[total-killer-brainrot]

"Happy Pride, sir." You called as you passed him.

Ghost froze. Eyes narrowing behind the mask. Voice eerily calm when he responded.

"Why you sayin' that to me? I'm not gay."

Quickly you felt the tips of your ears burning. Rushing to apologise.

"Oh! I wasn't assuming- I just-"

"Teh fock do ye mean yer not gae?!"

[miiroki]

𝐓𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐨? ┅ 𝖯𝗋𝗈 𝖧𝖾𝗋𝗈! 𝖡𝖺𝗄𝗎𝗀𝗈𝗎 𝖪𝖺𝗍𝗌𝗎𝗄𝗂 & 𝖰𝗎𝗂𝗋𝗄𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌! 𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘉𝘢𝘬𝘶𝘨𝘰𝘶’𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘹𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘺.

﹙𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭﹚

NOTE: bakugou in the new bnha movie 😮‍💨 holyyy

The neon sign of the local joint buzzed with a comforting, cheap hum, casting a red glow over the cracked asphalt of the alley. Katsuki Bakugou shifted the weight of his support gear, the heavy metallic bracers of his hero suit feeling twice as heavy after the day he’d had.

Some days, being the top hero meant saving the day with nothing but his explosions. Today, it meant five hours of mind-numbing bureaucratic red tape at the agency, followed by a botched villain apprehension that involved too much collateral damage control and not enough actual fighting. He was drained. Bone-deep exhausted.

When Eijiro had caught him by the locker rooms, shoving a grinning face into his space and shouting about Mina hosting a dinner for the squad, Katsuki couldn’t even find the energy to snap. He just muttered a flat, "No." He didn't have the bandwidth for Mina’s energy, Kaminari’s bullshit, or Sero’s loud laughing. He just wanted grease, spice, and absolute silence.

He didn't even bother changing out of his hero costume, just threw a dark jacket over his shoulders to cover the glaring orange 'X' on his chest, though the spiked hair and massive grenade gauntlets sitting in his gym bag gave him away instantly.

Stepping inside his favorite hole-in-the-wall Japanese restaurant, the wall of heat and the thick aroma of chili oil and simmering broth hit him like a physical wall. And then he saw the crowd.

Just my luck. Packed.

Katsuki scowled, ready to turn on his heel and face a miserable night of convenience store rice balls, when the manager caught his eye. The old man gave a knowing nod, waving a hand to a young waiter who immediately scurried over, bowing low.

"Dynamight! Follow me, please. We’re full downstairs, but we have a spot on the roof for our regulars."

Katsuki grunted a thanks, following the kid up a narrow, creaking flight of wooden stairs. The rooftop wasn't some glamorous lounge; it was a tiny concrete slab overlooking the city lights, crammed with four small, mismatched wooden tables. It was drafty, a bit cramped, but most importantly—it was quiet.

Well, almost entirely quiet.

"Here you go, sir. Sorry for the tight squeeze," the waiter mumbled, gesturing to a two-person table against the railing.

Sitting at the table immediately adjacent—so close that their chairs would probably bump if either of them leaned back too far—was you.

Katsuki froze for a fraction of a second, his crimson eyes locking onto your form. He recognized you instantly. You were a fixture at this place, always tucked into a corner downstairs on Tuesday and Thursday nights, working your way through the spiciest items on the menu without batting an eye. He’d noticed you months ago, mostly because you were one of the few people who didn't stare at him or ask for an autograph when he walked in.

You looked up from your steaming bowl of mapo tofu, a pair of chopsticks halfway to your mouth. Your eyes blinked in mild surprise, taking in the spiked ash-blonde hair, the unmistakable hero trousers, and the obvious aura of irritation radiating off him.

"Rough day?" you asked, your voice remarkably casual given that a top-ranked, explosive hero had just dropped into the chair less than two feet from you.

Katsuki let out a long, heavy exhale through his nose, dropping his heavy gym bag onto the floor with a dull thud. He pulled the jacket off his shoulders, draping it over the back of the small chair.

"Don't start," he muttered, though there was no real bite to it. He was too tired to even manufacture his usual aggression. He flagged down the waiter. "Give me the extra-spicy tantanmen. Double the chili paste. And a cold beer."

"Right away, sir."

Once the waiter disappeared, the silence stretched between the two of you, but it wasn't uncomfortable. The cool night air cut through the lingering heat of the kitchen downstairs, carrying the distant, muffled sounds of the city traffic below.

You took another bite of your food, chewing thoughtfully before speaking up again. "You know, if you wear the costume into a place like this, you’re just asking for people to bother you. You're lucky the old man guards this roof like a hawk."

Katsuki leaned back, his broad shoulders stretching against the cheap wood of the chair. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. You weren't wearing anything special, just comfortable, everyday clothes. No support gear, and no spark of a quirk humming beneath your skin. He’d realized a while ago from the way you moved, completely unburdened by the physical ticks or subconscious tells of a quirk-user, that you were entirely quirkless.

Was it slightly bigoted of him to assume that? Yes. But in his defense, his assumption was correct and you were quirkless.

"Didn't have the energy to change," Katsuki grunted, resting an elbow on the tiny table. "Didn't want to go home and cook for tomorrow, either. Just wanted to eat without hearing my idiot friends yell for five minutes."

He’s surprised he was even saying all this to a complete stranger.

"Fair enough," you said with a soft chuckle. You reached for your glass of water, taking a sip. "The gang keeping you busy?"

He scoffed, a faint, genuine smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "They're a pain in the ass. Always trying to drag me to some loud dinner. I chose a quiet bowl of noodles over their loud mouths.”

"Sounds like a wise choice for your sanity Mr. Dynamight.”

The waiter returned, setting down a massive, violently red bowl of noodles and a frosted mug of beer. The steam rising from the bowl was practically chemical, but Katsuki’s expression immediately smoothed out.

"Thanks," he muttered. He cracked his chopsticks apart, picked up a heavy tangle of noodles, and took a bite. The intense, burning heat hit his tongue instantly, spreading a comfortable warmth down his throat and finally breaking the tension coiled in his shoulders. He followed it with a long gulp of the freezing beer, letting out a sharp breath. "Fuck. Needed that."

"Good, right?" you asked, leaning your chin on your hand, watching him with an amused expression. "I told the chef last week he needed to up the spice factor on the tantanmen. Guess he took it to heart."

Katsuki looked over at you, his red eyes narrowing slightly, though the look was entirely curious. "You come here a lot. I see you downstairs."

"It's close to my place, it's cheap, and they don't judge me for clearing out their hot sauce supply," you replied easily. "Plus, it's nice to watch the chaos downstairs. Though up here is definitely better."

"Yeah," Katsuki agreed, taking another mouthful of noodles. He looked out over the railing, watching the shimmering lights of the city skyline. "It's quiet."

For the next twenty minutes, conversation faded into a comfortable rhythm of chewing, the clinking of dishes, and occasional, brief observations about the menu. The smallness of the rooftop and the tight spacing of the tables, which usually would have driven Katsuki insane, felt oddly private. It created a small pocket of isolation from the rest of the world.

As you finished up the last of your meal, you set your chopsticks down and stretched your arms slightly, catching his eye.

"Well, good sir," you said, reaching into your pocket for your wallet. "Try not to blow up the restaurant on your way out. And thanks for all the company."

Katsuki watched you stand up, picking up your jacket.

For a guy who usually demanded people get out of his way, he found himself wishing the tiny rooftop tables were just a little bit closer together, or that you'd stay to argue about which menu item had the superior spice profile.

"Oi," Katsuki called out just as you hit the top of the stairs.

You paused, looking back over your shoulder.

He took a slow sip of his beer, his gaze steady. "I'm usually here on Thursdays after shift. Downstairs is too loud."

A slow, knowing smile spread across your face. You adjusted the strap of your bag, giving him a small nod.

"Then I guess I'll have to ask the old man for a rooftop reservation next Thursday," you said softly. "See you around, Katsuki."

During that small window of time you even managed to convince him to let you call him by his first name.

You disappeared down the stairs, leaving him alone under the dim string lights. Katsuki stared at the empty space for a moment, the sound of his actual name, not his hero title, lingering in the cool air. He let out a quiet huff, a genuine, relaxed smile finally breaking across his face as he dug back into his noodles.

Maybe the day wasn't a total wash after all.

—

The silence of Katsuki’s apartment was a holy sanctuary.

He kicked his boots off at the entryway with two dull thuds, dropping his gear bag onto the floor. The ambient heat of the room was a welcome relief from the cool night air, and his stomach was comfortably full of burning chili oil and beer. He was finally starting to unwind, the image of your easy smile on that cramped rooftop lingering pleasantly in the back of his mind.

Then, his phone vibrated in his pocket. A loud, obnoxious electronic buzz that shattered the peace.

