we probably don't do canon •chronically ill and no telling when i'll be kidnapped by inspiration • brainfog is kicking my ass •i'm filled with longing and despair
Imagine price getting a new younger secretary and he's just awkward.
The team love them, trying to get him to at least have a bit of small talk with them. His secretary is convinced that he's waiting for them to slip up. He is convinced that he has nothing in common with them and would only make them uncomfortable
Imagine his suprise when he finds out that the perfectly whistled tune of 'always look on the bright side of life' he had heard a few days prior, was brought to his ears by his new Helper.
He only realized because they were singing it under their breath now, connecting the other times he heard their singing on base. Some of his favourites had been 'the silly walk song' and 'sit on my face'. He almost choked on his saliva, coughing lightly as a slow smile spread over his lips
The team was always teasing soap when new years came around
Always saying how they don't want to see his mug on tv and all that
They dont know that he spends that night with his neurodivergent partner and their 3 cats without any fireworks, cozy under a blanket and watching comfort movies
He had installed noise protection for the house when they remodeled it to keep unwanted stimulus out
For anything else unwanted he had proper training and a gun if needed
a/n: happy new year! i wish you all a less stressful year than 2025 was
a/n: merry christmas! or crisis in some cases. It's late and may be shitty but I had to many breakdowns over scarves not to do smth
Just Simon storming into readers apartment cause the walls are shitty and he can hear their sewing machine rattling till 2 am for the third night in a row
He doesnt expect to be met with a raging neurodivergent mid breakdown throwing the fabric weight in their hands at him
He catches it and backs out the door, never taking his eyes off them incase the weights brothers decides to take flying lessons too
Only on christmas does he discover why his sleep was disrupted so much
Price was glad that his human percentage won over his lion dna when he saw you rushing into work with a baby strapped to your chest and a five year old on your hand
In nature a lion would be tempted to kill any cubs not of his own blood but his blood only boiled in desire
You worked closely with the 141 when they were on base but with you being married, price had refrained from adding you to his pride
You rushed past him, your 5 year old waving at him with a toothy grin, while you muttered furiously about 'damn daniel bailing last minute cause he'd rather sleep in'
Ears swiveling to follow your steps a slow smile crept onto his lips. Seemed like trouble in paradise.
The next time he saw you, was when he had to collect some files you had in your office
When he entered he was mez with a scene he did not expect but should have
Papers strewn about and pencils on the floor with a very happy toddler and a frazzled mum with a hair eating baby on her chest
Your ear flicked in that stressed way he noticed some time ago but you plastered a smile on your face when you noticed him
"Oh, price! What can I do for you?"
"Just need the files for next briefing, love"
Just as you were about to answer your baby chose that time to let out a wail of discontent
Your smile fell, tears springing to your eyes and lips wobbling
His eyes widened. Thinking quick he opened the door again and bellowed for MacTavish
His pride mate was a natural with cubs, kits and fledgelings and would handle your little boy with ease so he could care for you and the tiny cub
And the scot wasted no time appearing at the office
Thankfully the boy knew the lynx hybrid well and you trusted prices pride with your cubs
As soap led the boy away john came closer and asked hesitantly if he could hold her a moment so you could breath
He was extremly thankful that his sergants families had him trained in handling babys a few years ago
Before that he was hopeless with anything younger than 4, and kyle had decided first that he would need to learn before adding little ones to the mix
So here he was, a chubby cub in his arms that had her tiny fists burrowed in his mane while he rumbled nonesense to them
Searching for a tissue, you wiped helplessly ar your face
"I'm so sorry you have to see me like that AND have to soothe her"
"Nonsense love, it's no bother" sounded the gruff answer and when a wet mouth with gummy teeth tried to eat his shirt a startled laugh escaped him
Before you could apologize again he growled lightly at you, which had you ears perking up and your gaze lowering bashfully
"Now what has you so frazzled today and with your little ones at work?"
A tired sigh escaped you, shoulders slumping and you dragged a habd over your face. "The daycare is closed today and daniel, my now ex husband, was supposed to spend the day with them. But low and behold, i get a text 30 minutes before he was supposed to pick them up, that he can't make it cause of weather. WEATHER John! He lives in the next part of town and I know for a fact that not a cloud was in sight at that time!"
