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drghostwrite · 6 months

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A Royal Bloodline

Pairing: Arthur Curry(Aquaman) x preg!wife!reader

Summary: Arthur and reader are Kind and Queen of Atlantis, a hurricane blows through posing a threat to a heavily pregnant queen and her family.

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The light in the ceiling above you flickered as the wind and rain howled outside the house. You looked outside to see the rain raging and the darkness covering the lush green fields, that were now being submerged. You felt your baby kick and looked down at your very large bump, running a hand over it praying that this storm would soon end so you could return to your home and give birth to your heir in peace.

---12 hours prior---

"Y/N, mi amor." Arthur called to your sleepy form in the other room, as he looked into your shared bedroom, your back to him, the blanket over you silhouetted you from your strong shoulders that dipped down to your waist before flowing back up into your hips. You felt the bed dip behind you as he slid in, a strong hand lightly tracing your outline before coming down to rest on your large bump, you felt lips make contact with your neck pulling you from your sleeping state.

You placed you hand over his as you felt your baby kicking, "Mm, good morning my love." You sleepily smiled up at him as he was propped up leaning over you, completely mesmerized by the life forming inside of you.

"So I was thinking, Mom and I are going into town to restock before the storm, maybe you'd want to come with?"

"Maybe, 2 hours in the car is a lot for this pregnant mama," you chuckled almost teasing him, he loved going places with you and when you got pregnant he wanted to spend every waking moment with you in his arms.

"Before you ask we can even stop at that little bakery that you like."

"Oh in that case." you said swinging your legs over to get out of bed.

---back to present---

Well you made it into town but now your stuck, as the storm had moved in early, so here you were Atlanna, Arthur and you stuck in whatever shelter you could find trying to get back home before anything else went south. Though it didn't last long you could feel the pain starting in your lower back and wrapping around to your front, you let out a slow breath, closing your eyes to focus on you letting all else melt away. That lasted moments before another wave overtook your body and you leaned forward one hand supporting you on the windowsill while the other wrapped tightly under your large bump.

While Arthur was arguing with he townspeople, explaining that you needed somewhere to stay and that they'd be fine, Atlanna was keeping a close eye on you, she saw as you bent over, she had been though this before and she knew what was happening. She quickly made her way over to you, resting a hand on the one you had supporting you and wrapping the other around your lower back.

"Y/N, are you feeling pain?" she looked trying to read your facial expression.

"No, no I'm okay." you said wincing slightly again, still not making eye contact.

"Sweetheart," she said gently, "I think you're going into labor."

"I can't it's early..." you whined as your muscles started to ache.

"Well Atlantian babies tend to come early," she smiled with a hint of pity, "It'll be okay." Arthur saw his mother comforting you by the large window and made his way over, his eyes shone with pride fo the news that he had calmed the people and that you would be staying the night somewhere safe, dry and warm.

"I'm not having this baby here," you growled out in a whisper trying not to alert anyone of your situation. A very confused Arthur standing on the other side of you almost shielding you with his body.

"What's going on?" He asked concerned seeing the not so happy expressions on your faces.

"Looks like your little one is making their awaited appearence." his mother explained.

"Oh... OH!" he said also realizing, "are we having the baby here?"

"No...please" you protested.

"We're safe here, I know it's not home but you're safe and dry, there's no better place to have this baby."

"Son, she can't have this baby here.." you both looked at the former queen slightly confused, "any heir to the throne must be born by the sea, Y/N has to give birth to him either by or in the sea. Seeing as we can't get to Atlantis because of the storm..."

"The lighthouse, we have to get you to the lighthouse," before Atlanna had the chance to respond Arthur scooped you up into his arms, carrying you out into the raging storm, he placed you into the passenger seat of the truck.

"God this really hurts." you groaned out, you reached up gripping the handle as another contraction took over your body, Atlanna slid towards you reaching in from behind so you could grab her hand as your husband drove.

"Y/N I need you to breathe with me." Atlanna coached from behind you, she watched as your face contorted in pain, you arched your back off the seat in pain, gripping her hand, you other hand coming down to tightly support under your swollen stomach. A contraction took over your form and you felt the baby drop even further the need to push quickly overwhelming you.

“Atlanna?”

“What it is?”

“I-I feel like I need to push.”

“hold on Y/N don’t push yet… Arthur go! This baby is not waiting.” She urged and you felt the truck lurch forward in the rain as he pushed the pedal to the floor boards. Moments later he pulled up to the house, he ran around and picked you up wedding style as his mom followed his dad holding the door open. He burst through the door you in his arms, “Gahhh… this hurts!” You said through gritted teeth.

“okay couch put her on the couch.” Atlanna directed, get me some towels, warm water, scissors and some alcohol. Both men looked to each other and nodded jumping into action.

“Okay Y/N you said you needed to push?” She asked while helping you undo you pants pulling them off with your panties and setting them aside, she pulled the blanket on the couch over letting it drape over your legs. You whined out a yes before your knuckles went white straining to grip the couch and you shot up feeling a very strong contraction come over you, you started to push feeling a small amount of relief.

“Okay good girl, do what your body tells you.” She held you hand the other rubbing a soothing stripe up and down your thigh. Another contraction and another push came and went, “okay Y/N I have to check you see where you’re at.” She gently explained as you grimaced with a slow nod, she lifted the blanket to see baby’s head.

“it burns…” you whispered out of breath, voice stripped from groans and the occasional scream of pain.

“it’s because you’re crowning sweetheart, just give me a couple more big pushes and baby will be here.” You nodded feeling as your husband ran back in pulling you to his chest as he sat behind you.

“Okay good girl, one more… one last push… come on Y/N, one last push…”

Moments later a final cry of pain and a baby’s cry filled the room, “a girl, you have a beautiful girl.” Atlanna beamed at her granddaughter. You held you baby girl in your arms and felt the tears streaming down your face turning to face her dad you saw tears escaping his eyes.

“we have a little girl.” You said cuddling into him.

“we have a princess, and our princess will need a name.”

“Scarlett, I like that name.”

“Scarlett it is, Scarlett Atlanta.” You both beamed down at your little girl, the continuation of the royal bloodline but more importantly someone else to share this love with.

#x yn #pregnancy #giving birth #x reader #aquaman #arthur curry #mera #ocean master #black manta #atlanna #aquaman and the lost kingdom #dc comics #dcmultiverse

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comicsgallery · 2 years

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Mera & Aquaman

Aquaman (Vol. 8) #33

Art by Stjepan Šejić

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romancemedia · 2 years

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Aquaman and Mera - Young Justice

#Young Justice #DC #Young Justice Phantoms #Moments #AquaMera #Aquaman x Mera #Arthur x Mera #Aquaman #Arthur Curry #Mera #Seriously Underrated!

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takaraphoenix · 7 months

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Hiii, World's Finest, please come back here, I want to know more about him. Because with that costume, the blonde hair and the face, he is just so clearly Arthur's son. Is this Arthur Junior, all grown up??? 👀

#Arthur Curry Junior #Arthur x Mera #NEVER SEEN THEIR SON ALL GROWN UP BEFORE #World's Finest #World's Finest Spoilers #Tuesday Spoilers

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deepinthelight · 10 months

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Arthur and Mera

#arthur x mera #arthur curry #mera #aquaman #jason momoa #amber heard

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hiloedits · 2 years

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— arthur and mera headers

like or reblog if you use/save.

