one and not the other. It hurt more than the first one somehow, and once he was done and leaned back, you felt the ache settle in. Oh this was going to be a bitch, but when he held up the mirror for you to clearly see his work, you knew it was worth it.
Choso set down the mirror, pulling off his gloves to start packing away, when his eyes seemed to catch on your chest. Your nipples were bleeding. One hand reached instinctively for the antiseptic wipes he kept on his tray table, but it seemed to just hover there, eyes fixated on your chest. You squirmed again, because how could you not under such intensive attention, and when your legs parted slightly to help unstick you from the table, because now you were sweating just a little, Chosoâs attention shifted just momentarily. Clearly, heâd noticed something that he liked, because he inched closer. It seemed to be almost unconcsious, and you didnât comment, just observed him with baited breath.
His eyes drew back up to you, his trademark bunches disappearing almost entirely from your view as his chin tipped, letting him look directly into your eyes even from where he was positioned below you. Neither of you spoke as he leaned in closer, face inching towards you. You gasped when his tongue made contact with your nipple, licking away the blood that had dribbled out of the new hole. He remained there for a moment, gently lapping at it, making sure that nothing else would escape before he actually used an antiseptic wipe to help prevent infection.
Neither of you spoke as you pulled your shirt back on, and went to the counter to pay. Yuuji chattered away as he always did, but Choso said nothing and you were admittedly distracted. There was obviously not supposed to be any exchange of money for the service, but he needed to ring it up at the register and take back your filled loyalty card. But, you appreciated his help, so you reached into your wallet and took out a few notes as a tip, and folded inside was your number.
You got a text two days later.
You should send me a picture of your new piercings, just so I can make sure they look right.
Bold, Choso. You rewarded him with several pictures, which he didnât reply to for quite some time - telling.
Synopsis: You've been following this tattoo artist - Sukuna - on Instagram for ages and you've finally saved up enough to get a tattoo from him
Tags/Warnings: Sukuna x GN!Reader, first meeting, fluff, getting a tattoo, writer has never gotten a tattoo before, pre-relationship, mutual attraction
Word Count: 2,180
Welcome to the family part 1
Youâd been following itadori.r.sukuna on instagram for eight months now. Eight months of saving, keeping an eye on his waitlist and bookings forms, preparing for what you wanted. You loved his style, there was something to be said about a tattoo artist who did just one thing and stuck to it, and what Sukuna did? You loved. It was well worth saving paycheck after paycheck to make sure youâd be able to go see him. Finally, you had what felt like a reasonable amount for what you wanted, based on what youâd seen him talk about charging on some of his posts and stories. You were ready.
You filled out a form to apply for a consultation, and the three days that followed were borderline agony, just waiting to see when heâd get back to you and if he had availability for what you thought you wanted. Youâd already waited eight months, and the more you waited the more freedom youâd have, because youâd be able to save more money.. but you really wanted him to tattoo you, and you sort of wanted it as soon as possible. You were just dying to have his art on your skin.
When you got the email youâd been waiting for, you were already in town and near where the parlour was. The email detailed a few things you already knew from his socials, and had a link to offer online or phone consultations to get an idea of what you wanted and where, so you could get a price and book a date. Except it wasnât a no-reply email, so you took your chances. You replied, and let him know you were in the area and would be all afternoon if he had any availability to go in person, since you just preferred face to face communication. He told you heâd be free at 2pm, and it was already half past twelve. Jackpot!
So sure enough, when 1:50pm rolled around, you were already waiting.
At the reception desk was a guy a little younger than you, his early 20s maybe, and he introduced himself as Yuuji. Youâd seen from the parlourâs primary page that he was the receptionist and social media manager, the son of the primary owner, alongside the other two employees. A sweet family business. He made idle chatter with you while you waited for Sukuna to be available, and you found yourself laughing, joking with him. You could see why they would want someone like Yuuji to be at the door greeting people.
It was at precisely 2pm that another man emerged from deeper in the store, far taller and broader than Yuuji, but undeniably similar looking in most other regards. The same pink hair, the same brown eyes, even the same slightly tan skin. He regarded you, then grunted.
âYou my 2pm?â He asked, and you assumed that this must be Sukuna. It made sense, the four people at the parlour were all related so of course they looked similar, and Sukuna was covered in tattoos. Really, you shouldâve realised sooner.