He pulled it out, eyes narrowing at the caller ID. Dunce Face.

Katsuki groaned, a deep sound of pure irritation. It was past midnight. He swiped the screen with a aggressive thumb and shoved the phone onto speaker, tossing it onto his neatly made bed as he started unbuttoning his hero vest.

"What the fuck do you want? It’s tomorrow already," Katsuki growled, his voice a low raspy warning.

"Katsukiiii!" Denki’s voice wailed through the speaker, accompanied by the unmistakable, chaotic background noise of Mina’s apartment—clinking glasses, Kirishima laughing loudly in the distance, and Sero shouting about a Mario Kart rematch. “You missed it, man! You totally missed out! Mina made this insane hot pot and Eijiro ate like four bowls and—"

"I don't care," Katsuki cut him off, unzipping the heavy canvas of his uniform trousers and stepping out of them, kicking them toward the laundry hamper. He was down to his black compression shirt and boxers, the cool air hitting his skin as he stretched out his tight shoulder muscles. "I told Shitty Hair I wasn't coming. I’m hanging up."

"No, wait, wait, wait! Don't hang up!" Denki slurred slightly, clearly a few drinks deep into the evening. "Listen, okay? I’m calling you because I had this realization. A total epiphany. You need to come to these things because you are missing the vital gossip of the agency life, man."

Katsuki walked over to his bathroom, grabbing a face towel and turning on the faucet. He threw the phone onto the counter next to the sink. "I don't give a shit about agency gossip."

"You will care about this!" Denki insisted, his voice dropping into a dramatic, conspiratorial whisper that was still entirely too loud. "Okay, so, you know how PR handles all the outreach stuff? I had a meeting this morning with the new liaison. The one in charge of the anti-hate and advocacy division for quirkless people?"

Katsuki paused, a handful of cold water halfway to his face. He blinked, the water dripping through his fingers back into the sink. Quirkless. The word instantly triggered a mental picture of you, sitting under the dim string lights of the rooftop.

"What about 'em?" Katsuki muttered, finally washing his face, the cold water shocking his skin awake.

"Dude," Denki groaned, a sound of pure, unadulterated awe. "She is smoking hot. Like, stunning. Broad daylight and with just this corporate suit thing, and I swear to god I forgot how to speak English. And Japanese. I think I just made sparking noises at her for ten minutes. She's a total ten out of ten. If you were there, you would've—"

Katsuki grabbed a towel, drying his face with rough, aggressive strokes. He grabbed the phone, walking back into his bedroom to pull on a comfortable pair of grey sweatpants.

"Shut the fuck up," Katsuki rolled his eyes, tossing himself onto the mattress and staring up at the ceiling.

As Denki continued to ramble in his ear about the shape of this PR woman's eyes or whatever nonsense his drunk brain was fixating on, Katsuki’s mind completely drifted. He found himself actively comparing Denki’s hyped-up description to the person he had actually spent his evening with.

Smoking hot? Katsuki thought, a cynical smirk forming on his lips. Doubtful. Denki thought a stiff breeze was attractive if it wore a skirt.

Besides, Katsuki didn't care about some random corporate-suit model working a desk job. His mind was stuck on the way you looked in the dim, cheap neon light of that restaurant. The way you handled spice that would make Kaminari cry like a baby.

There was no way Denki's PR girl could be as captivating as the mysterious regular on the roof. Not even close.

"—and I’m telling you, Bakugou, if you just came to the meetings instead of hiding in your office doing paperwork, you'd see her! Next time she comes by the agency, I’m introducing you," Denki droned on, completely oblivious to Katsuki’s silence.

"I'm hanging up now. For real this time." Katsuki said, his voice flat but entirely done with the conversation.

"Wait, you didn't even tell me if you think she sounds like your type—"

Katsuki hit the red button, cutting Denki off mid-sentence. He threw the phone onto his nightstand, the sudden silence of his apartment wrapping around him like a heavy blanket.

He stared at the dark ceiling for a long moment, the irritation from the phone call slowly evaporating, replaced by a strange, anticipatory hum in his chest.

Thursday, he reminded himself, a slow, quiet smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he rolled over and pulled the blanket over his shoulders. Just gotta make it to Thursday.

[maeveybelle]

Katsuki who barely cries in front of others yet you woke up in the bed, after not waking up for like a few days to him angrily crying over how it should’ve been him instead of you who has to the the most injured out of 1A’s students when several villains attacked 🥺

Should've Been Me

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summary: when Katsuki lies awake sobbing in the middle of the night, ridden with guilt, the only one who can stand his stubborness while comforting him equally is his girlfriend.

warning/s: angst, hurt/comfort

w/c: 1k~ (short drabble)

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

Pain pulled you awake slowly. The left side of your body throbbed in time with your heartbeat—deep bruises, cracked ribs, and a healing burn along your shoulder from the villain’s flame quirk. You’d taken the worst of it during the ambush on Class 1-A’s off-campus training. Several villains had coordinated an attack, and you’d thrown yourself between a group of your classmates and a devastating explosion.

The hospital room was dark except for the faint glow of monitors. You shifted carefully in the bed and froze when you heard it.

A sharp, angry inhale. Then a muffled, frustrated sound that didn’t belong to Katsuki Bakugo.

He was sitting in the chair beside your bed, elbows on his knees, face buried in his hands. His shoulders shook. Not dramatically. Not loudly. But the way his fingers dug into his messy blond hair and the harsh, ragged breathing told you everything. He was crying. And he was pissed about it.

“Katsuki?” Your voice came out rough from disuse.

His head snapped up. Red eyes, glossy and furious, met yours. Tear tracks cut through the ash and sweat still smudged on his cheeks. He looked like he’d come straight from the battlefield and hadn’t left your side.

“The fuck are you doing awake?” he growled, voice thick. He swiped roughly at his face with the back of his hand, smearing the evidence. “Go back to sleep.”

You ignored that and pushed yourself up a little higher against the pillows, wincing as your ribs protested. “Come here.”

“I’m fine,” he snapped, but the way his voice cracked betrayed him. He stayed rooted in the chair, jaw clenched so tight you thought it might break.

You stared at him steadily. “Katsuki. Get over here.”

After a long second, he shoved the chair back with a harsh scrape and moved to sit on the edge of your bed. He wouldn’t look at you directly. His hands flexed like he wanted to explode something.

You reached out and took one of his wrists, tugging until he faced you better. “Talk to me.”

He laughed, bitter and low. “Talk? What the hell is there to say?” Fresh tears slipped down despite how hard he tried to hold them back. His voice rose, angry and raw. “You’re lying in this fucking bed looking like you went through a meat grinder. Cracked ribs, second-degree burns, fucked up shoulder. The doctors said you took the worst of it out of everyone in 1-A. And for what?”

His free hand clenched into a fist on his thigh. “It should’ve been me. I’m supposed to be the strongest. I should’ve been faster, should’ve blown those bastards to hell before they got close to you. Instead you—” His voice broke completely. He looked away, ashamed of the tears but unable to stop them. “You jumped in like a damn idiot and now you’re the one paying for it.”

You let him get it out, thumb stroking slowly over the inside of his wrist. When he finally quieted, breathing hard, you spoke.

“You’re right. I did jump in.” Your tone was calm but firm. “Because I saw an opening and I took it. Just like you would have.”

His eyes snapped back to you, furious. “That’s not the fucking point—”

“It is the point.” You squeezed his wrist. “You don’t get to sit here and cry angry tears because I did what any of us would do for each other. Especially not you. You’ve thrown yourself into worse for me and the class a dozen times. You think I’m just gonna stand there and watch you get hurt when I can do something about it?”

He opened his mouth, but you kept going, voice steady and low.

“I’m not sorry. And I’m not gonna let you beat yourself up over this like it’s your personal failure. We’re a team, Katsuki. You’re my boyfriend, not my shield. I love you, but I’m not some fragile extra who needs you to take every hit for me.”

Katsuki’s shoulders slumped. More tears slipped free. He didn’t bother wiping them this time. “I know that,” he muttered. “Doesn’t stop me from wanting to blow up the entire universe for putting you here.”

You tugged him closer until he finally gave in and carefully laid down beside you, careful not to jostle your injuries. His head ended up on the uninjured side of your chest, one arm draped loosely over your waist. You threaded your fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp the way you knew helped him unwind.

“I hate this,” he said quietly, voice muffled against you. “Hate seeing you hurt. Hate that it wasn’t me instead.”

“I know.” You pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “But I’m still here. Still breathing. Still gonna give you shit when you’re being a stubborn ass in training next week. The villains didn’t win. We’re both still standing. Mostly.”

He let out a wet snort. “You’re such a smartass even half-broken.”

“Someone has to keep your ego in check.” You continued running your fingers through his hair, slow and soothing. “You don’t have to be the Symbol of Peace, Katsuki. You just have to be you. And I chose you. Scars, explosions, angry crying, and all.”