#arthur curry header #arthur curry headers #mera headers #mera header #mera x arthur #arthur x mera #aquaman header #aquaman headers #romance header #romance headers

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ricstarlovebot · 2 years

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amnesty pt. 6 - manta vs machine

aquaman (2016) #55

#arthur x mera #arthur curry #mera #y'mera xebella challa #queen mera #this is the storyline where he proposes she tells him she's pregnant he tries to walk out and she crushes him to death using hydrokinesis #anyway.#emma reads aquaman (2016)#mine

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reiignonme · 1 year

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🌊 YM'ERA XEBELLA CHALLA TAG DROP!!

#🌊 𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘 ——— mera.#🌊 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌 ——— mera.#🌊 𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂 ——— mera.#🌊 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 ——— mera.#🌊 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐒 ——— mera.#🌊 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ——— arthur curry.#🌊 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 ——— mera x arthur.#👑 𝐎𝐎𝐂 ——— tag drop.

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the-marshals-wife · 8 months

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New Horizons (Arthur Curry x Reader)

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ⋅☆⋅ 𝐀𝐎𝟑 ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

A/N: Requested by @dantes-devil-huntress. I can't believe this is my first Aquaman fic! This was so much fun to write, I hope you enjoy!

Premise: Trying to figure out his place in the world as the newly crowned king of Atlantis, Arthur meets someone who may just help him find the answers he looking for.

Description: Arthur Curry/Aquaman x Fem!Reader (Human), meet-cute fluff! | Warnings: alcohol, mild language | Setting: AU w/o Mera endgame, before The Lost Kingdom | Word count: 3,468

Edit: here's my Orm Marius x Reader fic for my fellow Orm girlies ;)

Gif credit: user jasonmomoaonline

Imagine Arthur giving you shelter when you're stranded in a storm, and discovering his true identity

Getting stood up for your date had been the worst part of the night, until the moment you got into your car. Instead of the engine turning over and sputtering to half-life like usual, it only stalled.

"You have got to be kidding me," you say, gripping the steering wheel and turning the key until you thought it might snap, "Come on, come on, come ON!"

Throwing open your door, you pop the hood and stumble back out into the chilled night. You mutter curses under your breath as you survey the labyrinth of steel and hoses before you.

"At least nothing's on fire this time," you mutter, rolling your eyes.

You step back and stare at the bucket of bolts the salesman had called "like new." Besides coming to this bar, buying this car was quite possibly your biggest regret. It wasn't quite a lemon, but it wasn't a Rolls either. And most of all, it was all you could afford.

You exhale, glaring up at the flickering light of the bar's neon sign. The last thing you wanted to do after waiting nearly two hours alone like a fool was show your face inside again. You retrieve your phone from your back pocket, just to see the blinking bars in the top corner. No service.

"Wonderful," you groan.

Like a bad joke, thunder rolls in the distance. You look up to see the lightning flashing on the horizon across the bay. The brisk, salt air rises up from the water and cuts right through you.

"Could this night get any better?!" you lament, an angry shriek escaping your lips as you kick the front tire.

"Excuse me, Miss?" a voice from behind interjected.

You jump and turn to see a man approaching, nervous smile on his bearded face. You appraise him wearily: tall, dark, and not at all lacking in style, clad in both leather and jewelry. He looked a sight better than the drunken fishermen you'd observed stumble about the bar, which you concluded was about ninety-percent of the clientele. Even from where he stood, he certainly seemed to smell better.

"Uh, I don't mean to interrupt, but you sound like you might need some help," he offers hesitantly.

Despite your initial scare, something about him puts you at ease.

"Oh, um...yeah, actually" you smile embarrassed, tucking your hair behind your ear, "My stupid car won't start. Again."

"Mind if I take a look?" he asks, pointing.

"Would you? That would be great, honestly," you say, folding your arms against the cold, "I just had it in the shop last week. I have no idea what's wrong now."

He pats the fender as he circles around to the front, "Let's see what's got you all clammed up here, buddy."

"Your guess is as good as mine," you say exasperated, stepping to stand behind him a ways.

He chuckles and pushes up his sleeves, ducking underneath the hood. You take note of the intricate tattoos, realizing this friendly stranger was becoming more interesting by the minute.

"Hmm, nope. Not that," he says, craning his neck, "Not that either."

You bite your lip and sway on your feet, silently praying he could find the source of the problem. Any easy fix was probably too much to hope for, but your fingers stayed mentally crossed nonetheless.

"Ooh, maybe- no, definitely not," he says, followed by a clinking sound, "That should not be there."

"I really appreciate this," you say after a moment, peering over his shoulder, "I can change the wipers and put on a spare if I have to, but that's about the extent of my car expertise."

"No shame in that," he grunts, his voice strained, "Oof, now that might be a problem."

"Did you find something?" you dare to ask.

"These spark plugs are kaput. Like, 'not even a necromancer can bring them back' kind of kaput."

"The guy said they were fine!" you exclaim, "I knew I shouldn't have gone back to that place. Probably just took my money and laughed."

The man finally stands up and winces.

"And your alternator is on its last leg," he says with a grimace, "Even if you could get it to start, I wouldn't go more than five miles in this thing."

"Great. That's just wonderful," you sigh, shaking your head, "Well, thank you for looking. It'd have taken me forever to figure that out. Google only goes so far."

"No problem, wish I had better news for ya," he says, wiping his grease-tinged hands on his jeans before extending one towards you, "I'm Arthur, by the way."

"I'm Y/N. Nice to meet you, Arthur."

"Nice to meet you too."

Despite your frustration, you couldn't help but grin. As Good Samaritans go, he was quite a handsome one. Something in the back of your mind whispered that you had seen his face before, but you couldn't place when or where.

Before you could speak again, a bolt of lightning strikes just across the harbor, followed swiftly by a crash of thunder.

Arthur looks off to the darkened horizon, his expression souring with concern.

"Storm's coming in fast," he observes, the sea breeze blowing through his long, sun-kissed hair, "Do you have someone you can call to come pick you up?"

He turn back to you, and only now do you notice just how rich and golden eyes his eyes are. For a few dizzied seconds, you forget to answer.

"Uh, not really. I'm pretty new to the area. I don't know very many people," you reply, feeling shy all of a sudden, "I can just call a Uber or something. If my service ever picks up."

"Yeah, definitely," he nods, clearing his throat, "They have a phone inside."

"Thank you again for helping me, Arthur," you say, starting to walk towards the door.

"I didn't really help, though..." he trails off, disappointment in his voice as you step past him.

Your hand is almost on the handle when he pipes up.

"Uh, look I know you don't know me, but my dad's place is just down the road from here. He's the lighthouse keeper. Him and my mom are actually away on little retreat, and I'm watching the place for them," he explains, "It's dry, warm, and definitely has a lot less drunk guys. You could wait there while the storm passes, if you wanted."

You turn back to him, trying to conceal your renewed hope, "I couldn't impose on you like that."

