#the beach at dawn with only the sound of waves and the scent of saltiness | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fhrlclln · 1 year

Text

con la brisa | k’uk’ulkan/namor

SUMMARY -> out of your own curiosity discovering the unique entrance of the underwater cave had you finding more than you expected while vacationing. the god is intrigued to say.

k’uk’ulkan/namor x fem! reader

masterlist (to be added)

GENRE -> nsfw/smut

WARNINGS -> bpwf spoilers, meet-cute scenario, a lil slowburn, namor is a lil’ bit cold at first & smut as usual (p in v, unprotected sex, oral sex; both!receiving & fingering)

WC -> 7,876

a/n: after watching wakanda forever had me bawling like so much. and so, okay, i know this isn’t my usual writing but i fell in love with the song con la brisa and namor cuz aquapapi. and i thought i’d write a long fic just for him. lIKE THE VISUALS OF THE SCENE IN TALOKAN AND THE SONG!?!?!?!? absolutely amazing and captivating and there’s namor. 😫 but anyways… enjoy my namor smut ig. and happy holidays everyone <3

TRANSLATIONS: YUCATEC MAYA -> máak lu'um - surface dweller/land person, ki'ichpanech - pretty girl, le paalo’ - child , je’el - yes, dejaremos ti' le destino decida - we will let fate decide, in na'atik - i understand, ba'ax úuch - what happened?, jach asab u jump'éel siibal - it is more than a gift, ka ma' in k'áat ka u detenga - and i don’t want it stop, in ts'íiboltikech - i want you, ma'alob - good, ko'ox - let us go, in yakunaj - my love, jats'uts - beautiful, t'aan - speak, táan jach mojado, wáaj tuláakal ti' teen? - it is so wet, all for me? mierda - shit, perfecto - perfect, jach jats'uts yáanal tin - so beautiful under me

likes, reblogs & comments are greatly appreciated !! <3

enjoy !!

it’s quiet.

only the sound of the waves and the sound of the cool breeze hitting your ears envelops your senses. your body is floating above the water, sun hitting your face, eyes closed and relaxed as you let yourself float amongst depths of the sea. the water is cool against your skin, the scent of salt hits your nostrils mixing in with the freshness of the air. heaven is all you can describe at such serene calmness the water offers you this day.

as beautiful the secluded beaches are here in yucatan. you knew better to be not trespassing here. and as stupid it was to swim near night falling, the rays of the sun had turned orange among the horizon of the beautiful ocean. you knew it was time to get back to your hotel you currently resided. but here you are, water still glistening your salty skin, shorts concealing your bottom and your top the bikini you wore still damp as ever. the sun was setting, the trees swayed as you headed back to the direction of where you came from. wary of a chill on your spine erupt as if you felt like you were not alone in the secluded beach.

but as always, fate seemed to spin you to get lost in the woods.

shit. you think to yourself, the unfamiliar path dawning over to you as you sighed to yourself, trees all over your view. you knew the area well enough for the past few days and now was the time you would get lost? unbelievable. you bit your lip, trusting your gut to go further, night already taking over the once pristine blue sky. better to walk and let faith guide you to a road than to stay amongst the wild animals and insects inside the forest. you could say you’ve done one of the stupidest tourist shit you vowed not to do.

the cicadas faintly started to get louder as the darkness took over the forest. you grabbed your phone, turning on the flashlight as the leaves scrunched underneath your feet. the bushes seemed to grow larger as you gently passed by them with your arm shoving them away. expecting the familiar highway to come in view.

but you stopped, the path had ended as you were face to face with a cave of some sort. your eyes sparkled in the dark, suddenly intrigued with this new location you found. a hidden gem in these parts. you cautiously stepped closer to it, feeling as if you’ve entered someone’s territory. you lick your lips, shutting the flashlight of your phone as moonlight filled the area perfectly.

“water?” you mumbled to yourself, bending down to see the small cave was filled with water. “of course it is, dumbass.” you rolled your eyes to yourself, letting your hand touch the cool water.

it rippled beneath your fingertips as you glided your hand to feel the temperature, the scent of sea salt again fill your senses, your curiosity getting the best of you. you noticed how the deep the pool of water was, noting it might be an entrance to a underwater cave of some sort, you guessed. but you needed to go back, remembering the hotel waiting for you.

you looked around once more, guessing that this has been around here for a long time. you smiled, proud to say you would dive in here if you got the chance and the gear to do it. you stood up, brushing yourself from the dirt that sticked to your knees. you turned back and headed to the bushes again, to find another path. for a moment, you adjusted the bag you were carrying, your phone in your hand suddenly slipped from your grasp, hitting the ground with a thud. you cursed yourself for your clumsiness, bending down to grab it. the water in the cave suddenly splashing catching your attention warily.

you froze, slowly standing up, clutching your phone tight as you watch a figure came from the dark depths of the cave. the water splashed around as your heart thump loudly. seeing as a manly figure came in your sight despite the darkness. warnings in your mind erupted, remembering what you had heard of recently.

the man from the sea. a ancient god.

you distinctly remembered the words of the locals and the village elders about a man walking along the shores, feet with wings they had said. their ‘god’ walking amongst them. you don’t know much, but you feared this legend and the god as so did the people here. anything was possible nowadays. but you remained silent, studying his figure as he emerged into the moonlight. stepping in to your view, golden jewelry adorned his neck, he wore only green shorts and other accessories from his wrist to his legs. his feet, however, caught your interest seeing wings adorn them. and ears flourished with a jade like square earrings. he brushes his wet hair back, chest rising as he breathes in the air, his dark eyes finally gazed to yours.

oh, fuck.

you clutched your bag tight against your body, a shiver ran down your spine as his gaze pierced through you. you’ve trespassed. your mind shouts, your heart thumping louder.

“i’m sorry for i-intruding.” you speak up, careful for your tone to be calm and respectful. gears in your mind clicking, his face yet did not react whatsoever other than he steps forward, making you step back cautiously. he seems to notice it, sensing your own fear as he minds himself, creating a presence you knew not to anger. as stoic his expression was, his eyes seem to tell otherwise.

dangerous.

“you’re not from here.” he speaks, breaking your daze when you stare at his face. cold yet curious his tone was. knowingly now you think he’s attractive the more you study him. thoughts then circling how he just came from an underwater cave and ankles with wings on them.

“i’m not…” you nodded, gulping. “i got lost and stumbled here. n-no other intention.” you added, sensing him that he expected another answer.

“no?” he questions, stepping forward again, closer to you, making you freeze on the spot. you breathed out shakily, gazing his eyes that hold a predatory look. he towered over you, intimidating you further.

“no…” you softly said, the atmosphere almost changing, not once did you leave his gaze. a fire in the man’s gaze fueling him elsewhere.

the god stared down at this surface dweller, he hummed, trusting your answer, yet still skeptical. you were not like the other surface dwellers that he encountered coming into the entrance of the cave. you looked innocent enough, a foreigner of the area, a tourist you are. he shifts his gaze to your eyes and to your lips that softly spoke those words of reassurance. he notices your hands tremble, the cold of the night he presumed was getting to you or the fear of him. he’ll let you go, he thinks, merciful enough. the disturbance of the water merely caught his attention, he swam to it, ensuring that his nation would not be discovered.

“who are you?” you asked, astonished now for a man who’s ears you noticed are pointed. the fear slowly washing away. namor was intrigued to say, a curious thing you are.

“i have many names.” he spoke quietly, accent sharpening his words, a wonderful one you deemed as you listened to him. “my people call me k’uk’ulkan.” he gauges your face, seeing it full of wonder.

“but my enemies call me namor.” he finishes darkly, a threat. a warning set in stone. many would have run from him by now but you intrigued him further.

“namor.” you tested the name on your lips. the god felt himself shift in his place, seeing as you turn from his gaze, something stirring inside him after you uttered his name so softly.

“and you are?” he now asks, formalities thrown as you met his gaze again.

“y/n.” you uttered your name as the chill of the night shivered you so. he also tests your name in his tongue, accent enveloping each syllable smoothly with a crisp ending.

“roaming around the outskirts of the village is dangerous, máak lu'um. what has brought you here?” he speaks further, a word so unfamiliar to you. not spanish or what, which fuels your desire to learn him now.

“just took a swim by the beach.” you answered with a shrug. “it’s beautiful out the atlantic ocean.” you added as he hums, nodding.

“you’re not from here as well, are you?” you suddenly ask. he doesn’t look like the locals in the area. his outfit is as different from modern clothing, which in his case is very minimal. he cocks his head to the side as you looked back to the underwater cave. he is taken aback at your forwardness but contemplates whether he should tell you but he only offers a simple answer to your curious mind.

“yes.”

“interesting.” you quipped, examining his peculiar jewelry then to his chest, which catches you off guard how well built he is. tan pecks glistening with water, a fluttery feeling in your stomach making you feel a little flustered for checking him out shamelessly.

“you live there, i presume?” you ask, pointing to the cave. he seems to still, eyebrows tensing as you notice how defensive he is. “not that you need to answer…” you offered weakly, a little scared now.

“mhm.” he grunts, stepping pass you, not answering the question, leaving off a cold aura. he needed you away from here as soon as possible, remembering his intentions from the first place when you disturbed the waters of the entrance.

“come, it is getting late. let me escort you out, ki'ichpanech.“ pretty girl. he offers his arm out, muscle bulging out. you seem to be too trusting as you complied with the strange man with wings on his feet. not knowing how dangerous he can be, a man that has lived for more than a century, a god to his people and a king of a nation sealed from the whole world beneath the depths of the sea.

he is the feathered-serpent god.