He stiffened at the reminder. “I wasn’t— Shut up. I don’t cry.”

“You do when it matters.” You tugged his hair lightly, just enough to make him look up at you. His eyes were still red-rimmed and raw. “And it’s okay. I’m not gonna tell anyone. Your secret’s safe with me.”

Katsuki held your gaze for a long moment. Then he leaned up and kissed you—slow, careful, and surprisingly gentle. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.

“Don’t do that shit again,” he whispered. “Don’t make me sit here thinking I almost lost you.”

“I can’t promise that,” you said honestly. “But I can promise I’ll always fight like hell to come back to you.”

He exhaled shakily and buried his face in your neck again. You held him there, one hand in his hair, the other rubbing slow circles between his shoulder blades. His breathing gradually evened out, the tension draining from his body bit by bit.

“You’re really not mad I took the worst of it?” you asked after a while.

“Mad at the villains. Mad at myself for not being faster.” He paused. “Not mad at you. Just… fucking terrified.”

The admission was so quiet you almost missed it. You tightened your hold on him.

“I was scared too,” you admitted. “But I’d do it again if it meant keeping you and the others safe. That’s what loving you means to me.”

Katsuki didn’t reply with words. He just pressed closer, careful of your injuries, and let you keep running your fingers through his hair until his breathing slowed into something closer to sleep.

You stayed awake a little longer, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against you. The pain in your body was still there, but having him here—raw and real and trusting you with this side of him—made it easier to bear.

Tomorrow he’d probably wake up grumpy and deny he’d cried at all. You’d tease him about it. He’d call you an idiot and threaten to blow up your hospital food.

You smiled faintly in the dark.

You wouldn’t have him any other way.

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A/N: I love this idea, and my heart genuinely aches when I think or season 8 bakugo. like that's my baby...he genuinely evolved into such a complex character, don't even get me STARTED on season 8 bkdk. Idc if I'm fucking 60, they will always be in my heart.

comments and likes are always appreciated!!

masterlist

[academic-vampire]

𝔯𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔶 𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔨𝔰

[inthesensethat]

[hexthelex-deactivated20250420]

This is true btw

[letmeliedown]

the podcast If Books Could Kill has a really great episode on the original book and its legacy! just a bunch of misogynist evangelical bullshit really

[cod-indulgences]

König is used to his incredible size being something that doesn't really belong to him- it's a tool to be used on military ops, it's a number on his medical chart to prompt new staff to come peer around the door at him. It's a source of stares and comments and requests to show off, to lift items and people like a wind up toy.

He's not used to it being- to him being- soft.

You curl up on his lap, in the low pile of cushions and pillows on the floor that you built when he couldn't comfortably relax on your little couch, and nuzzle into his chest, all but purring.

"You're the best pillow," you sigh, pleased, stretching out your legs. "So warm. So soft."

König basks in it, your weight on his body, a sweet armful that fits so perfectly against him, tucked into safety within his cradling limbs. He doesn't have to show off or do something spectacular, just lay here and relax, listen to the music you picked out on your phone and the rain spilling down the windows. He's not on edge or ready for impact or checking if he can fit into a vehicle, can fly on a plane, he's just- here. Present.

He ducks his chin down against your head, kisses you, twines his fingers into yours. His massive paws spread your hand out, cradle it into his palm, catch the light off the wedding ring on your finger. He has a matching one on his tags, safe from the machines and guns and violence his hands bring.

"I love you," he whispers, soft soft soft, and gets a kiss right over his heartbeat with your answer, as sweet and warm as sunshine.

[laswells-ashtray]

"Are you fucking turned on right now?"

"Aye."

"I'm fixing the bloody washing machine, you insatiable harlot."

"An am hard as a hoor's heart, suck or fuck? Dealer's choice."

"Is put down like a dog a viable option?"

"Naw, an yer no helping ma stauner."

[bakuhve]

our love through the lives

reincarnated bakugou katsuki x reader

the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor was steady but weak, a fragile hourglass marking the dwindling moments of his life. the evening light spilled through the blinds in soft, golden slants, illuminating the deep lines etched into his weathered face. his once wild blonde hair had thinned and turned silver with time, but his grip- though weak- was still warm in your hand.

a news broadcast played on the small television mounted in the corner, the words barely registering.

“retired pro hero dynamight has not been seen in public for weeks, sparking concern among-”

you barely heard the rest. it didn’t matter. the world could wait.

katsuki let out a slow exhale, his chest rising and falling beneath the thin hospital blanket. his crimson eyes, once blazing with untamed energy, now carried the weight of decades, softened by time but still sharp as they met yours. a smirk tugged at the corners of his lips- fainter than before, but still undeniably his.

“you’re starin’ at me like i’m already dead,” he muttered, his voice rough with age but tinged with dry amusement.

you huffed a quiet laugh, squeezing his hand, the cool metal of his wedding band felt beneath your fingers. “maybe i’m just admiring you, old man.”

his thumb brushed faintly over your knuckles. he sighed, eyes growing heavier. “never thought i’d get this far, y’know? always figured i’d go out with a bang.”

“you did,” you murmured, shifting closer. “you just took your time with it.”

his smirk widened, but only slightly. his hand tightened around yours, as if grounding himself in your presence. “guess i did…” his voice grew softer, barely above a whisper. “and i got to spend it with you. that’s all that ever mattered.”

his hand, once strong enough to tear through concrete, now rested in yours with a fragile kind of warmth. the years had stolen his strength but not his fire- not the stubborn, unyielding spirit that had burned so brightly through every battle, every hardship, every damn thing life threw at him.

he had survived it all. and now, here he was, at the very end of the road with you.

katsuki let out a slow breath, his eyes half-lidded but still gazing at you, as if afraid to blink. “you’re still here,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

your fingers tightened around his, anchoring him to the moment. “of course, always will be.”

“dumbass… ‘course you are.” his eyes drifted to the window, where the sun hung low, painting the sky in soft oranges and golds. “y’know… i always hated sunsets. meant the day was over. meant time was runnin’ out.”

your throat tightened. “katsuki-”

“but,” he cut in, his thumb once again brushing lazily over your skin, “you liked ‘em. so i started watching ‘em too.” his voice grew quieter, raspier. “guess they ain’t so bad.”

you blinked back the sting of tears. you wouldn’t cry. not yet. not when he was still here, still holding on.

“you always had to be difficult,” you murmured, forcing a small smile.

he let out a soft, breathy chuckle. “yeah… but you loved me anyway.”

the words settled between you, warm and final.

the heart monitor beeped- steady, but slower. his fingers twitched in your grasp, his breaths growing shallow. his gaze softened, his body sinking further into the bed, into the pull of sleep that he wouldn’t wake from.

“katsuki,” you whispered, leaning in close, pressing your forehead to his. “i love you.”

his lips parted slightly, his next breath barely there. “love you too.” his voice was nothing but air, slipping through your fingers like the last rays of sunlight.

and then-

the monitor gave one last, drawn-out beep before falling silent.

the world outside kept moving. the news kept playing. the sun kept setting. but in this moment, in this room, time stood still.

you stayed there, holding his hand. as the sky faded to night.

because love like this- like yours- didn’t end.

not really.

it would find it’s way back again. it always did.

—

the sun hung high in the sky, casting golden light over the endless grassy plain. the wind rolled through the tall grass in gentle waves, carrying the scent of earth and wildflowers. you had been walking for hours, wandering. the weight of countless lifetimes pressed against your chest, when you spotted him.

a lone figure moved across the horizon, his silhouette cutting sharply across the distance.

even from a distance, you knew.

bakugou katsuki.

your breath caught. he was different in this life- wilder, untamed. his blonde hair was slightly longer, messily tousled by the wind. a crimson cloak was slung over his shoulders, multiple necklaces consisting of fangs hung from his neck. his furs and leathers were worn from battle, dusted with the remnants of his travels. a sword hung at his hip, his posture relaxed yet ready, like a predator always on edge.

he hadn’t seen you yet.

you should’ve kept walking. should’ve turned away before he noticed. but after waiting for so long, of remembering what he has forgotten- how could you?

and then his gaze snapped to you.

you barely had time to think before he was striding toward you, footsteps firm and unwavering. his crimson eyes burned with suspicion, scanning you like a threat.