John had to shamefully admit that he zoned out a bit when he heard the word 'ex-husband' but he zoned back in when he heard you ask 'can you actually believe that? '
Shaking his head with a growl he curled his lip and clenched his fist. In anger at the buffoon that let such a beautiful lioness go or to keep himself in check he didnt know
But he did know that now was his chance and your little one seemed to like him well enough already, if he could count the cub snuggling in his chest as that
a/n: i'm not dead, just having merry crisis after merry crisis cause of merry christmas. i'm sewing and crocheting so many things rn and my pain is flaring bad which makes my brain feel like pudding. but not the good kind of pudding
Simon is coming home from work later than normal. When he opens the door he is greeted with excited meowing at his feet and soft sniffles from the living room.
Trudging further into the aparment he finds you curled up on the couch, cat toy clutched in one hand, a tissue in the other.
Dropping his things on the side, he ignores the chattering menace circling his legs and drops to his knees.
The Bengal mix hops on the couch, stretching to nuzzle whatever she could get of him.
"Hi, Si" you sniffle, wiping your nose and giving him a watery smile
"Wot's wrong, pretty girl?" he asks, eyes flitting over your features. He reaches out to wipe away the tear tracks and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.
"She just wouldnt stop crying for you" the whine in your voice makes something clench in him. His eyes go to the cat, thats still trying to get him to pay attention to her, climbing over your legs to get closer to him, trilling and meowing.
"you gave your momma a hard time, huh?" he mumbles, finger scratching under the cats chin, going around to pet over her back. The fluffy fiend mrows at you and closes her eye in bliss.
Nodding with a sniff, you uncurl from your blanket nest and greet him properly with a kiss to his lips.
At least you try to, because when you get close enough, a furry head gets wedged between you both.
Okay guys! My brain went down a dark lane and I had to get it out somehow. Not really proof read
ghoap, ghost x soap
cw: suicidal ideation, major character death, death fantasies
I cant stop thinking about ghost being left after soap dies and everywhere he goes, he imagines scenarios where he dies or where he would have died with soap
Domestic fantasies that end in freak accidents, daily things that escalate, dreams of different after lifes where he gets to see soap again
Driving against a wall, drowning in his bathtub, picking mushrooms and choosing the wrong ones
Fantasies where he goes to sleep with soap in their marital bed and wakes up in Walhalla, where their roles were reversed and he died in johnnys stead, some where he ends up cowering over soaps grave like a dog without its master, biting anyone trying to help and slowly starving
He wants to be whole again
If he could have just died beside Johnny, then he would've died happier than he ever was in life
Okay guys! My brain went down a dark lane and I had to get it out somehow. Not really proof read
ghoap, ghost x soap
cw: suicidal ideation, major character death, death fantasies
I cant stop thinking about ghost being left after soap dies and everywhere he goes, he imagines scenarios where he dies or where he would have died with soap
Domestic fantasies that end in freak accidents, daily things that escalate, dreams of different after lifes where he gets to see soap again
Driving against a wall, drowning in his bathtub, picking mushrooms and choosing the wrong ones
Fantasies where he goes to sleep with soap in their marital bed and wakes up in Walhalla, where their roles were reversed and he died in johnnys stead, some where he ends up cowering over soaps grave like a dog without its master, biting anyone trying to help and slowly starving
He wants to be whole again
If he could have just died beside Johnny, then he would've died happier than he ever was in life
With my new backbrace I got inspired! Well its just a thought
soap x chubby reader
If you thought soap was handsy before you haven't seen him drool for you when you're decked out in all your braces
Sure it means you have a low stability phase but he cant help but be mesmerized how your pudge bulged between the straps and snaps, how your rolls became more prominent over and under where the brace sat on your beautifully fat stomach. How you pouted in frustration when the snaps wouldnt fasten and the doe eyed look you gave him when asking for help. His fingers, thick and acarred, made quick work of your knee braces and had you strapped in securely in a few seconds. Pushing the digits between fat and velcro, he tugged a bit which made you slightly wobble in place, shooting you an impish grin, he tugged again but way harder. The result came as wanted, you landing on his lap and his arms anchored round your waist.