“thank you.” you took his arm, walking beside him, arm resting with his making your heart thump. he was warm for a man who just swam in a deep underwater cavern. he smelled like the ocean itself, which was not that unpleasant, you stare at him for a time as you two walked along the woods. leaves scrunching both of your feet.

namor, on his behalf, didn’t expect he’d be talking with a surface dweller for this long nor offering to escort you out the forest. he despised all things that came from the surface world, a land that he swore to himself to hate to the bones. yet now, you who peaked his interest made his usual thinking sputter.

innocent, curious, soft, kind…all things he doesn’t expect. the feel of your skin to his fueled his desire further as he tried to suppress it. noting the way his cock twitch when your fingers brushed against his hot skin.

“are you not cold? it’s so cold out here.” you shivered, unintentionally pressing against him for warmth.

“it is…tolerable, ki'ichpanech.” he amusingly says, watching as your other arm hugged your waist for warmth. your bikini covered breasts pushing up by your arm making him swallow a lump as he looks ahead. intriguing.

“what does that mean?” you ask, glaring at him with a pout.

“ki'ichpanech?” the ancient language rolls on his tongue flawlessly.

“yes.” you looked back to him seeing as the familiar sounds of faint chatter filled your ears. the village must be close.

“a compliment, le paalo’.” he simply explains. “one for you to find out for yourself.” he smirks, making you sigh beside him.

only silence fills the void between you two, an unspoken comfort that had the man beside you wonders how calm you are. being escorted by a man who you just met. he wonders how your pretty little mind works

“you said you have many names.” you started. “what do you prefer to be called?”

“it is up to you what you wish to call me.”

“k’uk’ulkan then?” you uttered, wishing you didn’t butcher the pronunciation. “you said your people call you by that.”

“je’el.” he agrees, which you take it as a yes. a silence transpired again, but it doesn’t take long before your own curiosity gets the best of you. asking him questions now out of the blue, all subjects leading how he swam inside of a underwater cave without any gear and the most asked about his ankles with wings.

namor seemed to tolerate your mind, offering vague answers and none about questions where he resided or came from. he offers you to teach the mayan words he answers along the way, resulting you to ask him if he always knew how to speak english fluently. in return, he asks you as well. you gladly tell him about vacationing alone in mexico, saying that you needed some time away from the work you had back home. and that you just wanted a moment of peace to yourself here by the beaches. exploring, learning about the locals and their culture respectfully.

but in all fashion, it had to end.

which broke your heart slightly when the sound of the locals grew louder. lights from their village enveloping your view as you two arrive in a secluded area wherein the familiar dirt road is.

“you are a strange woman with curious questions.” he begins as you step out of the bushes, facing him with a slight frown.

“says the man who has wings on his feet.” you quip back playfully. he smirks at that, eyes alert as he looks back to see the locals. your heart thumps, wishing for him to come with you. but in his eyes you knew it wasn’t possible even if he didn’t necessarily say it out loud. you just knew.

“speak of this to no one, ki’ichpanech.” he utters, you nodded at this. the situation weird enough for you to obey.

“will i see you again?” you ask gently, hope in your tone. namor feels something stir inside him as he licks his lips, stepping forward as he brings your hand up to his lips, kissing it softly. soft delicate skin. he thinks, a fire set alight to the both of you as his piercing gaze never faltered as your chest rose at the sudden electric feeling.

the hand kiss was a gesture of his growing affection towards you which he fears may not stop. you should be cowering away from him, a man who’s hands are stained with blood for hundreds of years. he shouldn’t even be talking with a surface dweller at all and you shouldn’t see him again, but…

“dejaremos ti' le destino decida.” he only offers those unfamiliar words to you with sincerity. you drew your hand back, not asking anything further as he steps back into the forest, eyes still looking into yours. a series of laughter interrupts the two of you as you look away from for a moment seeing the villagers laughing amongst themselves. you look back to the bushes, only to find that he’s gone.

huh.

you only stood quiet, the scent of sea salt lingering, his warmth you realized you missed. the night grew colder as you think to yourself with a cheeky thought in mind.

you’ll meet him again.

•••

and you did.

countless of times now after a couple of days had passed. the next morning of that faithful night lead you to go back to the same spot you met him, toying with the water, disturbing it when he was already behind you at that time. in which namor wouldn’t say he has been keeping an eye on you whenever you visited the beach again. you were thrilled, greeting him with your smile. he seemed a bit reluctant meeting you again, telling you that you should not be talking with him. you countered back, asking why then he appears before you when he could’ve ignored her. he smiles at that, offering you a chuckle for the first time. his smile catching you off-guard.

“you intrigue me so, ki'ichpanech.” he would say as you two walk along the shores, talking, asking more about him. he tells stories you never had heard of, legends and so.

“you like it.” you’d tease with a grin. he doesn’t affirm but he does agree in the inside.

your growing friendship with the god only grew larger when the days passed and each day he reminded you to never speak about this strange relation you had with him. you only had weeks left before going back home. a month vacation in yucatán was slowly nearing it’s end and you feared you may not get to see your mysterious friend ever again. you had to cherish the weeks left in counting.

and the subtle attraction you were feeling was growing larger.

he showed you the vast hidden wonders the beach hid as he took you for a swim. the corals, the tide pools, even in the deepest parts of the sea. it was so fascinating to you to see him swim so freely, like it was just a normal thing for him. you had already known that he is not human from the first time you met him. further, he only describes himself as a mutant, the story of his mother and how the first of his people came to be. the talokanil.

“my mother mourned to return to the land wherein she once lived.” he speaks, the waves crashing, you two sitting beside each other on the soft white sands of the shore. watching the sunset over the horizon, a beautiful sight to always see. intimate it felt.

“she was human you had said?”

“je’el. she made me a promise to bury her in the soil of her homeland.” you watch carefully how his eyes catch a glimpse of longing. “but nothing could prepare me for what i found.”

a chill ran down your spine seeing his expression drop into the most chilling hatred you could ever seen from a man. the slavery, those spanish men, the corruption of colonialism that had fallen amongst the surface world. wars broke out, diseases everywhere, more and more tragedies you guessed he would have witnessed for living for 500 years. you were somewhat touch to know how he’s opened up to this, to you.

“there’s nothing that would change how us humans would still be.” you began, sympathizing with him and knowing his hatred for the surface world. “humans are greedy. power is their desire, their lust. the world up here is fucked up.” you chuckled airily, staring off to the ocean.

“you seem to harbor the same resentment to your own world, ki'ichpanech.” he says as you shrugged at it.

“the world is too corrupted nowadays.” you rolled your eyes. “work is work, you work then you die. money is in my head always back home. so yeah, i do hate it up here.”

“you desire to be elsewhere? is it why you are here with me?” he grins as you scoffed at him even though it was true as the blush evident on your face was enough evidence. he has been shamelessly kinda flirting with you over the past days—

…you like him, a lot. it was no surprise you had catch feelings for the man. you learned he is kind and somewhat warm underneath the defensive and cold exterior he had put up when you two first met. he longed for his nation to be free from the terrors of waiting for anyone who’d try to discover them.

“you were a nice surprise to me.” you smiled gently. “but yes, it’s a nice escape here out from the city. even though i hate it here, it quite beautiful to live in.”

“in na'atik.” he hums, intrigued to say how one surface dweller could speak so ill about their own home. his resentment towards the surface world was still growing in him. humans are greedy like you had said, but you, out of all the surface dwellers that had tried to come near him or his nation, you merely just stood before him that night. astonished at him, wonders in your colored irises that held a compassionate understanding for him. he feels his chest swell and throat constrict. that same mushy and fluttery feeling that arose to heat his cheeks and the tip of his ears. overwhelming yet so addicting to feel.

what were you doing with him?

namor only watches you as you stare off to the ocean. he wants to picture this moment in his mind, a mural he now wants to paint for you. a story for you, your curious questions about him and your smile that was like the most beautiful pearls of talokan. he doesn’t want to admit it, nor shall he want to think about it now. dangerous it can be, he only hopes that this would last quicker for the sake of both of your hearts. and for his purposely knowing all would might end in tragedy if he is to act on this.

but he is wrong.

•••

another set of days had passed and tomorrow, that you dreaded, you’ll be going back home. it seemed like time had passed by faster than you expected. you stand alone again by the beach, this time a mesh white scarf wrapped around your arms as you take in the sea breeze again, savoring the moment. namor had wanted to see you again as usual, you knew he was either walking along the shore or might emerge from the sea, waiting for you.

but now he was walking towards you, expecting your bright greeting yet he only found you staring at the horizon again.

“ki'ichpanech?” he starts, softly calling for you. the waves crashes again as your sundress swayed with wind. you met his gaze, snapping out of your thoughts as you composed yourself before the god.

“k’uk’ulkan.” you face him, a little surprised but you smiled at him still. namor watches your serene smile do not go up your eyes. he knows already, you could tell. he always could tell how you were feeling.

“ba'ax úuch?” he asks, enough for you to understand as he stands in-front of you, softening his gaze as you glanced back to the sea, sighing deeply.

“i’m leaving tomorrow.” you finally said, seeing as his expression still as those words he dreaded as well came from your mouth. it’s too soon, he had plans to—

“tomorrow?”

“in the morning.” you confirmed, your heart breaking seeing his stoic expression falter. “to be honest, i don’t want to go.”

“then don’t.” he says, every patience in his body wearing just for him to spew out anything for you to not leave. all his walls he build up for the first time for you already was gone, he accepted it that he wanted you by his side even if you don’t know fully of his true feelings. he had to at least say something before this could all end.