“the hell are you doin’ out here?” his voice was rough, sandpaper and steel- just as you remembered.

you swallowed, steadying yourself. “i’m just a traveler.”

his scowl deepened. “tch. yeah? then you’re a dumbass traveler.” his gaze flicked over you, sharp and assessing. “ain’t safe out here. bandits, beasts- you’re either lost or stupid.”

you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

a dry, bitter laugh almost slipped from your lips. if only he knew how many lives you had spent trying to find him again.

but he didn’t. not yet.

you met his gaze, steady. “i can handle myself.”

he scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “that so?” a smirk ghosted over his lips, dangerous and intrigued. “doubt you can keep up.”

and just like that, you were whisked away into your next adventure with your beloved. the journey that followed was nothing short of relentless.

at first, bakugou had no intention of letting you travel with him. he was a warrior, a king, and he didn’t have time to babysit some wandering traveler who didn’t know better than to walk alone through dangerous lands. but you were persistent, keeping up with him despite the grueling pace he set. he tried to shake you off, throwing warnings over his shoulder about the beasts that lurked in the forests and the mercenaries who would gut you for a single gold piece. you didn’t waver.

and so, begrudgingly, he let you stay.

your journey took you across endless grasslands and through thick, mist-covered woods. you met many people, most of which resembled your friends from previous lifetimes. a short, green-haired boy who was devoted to his knightly training. a sweet mage who used her powers to heal and make things float, a prince who could control ice and fire.

you camped beneath starlit skies, listening to the distant howls of wolves while the fire crackled between you. bakugou was guarded at first- gruff and distant, keeping conversations short, always watching you like you were hiding something.

but with time, the walls between you began to crack.

there was the time when you fought side by side against a pack of beasts, creatures with blackened fangs and glowing eyes. he had been wary of your skill, but when he saw you hold your own, his usual scowl shifted- just slightly- into something like approval.

then there was the moment you caught him staring into the fire one night, lost in thought. he never spoke of his past, but there was something in that expression that was painfully familiar- the weight of expectations, the burden of leadership. even without his memories of your past lives, he was still the same katsuki.

and slowly, something changed.

he started waiting for you before setting off in the mornings. tossing you extra rations without a word. grumbling about how you were too soft-hearted when you insisted on helping a lost child in a ruined village, only to turn around and build the kid a fire himself.

and when you collapsed after days of travel without rest, he had cursed under his breath, scooping you up into his arms without hesitation.

“dumbass,” he muttered, adjusting his arm around you as he carried you, his grip firm and warm against your skin. “you don’t know when to quit, huh?” but his voice was softer now, no longer the harsh growl it used to be.

you found yourself looking at him differently. his gruff demeanor, the way he carried himself like a lone wolf had always intrigued you, but now it felt different- like the walls between you were slowly crumbling with every shared glance, every quiet night spent together.

one afternoon, as you traveled through the thick and dark forest at the edge of a kingdom, you were ambushed by a group of bandits. they came from the trees, their swords drawn, but bakugou was ready.

with a roar, he lunged into action, taking down the first two with brutal efficiency that you had come to expect from him. but then, one of the bandits turned toward you, his blade aimed at your chest. you barely had time to react, your own sword drawn, but before you could strike, bakugou was there- his fist slamming into the bandit’s face with a force that sent him flying into a tree.

“you okay?” his voice was low, the familiar scowl back on his face, but there was something else in his eyes- something deeper, protective.

“i’m fine, thank you,” you said, though your pulse still raced. “but you’re reckless.”

that night, as you sat beside the fire, you couldn’t help but notice how close he had gotten. not just physically, but emotionally. the long silences that had once stretched were now filled with casual teasing, shared laughter, and the occasional quiet conversation that stretched into the night.

he started to ask you more about your past, though never prying too deep. when you mentioned your travels, he listened intently, his usual bravado replaced by something softer, more curious.

one evening, you found yourselves at the edge of a cliff, watching the sunset paint the sky in streaks of orange and purple. bakugou stood next to you, arms crossed, but this time, he didn’t seem so distant.

“you ever stop to think about what you’re doing here?” he asked, his voice quiet.

you glanced to him, surprised by the vulnerability in his tone. “what do you mean?”

“i mean… why are you still here? with me, i mean. not everyone’s cut out for this kind of life. it’s not easy.” he shifted slightly, his gaze faraway.

you smiled softly, the memories of your past life flickering at the edges of your thoughts. “i think i’m exactly where i need to be.”

his eyes flickered to you, narrowing slightly as though trying to decipher your meaning. but then, without a word, he reached over, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his fingers lingering just a moment longer than necessary.

you froze, feeling the connection between you stir once more, and you didn’t pull away. neither of you said anything, but in that quiet moment, it felt like the world had shifted.

and with every passing day, the distance between you- the one he had built, the one you had tried so hard to bridge- was slowly disappearing.

he had started to remember, in the smallest ways.

you were sitting by the fire, cleaning your sword after another skirmish with a band of raiders. bakugou was sharpening his blade beside you, his usual scowl etched across his face, but there was something different in his eyes- something far away.

“oi,” he muttered, breaking the silence. “you ever feel like… like this isn’t the first time we’ve done this?”

you paused mid-motion, your fingers tightening around the hilt of your sword. you glanced up at him, trying to hide the flutter of your heart.

“what do you mean?” you asked, though you already knew.

He shifted. “i dunno. it’s just… every time we fight together, or when we get quiet like this, it feels… familiar. like i’ve known ya longer than the past year.”

you swallowed hard, forcing yourself to keep your expression neutral. “maybe you just got used to traveling with me.”

but deep down, you knew the truth.

it wasn’t just the time he had spent with you. it was something deeper- something he was starting to sense, like the lingering pull of a forgotten memory.

a few days passed, and the feeling seemed to grow stronger. every so often, you’d catch him staring at you, like he was seeing something more than just the person beside him. one evening, as the sun dipped behind the mountains, bakugou spoke, his voice unusually quiet. his eyes were narrowed, his lips pressed into a tight line as if he were grappling with something just beyond his reach. “i’ve seen you before… but where?”

that night, as you both lay beneath the stars, the fire crackling softly, bakugou’s sleep was fitful. he tossed and turned, his brow furrowed in frustration.

when he woke the next morning, he didn’t immediately look at you. he sat up, running a hand through his disheveled hair, his gaze fixed on the horizon.

“i had a dream,” he muttered, more to himself than you. “a dream about… us. it felt real. like we’ve been through so many things together before.”

your heart raced. you remained still, waiting for him to continue.

“it wasn’t just some damn dream. it was real. i don’t remember everything, but i know… i know i’ve been with you before, haven’t i?”

you could feel the weight of his words, the hesitation, the confusion in his voice. and yet, despite the uncertainty, there was something else- something that made you know that he was starting to remember.

for the first time since meeting him in this life, you reached out, placing a hand gently on his arm. his muscles tensed at your touch, but he didn’t pull away.

“yes,” you said softly, your voice trembling with emotion. “we’ve been together before. more times than either of us can count.”

bakugou turned to face you then, his eyes wide and the usual fire dimming in them for a moment. “why can’t i remember? why does it feel like i’m losing my mind?”

you swallowed the lump in your throat, reaching out to cup his face in your hands. “maybe it’s not time for you to remember completely yet. but it will be, eventually. i promise.”

for a long moment, he didn’t say anything. he simply stared at you, as if searching for something in your eyes- something that would make sense of the chaos inside of him.

and then, without a word, he leaned forward, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was tentative at first, unsure. but as you kissed him back, something shifted. the connection between you, long buried beneath layers of forgotten lives, began to resurface, like a flood of memories fighting to break free.

when he pulled back, his breath was uneven, and his hands trembled slightly as they hovered at your sides.

“i remember you,” he whispered, his voice raw. “i remember you… even if i can’t remember everything.”

you smiled, feeling the weight of years of love and loss that led to this moment. “it’s okay. you don’t have to remember everything right now. we have all the time we need.”

years passed, and the world around you both seemed to change, even though the battles and struggles never truly stopped. the two of you, side by side, had seen countless faces come and go, witnessed victories and losses alike.

the bond between you and bakugou had only deepened, but time, as it always did, wore on. you both had grown, in ways both subtle and grand, shaped by everything you’d endured together. bakugou was still the warrior he had always been, strong and fierce, but the fire that once burned so brightly within him was now tempered by the passing of the years.

one evening, as the sky painted itself in shades of pink and purple, you stood together at the edge of the very same cliff from years ago, overlooking a valley. the winds had settled, and there was nothing but the hum of the earth, as if everything had come full circle. bakugou stood beside you, his posture strong, but the weight of the years was beginning to show.

“do you ever think… that maybe we’re finally done with all of this?” he asked, his voice quiet but carrying the years of uncertainty and battles fought. his gaze was distant, looking at the horizon, but his words were for you alone.

you took a deep breath, feeling the wind sweep across your face, tasting the salt of the distant sea. “maybe. but i think we’ll always find something else. something worth fighting for.”

he chuckled softly, though it was laced with an edge of something unreadable. “always you, huh?” he muttered under his breath.

you smiled softly, turning to face him. “always you, too.”

and so, you and the barbarian king looked out across the vast horizon, and you knew that although this life might be winding down, the end of this era was just another beginning waiting to unfold.