âI think so yeah, Iâm here for a tattoo consultation.â You replied, and with no more than a nod Sukuna turned and returned into the store. You followed.
The area was obviously clean, but the decor was nice too. The entire place seemed to have a pink and black themeing going on, it was sleek and modern. You liked it. It didnât quite feel homey and inviting, but it was still an atmosphere you could enjoy, and you could see why they had so many return customers.
Now sitting opposite him, you had a chance to really take Sukuna in. Sure, youâd already noted his similarities to Yuuji when youâd first seen him, but looking at him now in the harsh light - presumably chosen so Sukuna had a clear view when tattooing - you were struck by just how handsome he was. Sexy, even, which wasnât a though you had often. Broad shoulders seemed to test the strength of the stitches in his t-shirt, black which only seemed to make the stretch more obscene, outlining his pecs in a way that was borderline indecent really. His jeans were black too, stone wash so they had that grey shade more towards the centre of the fabric panels, with gold hardware. Since when did you care enough about someoneâs appearance to even notice the colour of the hardware on their jeans? Oh you were screwed.
âSo, you said youâre looking for a rib tattoo.â Sukuna said, pulling on a pair of thin glasses to look at his computer, your filled out form presumably on the screen.
âYeah. Nothing huge, but I want a piece sort of.. under my chest, but on the side, if that makes sense?â He didnât reply verbally, just grunted and scrolled with his trackpad, taking in more of the information on the sheet.
âYou say not huge, what does that mean to you?â His attention turned back to you, watching as you sort of gestured vaguely with your hands, creating a circle with your fingers. He nodded and turned his chair to grab some what you knew was stencil paper. He ripped the sheet in half surprisingly cleanly, then in half again, before turning back to you.
âArms up.â He commanded, and you listened. When you confirmed which side you wanted the tattoo, he leaned over, into your space, and you caught a whiff of his cologne. The scent was an intoxicating combination, dark and heady tobacco and burning whisky, with something sweeter underlining it. He smelled faintly of lotus, wisps of incense following at the tail end as you processed the scent. He held the stencil paper to your skin, adjusting the position, then ripped some more away, and then some more, until he leaned back in his chair with a shoddily done circle of the paper, and held it up to you.
âSomething like this would fit mostly where youâre saying you want it. Obviously the size depends on the design itself, but is this what you had in mind?â He asked. He handed you the stencil paper, and you turned it over despite it being the same on both sides - plain - and lifted it up slightly.
âYeah, that looks pretty perfect.â You confirmed, and he nodded. He took the paper back, and tucked it into a notebook he had on the desk beside his laptop. You figured it was his sketchbook.
After that, you spent some time talking about the design you wanted, and he opened his sketchbook to draw some quick mockups for you to look at, so he could refine things and make a cleaner design.
âCool. If you can give me thirty now, I can do a whole sheet of options for you to pick between. The thirty is just a deposit so if you end up cancelling, Iâm still comped for the time you wasted.â He explained as the consultation came to a close, and you nodded, happily forking over the money. You werenât going to get cold feet, you really wanted this tattoo.
Another three days later, he sent the first pass of the designs heâd drawn up, and with a small number of tweaks requested, you booked a date for the actual appointment.
You were nervous on the day, of course you were, you always were before a tattoo. This time though, it was different. Sukuna was hot and he was going to be not just in close proximity to you, but close proximity with your body, while you were shirtless. It would be fine, you were an adult, you were capable of being sane and normal. You could behave while you got tattooed by the crazy hot artist youâd been obsessed with for months. Not obsessed like that- obviously not.
Maybe you shouldnât have had a coffee this morning.
Yuuji was there when you arrived, of course he was, and he managed to help soothe some of your nerves. The owner really had created three perfect sons for the family business. What a fun coincidence. The appointment time rolled around before you knew it, and Sukuna was there again looming over you.
âStill ready?â He asked, voice flat, brow raised.
âReady as Iâll ever be.â You confirmed, and with that he just nodded as he had the first time youâd been there, and he walked away, expecting you to follow. You did.
You just sat on the table first, letting him disinfect and shave the area where the tattoo would be going before applying the stencil. It took three reapplications before you were happy, but Sukuna was firm that he didnât mind.
âNot putting all the effort into doing this shit if youâre just gonna hate it. We move it til itâs right.â
You were still glad it hadnât taken too many tries for you to be happy.