“i can’t.” you shakily said, an overwhelming feeling overcoming you. you didn’t want to leave this place, you didn’t want to leave him yet. “besides, whether i like it or not, i’ll be forced back home.”

you gripped the chiffon scarf, knuckles baring white as namor didn’t know what else to say. every signal in his mind told him many ways he could make you stay but he knows either way you’d be gone. and that this whole relationship you have with him is going to end even if it just had started.

“come with me.” he finally lets it out as he grabs your hand to his. “i wanted to show you something.”

“you have a gift for me?” you teased as his fingers interlocked with yours. he merely chuckles making your heart thump, alongside the feel of his calloused warm hand fits perfectly to yours. you know there’s this silent crave, a want between you two. you never acted this strange tension with him. you always thought he only tolerates you at how adamant you are seeing him, but now… you’re not sure.

“jach asab u jump'éel siibal.” he says, guiding you back to the forest, the familiar path to the underwater cave. “i want you to see a glimpse of my home.”

“k’uk’ulkan.” you scolded, brows knitting as you followed him, letting him guide you. “you had said that your nation is something to be kept away from the surface world. i am apart of that.”

“it is not necessarily talokan yet, ki'ichpanech.” he counters as you two step to see the familiar structure. he ushers you to stand by him in the pool of water but you stop,.

“i don’t want to risk this.” you argued, seeing as he contemplated at that. he was holding back something he’s been harboring, you sighed as you step back, hand letting go of his as he stands in the water. a feeling of deja vu erupted inside you. he looked absolutely the same the night you met him. just that his defensive posture were now soft and relaxed as he gently smiles at you.

“one last night, ki’ichpanech.” namor held his hand out again. “and we will forget all of this in the morning and continue on with our separate lives.”

“but that’s not all, is it?”

namor tenses, he doesn’t really know if a tinge of fear had finally come to him. you can see pass through him, every knit of his brow or clench on his jaw. and he can see you hesitate— you want this, he can tell. every grip of your mesh scarf, the furrow of your brows, the sadness and eagerness in your eyes. you awaited for an answer as he nods.

“come with me.” he steps closer, water splashing, moonlight dawning over you two. “you had said you hated to go back to your home then stay. stay with me.”

he gently brought your hand to his chest as he stared into your eyes. like a trance he is how serene you are underneath the moonlight. your face softening with realization that he’s asking you to live with him. to stay by him forever. you could feel the thump of his heart underneath his skin, he intimately pressed his forehead against yours, never leaving your sight. you didn’t know what to say but just let him continue.

“this does not happen so often. and i fear it will never stop. ka ma' in k'áat ka u detenga.” he whispers, lips brushing against yours, he is holding himself back not to rapture you here and now. sparks flew when you felt it, his other hand situated on your hip. a raw sensation you had now felt for him.

“what about my own life here?”

“i am not so cruel to not give you a choice, ki’ichpanech. but yes, i cannot risk you going back home for my nation if you were to choose to come with me.” you nodded at his words, understanding him. and now you gambled with the possibilities as namor waited patiently for your answer. your mind gambled with the possibilities, you’d leave everything behind.

“and if i chose to leave now?”

“then we will part ways and forget all of this.” he offers a small smile, concealing the pang in his chest.

“why me?” you quietly asked, the words he offered sinking in your mind.

“is it not obvious?” his nose brushed against the tip of yours, heat in his tone. “in ts'íiboltikech.”

a shuddery breath exhales through your lips. his warmth and his closeness should have been the answers but you could not imagine for a god— someone who’s deemed as a god to be wanting you. namor’s patience was wearing thin, if you chose to leave, he’ll gladly accept that, but he somehow hopes for the other one. your eyes shined, his heart thumped as your lips opened—

“in ts'íiboltikech.” you repeated his words as his irises darken, a grin forming as he gladly pulled you closer to him, the cool water splashing around the two of you. the cicadas quieting down, two hearts beating as one.

“ma'alob.” he whispers darkly, sending a shiver down your spine. those words of confirmation had him surging to capture your lips to his. he waited long enough, every night, every morning he thought of you. you were a plague in his mind, corrupting him to think of the most sinful things and the ones he yearned in his own thoughts.

and your lips were sweet, sweeter than the fruits he ever tasted in his life, and he wonders in the back of his mind if your cunt would taste sweeter. making his cock twitch at the thought.

you let out a tiny gasp, wrapping your arms around his neck, the chiffon scarf dropping to the ground. the built up tension between the two of you finally at it’s peak, sizzling down as he moved his lips slowly on yours. slow and passionate, wanting to savor it. your cheeks bloomed with heat when you felt the outline of his prick press against your stomach, hard and hot. catching you by surprised at how particularly needy he felt. but you were as well, absently rubbing your thighs against each other.

he pulls away, breathless making let out a tiny whine. “ko'ox.” he smirks, guiding you deeper in the water, your sundress getting wet but you didn’t care about that. only focused on the man who gently puts something on your face. you look at him questionably, he was holding up a mask of something.

“the dive is deep.” he explains, as he locks the mask in, ushering you gently with adoration in his eyes as you inhaled deeply, following his command.

“breathe, in yakunaj.”

•••

“amazing.” you uttered, staring up to the ceiling of the cave. glowworms were hanging by the stalactites. it emitted this soft blue hue while the sound of the waters of the cave joined in the beautiful scenery. your heart bloomed, you could almost forget about your own home by now. but a tinge of hesitance caused you to overthink this. was it right to leave everything behind? you questioned yourself, standing by the edge, close to the water.

how quick you are to throw everything away.

you bit your bottom lip, nervous you are, wondering if anyone back at the place you called home would question where you are in the following days— months even. you sighed to yourself, pushing it all away in the very back of your mind. you’d worry about that in a more appropriate time. but now here you are, feeling flushed remembering his lips, all thoughts away but just him.

“jats'uts.” his voice echoed, you jumped a bit in surprise as you turned to face him. the beads on your dress rattled, your cheeks glowed as namor went beside you. his eyes draped along your body, the traditional dress he provided for you after your sundress had been absolutely damped was an exquisite sight before him.

“beautiful.” he translated, dark eyes meeting yours. he steps closer, seeing your small shy smile. “the dress suits you so.” he grins.

“thank you for this.” you gestured to the beautiful dress, letting yourself be drawn in his beady orbs as you neared him, letting his hand slip to yours again.

“has this place always been your sanctuary?” you quietly asked as you two walked towards the hut he showed you a while ago that was filled with his murals. you were amazed to see how he had depicted his and his people lives on the wall by the stroke of his brush. the story of how the first talokanil came to be and so fort.

“yes. a place where i can be in solitude.” he nods and leads you inside, never leaving your side.

“and from here, talokan is just down below?” you looked around the room, stopping to admire the big mural on the wall.

“deep below, ki'ichpanech.” he responds, standing beside you, holding something in his hand. your eyes caught the glimpse of a beautiful ornament.

“this is beautiful.” you blurt out, looking to him for approval to touch it as he merely smiled.

“it was my mother’s.” he explains as you touched the beads gently, admiring how pretty it is.

“you said it was made for her before she turned talokanil?” namor nodded, liking the way you remembered his stories.

“as my first gift, i want you to have this.” he grasps your wrists making your heart burst. “a token for my affection.”

“you’ve given me enough. i feel like i should give you something in return.” you pouted as he ties the bracelet on your wrist, ignoring your furrowed look as he kisses you softly before you could protest more. you hummed between his lips, shutting up quickly as you eagerly reciprocated.

“it is not enough.” he says, squeezing the side of your waist. “you’ve already given something in return, in yakunaj. your presence here in my home is enough.”

“but—“

his lips descended down to kiss your jaw, peppering down to your neck. inhaling your scent as he nips at your neck. pressing you harder against him, bulge brushing again on your stomach as you craned your neck to feel him sigh blissfully before he sucked and nipped, intent to make you feel mushy in his arms.

“k’uk’ulkan.” you whined as he chuckles.

“your body reacts so eagerly.” he whispers. “have you been waiting for me to touch you like this, ki’ichpanech?” you couldn’t respond but nod lightly, the warmth of his overwhelming. your lips are sealed from embarrassment how right he is. the scruff of his beard tickles you so as he bites a bit harder making you grip his shawl. the only item of clothing you noticed he wore after countless times you had seen him in those green shorts.

“t'aan.” he commands, hands descending down to grasp your ass harshly. you squealed as he hoists you up, legs automatically wrapping around his waist. hands on his broad shoulders as he guides both of you to the bed in his hut. your back hitting the bed, him towering over you. you could see the feral look in his eyes as you can’t help but obey him.

“je’el.” you whimpered as he slants his mouth to yours again, eating you up. he can’t help but smile at how his language rolls off your lips, his mayan lessons paying off to you. your soft hands cupped his cheek, fueling the desire. his hand descends down to caress your thigh, rubbing gently before your dress pools to your stomach, lower half exposed to the cold air. namor could feel the heat he yearned as his fingertips gently brushed against your exposed cunt. you bare underneath the dress he provided, his aching cock wishing to come out.

“táan jach mojado, wáaj tuláakal ti' teen?” namor pressed his fingertip gently on your aching nub. you gasped, back arching, eyes slightly widening how the two of you are now doing this—

“please.” you begged as he only applied pressure, no rubbing or whatsoever, he seemed so smug as he had you this desperate. he shifts from his place, shrugging off his royal shawl, dropping it to the floor as he removes anything that might get into his way as he opens your legs, looking up for your consent as your eyes meet his.

“please.” you affirm again as he gingerly kisses the top of your knee.

he doesn’t know what fucking ambrosia fills his scent but the sight of your bare glistening cunt makes his whole body react accordingly. he descends down, kissing your knee before resting comfortably to kiss your inner thigh, the scent of your arousal tingling him.