—

the blaring sun in the sky casted it’s golden glow over the vast expanse of the ocean as your ship sliced through the waves. your crew worked in rhythm, their shouts and laughter carried by the salty breeze as they adjusted sails and checked the rigging. you stood at the helm, your fingers gripping the wheel with practiced ease, eyes scanning the horizon.

you’d been sailing for days now, the winds favorable and the sea calm. it wasn’t until the sun dipped lower that you saw it. a ripple in the water, far off in the distance but growing closer. at first, you thought it was perhaps some large fish breaching the surface. but then, you saw him.

a flash of pale golden hair broke through the waves, followed by the sleek and powerful form of a merman. he was a striking contrast to the dark water, with glistening crimson scales that shimmered like polished gemstones. his tail flicked in the sea, the sharp movement sending waves against the ship’s hull.

but it wasn’t the sheer power of the creature that caught your attention. it was the way he moved, the way he looked at you. his eyes locked onto yours, and your heart swelled knowing that you had finally come across your love yet again in this life. your katsuki.

the merman’s lips curled into a smirk as he swam closer, the water parting as if he owned the sea himself. his muscular form stopped just short of the ship, hovering in the water as he regarded you with a mix of curiosity and challenge.

“so you’re the captain of the crimson tempest, huh?” his voice was deep and rough, carrying the weight of the ocean itself. he eyed you with a critical gaze. “i’ve been hearing rumors about ya. thought i’d come see for myself.”

you felt the familiar rush of recognition, but you knew better than to show too much. he didn’t remember yet- as usual. the bond between you that transcended time, that only you knew, was still buried deep within him. but here, in this new life, you had to tread carefully.

you leaned against the ship’s wheel, matching his gaze with calm confidence, despite the racing pulse in your chest. “what’s it to you, merman?” you asked, keeping your voice steady despite the longing that you felt deep inside. “i don’t know what rumors you’ve heard, but they’re just that- rumors.”

he didn’t falter, though something flickered in his intense red eyes. it was there, something beneath the surface that he couldn’t quite grasp, but you could feel it. you could always feel it when he was near.

“you don’t look like the kind of captain i’d expect,” he said, his smirk widening into something dangerous. “but i guess you don’t need to look the part to be effective, right?”

you chuckled darkly, a small smirk of your own pulling at your lips. “i’m plenty effective, merman. you’d do well to remember that.”

you saw a flicker of recognition, a glimmer of something you both had shared before. but it vanished quickly, swallowed by the vastness of the sea between you.

“maybe i will,” he muttered, though the words seemed to hold a different meaning. his lips parted, as if to say more, but instead, he just gave you a short nod.

then, without another word, bakugou dove beneath the water, his powerful form disappearing into the depths, leaving only the gentle ripples of the sea in his wake.

a few days later, you steered the crimson tempest into a small, sheltered cove. the crew had already begun preparations to unload. the ship finally came to a halt against the dock, and after doing your part of the unloading you made your way off the ship and onto the sandy beach of the cove.

and then you heard the sound of water splashing, too rhythmic to be a simple wave. your instincts kicked in and you turned just in time to see a flash of pale blonde hair rising from the water’s surface.

his presence was commanding as usual, and for the briefest of moments, you forgot about all of your responsibilities as captain. all that mattered was him- the katsuki you had fallen in love with over and over again.

he pulled himself onto a nearby rock, water dripping off his body. his gaze never left you, intense and unreadable. the usual cocky smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, and you could feel the pull of his presence like an invisible thread between you both.

“you seem to be everywhere i go, captain,” he said, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. “figured i’d find you here too.”

you couldn’t help but smile at his words, but beneath the teasing tone, there was something more- an underlying tension, an unspoken understanding that had been brewing ever since your first meeting. it was as if he was beginning to recognize something too, even if he didn’t have the words for it yet. even if he didn’t remember.

“you’ve been following me,” you replied, your voice calm but with a hint of amusement. “what is it you want, merman?”

“what i want?” he let out a low chuckle, his voice like the rolling waves. “i’m not sure yet. maybe i just like seeing if i can catch your attention.”

“well,” you said, your tone steady but not without a trace of amusement, “it looks like you’ve caught it.” you will always have it.

you took a step closer, the air between you crackling with an undeniable tension, as if the universe itself were drawing you together again. the warmth of the sun on your skin and the distant sound of your crew working on the ship felt like a distant hum compared to the pulse of energy between you and the merman. it was magnetic, powerful, and for a brief moment, you could have sworn you saw a flicker of recognition in his eyes.

he studied you for a long moment, his expression unreadable, but there was something in the way he held your gaze that made your heart race. “you’re different,” he said finally, his voice almost quiet. “can’t put my finger on it.”

you almost laughed at the irony, knowing all too well what that something was. you weren’t just another face to him. you were the one he had always come back to, again and again, in every lifetime.

“i think we’ll figure it out,” you replied softly, the undertone of promise hanging in the air.

and then, as if he had just come to a silent conclusion, his smirk returned, but this time it wasn’t teasing. it was real. a promise.

“alright then, captain” he said, his voice low and steady. “i think i’ll stick around. for a while.”

and so, the tide carried on, as it always had, bringing you together once more, just as it always would.

—

the city stretched out before you like a jagged labyrinth of glowing neon signs and towering skyscrapers, the horizon obscured by the haze of pollution and constant movement. neo-musutafu, a city that never slept, pulsed with the rhythm of the future, its streets crawling with the lost, the desperate, and the dangerous. high above, the hum of drones filled the air, ensuring that no one forgot who controlled the night.

you stood at the edge of the rooftop, your gaze fixed on the darkness beyond the flashing lights. the winds howled, carrying the smells of the city- oil, rain, and something darker. below, the streets were alive with a mixture of humans and aliens, some here to live, some here to fight. your job? to ensure the latter didn’t survive.

you were a hunter, part of a covert division tasked with eradicating alien threats before they had a chance to invade. but unlike the other hunters, you didn’t follow the company line blindly. your methods were efficient, precise, and without mercy- traits that had earned you respect, but also enemies. the company you worked for was one of many, and all had their own way of dealing with the extraterrestrial threats. your company? a well-oiled machine, protecting humanity at all costs.

it wasn’t glamorous, but it was necessary.

as you adjusted the grip on your weapons, the sharp hiss of your comm device broke the silence. “hunter 19, we have a target. a class-4 alien near the central district. immediate extraction is required.”

you didn’t need to be told twice. in this line of work, hesitation was a luxury no one could afford. strapping your weapons securely, you made your way down the building to the streets below. your mind was already working through the logistics where the alien would strike, how to contain the threat, and the quickest route to the rendezvous point.

this life had worn down both your heart and mind. though the memories of your past lives with your beloved lingered, the countless alien lives you had taken- the blood spilled in the name of duty- had slowly suffocated your spirit, leaving a shadow over your thoughts that you couldn’t shake. for once, you did not go out of your way to find bakugou. he was a dear, but faraway memory. a memory that was too good for someone like you.

you arrived at the outskirts of the central district, the city’s neon lights flickering in the distance like the heartbeat of a restless giant. the alien was close now. the familiar thump of your combat boots on the cold asphalt was a stark contrast to the chaos that simmered just beyond the horizon. you didn’t have to be told twice. every instinct you had honed in your years as a hunter kicked into gear.

the silence stretched, heavy and thick. then, without warning, the alien struck, it’s massive form tearing through the shadows. a blur of movement, its skin slick and black as it lunged toward you. your reflexes took over, but as you dodged, something about the alien’s speed and strength unsettled you. this wasn’t a typical battle.

the alien wasn’t going to make this easy.

the alien roared as it stumbled back, its claws slicing through the air just inches from your skin. you had barely managed to evade its strike, your weapon raised, ready to retaliate when the sudden sound of footsteps broke through the silence.

a shadow darted into your peripheral vision. a figure, hooded and cloaked in dark attire, lunged toward the alien with lightning speed, and in a series of fluid movements, the creature was brought to the ground.

you froze for a moment, startled by the intruder’s sudden appearance. before you could react, the hooded figure twisted, driving a sharp blade straight through the alien’s chest. it let out one last guttural screech before its body went limp.

the hooded figure stood still, chest rising and falling with steady breaths, the alien’s blood dripping from his blade. the streetlights above flickered briefly as if even the city itself had taken a collective breath.

you snapped out of your shock, clenching your fists. your voice rang out, sharp and scathing as you strode toward him. “what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

the hooded man didn’t flinch at your approach, but his back remained to you, his posture tense. you could tell he wasn’t afraid, and that pissed you off even more. your tone was cold, but there was an edge of frustration you couldn’t hide.