With that, you lay down on the tattoo bed on your side so he could get to the area where the stencil was, and it made it easier for you to raise your arm without loosing the blood in it, able to just extend it out and lay it beside your head. Almost like you were going to sleep. In fact, youâd slept through tattoos before, so some foolish part of you was hopeful that maybe this time you could do the same. Wrong.
You were all too aware of how close Sukuna was to you, the scent of his cologne in the air again, his breath making goosebumps break out over your skin as he worked. The pain of the needle seemed to fade away after the first few minutes, the sensation was still present yes but less all-encompassing. Especially compared to your awareness of everything he did. You couldnât help the slight press of your thighs whenever you slightly adjusted your position, the greedy way you drank down your water whenever one of you wanted to take a break, lest he realise you were far too warm for the temperature of the room, or your voice break on its way out because of your mouth being dry. It was a little humiliating just how affected you were, really.
As caught up as you were in your own embarrassment, and the discomfort of being tattooed on your ribs, you didnât realise that Sukunaâs attention on you was just as intensive. Of course he was paying attention, he was tattooing you and he took a lot of pride in his word, heâd never mess up something on a client or be careless as to ruin someoneâs tattoo, their body. But that didnât mean when he took his breaks, or briefly lifted the gun that his eyes didnât wander. Down to your bare chest, and across your stomach, drifting to where heâd caught you squeezing your thighs together more than once by now. Clearly, he wasnât the only one distracted.
You were attractive, heâd noticed that the first time heâd laid eyes on you, but there was also something about how well you sat for the tattoo that just did something for him. He was always appreciative for a client who could sit well, not because he resented those who couldnât but because it just streamlined the process. You were taking it like a champ, the ribs was one of the most painful areas to tattoo, and if he werenât so intensely focused on your every movement, he might have thought youâd fallen asleep. It was admirable, and damnit it was attractive. He wanted to keep tattooing you, to be the one to do any and every other piece of art you got on your skin.
In just two short hours, the tattoo was done. You admired it in the mirror, grinning unabashedly. At least a little bit of your embarrassment faded with the introduction of your elation at the new piece of art on your skin. Worth every penny. He cleaned and wrapped it for you, went through the care instructions, and gave you a little leaflet on it so you wouldnât forget anything, as well as a bottle of cleaner to use regularly for a while, apparently included with the cost of the tattoo. Neat!
As you stood at the reception desk chatting with Yuuji, Sukuna typing the numbers into the register for you to be able to pay, you didnât notice what else he was doing. You handed over the cash without much thought, smiling appreciatively up at the mountain of a man that had just done such delicate work against your skin, and then when you got your change, you didnât realise what was included inside.
Not until you were in your car, staring down at a slip of paper with his personal number on it.
You took a moment to let yourself freak out like a teenager before you calmed down, going back to behaving like an adult. You tucked his number into your phone case for safe keeping, and started the engine to drive home.
Summary: You've aligned yourself with Geto and the disaster curses, but the one you care most about is Hanami
Tags/Warnings: Hanami x GN!Reader, fluff, spa day, pampering, pruning, Hanami referred to with fem pronouns, human!reader, I donât know how to tag fics like this itâs just cute, reader gets sunburn
Word Count: 919
For my beloved @fanaticsnail, and for the first collab event I've ever organised
Notes: I did my best with describing the sunburn as neutral as possible to apply to a variety of skin tones. I hope the description I landed on feels like it works - if it doesnât, please tell me! I always want to improve on this particular area of my works
There wasnât many moments of true peace when you were preparing for what would ultimately be a war.
A war against the very people that shouldâve been yours, and yet they had never accepted you, not once in your long life. From being born into a non-sorcerer family and treated as a freak, to being outcasted at Jujutsu Tech, unable to connect with your peers, to not even having many friends in your adult life. Whoâd have thought youâd find companionship with curses? Or, rather, with Geto Suguru, one of the humans working alongside them to common goals, wanting to make a better world. You wanted that too, you were fairly sure, even if neither of their visions quite aligned with yours.
You wanted a world where plant life was able to grow more freely, given the respect and room to grow that it deserved. People had worked so hard to advance and didnât care for the world around them as they did it, indiscriminately destroying everything beautiful, deserving of preservation. Surely, for that, some punishment was deserved?
Or that was what you told yourself.