"Oh you wouldn't be. It's just me and the dog. He's probably getting sick of me at this point. He could use a visitor," he chuckles, "But I understand if you'd rather stay here. Strange guy at a bar invites you to a lighthouse on a dark and stormy night. Sounds like a horror movie, I know."

You laugh, and so does he, bringing some much needed levity.

"I'll bring you right back if you change your mind, just say the word," he adds, sounding truly sincere.

Almost everything in you was saying not to trust a man you'd just met, but your gut was telling you otherwise. There was more to the warmth in his eyes than just the color.

"Well, it does sound like the dog could use some company," you say thoughtfully.

Arthur smirks. "Oh yeah. There's been a Hell's Kitchen marathon on for days, and I'm pretty sure he's sick of listening to my Gordon Ramsay impression. I can't resist, love that guy."

"I might have to hear that for myself."

"Let's get you out of this weather, and we'll see what I can do about that, then," he says with a wink, "My ride is just over here."

Not even the chilled wind could overcome the warmth of your cheeks. The excitement in your chest grows with every step as you follow him across the sandy lot. The ride in question, however, soon comes into view, and the knot in your stomach tightens all the more.

"Oh boy," you say, staring at the motorcycle.

"You're not scared of bikes are you?" he questions, stepping alongside it and reaching into the black saddlebag.

"Not exactly," you hesitate, "I've just never been on one before."

He pulls out a red, half helmet and offers it to you.

"Don't worry, I won't let you fall off," he replies, amused.

You look between him and the headgear a moment before taking it.

"Besides," he says, swinging his leg over the seat, "All you have to do is hang on."

With no argument to make, and rain drops beginning to sprinkle down, you pull your hair back and fasten the helmet on. You nearly lose your balance trying to throw your leg over, having to grab his shoulder to steady yourself. He didn't seem to mind; you could have sworn you heard him snicker. You settle into the seat, heart racing from being so close to him. More anxious than ever, you lightly place your hands on his back.

"All good back there?" Arthur asks, a smile in his voice.

"All good," you repeat, unconvincingly.

"Alright then," he says, turning the key.

Seconds later, the motorcycle roars to life as he revs the engine. Arthur eases the bike back slowly, pivots out of the lot, and eases it up to the main road. The instant he accelerates, the force kicks you backward. You throw your arms around his torso, pulling yourself against him. Over the noise of the machine, you weren't sure if the rumbling in your ear that followed was thunder or laughter, but you figured was the latter.

With the bar now behind you, and the rain coming down harder with the increasing speed, you bury your face into his back and hold on tightly.

♆

The lighthouse comes into view just as the skies open up. Arthur maneuvers the bike up the slippery, sand driveway and quickly shuts it off. He gives you his hand as you climb off and leads you toward the house.

The helmet offers some protection from the downpour, but the wind blows the spray into your face as you squint to see. Lightning above illuminates the world like daylight as you scramble up onto the porch.

Arthur throws the front door open and lets you in first as you stumble inside the dark house. You take a few blind steps forward as he slams it shut behind him, thunder making the windows rattle.

"Man, someone must have really pissed off Thor," he laughs. His relief, however, is turned to exasperation as you hear a clicking sound followed by a sigh.

"Power's out. Awesome."

Still trying to catch your breath, you pull out your phone, struggling with wet fingers to use touchscreen. Finally the flashlight turns on, and Arthur throws his hand up over his eyes as you accidentally shine it right at his face.

"Sorry," you pant, pointing it down.

"No worries. That's a good idea, actually. I always forget about this thing," he remarks, grabbing his own phone and doing the same, "One second, I think Pops has some candles in the kitchen."

You nod as he disappears into the next room. Now remembering the dripping helmet on your head, you release the strap with your free hand and set it down on the mat beside the door. A shiver goes through you from your soaked clothes. You point your phone about the shadowy room to get your bearings, admiring the otherwise cozy living area. As you sweep the light downward, something large and metallic glints on the coffee table in front of the sofa and catches your eye. You move closer to get a better look, and then your heart drops to your feet. Lying beside a bag of jerky and the TV remote is a massive, gleaming trident of gold. A memory flashes through your mind of an article you'd seen weeks ago, with a fuzzy photo of an alleged aquatic hero holding a weapon just like it. The pieces come together all at once as you realize the identity of your host.

The very next second, you hear Arthur's approach. He returns with a lit candle in each hand and a blanket under his arm, only to find your expression of complete and utter shock.

"You...you're..." you stammer.

"Oof, I knew I forgot to put something away," he cringes, "My bad."

"You're the Aquaman," you gape, finding the words.

"Surprise," he says in a sing-song voice, flashing a nervous smile, "Yeah, I never really know how to bring that up.

You stare at him dumbfounded as he places the candles on the coffee table. "I can't believe it. Aren't you supposed to be like...well, in Atlantis or something?"

"I was, earlier this morning. Just about died of boredom in council meetings," he says matter-of-factly, proceeding to talk as if he had a desk job, "I'm kinda part-timing right now, between land and sea. It's complicated. I'm still new to the whole 'king' thing. Don't have all the kinks worked out yet."

"I'd imagine," you breathe, your mind still reeling.

"Here, figured you need this." He holds out the blanket, completely unphased by the previous subject, "Do you drink tea? I can make some for you."

You take the blanket and chuckle in bewilderment. "Um, sure. That would be great," you answer, "Thank you."

"One tea coming up," he smiles, "Uh, just make yourself comfortable, I'll get the fire going here a minute, after I find the dog. Pretty sure he's hiding under Pops' bed upstairs. He's terrified of storms. Ironic right? Lighthouse keeper's dog afraid of a little water."

"I don't blame him this time," you say, wrapping the blanket around your shoulders, "I think you were right about Thor."

As if on cue, another boom of thunder shakes the walls. You both burst out laughing.

♆

A few minutes later, you find yourself sitting on the floor in front of a roaring fire with a warm mug in your hands, finally beginning to feel dry. Having been unsuccessful in coaxing the dog into joining him downstairs, Arthur settles down beside you crossed-legged, damp hair tied up, trading the tea for a can of Guinness. Your thoughts rage like the storm outside as you stare into the flames, agonizing about what you should say.

Arthur speaks a moment later, saving you the trouble.

"Sorry about the power. I'll call you that cab as soon as it comes back."

"That's okay, I'm not in a hurry," you reply.

You look over at him hopefully, meeting his piercing gaze for as long as you can. Mere seconds pass before you bow your head, heart racing while you repress a smile.

"I'm uh, sure you've got some questions about all this," he ventures, rubbing the back of his head.

"Honestly, with the night I've had, meeting 'Aquaman' is par for the course," you smirk.

"I didn't mean to spring it on you like that. I guess you can understand why I don't lead with the whole King of Atlantis thing. Kinda makes it hard to keep a conversation going once people know you 'can talk to fish.' They don't really see you the same after that."

"Yeah, I think I'd probably keep that to myself too," you agree, the awe returning full-force, "Still, it must be amazing. I mean, you're basically ruler of the ocean, right? Or is it just Atlantis?"

"Eh, I mean there's the other kingdoms-"

"There's more?!" you blurt out, wide-eyed.