“perfect.” he groans, can’t help but kiss your aching clit. licking his lips as your hands laced through his dark locks as he laps away like a starved man. you moan out, his tongue working wonders. you could not believe how eager he is to eat your cunt up like it’s his last meal. every flick, lick, kiss and suck, all over again and again making your thighs clamp hard around his head.

you fear you might suffocate him with your own cunt but you remembered the man literally breathes in water. namor could do this all day, he thinks, growling at how fucking tart your nectar is— how fucking dripping it is for him— only him.

namor melts between your thighs, in dazed and drunk. the sound of your muffled moans as the plush heat of your thighs at either sides of his face had him groaning. he sucks harsher, feeling your hips stutter as he puts his arm on top of your stomach to hold you in place. never stopping his feast, the more he licked and lapped, the more you begged with his name. his other hand could not help but slide down to his, gripping his clothed bulge, a shiver ran down his spine at the pressure that he could not take anymore.

“k’uk’ulkan…” you repeated, feeling your stomach coil in the pressure of his sinful mouth and tongue. he hums, pulling back, sitting up as his lips glistened with your arousal, fueling your desire as you whined. he palms himself, still staring down at you as you stared at the prize just under his hand. you carefully sat up, all thoughts seemingly trashed in your fucked-out mind. namor’s chest rose as he breathes in how angelic you are crawling towards him, your face dazed out and mouth glistening with your own saliva, hungry.

“what do you want, my love?” he asks as he grins making you momentarily look up to meet his eyes. you didn’t say anything as you pressed your lips to his bare stomach, making him shudder as his abs flexed the moment your soft lips touched his heated skin, the grip on his clothed cock tightened as you trailed down to meet his happy trail.

vixen. he surpasses the urge to call you that out loud, not when your hand is now shoving his hand away from his cock. he lets you do whatever you want with him, anticipation in his blood as your fingers curled in the hem of his shorts. ready for you to pull it down but you stopped for a moment as you stared up to him again, a plead in your gaze.

“can i?” you ask quietly.

something inside him breaks hearing your soft voice ask for his permission. he lets out a breath, hand coming up to caress your cheek as you nuzzled against his palm, waiting for his answer.

“je’el.” he nods, his words coming out in a slight tremble. he could feel himself succumb to the thought of you doing anything with him— everything in fact. you grin suddenly, breaking the eye contact as you pulled his shorts down completely, him helping you get it off as you tossed it to the ground.

namor groaned as his cock bounced up slightly, the cool air making him bite his lower lip as you gawked at it. you were speechless, taken aback, not expecting that it would be— that girthy in size. you gulped, remembering the countless times you would glance at his bulge whenever you two were either swimming in the sea or walking along the shore, it was something you couldn’t help but feel dirty for imagining what he truly looks like down their.

but now you’ve seen everything.

“you can take it, no?” he suddenly quips making you grumble in determination as you lulled yourself back from staring at his shaft. you wrapped your hand around his base making the said man shut up as he sighs out.

“i can.” you mumbled, totally not intimidated by his fucking length and girth overall. you pumped him slowly, right amount of pressure seeing the tip leak out a bit. wondering how you are making a said ‘god’ now weak on his knees, hearing little huffs come from his mouth but still looking so composed. you admired how reserved he looks as you dart your tongue out to lick the fat head.

“mierda—“ he grumbles, a hand gripping the back of your head as the other fumbled with your breast and whatever skin he can reach as he stays still watching you finally engulf him slowly. your mouth stretched accommodating his size as you hummed, liking the way he taste and maybe a tiny bit saltier— you were not complaining though.

“look at you.” he speaks with adoration, admiring the way you started to suck him off, letting him in deeper inside of your hot cavern inch by inch you can take. the way you are on your knees for him, glancing at him from time to time as you meet his hungry eyes. he resists the urge to fuck your mouth, savoring how determined you are to make him feel the same pleasure as he did on you. you were serious to making him feel good, bobbing your head up and down as your other hand gripped his base, pumping him where your mouth can’t reach. your eyes watered as the tip hit the back of your throat, making you gag a bit as you pulled him out, panting.

the string of saliva appeared as you licked your lips, kissing the tip again as you gently put him in your mouth again. namor hissed feeling the coil in his stomach almost snap. you continued on with your pace, liking the way you could hear his labored breaths and little groans, making you smile a bit as the salty taste of him had you addicted.

this is torture. namor thinks as he lets you suck him off for a bit before abruptly pulling himself out of your mouth, making you whine. he chuckles seeing your expression before he captured your lips again, tasting himself as he pushed you to lay back on the bed. you reciprocated with eagerness as you opened your legs for him to slant himself there, cock grazing your cunt making you let out a low moan in his mouth. namor swallows those pretty sounds of yours before pulling away as he pressed his forehead against yours. a knowing look in his eyes as you waited for him to speak first.

“can i?” he finally asks, grinding himself on your cunt. you whimpered, looking down to see how desperate he is before looking back to his eyes.

“please.” you muttered, cupping his cheeks as shuffles in his place. his hand reaching down to grasp himself, positioning his head to rub against your entrance as you cursed at the wet feeling.

“k’uk’ulkan…” you mewled, anticipating he’d ram himself inside of you this instant but he’s patient as ever as he rubs the fat bulb of his head on your clit, gathering enough slick before finally pushing in slowly. making your back arch at the intrusion as your hands fly down to grasp his broad shoulders.

“is it too much?” he suddenly asks, concerned, watching you carefully. you smiled at his concerns as you kissed the tip of his nose.

“it’s perfect.” you whispered, clenching around him to signal him to get on with it. namor growls as he does what you want, bottoming out in you as deep as he can go. he stills for the moment, you two immersed at the feeling of each other. a sort of fuzzy feeling of something special how connected you two are. gentle caresses and kisses of encouragement exchanged between the two of you as he finally gives an experimental thrust.

“perfecto.” he sighs, kissing you again as you grinned. namor grinds into you slowly at first, feeling the way your walls clench around him as he hits a spot. he leaves kisses on your face, marks on your neck, whispers of undying loving words how you make him feel so good. you merely moan out his name as he starts to pick up a good pace that has you desperate on him.

“jach jats'uts yáanal tin.” he pants, hand caressing you everywhere as he stares at your blissed out face. each hard snap of his hips making your body bounce at the intensity. the lewd wet slapping adding in as heat and sweat enveloped you two. you whimpered at how his cock was hitting that spot making your hips wiggle and back arch. it felt so sticky yet so good at how he’s so passionate about this.

absolutely perfect. your mind screams as you wrap your arms around his torso, grasping his back as he fucks you with vigor. your whines like a sirens song to his ears, he rests his lips on your forehead as he pounds into you. feeling himself on the verge as you clenched around him tightly as ever, a signal to him that you were also cumming. namor kisses every inch of your face before swallowing up your moans you were about to cum. your heart pounded in synch with his as he desperately fucked into you. you gasped loudly, gripping his skin, nails digging, body convulsing with pleasure as his thrusts became sloppier, pounding in through your orgasm.

“ki’ichpanech…” namor practically breaths out your name next, eyes shutting for a moment as he feels him release. one, two, three powerful thrusts sends him home as he almost rips the beddings apart above your head. blood rushes to your ears as the intensity stops. he slumps a bit, laying his weight on your body but not too much, fearing you’d be crushed. both your breaths only to be heard as it fills the silence of the room.

everything slows down the moment when his eyes flutter open to meet yours. the exact same eyes he had first met in the moonlight. your heart soars to see him soften as you kissed him gently, soft and pillowy it felt, something slow after that. your hand instinctively brushes the stray hair from his forehead, sweat beading there. he plants more kisses again on your face as you giggled, only gasping as he removes himself abruptly. there are so many things you wanted to say to him in those moment but all are left unsaid when he laces your hands together. a glint in his eyes, all you adore.

“stay with me, ki’ichpanech.” he says, as if you would leave him. you can’t help but nod quickly as ever like you did when he asked you to go with him here. you knew what you were in for and you were sure for it, knowing your heart won’t stop beating so loudly when he smiles now as you mutter a verbal confirmation out, concealing it. the glimpse of his mother’s bracelet on your wrist a wonderful glimpse of a future.

“i will.”

I FINISHED IT FINALLY AND HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE !! THANK U FOR THE PATIENCE. im back to writing finally. <3

#namor x reader #namor #k’uk’ulkan #k’uk’ulkan x reader #namor x female reader #namor smut #tenoch huerta #bpwf spoilers #namor imagine #black panther: wakanda forever #fnhrlcllnwrites

2K notes · View notes

franeridart · 7 years

Note

Okay, so I just found your ushitensemi doodle and fell in love with it. Like I never thought of them being a poly ship ; u ; If you have spare time can I ask for a doodle of them and some headcanons

Ahhhh I don’t have much headcanons about them aside from the fact that they’re possibly the softest, warmest, fluffiest ship I have in haikyuu?? But I can give you a doodle with no problems! It’s always such a pleasure drawing my shiratori kids~

#ushitensemi #my sketches #haikyuu!!#im sorry this is the best i can give you but this is gonna be a busy week for me #i'm planning the various weeks i mean to be part of next month GAH so much work #but yeah the thing about this ship IS #that i fell in it starting from ushiten and ushiten is ??? such a soft ship???? so much fluff???#patience and understanding and support and all of that #i swear you go through the art and fics for that ship and you feel like a better person #then i realized that i really shipped tensemi too #and they're nearly just as fluff and soft???#so when you put them all together it's like #quiet summer afternoons with a light breeze and a lot of peace #the beach at dawn with only the sound of waves and the scent of saltiness #it's about smiles and calm and hand holding and hugs and support #soft emotions with little to no exaggerate highs #compromising for everyone's sake and feeling good and happy because of it #it's just SO GOOD #rip my soul i love them #anonymous #btw i might have made eita shorter than he actually is?? i didn't mean to but look at that small bean #adorable #he can stay

784 notes · View notes

avintagekiss24 · 3 years

Text

—belated; bucky barnes

pairing: mob!bucky barnes x black!reader

word count: 4738

warnings: 18+ ONLY, smut, sex, rough sex, anal sex, biting kink, choking kink, spanking, pain kink, vaginal fingering, mean bucky (my fave), ring kink cuz i love it when boys wear rings

squares filled: @buckybarnesbingo Y3: Birthdays ; @badthingshappenbingo Biting ; @star-spangled-bingo N1: Taking Charge

request: bucky barnes + "pay attention to me or i'll make you" + anal + choking + spanking + biting + pain

author note: it's been foreverrrrr! i'm so sorry! i had to work myself through a little slump! hopefully this makes up for the almost two months we've gone without a fic! this is story #2 for my 5k celebration, all fics will be tagged #5k...holy god. this was formatted in the beta text post editor on desktop, if anything looks weird, that's why :)

gif by @pedropcl ; line divider by @firefly-graphics

James Buchanan Barnes is possessive.