"lemme up johnny! I gotta wear the back brace while cooking"
"shhh hen, lemme say goodbye to my favourite gal" before he ducked and started kissing your clothed belly, nearly ripping the shirt to stick his whole head under the gabric when he didnt feel close enough.
You shrieked with laughter when his stubble met the sensitive flesh, feeling his lips kiss and suck the strech marked skin. He once told you he loved how your stripes looked with a hickey so he made it his mission to leave as many as he could, a constellation of his love for you.
His hands were busy kneading your sides like a cat, and if he could he would've purred, feeling your soft form against him and your weight soothing his always running mind. You were like his very own fidget toy. The thin skin of your stretchmarks perfect to trace and fiddle with, the fat nodules like tiny marbles under your skin and always changing, hiding new secrets for him to discover.
When he decided he had enough for now, he helped you to your feet. Well...more like grabbing you and setting you upright.
You wobbled for a moment until he set his paws on your shoulders to stabilize you. Stroking your cheek, he reached behind you to grab your brace and wrap it around your midsection, leaning down to press one last kiss to his 'beautiful gal' before closing it. While doing so he jerked you in his direction, making you stumble into him once more.
"falling for me again, hen?" he smirked and closed the brace fully, tightening the straps to fit your waist better.
"always" you chuckled, pressing a kiss to his jaw and laying your head in his neck.
He always smelled so good. Like sandalwood, smoke and a hint of geranium. It always reminded you of a night spent with him in a log cabin, surrounded by woods years ago.
When you found the strength to pull away he took a step backwards to take a better look at you.
"Crabbification complete" he mumbled with a satisfied smile. God, seeing you laced and tied up in those braces really did something to him.
You know these things? You cant tell me one of the guys wouldn't try to grab you by those straps cause when you slouch there is that space between orthetic and body that just generates that urge
Am I projecting in this? Yeah, I am, what about it? That's what fanfiction is for. Anyway, angst! Bullying/discrimination of autistic traits/individual. I'm trying to expand my writing, and this is an idea I've had for a while.
Even after an Op, with your muscles aching, your head spinning, and adrenaline crashing, all you could think about was the new Backrooms movie. "I think they said Kane Pixels is working on it! And A24 always makes really good movies. If this is just a cash grab, I'm going to cry." You ranted, watching the world pass us through the window outside.
"You cry at everything." Ghost grumbles, rubbing his temple slightly. "It's a movie. It's not that big of a deal." He continues, looking you up and down for a second before shaking his head. You press your lips together a little, shrugging.
"It's a big deal to me." You retort back, unable to help yourself. "Especially if they make it good. I'm just really looking forward to it."
"We can tell." He sighs, leaning his head back and shutting his eyes. "You don't shut up about it. Ever." You want to defend yourself, but Soap chuckles in agreement, and you chew the inside of your cheek.
I forgot how annoying I can be when it comes to my special interests, and it's not like anyone wants to talk right now anyway. You lean back in your seat and stare back out the window, falling quiet.
They probably didn't want to see the movie with you anyway, maybe you should sell the extra tickets you bought. You keep quiet, even as everyone else falls into conversations. No one wants to hear about the movie, or maybe they just don't want to hear from you.
"Why do you walk like that?" Price asks, watching as you come over to the table in the mess hall. You tilt your head at him curiously, settling down at your usual spot. "On your tiptoes. Like your walking in heels." He explains, waving a hand toward your feet. "Trying to tell me you don't notice your doing it?"
"Honestly, I don't even notice most of the time. I used to tip toe walk everywhere as a kid. Almost fucked up my leg development, but sometimes it just feel better to walk on my tip toes then regularly." You explained, ready to launch into a story about how you had to get physical therapy for your calf muscles in elementary school.
"It's weird. You need to stop."
It feels like ice water was just poured into your shirt, hand freezing mid-air as you look back at Price.
"It's not... I mean, it's not the most normal way to walk, but it's not like it's a big deal." You say after a moment, trying to chuckle off how sick your stomach felt.
"It's just weird. You're an adult, and a solider. You don't need to prace around on your toes." He insists, giving you that same look over Ghost had given you in the humvee. Like he's trying to figure out what's wrong with you.