"Oh yeah. Xebel, the Fishermen, the Brine, a couple of defunct ones no one wants talks about. We got a few."

"And you're the ruler over all of them?"

He shrugs. "More or less. I mean, they each have their own ruler. But then I'm also over them? Kinda? I'm still figuring crap out, they didn't exactly give me a rule book on my first day. Plus I have to answer to this royal council and they've got sticks up their butts about everything I do and say," he groans, rolling his eyes, "I like to consider myself more of a 'protector of the deep' than a ruler. Sounds more cool, and less like an old fart with a crown."

You giggle, hanging on every his every word.

"And with this bad boy right here," he says, reaching behind him and patting the trident, "I command all life in the sea. The animals anyway. Between you and me, that's the best part."

"You definitely have a cooler job than me," you beam.

"It definitely has its perks. But most of the time, I'd rather be here," he sighs, punctuated by a swig of his beer.

A visible sadness washes over him as he looks into the fire.

"You aren't from Atlantis?" you question.

"No, I was raised by my father. My parents met on accident. My mother was queen of Atlantis, and she ran away from her not-so-nice guy fiancé. She got lost in a storm, and my father rescued her. They've always said it was..."

Arthur stops and turns his gaze towards you, realization in his eyes.

Your heart skips as you understand. "Fate?"

He nods thoughtfully. "Something like that."

You blink, letting him go on.

"Anyway, I know I have a calling to the sea, but the land is always going to be a part of me, you know?" His expression softens. "Here, I've always found everything I need."

His words linger in the air between you. You look down at your hands, your chest pounding.

He clears his throat. "Sorry, I know that was a lot of info."

"Just a little bit," you reply teasingly, "But your secret's safe with me, Arthur. I promise. I've got no one to tell anyway."

"Don't worry, I trust you," he says, waving his hand, "It's actually nice to have someone else to share it with."

"I'm honored that you did. I know it's not the same, but I do understand what it's like to feel that you don't belong," you confess, "I didn't fit in my 'kind' either. Moved out here to start over. I guess you could say I'm still trying to figure some crap out too."

He pauses in thought second before responding, "Do you mind if I ask you something, Y/N?"

"After everything I've asked you? I'd say it's definitely your turn," you chuckle, taking a sip of your forgotten tea.

"I saw you at the bar before you went outside. I couldn't help but notice that you were there by yourself..."

"You noticed correctly. I was supposed to meet someone for a date, but after saying he was on his way, he never showed. I tried to text him, but he blocked me. I don't even know why."

"Nothing like being stood up at some backwater bar," he concludes, frowning, "Well, screw that guy. He's a bum."

"Yeah, I figured that out too late," you agree, then give him a knowing look, "The evening wasn't a total loss. I did meet you, after all."

"That's true," he concedes, playfully stroking his beard, "I may be a half-breed rookie king, but I'm not a bum."

You snort and gesture to the television set on your right, "So much for your marathon though, huh?"

"Ah, that's alright. They were all re-runs anyway."

You raise your eyebrow. "Think I could still hear that impression?"

He holds a finger to his chin in mock deliberation, "Hmmm, have I had enough to drink for that?

"I don't know, have you?" You lean in with anticipation.

He flashes a sly grin. "Of course I bloody have," he declares in the most hackneyed attempt at a British accent you'd ever heard, "And you better listen up, because I'm about to tell you everything there is to know about how to cook a bloody good flounder."

Your sides ache with laughter as he continues to go on a tangent about how to properly sauté shallots and season the perfect demi-glace. The voice sounded nothing like the infamously tempermental chef, of course, but you still thought his attempt was cute. By the time he was yelling at his invisible staff for serving him raw fish, the storm outside had passed, and neither of you noticed.

As Arthur went to light the stove to warm up some "gourmet" SpaghettiOs, still boisterously carrying on as Chef Ramsay, your excited thoughts returned to the story about his parents. You couldn't help but wonder about your own stormy night, the man you had met, and how much of a hand fate had played in it. The horizon seemed so much brighter than before, and for the first time ever, you were grateful to have bought that car.

#arthur curry x reader #aquaman x reader #aquaman imagine #arthur curry imagine #aquaman and the lost kingdom #jason momoa #arthur curry #aquaman 2 #aquaman fanfic #my writing #request

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somewherefornow · 8 months

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ARTHUR CURRY & MERA in BLACKEST NIGHT

#mera #arthur curry #arthur x mera #blackest night #carol ferris #hal jordan #saint walker #HER HAND HER HAND ON HIS HEAD HER HAND CRADLING HIS HEAD GUYS GUYS DID YOU NOTICE. HER. HAND #*panelsandpages

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honkytonk-hangman · 2 months

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Water Like a Stone (1/?)

[Orm Marius x Reader]

Summary: Exiled on land and taken in by Tom Curry at the Lighthouse, Orm is introduced to family friend and Marine Park Ranger Grace, a woman unafraid of swimming with sharks and whose job it is to care for the Amnesty coastline... How is he not to adore her.

Warnings: Language, sexual references, mentions of almost drowning? Reader is named, but it shouldn't come up too often, it just makes it easier to write xxx

Notes: This is set post The Lost Kingdom, and is a slight AU given that in this story Atlantis hasn't yet come forward to the world. This si my first time writing for Orm, I hope you enjoy it!! TY to @hangmanssunnies you are my ROCK!!!!!!!

Word Count: 6.7k

Orm pokes at the dark purplish bruise on his forearm, one of many that littered his body after another day of training. This one is already turning yellow around the edges, and by tomorrow it will only be a faint ache he won’t be able to see, but will still feel regardless when another bruise forms over it.

A delicate hand takes his and pries it away from his arm, holding it tightly. His mother frowns at him, though, he knows it’s not really him she frowns at, and when she realises he’s looking up at her, her features pull into a soft, sad smile.

“I do… I do everything Father asks of me,” Orm begins doing his best to stop his voice from shaking, though he’s so young the feat feels impossible. “But he always asks for more… Does he think me a failure too?” he asks, but he regrets the question the moment it leaves his mouth, as his mother’s smile falls. Orm would do just about anything to see his mother smile, especially now, especially given come morning he would never get to see it again.

She hugs him, draws him near and almost wraps her whole body around him. In recent months he’d become adverse to feeling small, especially in the eyes of his father, but right now his father isn’t present, and Orm doesn’t mind feeling small. He does feel small, embraced by his mother like a baby again, and he holds on tight, knowing it’s for the last time.

“Orm, I need you to hear me when I say this, if it’s the last thing you remember of me, I need you to hear it; It does not matter if your father is proud of you, son, the only person who must be proud of the man you become is you.”

Orm looks up at his mother, briefly shocked by her words, but he lets them sink in, washing over him like the water all around them. He hugs her tighter and squeezes his eyes shut.

“I’ll remember everything about you, I won’t forget,” Orm insists, and feels the vibration of his mother humming, her chest to his head.

His shaking voice and soft sniffling is harder to hide then, and he turns his face inward to attempt to hide it, but is only met with a gentle hand carding through his hair, and the sound of his mother’s own tears as she holds him closer.