“you think you can just waltz in and kill like that?” your voice grew louder, shaking with the weight of your own guilt. “you’ve got a life on your hands now, a soul you’ve taken. is that really what you want?”

the anger bubbled up inside you, a mix of protectiveness and the instinct to save others from the same burden you carried. your gaze narrowed at the man’s back. “you don’t know what it’s like to have blood stain your hands, do you? to have to live with it, knowing you’ve taken a life… i don’t want that for you. i don’t want you to feel the same damn thing i do.”

the hooded man stood motionless for a long moment, before he slowly lowered the blade and turned toward you, his posture stiff. you couldn’t see his face- just the dark outline beneath the hood- but there was something in his presence, something familiar. it made your stomach twist, a feeling you couldn’t place.

and then, he slowly removed his hood.

the world seemed to stop for a beat, the neon lights casting a glow as your eyes locked onto his face.

those same eyes.

“…(y/n).”

your name. he had said it.

he had never remembered you first before; it was always you who had to find him. but now, the man you had loved through countless lives, the one you had adored over and over again, stood before you.

and you were a monster. he had found you, but at what cost?

you did not reach out to hold him, you did not run into his embrace. instead, you averted your gaze, shielding your eyes from him.

“i’m sorry,” you said, fists clenching by your sides. “i’m not the one you once loved.”

bakugou’s expression twisted, his jaw tightening as if the words stung more than they should have. his eyes, fierce and unwavering, bore into yours as he took a step closer.

“don’t say that,” he growled, his voice low, almost dangerous. “i remember you. from the moment i was born in this life, i remembered all of our past lives. every damn moment of them. i’ve been searching everywhere for you.”

he paused, his chest rising with each breath as if trying to steady the storm building inside him. his hand shot out, grabbing your wrist with a force that made you flinch, pulling you toward him.

“i don’t give a shit about what you’ve done. none of that matters. it will always be you. it’s always been you, no matter how many lives we’ve lived.” his eyes softened, but the intensity remained. “you’re mine, and no way in hell am i letting you go.”

tears streamed down your face as you struggled in his grip, desperate to break free. “you don’t understand,” your voice cracked, raw with pain. “i have a trail of blood behind me, lives i’ve destroyed… everywhere i go, i carry their ghosts. i’ve hurt so many, katsuki! i’m not the same person!”

katsuki’s grip softened, but only for a moment before he pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you tightly. you felt the heat of his body, the steadiness of his heartbeat, and for a second, it grounded you in a way nothing else could. his voice was low but firm, holding an edge of desperation.

“don’t tell me you’re not the same person,” he murmured into your hair. “i’ll fall in love with you every damn time, no matter what you’ve done or how many lives you’ve taken. you’re still the one i’m meant to be with. always have been.”

he pulled back slightly, enough to look you in the eyes. “you can carry your burdens all you want, but you don’t have to carry them alone. i’m right here, and i’m not going anywhere.”

your breath hitched as his words sank in, the weight of them crashing down on you like a wave. the tears continued to fall, but this time, they weren’t just from pain- they were from a relief so deep, it left you breathless. you slowly lifted your gaze to his, meeting the intensity of his eyes, and for the first time in this life, the past ones, everything seemed to fall into place.

the countless lives, the struggles, the distance between you- it had all led you here, to this moment. and no matter what had happened before, no matter the paths you had walked, there was one undeniable truth that echoed through the core of your being: you were meant to be together.

you trembled as you cupped his face with shaking hands, your voice barely above a whisper, but it carried the weight of everything you’d felt across all lifetimes.

“katsuki,” you breathed, your heart pounding. “i… i love you. i always have, and i always will.”

his thumb traced the tear stains on your cheeks before lifting your chin, his gaze softening, but the passion in his eyes was unmistakable.

“i know,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “i love you too, always. every lifetime, i find you. and i’ll keep finding you.”

in that moment, everything that had ever separated you- every pain, every fight, every lifetime- faded away. the world around you disappeared as you stood together, hearts in sync.

the universe had tried to pull you apart, had tried to erase the love you shared, but it had failed. you were soulmates- bound together in ways beyond time and death. no matter what came next, nothing would keep you apart.

you both leaned in, closing the distance between you, your lips finding his in a kiss that sealed your fate. the kiss was not just a promise for this life, but for every life that had come before and every one that would follow.

and as the kiss deepened, as his arms tightened around you, you both knew- the story wasn’t over. it had never truly ended. it had only just begun.

—

this whole thing is based off the song would you fall in love with me again by jorge rivera-herrans, especially the last part of it. (no seriously. listened exactly 26 times while writing)

i’d love to write more about these universes! inbox is open.

[pink-disco-bears]

orca!ghost/seal!reader pt. 3 for @hypertail, @atlas3rr0r-1974, and @yeahitsboots

While Ghost was mourning your absence, you had begun exhibiting clear signs of stress. All seals mers were placed in a pool together, and they typically spent all day floating and playing with each other. But you had begun to grow stressed after constantly hearing Ghost calling out for you. You could hide and cower away from researchers, crying every time they tried to haul you out for research.

It was beginning to impact the other seals as well, as they all began to mimic your behavior. The aquarium was turning into chaos quick, so an emergency placement was made even though the paperwork wasn't done.

Ghost peered up at the looming shadow over his pod's tank, glaring at the researcher who got in the water. They were probably going to try and take more algae or bacteria samples for observation. However, that idea was dashed whenever they pulled in a familiar plump shape.

Ghost darted out of his spot and instantly darted to you, practically tackling you out of the researcher's hold. You perked up and beamed at him, pressing your cheek against his as you nuzzled against him. He pulled you down to his sleeping spot, not minding the curious looks from Gaz and Soap (Price was already notified that the transfer was happening).

"Watch it," Price warned Soap and Gaz, who were peering curiously down at you. "Ghost'll take your tails off."

"Cute thing," Gaz commented.

"Think we could get one of those therapy seals for ourselves?" Soap asked, grinning at the idea of having a seal mer to cuddle with all day or play games with.

"Well, officially, that mer's for us to share to 'expand our sociability'," Price said. "Unofficially, though she's here so the aquarium doesn't collapse."

Gaz and Soap shared a look. "so...she is to share," Gaz concluded with a grin, already planning an afternoon of sunbathing with the seal mer--his favorite pass time the rest of them were "too good" to enjoy with him.

[pink-disco-bears]

pt. 2 to orca!ghost and seal!reader

Ghost had to be sedated to be put back into the tank with the rest of his pod mates. As soon as the staff slipped into the water the first time around to try and take him back to his pod and take you back to your glorified pool where you slept all day, Ghost was guarding you as if the staff were there to serve you up for dinner.

"Don't you want to go back with your podmates?" One diver asked, trying to coax Ghost out of the corner he had backed himself into alongside of you. It obviously didn't work; Ghost would only go back to his original tank if you came along as well.

...But protocol for integration of a new mer into a pod's tank was longer, tenfold, than an isolation tank. Hence why, after multiple bouts of aggressive behavior towards the staff, they slipped a sedative into Ghost's nightly meal of stacks of salmon--enough to knock out an elephant.

When he came too, Soap was swatting him with his tail and Gaz was trying to move him off "his" rock. Price was up by the surface of the tank, talking with Laswell about something quiet that Ghost couldn't pick up. He didn't care, though, because the first thing he noticed was your absense.

It was as if Ghost had lost his mate. He isolated himself to the very corner of the tank, long strings of vocalization seeping out of the water all hours of the night and stopped eating. The researched kept reassuring him that you were very well alive...but every time they showed him a photo of you for proof, he just got worse.

He missed his seal, and by calling out every night in his tank, he hoped you knew that.

[unadulteratedvoidtragedy]

Younger reader getting jealous of seeing Price getting hit on one too many times and decides to do something about it. You go up to the two of them and rudely interrupt their conversation:

"Dad, where were you? I thought you were dead! How could you leave us?"

He tries denying it, but everything he says just sounds look like he's making excuses and the fact that Soap and Gaz go along with your little stunt doesn't help his case either.

"Dad, will you come back home so we can be a family again?"

Price is shocked, offended and maybe a little into it at being called that. It makes it easier to ignore the weird look the person he was talking to gives him before scrambling an excuse and leaving.

[graywrenhart]

Three guard dogs might’ve been overkill. 

Simon Riley’s never thought that before—but now they’re barreling down his driveway, barking up a storm at you. A pretty thing in the neighborhood, pushing a stroller. 

He follows after his stubborn German Shepherds, gruffly ordering them to heel. They won’t hurt you, of course, but you don’t know that. He braces himself for the screams when he rounds the mailbox. A terrified mother and her child, chased by three trained-to-kill dogs and a masked man—

Laughter stops him in his tracks. 

Cap, Kilo, and Mac are planted on their asses, tails wagging, tongues hanging out. Your toddler’s giggling so hard she’s nearly tippin’ out of her seat as she yanks on Mac’s ear, earning a face full of slobber for it. 