One of those massive hands around the back of your neck as you walk casually through the streets. Fingers wrapped around your wrist, or shoulder, or hip in a tight grip. He pulls you in close— right into his side as shopping bags hang from the tips of his metal fingers.

Bucky Barnes wants every man on the streets of Greece to know that you are his.

Not that you mind; quite the contrary. You just smile and giggle when he throws his heavy arm around your shoulders and hooks the crease of his arm right underneath your chin. Slip your hand into the back pocket of his loose dark jeans (giving that little tush of his a squeeze). Slink your arm around his little waist and breathe in his scent— heavy and woodsy— as the two of you stroll.

After all, he’s just as much yours as you are his.

All of his friends, Sam, Steve, Clint, all see the change in him. The little soft spot for you that blinds him entirely— turns him in a mushy puddle of emotions and puppies and rainbows. Very different from the Bucky they grew up with, but a Bucky that the three of them have come to enjoy. It’s a change of pace from the enforcer they know.

The two of you don’t talk about his work— in fact, it’s the reason why you’re in Greece to begin with. A late birthday present to make up for the fact that his “work” just happened to be the waiter at the restaurant he chose to take you to for your thirty second birthday. Come on babe, he chuckled as you scowled back at him over the rim of your wine glass, watching as he stained his white napkin red with his bloody knuckles, you know what they say, kill two birds with one stone… not funny?

Two weeks, two nonrefundable, open ended tickets, and five grand in bikinis, shorts, and shoes later, you’re getting some much needed Greek sun on your deep brown skin.

He’s even letting you call the shots for a change. Letting you wake him up at the ass crack of dawn to have breakfast— a spread of breads, cheeses and fruits on the balcony of your room as the sun rises. He doesn’t say a word as you drag him through the city, stopping at each little boutique and shoe store. Sits patiently as you try on every dress, every skirt, and every silk top in the entire country it seems.

Bucky even bit his lip as you gazed at engagement rings— hinting that princess cut is your favorite as you held your hand up into the natural sunlight as one adored your finger. Smiling over at him and wiggling your eyebrows all the while as he narrowed his eyes and plastered a fake smile on his face.

Today has been like all the others, a lazy day spent on the beach, a quick nap underneath an umbrella, a concoction of too much sun and too many margaritas going straight to your head. Now, you’re kinda sleepy and kinda drunk, but most importantly hungry— and Mykonos sounds like a great place for dinner. Despite Bucky’s objections (you’re too tired and too drunk to handle a ferry), you’re dressed in a cute little flowery sundress, him in an out-of-character white tank top, open pale blue and green striped button down and khaki chinos— you forbade him from bringing anything black— and you’re flip flops are slapping against the cobblestone street towards the ferry.

“Drop your attitude,” You say, glancing over your shoulder as he pays for your tickets, “You owe me.”

“Yeah, yeah, that excuse is wearing thin, girl.” You stumble a little with the motion of the ferry as you step onto it, having to grab onto the railing to steady yourself before Bucky grabs hold of your wrist, “Water only for the rest of the night.”

His voice is low and borderline threatening as he presses his lips right against your ear, and you know not to press him any further. You like to stick your toes right up against his line and that’s what irritates him most about you (always what he loves most), but you and he both know you’d never dare cross it.

Bucky pulls you behind him, hand around your wrist, that possessive trait rearing its head as male eyes fall on you as the two of you pass by. He finds an empty spot, away from the crowd, and plops down on the bench as you step up on the lower rung of the railing and stare out over the sea.

Within twenty or thirty minutes, the ferry pulls away from the dock and you can’t wipe the smile from your face. The sun sets off in the distance, the bright lights of the city turning into little pinpoints. Small droplets of the cool, salty water splashes up in your face as the wind and the ferry whips it up. You keep glancing down at the phone in your hand as you broadcast your current view to your instagram, laughing softly as hearts and emojis explode on your screen.

You lean forward, tilting your phone and smiling wide, waving into the camera before you shout out how much you love it here. The words are barely out of your mouth before an arm wraps around your middle, a wide, hard chest pressed into your back, “That’s enough,” he reaches with his metal arm, grabbing your phone, ending your live feed, “You’re too drunk to be hanging off the side like that.”

“I am not,” you struggle against him lightly as he sets you on your feet, “What is your problem?”

“I’m annoyed.”

“Well, duh. Why?”

He slips your phone into his pocket and crosses his arms over his chest, sharp blue eyes piercing into yours, “Pay attention to me,” he says low, eyes dropping down your body real slow as he drags his bottom lip between his teeth, “Or I’ll make you.”

So that’s what it’s about. Bucky Barnes feels neglected between all the shopping and beach days and margaritas. Jealousy is cute on him.

The words though, they strike you right to your core— feel them down to your bones. A hard swallow pushes through your throat as your lips part, big brown eyes softening as your breath starts to rush a little harder. You hate to admit— not really— you love this Bucky. This is work Bucky, a man you rarely get to see. Slightly scary, anger brimming just below the surface. Jaw tight, eyes hard, head tilted just a bit. He’s menacing, and it makes your lips twitch into a small smile.

Shrugging defiantly, you cross your arms over your chest, “You didn’t pay much attention to me on my birthday.”

“Not true.”

“Not true?” you nearly shout, eyes going wide, “I ate alone while you beat the hell outta our waiter behind the building! I had to wait two hours for my slice of cake!”

“How is that my fault?”

You scoff, “Oh, I dunno, maybe because our waiter was spitting out his teeth in the alley out back— all thanks to you.”

“I have to work. You know that.”

“Not,” you hiss, “On my fucking birthday.”

He knows he’s wrong for that shit, so he stands there, huffing quick before he cocks his head again and just blinks back at you— unamused. He won’t apologize, it’s just not in his nature, but his usual attempts to make you happy after he’s fucked up aren’t working; so he’s at a loss.

And you’re enjoying that. A little too much if you ask him.

But alas, it’s not fun to fight on vacation, and you have taken far too many liberties when it comes to his tolerance for attitude. It’s been fun— and you’re just drunk enough to push him one last time.

You move slow, walking right up to him, so close that each inhale pushes your tits into his body. The smirk quirked up on your lips grows as you peer up at him, eyes bouncing between his as you place your hands on his forearms still crossed over his chest.

Bucky lifts his eyebrow as you push up on your tiptoes and push your chin forward to bring your lips close to his, “And just how are you gonna make me pay attention to you, James?”

He inhales deep, pushes it out real slow as he tilts his head even further. A smile spreads on his face and you just know that this is the last thing his work sees before he rearranges the bones of their face. This is exactly why his clients pay him as well as they do.

Thick fingers are wrapped around your wrist again, nails digging into your skin as he starts to pull you behind him. He weaves you through bodies, you nearly having to jog to keep up with his strides. Laughter bubbles up in your chest, a little shriek escaping as he pulls you down some stairs to the lower level of the ferry. Once your feet hit the last step, Bucky whips you around his body, sending you spinning and laughing until you bounce into an old, rusty metal barrel.

The smell of salt fills your nose and lungs as you inhale, covering your face with your hands. Your skin is hot, lips slightly numb as you dissolve into laughter again. He’s right, you’re a little too drunk for this.

“I don’t think we’re supposed to be down here.” You mumble, brushing your wild hair out of your face.

“I could give a fuck,” he answers, stepping up to you, grabbing your face in his hands, “You’ve been testing me the entire time we’ve been here all over some stupid shit.”

Another giggle pushes through your lips as you bat your eyes, “I wouldn’t dare, Mr. Barnes.”

Bucky sucks his teeth as he drops his metal hand around your throat and squeezes gently, the rings on his fingers cool against your skin, “I was stupid, okay? But don’t put on that little innocent act, girl. You’re trying me, and I’ve had enough.”

A smile cracks onto your face, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. You wrap both hands around his one wrist and slip them up his arm, feeling the soft metal as you continue to goad him, “You got some proof, big man?”

The tip of his black and gold thumb prods at your lip, pushes just inside. You wrap your tongue around it and suck gently, keeping your eyes on his all the while.

Bucky laughs, deep and earnestly, “Proof, she says. She needs proof.” He glances around before he spins you quick, facing you away from him as he lifts your dress to reveal your pink satin thong.

You squeal loud, pushing and slapping at his hand as he grabs a handful of your ass, “Bucky! There’s people!” you laugh, “Oh my god!”