“It’s okay, Orm, you can cry with me, I’ll cry with you,”

Those are the last words he hears as he falls asleep in his mother’s arms for the final time, and in the morning when she’s led to the Trench, he replays them in his head, over and over and over as she is taken from him.

Orm wakes in the early morning, slivers of pre-dawn light filtering through his window. He lays still for several minutes, listening to the sounds of the wind and the house settling before he at last rises. Ever since Arthur, Mera, and their son, had moved to their own home, he rarely heard a sound this early. Tom still slept, though Orm knows he too will wake soon, so he quickly dresses, in simple work clothes, and begins the morning duties.

The creaks and shudders of the house are his only company as he gently steps onto the porch, and for a brief moment, he finds himself almost missing the full house. Though he’d never turn an ear to purposefully listening in to others' conversations, the background noise was almost comforting. He’d known the comings and goings in the upstairs rooms by the footsteps alone, could track where they were going and what they were doing, and the downstairs movements were similiarly traced by the groaning of the floorboards.

Orm knows he might be called paranoid for keeping such tabs, but if that were the worst of his offences these days, he’d bear it.

The sun won’t show itself for an hour or more by the time he’s trudged up the lighthouse steps and performed the routine checks and tests Tom had shown him, and although Orm could now say he relished the feeling of the sun on his skin, he liked rising before it woke, enjoyed the blue haze the world was cast in before it’s rays reached any of them. It reminded him of Atlantis. It reminded him of home.

After checking the boat docked on the pier, he pulls it up and out of the water, for some maintenance later, as he’d been advised yesterday, though he has no real grasp on the mechanical side of things, he was happy to help the old man with his strength alone.

In his exile, and subsequent ‘death’, Tom had been willing to take Orm in, and in doing so, had given him a new sense of purpose, of duty, and the lighthouse was quickly becoming a source of calm and solace for the once-king of the waves below.

One of them at least.

The other, as he would come to know her, arrives at around midday.

You arrive at the Lighthouse at around 12:30.

Your modestly sized, government-issued four wheeler is hooked up in the back with an equally modest sized little dingey. Your business out at the bay only really needed to be a conversation, but you’ve known Tom Curry long enough by now to know he’d have no problems with you killing two birds with one stone, and allowing you to use his pier.

Besides, it was choppy out there today, and you didn’t want to give the old man a scare when you inevitably left your boat anchored and seemingly empty.

You pull your uniform bomber on as you exit your truck, seeing as you were out here on official business afterall, and step out into the fierce winds that were already picking up. One look up at the sky tells you if not now, it would rain soon enough, but you find yourself startled by movement and sound to your right, and you jump to face the man that has now exited the boat shed only a few meters away.

“Can I help you?” he asks, voice low, but smooth and rounded, somehow sounding incredibly formal despite his almost ragged appearance. That wasn’t to say the man was not well kept, in fact he looked incredibly similar to the impression his voice gave off, only, he wore a dark set of work clothes, and instead of waterproof pullovers like you’d see most of the dock workers or even you yourself have worn on occasion when working on wetter days, this man's clothes are damp, if not outright soaked in patches.

To his credit, if the man was bothered by his lack of dryness, he doesn’t let on.

He’s handsome, you realise dumbly and out of nowhere, very aware of the ridiculousness of your standing there and accessing him like a value to be taken stock of, especially given that the rain you’d predicted had begun to sprinkle lightly now. And yet, you can’t help yourself. He is handsome, with strikingly defined features, piercing blue eyes and almost white blond hair. You find there's something almost familiar about him, which is when you remember.

This must have been Tom’s ‘other son’. You knew Tom’s son Arthur tangentially, you’d gone to the same school, though a few years apart, and you’d even been saddled together on a luckless double date once back in high school, but despite this, you’d honestly say you knew Tom much better. Still, for as long as you’d known the Curry’s, it had been just the two of them. You were too young to remember the strange woman your father had mentioned once, and to be honest, your father mentioned a lot of ‘strange’ things, so you’d never really paid him much mind on that front, but recently, the talk of the town had you wondering.

You’d seen the family around town since Arthur’s mother had returned. You hadn’t met this man yet, but you’d heard through the grapevine at your work about him, Arthur’s brother. Apparently he was helping to run the lighthouse, and looking at the man before you now, there's not a doubt in your mind he’s of the same blood as the ethereally beautiful woman you’d seen here and there.

“Oh, I–” you start, feeling your face heat up slightly as you tear your eyes away from staring at the man openly, his slowly rising eyebrow telling you he’d been fully aware of your struckedness. A small, physical shake of your head gets you back on track, just as the man dusts his hands off– though you note they didn’t appear dirty to you– and steps closer to you. He briefly looks up at the clouds as he feels the first of the rain on his face, and you almost have to give another shake of your head to draw yourself away from waxing poetic about the way he looks so lovingly up at them.

“I work for the Marine Park office, I just need to talk to Tom about the upcoming season…” you manage to get out. His eyes finally leave the sky to focus back on you as he comes to a stop a few feet away, though after a moment, his gaze travels beyond you, to what it takes you a moment to realise is your truck, specifically your boat, and you clear your throat. “… and I didn’t think he’d mind if I used his pier after…” you tell him quickly, feeling a little like you’re under deep scrutiny, but you get the distinct feeling that his lightning-coloured eyes make everyone feel that way.

He looks back at you quickly once he’s processed your words, a small, concerned looking frown coming over his features.

“You’re going out to the Archipelago today?” he asks. It isn’t a true Archipelago that you had here in Amnesty, it was really just a large collection of small rocks and islands formed off the coast, outside of the initial Bay, but it had been called as such for longer than you can remember.

“Well, I plan to be below the water, so the wind and the rain doesn’t bother me too much,” you reply, preparing yourself to assure and defend your decision to do your job, but unlike the warnings of rough waters and danger you’re expecting from the stranger, he shakes his head and nods out at the pier, and the water beyond it.

“There’s a shark in the area. Tom has been monitoring it since yesterday… I thought he would have relayed that information to your office…?” he tells you instead. It takes you a moment to really hear what he’s said, but once your mind filters it through, you let out a laugh of almost relief, your own gaze trailing out to where he’d been gesturing at.

“Oh, that’s just Khan! He’s a local. Sort of. Usually swings by once a month or so to get pets and head scratches… don’t worry, he’ll retreat deeper by tomorrow, I’m sure. It gets too cold for him otherwise,” you assure the stranger with a wave of your hand.

The man’s features turn to surprise, and he blinks down at you like you’ve just said something completely insane. It doesn’t bother you, however. As the certified ichthyologist hired to work for the Amnesty Bay Marine Park, you were more than used to people thinking you were insane for swimming with some of the sharks that came through the area over the summer months, but Shere Khan was different. An older, docile creature, the king of the tiger (sharks) as you’d dubbed him, loved to keep you and your colleagues company when you were out and about on the water, and you almost didn’t feel quite right anymore going out there without him when he was away.

Contrary to how most people would feel with a six metre tiger shark tailing their boat, ever since an incident with a slightly more aggressive and curious bull shark several years back, you actually felt much safer with him around.