And you—you’re bent over, one hand holding Cap’s paw, the other scratching behind Kilo’s ears. 

“Cute pups,” you say. 

Cute...what? 

You look up at him, past his mask and into his eyes. He freezes. But you just smile. 

“You military?” 

He ends up not replying, because the setting sun catches in your eyes and his brain is temporarily short-circuited. You’re not deterred, however, your chin tilting to the gun holstered at his hip. 

“My husband was, too.” Your gaze drops to the paw in your hand. “He did an op down in Coal Ridge last year.”

You don’t have to say anything else. Everyone knows what went down in the ridge.

Ghost tries to find something—anything—to say. Condolences would be a start. But nothing he thinks of is good enough, or sounds right in his head. So he just stands there, looming over you, watching you pet his assassin dogs. 

And then—it hits him in the chest like a bullet. 

You’re all alone in that house at the end of the street with your little girl. 

Something rears its head under his ribs. A protective urge so strong it’s almost staggering.

“Well,” you sigh, straightening and offering him a playful, cute little salute. “Have a good one.” Your eyes flick to the insignia on his sleeve. “Lieutenant.”

As you stroll away into the setting sun, Simon watches you go, and the ‘cute pups’ whine at his feet as you leave.

And suddenly, three guard dogs don't seem like enough after all. 

He might just have to become one himself. 

[pale-elysium]

Hold The Line - Part 5

Part 4

tw blood (just in case)

The 5:43 PM train home is on time tonight and luckily you even manage to get a seat. With your temple leaning against the cool window you watch the city pass by on your way to its periphery. The weekend is ahead of you. And Andre asked you to have dinner tonight. Or rather he invited himself to visit you so you could eat together at your home.

It wasn't as easy with him as it always was on the phone when you made your round through the park. He was stiff and he seemed uncomfortable. Every passing park visitor received a suspicious glare and you felt a bit like you were on the run from some invisible threat rather than on a quaint walk through the park. You tried your best at small talk and to coax out the charming man you know is beneath this grim exterior somewhere, but it was no use.

He kept his answers short and tactical, no teasing or dry wit that you came to enjoy so much during your conversations on the phone. It felt like you disrupted some kind of rhythm in him, a sudden anomaly in a usually carefully controlled existence that he didn’t have time to adjust to after you insisted on going on a walk with him.

He indulged you as well as he could, that's what it felt like, but the tension wouldn’t leave him for the whole stroll and so he steered you decisively towards the park gates and the nearby tram station when you had made your way around the small lake.

At the station, you told him that you would like to meet him again and he looked at you with a mix of pity and incomprehension, seemingly still not understanding why you would voluntarily spend more time with him. But when your tram came rattling towards the platform, he grudgingly held out a phone to you to enter your number before he gently nudged you to board the car. When you picked a seat and the tram got into motion, you tried to catch another glimpse of him, but he was already gone.

You almost thought again that this had been the first and only time you saw him after another week of radio silence followed, but then you received a text with the dinner request for tonight.

You're not disappointed, no. Maybe disillusioned. The enticing man in your phone that gave you those exciting flutters in your stomach is a real person now. And this person is quite different and unlike anyone you've ever met. Perhaps this is why the strange first encounter didn’t discourage you, but rather made you even more curious about him.

Are you lacking survival instinct by trying to form a bond with this man or is there truly more to him, something that is worth excavating and cherishing if he allows you to see it?

The sun hangs low outside already and your train departs from another station on your way home. You leave the polished modern glass fronts of the buildings in the city centre behind and dip into the residential areas on its outskirts where you and thousands of others live stacked on top of each other in far less representative structures.

Sometimes the concrete blocks hold a strange melancholic beauty when the evening sun hits them right. Resembling ancient monoliths they proudly frame the city before sprawling fields and forests take over again, where civilization meets nature. One of those you call your home as well – not the most pleasant place to live, but conveniently located near the train that takes you to work every morning and with an affordable rent. And despite the grey concrete surrounding you daily that can look so painfully dull on a rainy day, you know you would miss it if you ever moved.

The communication between you and Andre had been limited to a minimum, just his request of coming to visit you and then him informing you that he would bring food with him. When you arrive at your station, you feel a mix of excitement and unease while you weave through the crowd of other commuters that hurry home with different levels of fatigue on their faces after the work week. How will it be with him on your second meeting? Which Andre will visit you tonight?

“Hello.”

When you open your door you’re met with a wall of muscle. He’s wearing the surgical mask again and if he wouldn’t hold two grocery bags in his hand, one might think you got involved with the wrong people and some grim debt collector has come for you. He really is a sight to behold, his broad frame filling out your doorway, an untamed aura about him. If you didn’t know him, you would surely change the side of the road if you came across him. But something you cannot name yet draws you in despite the lingering unease that his presence brings as well.

You let him in and politely he takes off his boots, neatly putting them beside your own shoes. He then turns and reaches out to trace a finger over the now closed door gap and the frame, like he’s probing if everything is fitted correctly. “Always remember to put the chain in and make sure to close the extra lock, dushenka. It’s important, okay?”

You blink at him and can all but nod at his gentle reminder. “Good. Now you show me your kitchen.”

It feels strange to have him in your home. He looks out of place in your hallway and even more so in your cramped kitchen. He seems less tense in here than he has been at the park, still he draws your kitchen curtains before he takes off the mask and places the grocery bags onto the small table and silently you wonder if it’s just the habit of a man constantly confronted with the worst that humankind has to offer because of his job, or if there’s actually something lurking in the shadows for him.

“How many more people are invited tonight? This can’t all be for us…” You say and take a peek into the bags to find not much that looks familiar to you.

“I promised to bring you things to try, haven’t I?” He says and points at the bag of Russian caravan tea that’s still displayed by the kettle on your counter. “You said you liked the tea. So I have brought more Russian things for you. And to have a full table is a sign of care.”

That brings the flutters back to your stomach, the same ones you felt during your weekly calls with him. Right now as he regards you with that gentle accented timbre of his voice that you like to hear so much, it’s hard to believe that he has shouted at you before, that this snapping beast is now unloading bags with treats for you onto your kitchen table.

“Bring some small plates, a sharp knife and forks.” He orders and you obey without a second thought.

“Zakuski first before dinner.” He says and opens an enormous jar of pickles with a pop. “You know what this is?”

“No.” You shake your head and take the fat pickle from him that he fumbled out of the jar with one of the forks you brought.

“Eat, these are good. Zakuski is many small cold dishes you eat before a meal. Sometimes they can be a whole meal as well. Then you have it with vodka. It can be anything – meats, fish, salads, smoked cheese, pickled things…”

Andre fills your table with various small servings. A bowl with crunchy little bread rings called sushki, a tin of sprats and pickled beet root. Each dish is explained and then you’re ordered to try it. Every bite you take he observes carefully and your approval is met with a content grunt before he offers the next treat.

“This–” He points at a plastic container with what looks like jellied meat. “Kholodets. Pigs feet in aspic. And this–” He pushes a small plate with mysterious white glistening slices of something towards you. “Salo. Salted pork fat. You try both.”

Your eyes widen and your head snaps to him. “You just brought these for the shock value!”

And then finally the smallest little twitch of his mangled lips and a glint of mischief in his eyes let the man resurface who caused you giddy butterflies in your stomach whenever you received a call from him, the one who made you throw all caution to the wind to follow the urge to try and get to know him.

“Maybe. But you are brave, are you not, zayka?” He purrs, a playful challenge in his icy-blue gaze.

It’s like your persistence and your patience with him have paid off in that very moment and immediately a bright grin spreads on your face. “How dare you! Give me those pigs feet!”

For the main course he has brought all the ingredients for Boef Stroganoff, ordering you to sit and enjoy yourself while he prepares the meal, but you insist on at least helping a little bit since he went out of his way to bring you all of those treats.

Grudgingly he allows it and so you’re given a knife to cut the pickles he brought into thin slices while he takes care of a hefty chunk of beef.

While you fish another pickle from the jar you glance over at him. Your little kitchen doesn’t allow for much space and you’re standing close to him where there’s room to work on the counter, your elbow brushing his every now and then. He has the sleeves of his sweater pushed up as he cuts the beef into bite-sized slices with your large kitchen knife.

The muscles in his strong forearms work beautifully with the movement, rather pale skin littered with various marks and slashes, a few moles and some dusting of dark hair. His hands are big and capable, thick fingers with blunt nails even though two of them seem to grow only halfway due to some damage. His left ring finger looks like it’s stiffened, held in place a bit crooked unlike its neighbours.

You’re caught up by the sight for a moment with your pickle in hand and then Andre glances at you. You snap into motion again, giving him a small smile and then resuming your work. If he had noticed you gazing at his hands, he doesn’t say anything.