It was easier to believe in the mission on days where you were left alone with Hanami. A cursed spirit born from the pains of the planet that you specifically sought to cure. Of course, she didnât trust you at first, and why would she? No human was worth her trust, they were all involved in the machine that was killing what was dear to her. Then, one day, she chose to tolerate you and you were given a chance to show her your cursed technique. You knelt in a patch of dead grass, fingers dragging through the soft blades, and as it went the ground around you was revitalised, small flowers blooming amongst the greenery. You looked up at her with a smile, and though she said nothing, you got the sense that at least she was intrigued.
Over a period of weeks, she seemed to become more and more interested in you, in what you were capable of and what your goals were. You were always patient, careful to answer her questions as best you could. And slowly but surely, you became almost.. friends.
Which led you to the current day.
It wasnât often that things were peaceful in your life anymore, but for once you had some downtime. You, Hanami and Dagon were the only people left in your little base, and frankly you werenât entirely sure where Dagon was, so it very much felt like just you and Hanami. Your fingers brushed over the divide between grass and sand while Hanami sat beneath a tree, shielding her from the oppressive sun.
âSomething the matter, my flower?â You asked her with a small smile, and where previously sheâd have scolded you for the nickname, she just grunted.
âI am getting overgrown.â She remarked, looking down at mossy hands, extra smaller branches growing from her joints. You watched as her hand flexed, or tried to, struggling with the overgrowth.
âWould you let me help you with that?â You softly asked.
You knew it was a big thing to ask from her given her stance on humans, and yet after a moment, she offered you her hand. The two of you worked quietly together on slowly making your way around her large body, tending to any spots limiting her mobility or causing discomfort, your hands always gentle, bordering on reverent. Youâd never do anything to hurt her.
âWill that be okay?â You asked her, gently pulling away a final moss patch that had been growing uncomfortably around her throat.
âI believe so,â Hanami confirmed, glancing herself over, âthank you.. sorcerer.â
âOf course.â
You returned to the seat youâd previously been occupying without a word. You were able to feel Hanamiâs eyes on you, but you offered no commentary, simply remaining quiet as you let her process whatever she was feeling and how she wanted to proceed. Human nature was out of her depth, and words so often followed suit.
So, rather than speaking, you felt it as a small plant sprouted beneath one of your hands, resting against the floor behind you to hold your body up at an incline. You lifted your hand to allow it to properly bloom, and found an aloe plant beneath. You looked at your skin, the slight shift in colour over your shins where they rested on the sand, right under the angry glare of the sun. Dagon was bad at controlling that element of his domain, often making things too hot for you. A smile on your lips, you turned your eyes back to Hanami, fingers running over the aloe plant.
âFor me?â
âThe sun is not as good for you as it is for the plant life.â She remarked, reaching over to not pluck the aloe plant, but rather gently squeeze it to remove some of the product from inside, tender with it as if the thing could feel pain - maybe it could.
Aloe coated over her fingers, Hanami shifted and began to gently rub it into your skin, pulling your legs out of direct sunlight to help with the burn youâd started to get. The moment was soft, the sort of thing you once wouldâve never dreamed of sharing with her. Her hands were gentle, the sort of gentleness youâd only seen her use on the greenery that she adored.
You had to wonder if, just maybe, she could grow to adore you too.
A special collaboration event organised by yours truly entirely in secret (aka off tumblr), centred around writing for 'underrated' characters (defined as characters with 400 or less fics posted for them on AO3) - with particular emphasis on Mahito and Hanami because..
This was done particularly special in honour of @heavenlysnail, one of my dearest friends, who always seems to love the characters who get the least love
You can also find the AO3 collection here if you'd rather read over there
Synopsis: You're just heading down to the beach like any other day, when you see something you never would've expected
Tags/Warnings: Shark!Sukuna x GN!Reader, AFAB!Reader, injured!character, wound tending, first meeting, meet cute sort of
Word Count: 2,051
Notes: A special gift for my best friend @claryeverlarkf
It was the very last thing that youâd been expecting to see, and yet somehow not the biggest surprise of the day. Heading down to the little cove near your cottage home, descending the slightly slippery stone stairs most visitors to the area didnât dare traverse to your own personal slice of peace. The first few metres was all pebbles, not the sort of place youâd head to spend a relaxing afternoon, but past that was your paradise. A stretch of golden sand where you left out your little shelter tent, an ice box you refilled whenever you came by, and a chair moulded to the shape of your body so it could be effortlessly comfortable. You wore your usual bathers- deep cherry red, a bikini top with shorts rather than one of those tiny bikini bottoms. The sun beat down on your back, but the temperature was mild enough that it felt comforting rather than stifling. Perfect.