"Yeah... yeah, good point, Cap." You duck your head over your tray, stepping hard onto one of your feet with the other. Pain stimming, something to keep the tears at bay. Even though you've only taken two bites, you're not hungry anymore, waiting for a little while before eventually dumping your tray and leaving the mess hall. This time, with your feet flat on the floor.
"There's no way that's you, Y/N!" Gaz laughs, snatching the photo from your hand to get a better look. It was a photo of you, your brother, and your grandmother on a rickety fishing boat, and it was only of the few photos you actually liked. "Why were you smiling like that?" He teases, pointing at your pixilated little face.
"Oh dude, I had to go to therapy to smile 'correctly!' I had like... three years of ABA therapy when I was in middle school." You explain, taking the photo back and carefully slipping it into the album.
"ABA therapy? Like for autism?" Gaz questions, looking at you with confusion.
"Yeah! My mom was sure that I was autistic, but my dad fought her in diagnosis until I was in the 6th grade. Once I finally got more accommodations, I did a lot better." You explain, pulling out another photo. You weren't ashamed of your autism. It had taken years not to be okay with other people knowing, but this was your teammate. If anyone should know, it should be your team.
"You really shouldn't joke about that."
Gaz's harsh tone snapped you out of your thoughts, turning to face him. "What? I'm not joking about it, I'm autistic."
"No, you're not. Are you seriously going to lie about that kinda shit?" He snaps, standing up and looking at you in disgust. "That's fucking low, Y/N."
"Dude, I'm not lying! I've been diagnosed since I was 11. Why would I lie about that?" You slam your photo album aside, standing up to grab Gaz's arm, to stop him from leaving.
"Shut up! Do you think it's funny?? You're not autistic. You're just weird, and you need to grow up." Gaz yells, getting in your face as he did and making you back up immediately. "You're a fucking freak." He hisses, stomping out of your room and down the hall.
You're shoulders slump, tears welling up in your eyes as you gather up your photo album to take to your room. You didn't understand what you had done wrong, wondering why Gaz wouldn't believe you were autistic. Sure, you were "higher functioning" than some folks, but it didn't make sense for him not to believe you. Maybe it was just a big misunderstanding?
Regardless, you didn't feel comfortable leaving your barrack for the rest of the day, trying to distract yourself by organizing and reorganizing your photos.
The table went silent when you sat down and Gaz glared daggers at you that made you want to hurl, even with an empty stomach.
"So you told everyone you think I'm a liar." You snap, turning to Price. "And did you not read my files, or would you rather just give me the silent treatment? Is it easier to believe someone else than check the facts?" You'd spent half the night crying, and the rest of it getting steadily more angry. Every little interaction up to Gaz's blow-up at you had been replaying in your mind, and it felt like middle school all over again.
The weirdo kid, who can't walk, write, or smile "correctly" or talk properly with others. The one who always got made fun of, but was told it wasn't because you were autistic! It was just that -insert autistic trait here- is so weird! That's why we don't like you.
"My little brother is autistic, and you're nothing like him." Gaz clips back, still feeling justified in his anger. You snap your gaze back to him.
"Oh, your 10 year old brother!? I, a 22 year old, don't act like your 10 year old brother!? Well, slap my ass and call me a liar! I guess that's why autism is a spectrum, huh?" You shout back, not caring who saw or heard your outburst at this point. "I'm not autistic, but I walk weird, don't I? Prancing around as you called it!" Your withering gaze turned to Price as you spoke. "I cry at everything and make things big deals when they aren't, because they make me excited!! Almost like that's how my traits present!" Your eyes on Ghost now.
"Instead of calling me a liar, or looking down on me for shit I can't control, be my fucking team and have my back!" You grab your tray, standing and rushing out of the lunch room. You'd gone too long without eating, but you had staches of safe food in your room.
You didn't go to your room though, not yet. You didn't know if someone would come looking for you, and you hoped they didn't, so you ducked into a supply closet and locked yourself inside.
The tight walls, the faint smell of lysol, the blissful darkness... you take a slow, deep breath and lean against the shelves. When you got back to your barrack, you were going to make a nest in your own closet.