“Keep your voice down,” he warns, wrapping his metal fingers around your throat again, “Understand?”

A jolt of electricity flashes through you as you wiggle in his grasp. He tightens his grip around your neck as you wrap your fingers around the edge of the barrel, swallowing hard.

“That requires an answer, honey.”

The chill in his voice, added with the slow circles and soft tickles of fingertips against the back of your naked thigh sends a pang through your belly, “I understand.”

He chuckles soft and with a quick peck on the cheek whispers, “Good girl.”

Bucky curls his left arm around your chest, hooking your chin in the crease of his arm as he grips your right shoulder. You grab on to it with both hands, out of instinct, eyes wide and skirting around for any signs of other human presence down here. Bucky turns, moving you with him to eye the steps quickly again before that flesh hand sweeps around to the front.

The soft material of your dress falls over his hand as he rubs your stomach— his rings catching and snagging your skin. That hand pushes downward, over your thighs, gripping and kneading the soft flesh before he grabs the hem of your dress and pulls it upward, exposing those expensive panties again.

“Bucky,” you hum, his name trembling on your lips with the vibrations of your excitement, “Baby.”

He rucks your dress right up— right up around your waist and pulls the slack behind you, pressing his body into yours to keep it in place. The dark stubble adorning his cheeks and chin cuts into the side of your face as he nuzzles in, humming to himself soft before he kisses the corner of your mouth.

Those fingertips start to trace the hem of your thong— slowly. Back and forth, back and forth. From hip to hip. Your eyes flutter. Fingers grip the soft black metal of his arm a little harder. Legs go to jelly as another hard swallow passes through your throat.

“Ain’t got all that mouth now, do you?” He whispers, fingers slipping just inside the silk of your panties to tease the delicate skin underneath.

When he slips his hand in— all the way in— cupping hot skin, fingers dancing between folds and teasing a wet slit, an influx of air fills your lungs. A gasp, small and clipped sounds in the back of your throat as his fingers start a rhythm. You melt into him, head resting on his shoulder as your hips push forward to meet greedy fingers.

A naughty finger pushes in quick, and then a second— all the way to the black and silver rings dressed on them. His arm tightens around your neck as he presses his lips right against your ear, “You need to apologize.”

He fucks his fingers into you, withdrawing slow, and then pushing back in— each time the edges of his rings stopping him from going deeper. You can’t help but purr as you continue to grip his arm with both of your hands.

“I don’t think—“

“All I want to hear,” his words clip yours, each one slow and drawn and deep, “Is I’m sorry for testing your patience. I won’t do it again.” He curls his fingers, the pads stroking that sweet little spongey spot, making you clamp your legs closed around his hand, “Let me hear you.”

You can’t. You won’t. Too stubborn and too drunk to give in to him, wanting to win just this once.

If there’s one thing James Buchanan Barnes does not like, it’s hesitation. It’s dangerous, he always says. You think too long, you get hurt. Predators don’t hesitate.

Well, you like being his prey.

Only a few seconds pass before Bucky tuts in your ear, seemingly disappointed in your obstinate behavior, but you both know it’s just the opposite. His cock pressing into your ass tells you so.

The fingers disappear. The arm choking you just right pulls away and your dress falls back around the middle of your thighs. You huff, wiping quick at your forehead and pushing your wild, curly hair out of your face again.

Your hands find your hips in irritation but he slaps them away quick as he sucks his teeth, “You must really want this spanking, girl. Keep it up.”

That you do— keep it up. Huffing again. Crossing your arms over your chest like a petulant child. Brown eyes cut back at him over your shoulder to find sharp blues already on you. A smirk on his face.

Metal fingers curl around the back of your neck, pushing you forward gently until your thighs press against the old metal barrel again.

“Lean forward, kitten.”

Voice as smooth as silk while you do so, gripping the rusted edges for balance. Your dress is yanked up again— rough this time— and twisted around his Vibranium hand. Then there’s warm, the warmth of skin against yours. Gentle brushes of fingers and a palm rubbing slow circles, then pinching and grabbing soft— prepping your skin for what’s to come.

He pauses for just a second, no doubt to scan your surroundings and then pulls his hand away. You lung forward with the slap he levels to your behind within a fraction of a second— the sound sharp and heavy.

There’s another, and then a third in quick succession before he’s massaging your skin again. Real soft and sweet. Tears burn at the back of your eyes at the sting that radiates through, all the way to your bones but the molten heat deep in your belly spreads like a fire. Each breath is hard and shaky, heart thumping against your chest but it’s so good.

Bucky switches to the other cheek, skilled fingers sweeping over your canvas of skin before he cracks you— one, two, three.

You squeal with each one. The thud of those heavy rings around his fingers send a quick, new shockwave every time, building on the one before it. The tips of your fingers go red from holding on to the rusty old barrel as tight as you are, but your brain? She’s fuzzy and warm, and drifting up into the clouds with each swift slap.

Bucky is a methodical man. Three for the right cheek, three for the left, three right in the middle. His hand sneaks around your hip, giving it a squeeze before it comes back around and drops to the inside of your thigh. Grabs the meat of it— digs his fingernails in just to hear you yelp. Cups your cunt in his palm, feeling the heat and the wet— makes him groan all low and dirty.

He bunches your hair in his hand, tugs you up by it. Spins you around to face him before hoisting you up and settling you on top of the barrel.

“You want me to fuck you so bad, don’t you?” He growls, ripping at the button and zipper of his jeans.

You just hum in response, wrapping your legs around his waist and throwing your arms over his shoulders.

Bucky grabs your chin, forcing it up before he squeezes your cheeks, “Huh? Answer me.”

Damp eyelashes flutter as hot air escapes from parted, hot lips. He leans in real close, cock pushing right at your slit and kisses you hard as he slips his arm around your waist. He breaks away quick, sloppy and loud before pecking your lips once, twice, three times again.

“You want me to fuck you, girl?”

The weight of his words are felt right down to your core, a shiver passing between the two of you. You let your heavy head fall back and your eyes close as Bucky nuzzles into the side of your face, his pretty white teeth skipping along your neck, nipping and nibbling.

“I want you to fuck me,” you whisper after mere seconds, finally submitting in this cat and mouse game, “Bucky, please.”

That’s all he needs— all he wants. For you to submit, after letting you have the reins for one day too long. He sinks into you slow, spreading you open with each inch, biting down into the side of your neck as he bottoms out. His teeth dig in a little deeper, a little harder as he starts to move, rocking back and forth almost succinct with the waves of the water.

You’re moving with him too, meeting each of his thrusts with your hips. You keep your legs tight around his waist, feet dangling and bouncing against the back of his thighs. A trail of hot kisses are pressed along your neck and down your shoulder before traipsing back up— teeth grazing along your jaw.

Long fingers skip up your side and between your bouncing tits to only wrap around your neck again. They squeeze, gently, as his pace starts to pick up, hips shoving harder and faster— that old barrel starting to scrape against the wood floor.

The force makes you louder, moaning with abandon as if the two of you are all alone on this little ferry. Bucky makes quick work of you, shoving metal fingers into your mouth— giving you something to suck on to keep you quiet.

“That’s a good girl.” he growls, voice gritty and low.

He’s punishing after that. Each snap of his hips thrusting you backward, the barrel you’re on top of tipping back and then slapping down on the floor. You yelp with each one, your mouth going slack around his digits as your hands fall to the edges of the barrel for some semblance of balance.

It’s obscene, the way you can hear your fuck. The wet of your cunt. The squeak of his cock plunging into tight, slick muscles. The heavy thud of his hips pounding into yours. The slap of your flip flops falling to the wood floor as he’s quite literally fucked them right off of your feet. It’s filthy— crude— and so very Bucky.

You’re back on your feet before you know it— before you realize it. Spun back around, Bucky’s hard chest and stomach pressed into your back. He grabs both of your hands and places them back on the barrel, his metal hand staying on top of yours, fingers gripping fingers.

Eager hips wiggle back into his as you hiss and sink your teeth into your bottom lip, groaning low. Your head drops when you feel his cock push through your ass cheeks— wet cockhead pressing against your hot rim.

He starts to fumble around behind you, each passing second making you more and more impatient. There’s a soft click, and then a light suction sound— something squeezing.

“Bucky,” you hiss, pushing back into him again, “Hur—”

The word breaks off right in the middle as he levels a quick smack against your hip— a warning. Then your ass cheeks are pulled apart, wet, slimy fingers sliding and prodding at your quivering rim. He brushes slow strokes, circling, pressing his fingers gently as he preps your little hole for what’s to come.

“What kind of freak brings lube to dinner?” you smile, gasping as he pinches the inside of your thigh.

You lurch forward when he grabs the back of your neck and yanks you back into him, lips right against your cheek, “The kinda freak that was gonna fuck you in an alley after dinner. Now shut that mouth.”

He’s pressing again, this time harder, his cockhead popping into you with force. You grunt with the initial intrusion, Bucky stopping his assault to allow you time to adjust to him— but that doesn’t last long. Your mouth goes slack again. Eyes slam shut, head falls forward as he slips in, deeper and deeper and deeper until his stomach is flush with your ass.

He wiggles— so you can feel him, feel him tickling the deepest part of you. Slaps at your ass again, quick, fingers glancing off your skin and leaving behind a hell of a sting. Then he’s fucking you again, slower this time, savoring the tight, glove-like hold your body provides.

Metal fingers grab at the hem of your dress again, tugging it up before they push back into your panties, finding a swollen, hot nub. Pinching and rubbing smooth circles against it, flicking and thrashing at the bundle of nerves before he shoves his fingers back into your cunt. They curl, those fingers, and pet your insides with surgical precision— only James Buchanan Barnes knows how to fuck you like this.