“We make a big portion, dushenka. Then you can freeze the rest and have it for dinner after work next week.”

“Okay, but you take some of it home as well.”

“Nyet, that would be a waste.” he says, adding another slice of meat to the pile on his cutting board. “I will leave in two days for deployment.”

“What?” You gasp and then you slip and the sharp blade of the small pointy knife you’re using cuts into your index finger.

“Fuck!” You wince and a drop of blood drips onto your pile of sliced pickles. Instinctively you bring your finger up to lick your wound, hastily turning you get a piece of kitchen paper to stop the bleeding. But then Andre's large hand wraps around your wrist and stills all your movements.

“Easy… Show me.” He rumbles calmly and draws you closer.

He looks at the cut, some blood running down your finger and he clicks his tongue. “Oy, zayka. So careless.”

He then pulls you to the sink and lets cool water run over your finger for a moment, already reaching for a piece of kitchen paper, he wraps it around and then he gently leads you to your table by your elbow. “Sit, press on it and hold your hand up. Do you have bandages?”

“Um… Yes, there should be a first aid kit under the sink.”

You feel a little bit dizzy, your pulse pounding on the base of your neck and you also feel it throbbing in the fresh cut. When Andre finds the kit, he pulls out the second chair on your table to sit across from you and unwraps the kitchen paper, his knees brushing against yours.

In silent concentration he dresses your wound and you watch his hands work, deftly cleaning the cut with some alcohol and then applying a pressure bandage.

“We won’t be needing amputation.” He informs bluntly, his voice calm and levelled, but that slight tug on his lips is back again that you now know indicates mischief. “But the bandage might restrict your typing abilities for a few days.”

That does make you chuckle softly and he pats your knee before he neatly packs up your first aid kit again.

“I didn’t know you were leaving for a deployment again. There was no entry in your…” You trail off, biting your lip.

“Still, snooping around in my file, dushenka?” He scolds gently and you shrug sheepishly.

“The contract came in a few hours ago. On Monday it should have appeared in your little list.”

You nod somberly and he tilts his head, blue eyes looking at you like you’re a complete mystery to him. “I still don’t understand why someone like you wants to spend time with someone like me.”

There’s a beat of silence and you hold his gaze. “I hope that one day you will.”

Andre’s shoulders drop slightly and then he shakes his head with a dismissive grunt, rising from his chair and pointing a stern finger at you. “No more knives for you tonight. You stay seated, I make the Stroganoff.”

[2022dirt]

Faces in coffee.

[arborislender]

Mer!Simon who's absolutely massive trying to court a shy little mer!reader who gets so startled she bites him by accident. I have mer brain worms

Whaleshark!mer!Simon x nurseshark!mer!reader

Okay I got u anon. I want yall to imagine Simon as a whale shark mer.. an maybe reader as perhaps as a nurse shark mer. Gosh I want to draw them. Love u

No cw and no beta read!

You swam along the sea floor easily, a relaxed pace kicking up a small bit of sand behind you as the water got shallower. Finding yourself on the watery banks of a sandbar was the perfect time to warm up. Many of your fellow nurse shark mers were cozied up near the sandbar, yet you found yourself more inclined to be alone.

Small schools of baitfish flashed around when you got too close, balling up and shooting off in another direction. Pretty, you thought as you searched for a comfortable sunning spot. The light crackle of the seafloor was soothing on your attentive ears.

Settling on a particularly soft bed of sand, you stretched your arms out a bit before curling them back up to rest your head on. The suns rays shone down on your rough skinned back, lulling you into a relaxing state as your tail swished idly.

Simon had been watching you for the better part of the week, lazily swimming a few paces behind you every now and again when he got bold. He was huge, long spotted tail emphasizing his already hulking upper half.

You never paid much mind to him, it was common for whale sharks to pass through areas and linger around certain reefs, just as nurse sharks would. It never occurred to you that the reason he kept popping up was because he wanted to see you.

Simon kept an eye on everything you did when he was around, watching you sleep, eat, play with other mers, everything. He watched you interact with fish you could easily eat if you so chose, noting how docile and calm you seemed to be out of any mer he’d known.

Thinking it would be easy to court you, he began to collect little shells and rocks for you, imagining how taken you’d be when he would present the gifts to you.

What Simon didn’t know was how shy you really were. You did most things alone because you felt out of place with other mers. When you would play was the only time you really interact with other mers, and at that, only nurse sharks. You’d only interacted with reef shark or sand tiger mers once or twice, and you didn’t particularly enjoy it.

Simon noticed you curled up against the seafloor in the shallow bar, imagining this would be the perfect time to offer you his many gifts. He’d been collecting as many shiny and interesting things at he could, placing them in a small kelp knit pouch on his waist.

Swimming up slowly behind you, just a few yards, he reveled in how close he was, how he’d never been so near. The rough skin on your body looked nice to rub on, allowing a few thoughts to flicker through his head.

The water was just deep enough for him to get beside you, Simon’s face mere inches from yours when he bumped your arm with his nose, noting your closed eyes.

He imagined you’d wake sweetly, looking at him with your glossy eyes, but he couldn’t have been more wrong.

Your eyes shot open, chest heaving as you nipped his face, the tip of your tail thrashing so much it broke the surface of the water.

Simon backs immediately, one hand up while the other pressed against the bite on his face, which was sure to add another scar.

He knew he came on too strong, a little shocked that such a docile thing he expected had so much bite. But he wasn’t upset. He knew he was intimidating, and assumed too little of how shy you might have been.

You backed away as well, noting his massive size, realizing he was a whale shark. Mostly docile, not the great white mer you had originally thought. You didn’t run, but still kept your guard up as he reached for a pouch on his waist.

He was handsome, scarred yet brutish, large arms and an even stronger looking tail. Healthy, capable, kind.

Simon loosened the tie on his waist, and placed the pouch on the sea floor, gesturing for you to open it as he backed away even more, wanting you to feel comfortable.

He made a light hum, and swam off into deeper waters, still watching you as you carefully approached the pouch.

Your fingers apprehensively opened the kelp bag, only to be met with the most treasures you’d ever seen. Sea glass, shells, smooth rocks, and bits of shiny metal. Your tail swished excitedly, rooting through the goodies as you grinned, holding a particularly large piece of blue glass up to the sun and pinching one eye closed.

Simon decided to get a little closer again, noting your reaction was positive, hoping to reintroduce himself to you.

You noticed the large mer swim up again, this time opting to happily greet him for his gift of many treasures. You bumped your nose against his, rubbing your face on Simon’s as you chirped happily, replying to a soft hum he emitted.

He watched in the shallows as you dug through the pouch more, clicking and squeaking with a smile. You’d realized it was a courting gesture, and seemed more than happy to accept. After all, he gifted you your favorite, blue sea glass!

When you were done, you closed the kelp pouch again, looking at him for a moment before tying it around your own waist, to which he happily hummed and let out a soft, deep click.

You nuzzled him again, hands touching his face as his own wrapped around you, his eyes meeting your own.

For the first time, you were excited to sunbathe with another mer.

[stormy-tenderheart]

"Uh...."

Konig hears them before feeling the light tap on his bicep.

"Big man...?" A thick accent asks unsurely in broken German. Looking down, he sees the anxious expression of someone who just barely comes up to his chest.

"Can, please...uh.." They look from him to the top of the shelf, then back before gesturing to a particular box of cereal.

"Please grab?"

Oh.

Oh.

That's cute.

He almost snorts but refrains, glad his face mask hides the smile tugging at his scarred lips. Without a word, he easily reaches over them and retrieves what was asked.

Their face lights up quite happily when he lowers the box to them.

"Thank! Yes!"

They take it carefully from him, giving him a grateful nod before speed walking to the end of the aisle, but then turning and giving another grateful nod before again turning back around and exiting to the next.

Konig covers his face with a large hand, his wide shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. Taking a moment to compose himself, he allows an amused huff to escape before pulling his hand away.

He takes another moment to ponder before following the foreigner into the neighboring isle.

[silverlullabies]

Simon Riley is the kind of man who will be staring at his tray in the middle of the mess, poking at whatever slop they’ve been handed, and say something like “my wife used to make this. Hers was better” in this low, hollowed out voice that makes every man at the table go quiet and exchange a look.

Nobody says anything.

Oh, they’re all thinking. She’s gone, then.

He keeps a folded photo in his front breast pocket, worn soft at the creases from how many times he’s handled it. He doesn’t show anyone. He just takes it out sometimes and looks at it with this expression like he’s being slowly gutted and then puts it away again.

Half drunk at the pub between deployments, leaning heavy on the bar, he’ll say “I just miss her, s’all. Wish she was still here with me” and someone will quietly offer to get him another pint because what else do you say to a grieving man.

Whole time you’re at home perfectly fine, he just really fucking misses you.​​​​​​​​