Maybe if I stay in here long enough, I'll become a broom. And then I'll be useful to the team... You shake the negative thought away, shaking out your hands to try and regulate yourself. You couldn't stay in here forever, but you could stay in here for a little while. Just you, and the cleaning supplies.
There was a knock at the door.
"Uh... Y/N, you in there?"
Fuck.
Oop, cliffhanger. Anyway, this was actually kind of therapeutic to write because I've been through some of this. I hope yall liked this because I haven't written any angst in a long time. Also, who do you think is at the door?
John knows better than to say "in a minute, love." When you ask him to do something.
Before he knows it, you've rearranged half of the living room and are drilling a mount into the wall for the new TV. If he wasn't going to do it, than you would.
synopsis— Johnny tells you the truth of what happened to your seal friend. Some other truths come out as well.
warnings— No big warnings.
wc— 2.4k words
NOTES— I hope I do this moment justice :)
NAVIGATION MASTERLIST || AO3 PROFILE || TAGLIST GOOGLE FORM
FIRST PART || PREV || NEXT || MORE JOHNNY
OKAY, MAYBE JOHNNY WAS A LITTLE IN OVER HIS HEAD.
In his defense, he had been alive for a long time. Long enough. And he was just now finding the sweet, bonnie thing he deemed his mate. He felt it deep in the rusted corners of his hybrid body--where his seal and human met and discussed humanity. His seal was strong, instincts stenching up his nose and making his brain hum.
He had almost completely forgotten what it was to be human. There were so many rules. Morals that he had to remember when all he wanted was to wade in the water, let waves crash over his slippery form, and sink his teeth into a willing mate.
Maybe he'd get a few pups. Always had a soft spot for them. He got quite sappy, really. He just wanted to cuddle up to something completely his. Protect. It was his role, one he hadn't been able to alleviate the desire for in a long time.
He just wanted a pod.
He wasn't built for a solitary lifestyle.
It wasn't intentional when he heaved himself onto your boat. Just like the fear that coursed through him wasn't a common feeling. He was almost seal chow to some large creature out in the vast ocean. Unfortunately, he had just gotten too careless.
Yet, when you extended a hand, mindful of the new presence on your boat, he couldn't let it go. So he came back. Over and over. Until he burned when he was away, a deeprooted yearning to show you all his cards.
You could be friends with the seal, would it be the same for the human?
He had a creeping suspicion that you were his mate after two meetings with you in his human form. He loved how sweet you smelled--sensing it long after he slinked into the ocean for the night. He loved the beating of your heart, the way you were quick to respond to his stupid jokes. All of it. His brain screamed at him.
Mating season was coming.
The thought of the possibility of not being alone this time, of having those pups he always craved, made Johnny restless. Desperate. He was impulsive when he slipped his pelt beneath the grooves of your boat and kept himself in his human form. To all other Selkies, parting with their pelt was a crime and potential torture. It was a vulnerability not to take lightly.
The wrong person would keep him powerless.
You wouldn't do that, though.
He ignored the nausea in his gut when he was without his pelt. Taking on the form of his human counterpart, Johnny, was an odd feeling. He felt like he was in bones far too big, a disconnection from the culture of humans. He spoke fine, he downed fish and ale like it was his only purpose, but it wasn't completely who he was.
He slept in a hotel, back aching as his mind screamed for him to go back to the beach, nab his pelt, and sink into the ocean and return at first light. He'd woo you as Johnny. Slowly introduce the idea of his Selkie blood only when he trusted you completely.
But he worried that if he didn't seize the opportunity, you'd be lost soon.
He wouldn't be alone. Not another season. He was going to go insane, become depressed and wither away. It happened to another in his old pod. The poor Selkie mourned the loss of his mate so deeply he disappeared into the coral reefs and never came back.
Now that he had a friendship with you, he was determined to perserve it all.
But how could he explain that you'd always have to live by the sea if you took him on as a mate? He could lie with you in your bed, cherish you the way you deserved, but there would always be a point where he had to merge with the saltwater. To dip below and fill his gills.
Would you understand? What if he had so much hope only to find you couldn’t live with that compromise? He wouldn't survive. He had never put himself out for the sharks like this, and now his body was thrumming relentlessly.