The heel of his palm slams against your clit as he fingers you rough and fucks your ass with gusto. Sleazy sounds gurgle up in your throat, the slapping of skin and the waves crashing against the side of the ferry, the rush of the wind filling your ears. Bucky pulls you flush against him and slithers his tongue just beneath your ear before his teeth grab a hold, tugging soft.

Teeth keep nipping— along your jaw, your cheeks, ears, neck. He fucks into you hard as he shoves his flesh hand into the neckline of your dress, gripping your tits. Pinching and kneading hard, thick nipples, mumbling sweet nothings all the while.

Your stomach churns, muscles tensing and flexing as synapses start to fire off in quick succession. Quick goosebumps pop up along your skin as your stomach tightens and you can taste it it’s so close. Bucky knows it, feels it as your walls constrict around his fingers, your asshole tightening around him. Vibranium fingers keep rubbing, keep fucking into your pussy hard, palm slapping against your clit, adding more and more pressure until the coil snaps.

It’s hard, and sudden— your body freezing as your orgasm consumes you. Bucky clamps a wet hand over your mouth as you mewl and bite into his palm, your hips thrusting forward with each wave of your release. He pulls his fingers from you to slap at your jumping clit, pressing the pads into it before he rubs quick little circles and then slaps at it again.

He drops his hand to your chin, yanking it up as you nearly cry, mewling and trembling with your release to kiss you hard and sloppy as you come. He kneads your tits with his mammoth hand as aftershocks flash through you, your used body jerking at random. Within seconds, there's a cloud of warmth in your ass. Rough grunts in your ear, growing louder with each spurt of his cock, your hot muscles milking him.

You let him use you, let him fill you up full of his silk. Grab his hands and lace your fingers with his as he empties long ribbons in you. Pull his arms around your waist and hold them there as he rides it out, his head falling to your shoulder. The two of you stand there, resting against that old barrel, breathing hard, skin sticky and balmy. Salt from the ocean in your nose.

Bucky’s the first to pull away, glancing back at the stairs before he pulls himself gingerly from you, leaving your body empty, a dribble of his come slipping out with him. He catches it with his fingers, drags them up the back of your thigh and between your ass cheeks before he shrugs out of his collared shirt and white tank top.

He cleans you up sweet with the tank top. Keeps his arm around your waist to steady you as he wipes at your thighs and your hot, sticky, puffy cunt, shushing you soft when you jump and whimper at the contact. He flings the messy tank top over the side of the ferry and rubs your hips and stomach real slow, murmuring into your ear all the while.

Diligent fingers then rearrange your thong— and cop a little feel, cupping your sensitive, swollen sex, giving it a little pinch so he can laugh when you shiver and squeak. Bucky pulls your dress, tugging lightly to get it back straight around your waist before smoothing it over your ass and thighs— even pulls at the top, making sure your tits are sitting pretty.

You can’t even open your eyes, overcome by alcohol and sleepiness and a post sex high. He fumbles with your fingers as your head lulls on his shoulder, a soft hum vibrating in your throat in your murky haze. Bucky lifts your arm by the elbow, sliding his hand up your forearm until he’s cupping your hand in his.

“Open your eyes, baby.” You groan in protest, causing a chuckle to rumble through his chest, “Come on.”

So you do. You always do whatever this man wants you to do— and there, right on your finger sits that big princess cut engagement ring you teased him with days before.

“How about we skip dinner and find a church, huh?” he whispers, kissing your cheek soft and sweet.

You glance at him over your shoulder, eyes wet as a smirk tugs at the corners of your mouth, “And if I say no?”

“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” He laughs as you adjust in his arms, pushing up on your tiptoes to cup his handsome face and kiss him on those pretty pink lips, “Then I guess I’ll have to fuck some sense into that pretty mouth of yours, won’t I birthday girl?”

#bad things happen bingo #buckybarnesbingo2021 #ssb2021 #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x black!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #5k...holy god

2K notes · View notes

freeseafirefly · 3 years

Text

Soulmates (RinHaru fic)

Set after the All-Japan Invitational. Albert invites Haru to hang out, and Haru drags Rin along. Rin is stuck with two mackerel obsessed introverts and has to communicate between them. Except he doesn't really need to, not when they get along so well regardless of the language barrier.

Canon compliant, pre-relationship. A bit of angst and cracky fluff. Albert is a dork. So is Haru. Rin is a drama queen. Will be 2 parts (probably? maybe 3).

Read on AO3

Part 1

“Why don’t you get your AC fixed?” Rin whines as he sprawls on the wooden floor, limbs slack from racing all morning, glistening with fresh sweat after their short walk from the pool. He looks a lot like the eleven-year-old boy Haruka met at a tournament, panting on the poolside tiles and goggling at him while pretending he’s not. The scorching afternoon sun breaking through the shutters casts burning stripes across his skin, laser-beam red where they touch his hair.

“I had no time for that. It dries up the air anyway,” Haruka says and flicks on the fan. Ignoring Rin’s grunting about his water obsession, he pulls his T-shirt off over his head and walks over to the fridge. There were some sodas left since Asahi’s visit about a month ago.

Rin follows his example, rising to peel off his T-shirt and dropping back down, this time closer to the fan. “Ah, the steaming hell aka the Japanese summer… I surely didn’t miss that.”

Haruka scowls. It’s Rin’s fault he wanted to race him so bad today; Rin’s fault he came second yesterday on their 100 meter free race; and it is definitely not Haru’s fault that it is winter now in Australia, a divine chilly winter Rin will mention ever so often, only worsening his own suffering.

Haruka throws a can at him. Rin catches it with “Hey, how am I supposed to open it now?” but cringes as soon as he sees the neon-bright fruit mix printed on the side. “Whatever, it’s better like this anyway…” he mutters, pressing it to his neck. His Adam’s Apple bobs as he lets out a satisfied moan.

“Go take a cold shower,” Haruka says.

“I just did.”

“Wanna go back to the pool?”

“Not agaaain. I swear I reek of chlorine even though we took like a dozen showers today.”

Haruka flops down beside him and pops his soda open. He swallows a You smell of your fancy toilet water along with the gulp of the icy liquid, for a moment feeling blissful. Until the acid sweetness assaults his receptors all at once. Choking, he puts the poisonous drink down.

The humming of the fan almost drowns out Rin’s quiet chuckle Told ya so but not the cicadas going mad in the tiny park between the apartment blocks. Somehow, the relentless chirping sound makes the heat even thicker.

“Want water instead?” Haru offers.

“Nah. Too much water. Water everywhere. Even the air is water,” Rin complains, rolling his can up his cheek and pressing it to his forehead.

His eyelids flutter shut as a streak of the sun that is beginning to descend on the west crawls slowly up his nose, illuminating the normally unnoticeable freckles. Rin scrunches up his nose and shifts a bit away from it, a bit closer to Haru. The skin on his chest is glittering with the tiniest beads of sweat, goosebumps popping up every now and then as the fan sends a thick wave of air their way. His small nipples harden underneath the chilly caress, dark-pink against his pale skin. His shoulders are broader now, his pecs even more prominent.

Haruka stirs to stretch his legs out. There is a buzzing strain in his body but not the kind he could stretch away; not even from swimming. He should have made plans, come up with something to spend their first day off. He really didn’t have time, though. It was a spur of the moment exchange in Asahi sister’s cafe: “Want to sleep over tomorrow?"—"Sure” when they finished their celebration dinner with the rest of the gang and were about to part.

Haruka just felt a sudden urge. The dinner wasn’t enough. Their long car drive for the high school Nationals and back hadn’t been enough either. There was still a lot they had to catch up on. To talk about. To do. Haruka didn’t know what, though. And that was exactly the problem. He had Rin all to himself for another 24 hours, and he didn’t know what to make from it.

Rin hasn’t been helpful either, so uncharacteristically lacking plans and urgent things to do and new sights to show him, seemingly content with just spending an ordinary day together as if they were going to hang out like this regularly, as if they did it countless times.

They did, but in Iwatobi; in their high school days, before they left on their own journeys, before they changed—once again—apart from each other.

Haruka leans back. The wood presses hard into his elbows. He sinks down until he’s lying flat on his back beside Rin. Takes a long breath, wishing the strain away. Closes his eyes. Rin’s perfume, unfamiliar yet similar to his usual kind of breezy and a bit spicy, carried over on the musky scent of his body—not too strong, totally familiar—transports him to the Sydney beach. Foaming waves and salty wind and seagulls squawking. Sparkling blue infinity. Haruka wonders if it’s him who is reeking of chlorine instead, but he can’t smell himself this close to Rin. Rin who is the same Rin from elementary school and at the same time not. He has changed, indeed, and at the same time he hasn’t. He is too much and too not enough. It doesn’t make sense; Rin doesn’t make sense.

Except he does, somehow. Maybe enough for Haru to give him that something he has been keeping in his closet since last autumn.

Or maybe not. He has the rest of the day to figure that out.

…This morning, Rin rang his doorbell with the first licks of dawn on the rooftops across the street, in that annoying impatient way of his that once shook Haru from his nightmare and sent flying to the other side of the ocean. Haruka, a night owl he was, complained all the way to the pool as Rin literally dragged him through the chilly morning shadows, his grip strengthened by unshakable resolve. “We are racing now! I’ll show you those milliseconds were just a fluke!”

“You’re taking advantage,” Haru mumbled, his tongue still numb from sleep. “’m not even awake.”

“You’re not fooling anyone here, I know you only need to touch the water to grow a tail!”