“You’re going to–” he doesn’t get to finish, the disbelief in his voice going entirely unanswered as nearby the back door to the property’s main building all but bursts open, and Tom comes barrelling down the steps, drawing both of your attention. On his face is a massive grin, and you don’t stop to think about not wanting to leave the close proximity of the stranger, instead caught up in the joy of what you know is about to be a massive bear hug.

“Gracie!” The lighthouse keeper exclaims as he gathers you up in a bundle of an embrace, and you can’t help but let out a laugh. “It’s been too long, my girl! You never come see me any more!” he complains with the faux grouchiest looking version of a pout you’ve ever seen, and as he puts you down, you give his shoulder a playful shove.

“Don’t get sour on me, gramps, I’ve heard you’ve replaced me!” you say cheekily, jerking your thumb over your shoulder at the blond man who seems to gingerly approach. Something in Tom’s eyes light up as he looks between you and the stranger, but he appears to try to cover it up quickly with even more faux attitude. He points a threatening finger at you.

“I’ll get more sour if you keep calling me ‘gramps’!” he growls out, but his aggression lasts only moments, and he looks past you to the blond who lingers beside the two of you.

“Grace, this is Arthur’s brother Orm. Orm, this is Grace. She’s a Marine Park Ranger here in Amnesty. Takes care of the tourists during holiday season… and she’s a family friend.”

At last with an introduction, you turn to the man, and after only a moment of hesitence on his part, you shake his hand, cursing yourself for how flushed and warm your face feels when you make eye contact again. You’re glad to see any of his prior alert for your upcoming swim conditions has receded, a sort of grim acceptance seemingly overcoming him now, but again, that in itself is more than familiar to you from outsiders.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Orm tells you somehow both incredibly regally, but simultaneously stiffly, as though he knows his formality is out of place, yet knows no other way. You decide to ease any of his discomfort by matching the strange, frankly weird energy you get from him.

“The pleasure is mine, I’m glad the old man has someone to help him out at the lighthouse now… was starting to worry me for a few years there,” you say truthfully, but playfully, and it doesnt go unnoticed to you the way Orm’s slightly too polite small turns a little softer, and he gains a small glint in his eyes as they flicker past you and toward the sound of the angry hiss you hear.

“For your information, the ‘old man’ is still hear, and is still willing to call up someone’s father to inform him of her breaking the cardinal rule of not insulting the Lighthouse Keeper!”

You ignore Tom, though you roll your eyes and laugh, your attention more importanttly taken up by the fact you’re still shaking Orm’s hand. You quickly pull away with a nervous chuckle at your own expense, though thankfully this time, the blond doesn’t seem willing to call you out with another raised eyebrow. He simply stays still in place, with his hand outstretched yet now empty, before he too seems to realise his fault, and drops it to his side.

You clear your throat and have to force yourself to tear your eyes away from the striking man in front of you.

“Well, ah, I’d love to have come for a social visit, but I do need to talk to you about a few things regarding the upcoming tourist season…” you tell Tom, who does his best faux grumble, but nods along despite himself. Naturally you both begin making your way up to the house, and only a glance behind you reveals Orm, standing still in his place, and watchnig after you curiously.

When you catch one anothers eye again, you both bashfully startle, and look away.

Orm is tying your boat to the dock when he finally hears his mother’s footsteps approach. She’d been watching him from the window, then the porch for some time as he’d unhooked the boat off the back of the monstrosity one might call a ‘car’, and pulled it down to the pier for you. Strictly speaking, it certainly wasnt his job to do. He can tell the boat isnt all that heavy, likely picked out by you specifically so you would not need much help… but Orm finds he can’t stop himself once the thought has entered his head.

“You know, Tom’s mentioned Ranger Grace before, I don’t know if you remember, he suggested perhaps the two of you meet… to make sure you don’t spend all of your time here at the lighthouse, I mean…” his mother starts, and Orm suppresses a roll of his eyes.

“She’s planning on swimming with that shark that's out there,” he ignores his mothers insinuation, but she isn’t deterred.

“Her father’s a sailor, captains a ship out of the Bay, perhaps you could take a trip,” she goes on like he said nothing at all.

“His name is Khan. It– he has a name. How big did Tom say it was? six metres? She’s insane,” he wants to hate himself for sounding so enamoured but he can’t bring himself to do it. Atlanna rests her hand on his arm, and when he looks back at her she’s giving him a soft smile that almost makes him fold entirely.

“If Tom trusts her, you should too.”

Orm isn’t quite sure why it feels like she’s speaking about more than just the shark.

When you exit your meeting with Tom, you step out of the house to find your boat no longer hitched on the back of your car, and after only a few moments of searching, you spot it, bobbing at the end of the pier. Curiously, you begin wandering over to it, only to stop short when you see the blond man– Orm, knelt down on the pier, winding up a thick length or rope, and occasionally looking out over the rough waters ahead.

When you approach, you seem to startle him, because he stands suddenly and whips his head toward you, though clearly seems to regret such attentiveness, if the flustered look on his features is anything to go by.

“Ranger Grace,” he says formally, making you grin. You wonder, with a manner like that, if he has to force himself to suppress a bow.

“Just ‘Grace’ is fine,” you tell him, and for a moment you stare at one another. You feel captive in his intense gaze, like you’re being sized up or analysed, but in a single second you’re released, and he looks away, back toward the water, a tiny frown creasing between his eyebrows.

You already know what he wants to say, it’s the same thing a hundred people have said to you before, and you hold back a friendly eyeroll, and open your mouth to abate his worry, but once again when he speaks, it isn’t what you’re expecting.

“You care about them, the creatures out there,” he states, like it isn’t a question, something almost wistful in his voice. He turns back to you.

“I– why wouldn’t I care?” you ask confused at his strange manner, and this time when he frowns deeper, its at you, though not displeasure you note, more like he can’t quite figure you out. It confuses you more. You weren’t all that complicated, at least you’d never felt particularly complicated.

He stares at you again, though he seems to be at a loss for words, like he doesn’t know how to respond, but you decide to put him out of his misery.

“If you’re worried about Khan, I could introduce you?” you say, seemingly throwing him completely off guard, and distracting him from his uncertainty.

“Excuse me?”

“Khan, the tiger shark. I could introduce you. He’s really sweet.”

That makes him almost blanch, and he blinks at you like you’ve lost your mind. You can’t help but let out a laugh.

“Are you laughing at me for being reticent about an ‘introduction’ to a wild tiger shark?!” Orm sputters, and although you put a hand over your mouth, you can’t stop the giggles that continue to bubble out of you.

“He’s very friendly!” you say in your defence. Orm raises a single eyebrow at you.

“Oh, I’m certain he is,” he bristles, making you laugh once more.

You don’t notice how his face seems to soften, but you settle yourself down as he glances back out at the ocean.

“Perhaps another time,” he tells you gently. You raise both hands to assure him no offence is taken, and begin making your way further down the dock to your boat.

“I’m going to change and set off, before it gets much rougher out there,” you tell him, watching him nod as you siddle up to both him and your swaying boat. You prepare yourself to step out to it, but before you can, a large strong hand shifts into your vision, and you look up at its owner, blinking in surprise.