He feigned nonchalance when you revealed you found the pelt. His brain was heavy, spiraling as the bill came due. He wasn't ready. He thought he'd actually have more time to figure out a plan.
Yet, now you were staring at him expectantly after he said he had an explanation and his tongue was dry. He needed to get back in the water, but that'd be pathetic right now. Plus, it would look like an escape attempt.
Right now, you were holding him hostage for a murder suspicion. This is why he stopped interacting with humans a long time ago. It twisted his heart with far too much anxiety, and he hated that he felt that around you. You were his chosen mate. He shouldn't be worried about losing you.
He could explain this in five seconds. You'd probably laugh in his face when he called himself a Selkie, but all he had to do was throw that pelt over himself and show you. Your seal friend and him went hand-in-hand. You enjoyed the company of all of him, so maybe that would help his odds of surviving this whole ordeal.
He had been alone for so long. He had almost forgotten what it was to have conflict. It all started with the orca. He had gotten careless, something he never did. Survival instinct saturated deep in his mutated bone marrow. He should’ve known better.
Then he faltered and flocked to you like you were some deity be had long searched for. The need to pack was far too ingrained in him, and maybe that was the issue. He was safe before he went out poking for more meaning.
"Ye… ah…" Johnny rubbed the back of his neck. Jump in the water, Johnny. Escape. Retreat. Don't mess with this. The words of his pod rang in his head. They were wary of humans. Of trusting, really. "Do ye ken about Selkies, bon?"
You blinked. Stared at him for a long time. You had quite the disarming stare. In any other situation, he would've praised you for that. Fierce, bonnie thing. His mate. His gums were aching from waiting so long for you.
"The mythological creature?" You answered.
"Aye," he hummed. "Isnae fictional, doe."
Your eyes narrowed, and he swallowed. He knew you didn't believe him. He had all the proof, and yet he felt as if he didn’t. He was thrown out naked as some shameful punishment, and he absolutely despised it.
What if he bore his soul and admitted the truth, and he still lost you?
"Give me the pelt, doe," Johnny curled his fingers as a sign to do as he said. You held the pelt tighter; protectively.
"No."
"Please? Let me show ye what ah mean."
You hesitated. He swallowed thick phelgm in his throat as he watched you decide his fate. He hated this feeling. If you kept his pelt, he couldn't do a damn thing about it. A trapped Selkie. It wasn't an ideal place to be.
Even if he longed for you.
He still wanted the free will to exist how he wished. Take on the form that most suited him for the occasion.
Finally, with a heavy sigh, you handed the pelt over to Johnny. His body hummed as his hand enclosed around the blubber again. It was therapeutic, a relief burrowed in his bones when he realized his connection to the sea was in his clutch again.
"Thank ye, doe," he spoke sweetly.
He gripped the pelt with reverence. He felt a bitter discomfort healing as soon as he held this part of him. The knowledge that he could slip away again slackened his shoulders immensely. The call of the sea was great.
"Aye..." Johnny breathed. "Lemme just..."
Slipping into his pelt felt like nothing. It was so innate to him that he didn't exactly predict how startling it might've been for someone--especially a mere human who had obviously never encountered the make-believe.
Johnny chuffed, nostrils flaring as he adjusted to being closer to the floor. His whiskers tingled as he processed all the sharper senses that came with this form. The air felt clearer. He could identify the finer grains of the ocean in more depth. The saltiness clung to his tongue, big eyes blinking around.
He hobbled on his belly, bouncing closer to you. He nuzzled your leg, slapping his flipper against his side, and finally looked up at you. Maybe if he acted cute, the way you reacted would be a lot more pleasant.
He couldn't read your face. Your eyes were wide, hand gripping at the side of your boat. Were you even breathing? He wasn't sure if the stillness was a positive or if he was about to have his worst fear confirmed.
He let out a little purring noise. It vibrated against his chest. He sniffed the air, nudging you softly again as his eyes slowly blinked.
He wasn't often scared, especially in this form. He was used to confidence in everything he did. He was a skilled fisher, survived well on his own, and navigated a world on two legs. But he had never quite been put out on display like this, stripped bare and sharing a sacred part of him to someone whom he wasn't even sure wanted him.
Right as he grew impatient, you finally spoke.