You headed for the rocky outcrop that kept your favourite spot so private, the sort of formation that most rogue tourists wouldnât bother to make their way around, especially since they couldnât guess that paradise was on the other side. That was when you noted that something seemed different, your first inkling that something today was going to be different. The waves were settled as they usually were, but you could hear that just beyond your view that they were hitting differently. Rather than just creeping up the sand, they must be hitting something. Something that wasnât usually there.
You got a firm grip on the rocks, and used it to haul yourself over and around the few rocks that were actively in the way of your pathing, and that was when you saw exactly what was causing the difference. A damn ship wreck.. what the fuck? That wasnât there yesterday.
You hesitated for a moment, unsure whether to approach or turn away. but something about it called you in. Really, you could call the coast guard so they could investigate.. but just a peek wouldnât hurt. You edged closer bit by bit, your lunch tossed aside in your chair for safe keeping.
Then came the second surprise of the day.
Inside the wreck, trapped under some fallen debris and struggling to get out was a man. It took a moment to process what was in front of you because, he wasnât a man, not really. Just there beneath the debris, where there shouldâve been a pair of legs thrashing and kicking for freedom, was instead a pink tail. A what? You shook your head, blinking a few times as if somehow you might just be seeing things that arenât there. But, sure enough, it remained. A pink tail that resembled that of a shark, a similar shade to the hair on his head, the fins tipped in black.
âHello?â You asked hesitantly, hand resting on one of the wooden planks so you could peer into the slightly dark space, trying to get a better look at whoever was inside.
âGet lost.â The man grunted, and you were struck by how exhausted he already sounded, like his throat was dry. You paused, considering your options, before you dashed back to where youâd left your lunch.
There, in the cooler box from yesterday, was a bottle of water. There was a brief moment where you considered whether instead of giving him a bottle of fresh water, you should pour it out and give him some salt water instead. Well, the tail looked quite attached to him, so you figured he must drink salt water, right? It only took a minute for you to exchange the cold fresh water for the lukewarm salt water of the ocean, and with it in hand you returned to the wreck.
When you got there, he was no longer struggling, just softly panting, clearly taking a break from what he mustâve been doing for hours.
âYou look tired. I have water, and food.â You offered, fingers fidgeting around the bottle. The man looked up at you, blood red eyes unnerving in their intensity as they focused on you, then drew down to the bottle in your hand. He dragged his eyes back up to you, seemingly analysing you to make a decision, and then he just nodded.
Carefully, slowly, you worked your way into the wreck, not wanting to risk disturbing it and causing more damage. He took the water in a surprisingly human hand, though his fingers were webbed with nails that were more like claws and black in colour. On closer inspection, though the skin of his upper half was pale, it was also marked as if he were tattooed, matching the small amount of his tail that you could see.
He drained the bottle in a matter of seconds, then tossed the plastic back towards you, which you just barely managed to catch. With a newfound strength, he thrashed his tail hard once, twice, then a third time and some of the debris managed to dislodge. You quickly padded over and hauled away a few of the smaller fragments of wood so the total weight would be less heavy for him to shift, and when you stepped back, he gave a final big thrash and knocked the majority of the debris on him aside. With that, he was able to drag himself with his hands out from what remained.
Now with a full view of him, you were able to properly admire the view. He was handsome, with a sharp jaw, a strong nose, and his abs were prominent just above his tail. The tail itself was intimidating, that pink shade youâd already noticed, with a white underside, and the black markings continued across smooth skin, not just at the tips of his fins, almost akin to tiger stripes, if you had to make a comparison. He wasnât just handsome, he was damn hot.
Then, your eyes caught sight of some blood pooling and dripping down his tail. Your eyes trailed after a droplet for a long moment, watching the way it trailed across skin slowly, gravity pulling it down and into the grains of sand below him, staining them in the process.
âYouâre hurt.â The words came out before you could stop them, and his eyes snapped back up to your face, teeth bared in what mustâve been a warning.