Feeling nervous for no other reason than a handsome stranger has offered you his gentlemanly help, your face flushes as you accept it, placing your hand in his and letting him steady you as you step down into your dingey. He doesn’t let go right away, and youanxiously look back up at him, almost questioningly. He lets go when he catches your eye, stepping back with his hands folded behind his back, and clears his throat.

“We will look for your return,” he tells you.

Strangely, you get the feeling he means something else.

The rocks in the Archipelago provide enough cover for Orm to swim at a comfortable distance from you and remain hidden. If anyone were to ask, he’d say that he wouldn’t normally do this, it wasn’t like him to stick his nose in the business of humans, but since no one is asking, he isn’t too proud to admit that he’s worried. He wants to think more of himself than that he's simply worried because he thinks you’re beautiful, and in truth, he does. It intrigues him that you have seemingly befriended a shark, intrigued him more that your job appeared to send you attending to something out in the ocean, and from what he can see now, it was… interesting to say the least.

You’d changed into some kind of swimming suit, similar to what he’d seen other swimmers wear before, but unlike them, you seem to carry some kind of… device in your mouth. It was cylindrical in shape, and every so often bubbles would spout from it unexpectedly. It certainly doesn’t seem to bother your companion, who he begrudgingly has to admit, is a rather docile, rather large tiger shark. Orm watches from a distance as it swims around you, occasionally bonking its face into your idle hands, at which point you smooth your hand over the top of its nose. You even occasionally seem to hold gently onto its dorsal fin, and let it lead you through the water. He can honestly say he’s never witnessed such a… a… friendship between a human and any sea life.

He knows he should leave after seeing you’re safe. But he can’t bring himself to do it.

As you near the base of a nearby outcropping of rocks, Orm watches you unsheath a large, long knife from a strap on your thigh, and carefully, you swim lower, and begin cutting away at the kelp and seaweed that has grown all around it. It’s only once a large patch has been cut away does he realise the overgrowth hides the entrance to some sort of cave. He wants to get nearer then, as only your legs become visible, but he holds back, in case you were to turn around and see him, but he finds himself pressed by other matters. Seemingly knowing he’s too large to fit, the shark, Khan, he reminds himself, swims a little further away from you, seemingly occupying himself until he begins to get nearer and nearer to Orm’s hiding place.

Orm’s eyes flash between where he can barely see you now and the shark, and decides the shark is the more immediate threat. Khan siddles up quite close, swimming laps back and forth right by him, and Orm gets the distinct impression he’s being eyed up, if not outright warned off.

“Away!” Orm tries to shoo him. “Back to your human,” he wills the creature, though the shark remains persistent, getting even closer. Orm isn’t worried about attack, though he does wonder what you would think if your apparently docile friend were to attack a stranger seemingly out of nowhere.

Then, as if you’ve called both their names, Orm and Khan both startle, and look towards the cave entrance, with Khan swimming off immediately. Perhaps that is what spurs Orm away from his hiding spot, perhaps it’s the unsettling sound of muffled panic, but soon enough he too is moving far closer than he’d ever intended, his stomach sinking somewhat as he hears the familiar sound of something dropping to the ocean floor.

A fish, a large one he has no mind to name in that instance, swims hurriedly and suddenly out of the mouth of the underwater cave, and Orm presses himself back some to allow its exit. Worry now consumes him once more, and without further thought, he swims forward, his eyes adjusting far better to the darkness than he knows you would. He finds you, hand raised to the back of your head, where the familiar sight of blood has begun to flow, staining the water around it red. You seem stricken otherwise, your body no longer swimming, and it's only when he realises your breathing apparatus has fallen from your mouth that he knows your injury is far worse than it might first appear.

Your body shakes, and if you’re conscious, you must only be barely cognisant of your surroundings, which is why Orm swims in closer, as you begin to drift down, unconcerned in your current state about the very real danger of drowning, but it’s no matter. He catches you in his arms, just as a spout of bubbles exit your lungs, and he knows he must get you back to the surface immediately.

He doesn’t waste time fetching your equipment, nor the knife you’ve dropped, he doesn’t worry about your boat left out in the water, or the shark that trails him until he reaches the pier. Orm adjusts to the weight of holding you above water, climbing the rocks and thanking whatever the surface dwellers liked to thank when Tom comes jogging out of the house, concern and panic plastered on his face.

“She hit her head, she’s bleeding,” Orm informs him hurriedly, knowing that Tom will know what to do. The old man looks up at him questioningly, but seems to think better of it, quickly ushering him inside. His mother, upon seeing him and the unconsious woman he carries, all but drops her tea cup on the table, rising fast and disappearing into the kitchen.

You convulse in his arms and it’s all Orm can do not to drop you.

“On the floor, put her on the floor!” Tom orders him, to which he obeys, gently laying you out on the living room floor where Tom pushes him aside once you’re flat. Orm watches in no small amount of concern as the olde rman begins pressing in hard on your chest in rhythm to his counting, before leaning down and placing his mouth over yours. Luckily, once he’s pulled away again, the water is dislodged from your lungs, and Tom quickly turns your head to one side as you splutter and cough.

Your eyes blink open briefly, and you croak out something no one can understand before the coughing takes you again and you try to raise your hand to clutch at your head. Tom stops you, and looks back to Orm again.

“Help me set her on the couch.”

He does as asked, though now you’re no longer unconscious, you appear to shift and wiggle more, clearly pained, and Orm surprises himself when he sushes you softly. His mother returns, with a box of medical supplies, and Tom once again nudges Orm to the side once you’re settled.

“Tom,” you rasp groggily, sounding panicked. “My head,” you try to alert him, but Tom only hushes you, and pulls your hands away from your hair.

“It’s alright, Orm told us, just bear with me, alright? I’ll call your office.”

That seems to calm you somewhat, and you squeeze your eyes shut again.

“Is Khan alright? He’ll be worried…” you ask, sounding small and tired, and Orm almost lets out a laugh. Almost drowning in an underwater cave and you still have the mind to ask after the shark.

“He’s fine, he let us know you needed help,” he says without thinking, and your eyes peel open once more, struggling to find and focus on him before you smile wrly.

“Told you he was friendly.”

Orm does laugh at that, feels the anxiety and worry in his body leave all at once knowing you were alright. Tom laughs too, but shushes you again, and looks over at him.

“Can you call the Marine Park Office? It’s on the fridge,” he says, just as his mother steps around the couch and begins to inspect the back of your head, where Tom holds you up.

Orm hesitates, realising he doesn’t wish to leave your side, but forces himself to hurry off and do as told. He has to stop himself listening in to his mother and Tom’s quiet conversation, in order not to ignite his worry again, and instead, after making a call out to the Marine Park Office, as awkward as he feels doing so, Orm dives back into the water.

Khan is right by the shallow waters, swimming back and forth in a manner Orm would describe as ‘stressed’, and once the creature catches sight of him, he swims right over, slowing as he eyes Orm up.

“I don’t know if you can understand me,” Orm says, feeling a little foolish speaking to a shark. “But she’s okay.”

Khan eyes him, continuing to swim in short laps, this time closer to him. Orm wouldn’t know how to explain himself to anyone if they were watching, but something possesses him in that moment to reach out his hand. Khan turns his headband slows somewhat in his movements, but in a matter of seconds he’s making for Orm, before gently bonking his nose against his hand.