You reached a delicate hand out, fingers twitching just shy of his snout. He chuffed and pressed into your hand desperately, churring quietly.
"It's you..." you whispered.
Johnny needed to be able to speak. He bounced back and shed his pelt in record time. Human eyes met yours, eyes soft and anxious as he regarded you. The fact that you had reached out as opposed to something else made him flutter.
"Doe..."
"I just..." You stammered now, standing up and stepping to the other edge of your boat. Johnny watched you, heart being pulled in all kinds of directions. "Holy shit. Okay... I need to process this."
Johnny swallowed, "What do ye need from me?"
You looked back at him, biting your lip in thought. "I just need a moment...can you..." You vaguely gestured to the water.
Johnny didn't want to go, but he also wanted to respect you. He nodded stiffly, becoming the seal once again. He flared his nostrils for a moment, eyes watchful towards your form for a moment before he yielded and dived into the water.
He just hoped you let him return.
Johnny spent his time fishing. Chasing fish was as easy as breathing, his form gliding through the water with a refreshing speed. Humans could try and recreate this with artificial creations, but nothing topped the born ability to dive. He had missed it.
Johnny kept nearby your boat, but far enough where you wouldn't notice him. He found his mind mostly focused on you, never being this distracted before. His mind had always been in the game, never on hinged on what another was doing.
He abandoned fishing after a while, just settling for gliding at the bottom of the sea floor. He went through the coral reefs, swam beside a school of fish, and just contemplated.
Why was it that your decision felt just as worse as when he wasn’t tied to his pelt?
He needed to go back. He had given you enough time, right? How long had it even been? In the sea, he didn't really need to tell time the same way. It wasn't like the sun dipping changed much. For you, he needed to reach you before you decided to slink back onto the shore. Because what if you didn't return?
He was almost frantic as he closed on your wooden ship. His gums ached when he poked his head out of the water, startling you who had been leaning over the edge. He recoiled as a reaction to your reaction, letting out a small chuff of air.
He waited. Letting you deal the cards, even if it was torture.
You sighed, patting the boat. "Get up here, you big blubbery fool."
Happiness was too mudane of a word to describe what Johnny was feeling. It wasn't an acceptance of being his mate, as he hadn't even gotten to that point yet, but you still wanted his presence. For a lonely seal, that was everything. He knew he was your only real friend as well. You two needed each other.
Johnny threw himself onto the boat, immediately shedding his skin.
"Why…" you seemed at a loss for words at that moment. "Why'd you stash it?"
Johnny heated, confidence waning as he was confronted. He knew it was going to come eventually. It was odd behavior. One that made you believe he had poached the seal originally.
He was just grateful you let him explain before you murdered him.
"Ah…" Johnny rubbed the back of his neck bashfully. "It's…ah want ye as my mate, doe."
Silence.
He wished the ocean would swallow him whole. Maybe silence was normal, but he wasn't completely accustomed to how humans were. He knew enough to get by, but not the actual habits because he always wound up scraping the ocean floor.
That was home. His seal was home.
And up until he met you, human interaction was not a thing for a long time.
"Mate?" You rasped finally.
Johnny nodded. "Aye. Ah feel drawn tae ye. The pelt… it's the most vulnerable part of us. Tha's our marriage. We're bound tae who holds it. Cannae shift unless it is gifted back tae us. Some people use it tae trap Selkies. But ah…ah was bindin' myself tae ye on my own. If ye wear the pelt…yer the Selkie's mate."
You looked down at the pelt and then to him. You looked overwhelmed but calmer than when you made him leave originally. Still, he was coiled tight from anticipation.
"I…" you opened and closed your mouth. "Does it work?"
Johnny cracked a small smile, "Aye, bon. Ah'm still part human. Ah can court ye like ye do if ye'd like tha'."
You swallowed—contemplative.
Maybe he'd hit you with the mating season and all that later after you processed this reality. He had you hanging on, but he worried he would actually scare you away if he divulged too much too soon. He'd ease you into it, hopefully before he went into a rut.
He held out his hand in small offering. Take the bait, or don't. He'd swim away with a broken heart, but he'd respect your decision.
You took his hand after a stressful beat, letting his fingers curl around your working hands.
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