âBack up.â You knew the feeling creeping down your spine, the understanding that you were in danger, shouldâve scared you and made you want to run, but instead it only compelled you to stay.
âOkay, but will you let me help you again?â You asked him, taking two large, deliberate steps backwards. The man seemed to consider that, with eyes narrowed, watching your movements carefully.
âEmpty your pockets.â He roughly demanded, and you turned them out for him to see that they were already empty.
â..Fine.â He agreed, but it was clear he was reluctant to do it, only agreeing because of how precarious the situation was. You explained briefly that youâd need to go get some supplies to help him, but first youâd bring him something to eat. You found yourself glad youâd not put fish on your sandwich that day.
With a chicken sandwich in his hand, and another bottle of water in the sand for him to take when he wanted it, you dashed across the sand and then the pebbles, up the dangerous stone stairs and all the way back to your place. Your first aid kit was stocked, so you took that, and the rest of the pack of chicken youâd used to make your sandwich. Bread probably wasnât the best thing to feed him, but meat should be. Right? You were guessing, but you were sure heâd eat it either way, he seemed hungry.
There was another moment then, as you stood in the doorway of your home, ready to return to the beach that you questioned yourself. What were you doing? Surely this went against every âstranger dangerâ lesson that youâd ever been given, to not only help a stranger but one that wasnât entirely human? But then also, why should him not being human factor in? He was capable of communicating with you - he passed the Harkness test, your brain supplied, which was entirely unhelpful in the moment. With a quick shake of your head to clear your mind of all its questionable thoughts, you headed back towards the beach. You were in too deep now.
When you returned to the wreck the man was curled in on himself, his torso leaned over his tail where it was wounded, as if guarding it, keeping himself safe from harm. You lifted the chicken pack for him to see, then tossed it to him rather than getting close enough to hand it to him.
âIâve got medical stuff, so I can help with your wound.â You told him, once heâd started eating the meat youâd offered. Peace offering success.
âWhy?â Was his response, and admittedly you supposed that was fair. You also werenât sure you had an answer for him. Why were you helping?
âBecause I donât like seeing people hurt, I guess.â You told him with a shrug, but the look on his face told you that he didnât believe you for even a moment. You sighed and sat down opposite him, legs crossed beneath you, and decided to try again.
âPlus, Iâve never seen something like you. I just want to get close, I guess. I really donât like that youâre hurt, though. It looks painful, and youâre beautiful. Beautiful things shouldnât bleed.â The words felt more truthful as they passed your lips, and though his lip curled with distaste at your words, he seemed to believe them too. He kept you both in a slightly tense silence for a while longer as he continued to eat, then downed the bottle of water youâd given him earlier.
When his eyes landed on you next, you felt as if the world had gone dark, with a spotlight shone only on you. You fidgeted slightly under the intensity of it, his dark eyes dragging over your form, taking in every inch of you.
âFine.â He finally agreed, and so you slowly shuffled over the sand to sit closer to him. He uncurled, giving you access to his tail, and it struck you suddenly just how large he really was. Oh wow.
But, you focused as best you could on doing what you could do for him. Antiseptic, some waterproof bandages you had since you loved to swim, and a regular wipe just to clean away anything else in the wound that shouldnât be there. When you were done, youâd used all of your bandages due to his size, but you figured itâd be worth it. He remained silent for the entire process, watching you with lips pursed, each movement you made followed by his piercing gaze.
You shuffled back to give him some space to move, and watched him poke and prod your work a few times, before he simply nodded.
âIt will do.â He decided, then began dragging himself towards the waterâs edge, ready to return to wherever heâd come from. You helped move some of the debris out of his way, careful as you followed, until he was dipping below the surface to swim past what remained. You dashed out of the wreck to watch him surface a small ways away, shaking off some water, his eyes returning to you.
A thick disappointment draped over your shoulders, making a home deep in your gut. Youâd been hoping you might get more time to talk to him, to learn about him and his culture and where the hell heâd come from. Nobody would ever believe you about what happened here today, but that wasnât the thing you cared about most.
âYou never told me your name!â You yelled, the realisation striking you quite suddenly.
âNeither did you.â He returned, and then just like that, he was gone. He dipped beneath the water, tail flicking briefly after him and then even the shadow of him beneath the waves disappeared.
Youâd met some sort of.. mer-shark, and youâd helped him with an injury, and you didnât even know his name.