Orm finds himself laughing at the sheer absurdity of it, but he can’t stop himself from going back for another pass, running his hand over Khan’s smooth head one more time before he fixes the creature with a business-like look.

“I’m going to collect her things. Would you care to join me?” he asks, and receives his reply in the form of the shark turning tail and making back for the small cave entrance some ways away. Orm is glad your boat is docked so nearby, he’d not explored these waters well enough yet to know where exactly he’d rescued you from, not in his sheer hurry to get you back to the surface.

Khan waits for him, once again swimming laps and circles around the small outcropping, and it doesn’t take long for Orm to find your dropped knife and the device you used to breathe. He inspects it curiously, though it’s completely foreign to him and he tucks away his questions to hopefully ask you later. His other curiosity he finds he can sate for himself, and with your items in hand, he swims further into the curving cave structure, until he can swim no further, and finds instead a path up.

He isn’t surprised you wished to clear the pathway into the grotto he finds, beautiful and natural as it is. He would never have guessed the rocky outcropping a few hundred feet from the edge of the pier would hold something so special, but as he pulls himself up onto the lip of the small standing area, Orm can see himself possibly spending more time here. The dark clouds outside are visible to him through a small opening at the top of the peaked ceiling, and he supposes on sunnier days they provide an amount of light, though the darkness doesn’t bother him.

He wonders, idly, secretly, if perhaps, he may convince you at one time or another, to take him here yourself.

You wake with a splitting headache.

A sharp pain toward the back of your head makes you reach a hand out, but a warmer, more calloused one stops you.

“Tom advised me that you shouldn’t touch it,” a deep timber voice rolls over your thoughts, before you groggily realise it's not just in your mind, but in the room also. You squint your eyes open, and peer over at Orm who sits somewhat stiffly nearby. “Luckily it was not a bad cut, though judging from your unconsciousness, and need for sleep, it appears to me as though the blow to your head was worse,” he squints back at you, though you aren’t sure he’s aware he’s doing it until his features seem to soften and he quickly snaps forward to help you adjust to sitting.

“That’s no good…” you say redudantly, and look briefly around the familiar living room. Just hours ago you had been sat with Tom right here, and going over the same old information you always did when it approached tourist season. You almost feel foolish for all the attempts you’d made to assure both he and Orm that you would be fine on your afternoon swim. Thunder cracks overhead and you start, sitting up straighter and fixing your apparent lone companion with wide eyes.

“My boat!” you say startled, but the blond man beside you calms you with a rather regal wave of his hand.

“Is already docked. I went back for it some time ago,” he tells you in a voice one might find condescending if you weren’t so briefly panicked. Your worry subsides with his simple words and you blink up at him curiously.

“First you set it in the water, and then you fetch it from its anchoring? I can see why Tom keeps you around,” you joke, bringing a tight smile to the man's lips. He appears to be more focused in looking you over, his eyes darting over your form as if accessing for further injuries. “Khan didn’t give you any trouble I assume? I’ll admit he can be a bit firghtening, but he’s really–”

“– friendly. Yes, I experienced as much for myself,” he cuts you off, and you relax a little further.

“You swam with him?” you ask, almost a little surprised, though given your accident, you’re not sure what else you’d have expected. Khan was a very loving creature, if he’d gone to get you help, his appearance by the docks instead of by your side clearly suggesting as much to Tom, and you have to guess Orm too, then you imagine he wouldn’t have gone far in the time it took for Orm to also head back out to where you’d anchored your dingey.

“Yes. I am not as eager as it appears you are to share waters with a creature such as Khan, but I am not afeard of it either…” Orm states, though appears to pull back some, as if he thinks he’s said too much.

“I suppose that means I won’t have to introduce you next time…” you trail off, wondering when exactly you had planned on seeing this man again. He was handsome, certainly, but you’d met him only this afternoon. You suppose the fact that Tom vouched for him went a long way in your books, but beyond that, you feel as though you’ve already grown fond of his odd mannerism, the way he spoke like a storybook prince of some stripe. He seemed out of place, and although clearly having learnt a lot about Lighthouse keeping, or at least enough to know about keeping watch, there was a manner to which he seemed to perform the duties like they are unfamiliar to him.

“I wouldn’t say no to a formal introduction,” Orm responds after a beat of quiet. You smile at him, feeling nervous all of a sudden, though you aren’t exactly sure why. The kitchen door opens then, and you both turn in unison to find Tom, and Arthur’s mother entering, shucking off their raincoats.

“Glad to see you’re still with us,” Tom exclaims, not bothering to remove his boots before he’s beelining toward you. Orm seems to shrink back, like he’s guilty of something, and you briefly catch a glimpse of his mother attempting to make further eye contact with him that he seems to avoid.

“You can’t get rid of me that easy,” you say with little conviction. Tom steps around the couch, but brushes a hand over your shoulders as he does.

“We called your office, and I spoke with the nurse at the clinic in town… she thinks you’ll be fine but asks that if you have any side effects, you head in… she also asked that you not drive yourself home.”

You groan, knowing its not the smartest idea anyway, but it made you feel more indebted.

“So I’ll pick my car up in the morning?” you ask, already knowing there was no use in arguing. Tom nods.

“And I’ll pick you up for that too.”

You nod back at him, before rubbing at your eyes with your palms.

“I called your Pa, too,” Tom says more quietly, making you look up at him pleadingly.

“Tell me you didn’t really?” you ask, feeling like a teenager caught out drinking. Tom shrugs.

“I’d want to know,” he says by way of explanation. You huff out a grumble, and sit back against the cushions.

“He’ll only say it’s what I get for disrespecting the lighthouse keeper,” you say, though you know it's unfair. Tom chortles and pats your knee.

“Well maybe next time you’ll think better of calling people old!” he says back. You groan again and squeeze your eyes shut.

“C’mon Gracie, let me get you home,” he says then, heaving himself up off the couch with a small amount of effort. Orm rises then too, and you notice he seems rather intent on lending you his hand to get up. You only hesitate for a second before you take it, feeling your face flush some, but you tactfully avoid looking at either Tom or Orm’s mother, instead focusing on the blond who’d helped you, his grip firm. Embarrassingly, you get the sense the size of his arms or the broadness of his chest aren’t simply for show, if the ease in which he lifts you is anything to go by.

“Thank you,” you tell him softly, hoping he understands you mean to thank him for more than just this moment. He looks down at you seriously, and nods once.

“Of course,” comes his reply. You realise you still hold his hand in yours and release it, blinking rapidly as you clear your throat and turn away from him. Tom looks between you unsubtly, and you decide some distance might quell his medlesomeness.

“Thank you for everything,” you say louder, turning to find Orm’s mother smiling kindly at you from the kitchen doorway.

“We’ll see you in the morning,” she says gently.

With your dry clothes having been retrieved from the trunk on your dingey by Orm (you assume), you only bother to place your jacket on before collecting the rest and following Tom out to his car.

Curiously, when you glance back at the house in the rearview mirror, you think you spot a man watching you go.

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#orm marius #king orm #orm marius x reader #orm marius x you #ocean master #dceu #aquaman and the lost kingdom

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