“No I don’t. It was just a weird dream of yours.”

Rin stumbled a bit. “You’re really out of it in the morning,” he muttered, his cheeks red. “I meant figuratively.”

…Of course, Rin was right about him touching the water, though figuratively. And of course Haruka won all of their races, even if Rin insisted they tied in one of them and another one didn’t even count, since Haru suddenly started to laugh on the starting block at the way Rin routinely snapped his goggles strap, to fucking laugh like a weirdo, according to Rin, and thus treacherously ruined his focus before the dive.

Haru was just amused that some things never changed. He felt giddy and lightheaded and a little bit childish having Rin by his side, finally having Rin by his side again.

They were completely spent by noon, and had to make it home in the midst of the deadliest heat after finishing their katsu curry in the sports complex diner (it never had mackerel on the menu.) There was nothing interesting in Haruka’s neighborhood to drop by. Maybe they should have taken a ride somewhere. But Haruka had never been good at these things, like coming up with the ideas of where to go and how to spend time with someone, and Rin’s focus was still on swimming, national team, can you fucking believe we made it??, world championships, medals. Maybe cooking, too. He wouldn’t shut up about proving his skills and his recipes superiority to Haru as soon as they had a chance.

Well. That is at least something.

Haruka cracks an eye open. “Let’s go to the supermarket to fetch something for dinner.”

…Because there is an echoing void in his fridge: Haruka hasn’t been home enough recently to keep something edible there.

The idea doesn’t seem to bring Rin back to his usual energetic self, though. He just says absentmindedly, “Yeah, whatever, I need some AC right now or I’ll melt down and ruin your floor.”

This is when Haruka’s phone buzzes and bursts into a loud rendition of the default ringtone, startling them both.

“Huh? So that thing of yours can actually ring?” Rin arches an eyebrow curiously, propped on his elbows.

Haruka tsks at him—he did pick up Rin’s rare calls, except for the weeks in the training camp after racing Albert, which Rin was still salty about—and crosses the room to fish the phone from the bottom of his bag. The number is unknown. Probably a spam call, but there is a chance someone from the National team wants to contact him about the upcoming training, so he answers it.

“Hi! It’s Albert.“

"Eh?” Of course, Haruka recognizes him immediately, but the idea of hearing the Swedish swimmer on his phone seems rather surreal. “Oh. Hello,” he answers awkwardly in English.

Rin shoots him a bewildered glance and rolls over to sit up.

“Some guy from your team gave me your number. Congrats on your win yesterday! It was amazing. Even through the screen, I could feel how free you were in that race.”

Haru frowns at himself; he has been sure he made quite a progress in English but as always, a real conversation with a real human proves him wrong. It takes him a moment before the meaning sinks in.

“Ah. Thank you.”

Haruka feels a pleasant tingling spreading all over his skin. It’s not like him to get flustered at someone praising him, but Albert has been on his mind ever since they raced. A blinding light of the global level. A goal to reach. A wall to overcome. A shy guy who had trouble dealing with Japanese specifics on every corner but learned in no time.

Just as he had learned how to swim, probably. A powerful, untamed freestyle.

Albert continues, in his casual fluent manner but a bit faster than Haru heard him speak before, “I somehow managed to escape from my coach and ditched Ralph at some traditional Japanese spa, since I’m not really into hot water. How do you not get lost in this city? I wondered if you could show me around and we could have some amazing Japanese mackerel again.”

Haru catches some words, like spa and city and japanese and mackerel, but Albert sounds hasty, as if he's a bit nervous, and Haru’s brain fails to quickly connect the words together. It’s strange. He didn’t struggle to understand Albert before. Maybe because they were doing something those times, actions backing up the words. Or maybe because in the corner of his vision, Rin keeps staring at him questioningly which is kinda distracting.

Oh. Rin.

Exerting an effort to pronounce the words as good as he can, Haruka asks, "Sorry… can you repeat?”

Albert agrees with the same easy kindness that never leaves his voice just like his smile permanently hides in his eyes, “Sure. So, I was saying…”

Haru quickly turns on the speaker mode so that Rin can hear, and sends him an expectant look. Rin frowns at first, confused, and when Haruka mouths Albert Wahlander his eyes go round. By the end of Albert’s talk, his face smoothens quickly back to normal. Bored even.

“So, basically, he’s inviting you on a date.”

“Eh…? Seriously, Rin.”

“Whatever, just say ok”, Rin sighs, clearly pissed.

“But we—”

“Didn’t have plans anyway.” And he adds in a heated whisper, “Oh come on, it’s the fastest guy in the freaking world, Haru.”

Haruka catches a fiery glint in Rin’s eyes before the latter averts his gaze.

Better than a supermarket, he concludes.

“Uhm, ok,” Haruka utters in full voice. And squints at Rin, who has found a sudden resolve to open the dangerous can and is dramatically pouring the fizzing liquid into his throat. “Do you mindo ifu I take a… furendo with me?” he adds.

“Sure, I’m fine with it! Does he love mackerel, too?”

Tbc. The next part will be from Rin's POV. Poor baby.

#free!#free! fanfiction #rinharu #harurin #rin matsuoka #haruka nanase #albert volandel

23 notes · View notes

johaerys-writes · 3 years

Text

Fandom: The Song of Achilles

Summary: During his two month long sea voyage from Phthia to Skyros in search of Achilles, Patroclus makes an unexpected friendship.

I always wondered what Patroclus got up to during his trip to Skyros, so this is my attempt to satisfy my own curiosity (and hopefully yours too!). This is a quiet and introspective fic that focuses on Patroclus’ state of mind, being away from Achilles for so long, as well as his unexpected friendship with a sailor on the ship.

Read here or on AO3! :)

****

Chapter 1: Guiding Star

We don’t always choose where life takes us. Sometimes the choice is made for us. The three Fates spin their weaves, and we must go wherever they lead us. If the world is an endless ocean, we are but pieces of driftwood, mercilessly swept here and there by the shifting currents until we are spat out, discarded at the water’s edge.

Those were the thoughts that drifted through my mind as I made my way to the docks. A red and swollen sun was hanging low over the mountains to the west, and the heavy smells of fish, ship tar and stale wine reached my nostrils. The coin purse that Peleus had given me hung heavy by my belt. I drew the edge of my cloak over it to hide it from view and pressed it discreetly to my thigh to stop the gold coins from clinking as I walked straight past the clusters of dock workers and sailors that lined the stone wharf of Phthia’s docks.

Not a few of them looked my way, stopping their games of dice, obviously impressed by the rich colour of my tunic. It was a deep and vibrant purple, the golden embroidery along its hem catching the light as I walked. It was the best I could find, one of Achilles' own. Their eyes on me, the quiet that fell around me as I walked made me uneasy. I hasten my step, eager to reach the ship that Phoenix had indicated before he saw me off. The captain of the Paralos, Achilles’ old and kindly tutor had told me, is an honest man, and does not ask many questions. He’ll see you safely, wherever you need to go.

I felt more than a little lightheaded when my sandaled feet touched the ship’s deck. The wooden floor was smoothed and sanded, well taken care of. The sailors and ship boys were hauling crates of fruit, sacks of grain, sealed amphorae filled with wine and honey. They would be trading them on the islands we would be passing on our way, receiving gold and even more goods in return.

I eyed the vessel warily. It was large and wide, heavy, meant for slow sailing. Slow enough to keep the goods safe even when the winds were rough and the waves battered against its wooden belly. I didn’t know much about ships. I had never spent much time at the docks, preferring the quiet gardens of the palace, the olive grove beyond it or the beach nearby, or the solitary pleasure of Achilles’ company, yet even I could tell that with a ship like this it would take weeks to get to Skyros. Perhaps even months.

My heart tightened at the thought. My worry, that I had tried so hard to rein, slithered to the surface. What was Achilles doing? Was he safe? Would he still be there when I reached Skyros' shores, or would his mother have whisked him away somewhere else, somewhere further still, as soon as she caught scent of my arrival?

I shook my head lightly, letting the humid, salty breeze that combed through my hair take the thoughts away. I had a destination now, a place to go. Achilles was somewhere, somewhere I could sail to, and I took heart from that knowledge. However ominous the future felt right then.

The golden coins I had given the captain clinked softly in their pouch when the man walked behind me up the long wooden plank that connected the ship with the long board walk of the docks. He was watching me from the corner of his eye. He did not know what to make of me, I supposed; I was neither a boy nor a man, I had not given him a name that he had recognised, yet my tunic was fine and well-made, my manners as regal and commanding as I could make them, and my coin had been enough to take me to Skyros and back three times over. I needed him to believe that I was important. It was the only way I could gain passage on a ship like this, which was not meant for it.

“We leave at dawn,” he told me flatly, coming to stand beside me as a ship’s boy brought the leather bag that carried my few belongings. I winced when he deposited it unceremoniously before my feet; my mother’s lyre was in it.

The captain asked me if there was anything more for them to bring up, to which I shook my head. He made a non-committal grunt, then waved at a young man that was gathering a length of wet and heavy rope up the side of the ship. “Xanthos will show you to your berth,” he said, then walked away without a second glance.

The man the captain indicated hastened to my side. He was tall and broad of shoulder, but his bare feet were light and quick when he approached me, barely making a sound. The ship was rocking gently with the waves, but he never missed a step, practiced after years of sailing, no doubt. His smile was wide and friendly, and there was a warmth to it that I had not expected to see from someone that barely knew me.

“First time on a ship?” he asked merrily, bending to pick up my bag. I nodded reluctantly as I followed in his footsteps as he led me through the twisting passages of the ship’s underbelly, careful to move around the other sailors going about their business. The whole ship was astir with activity, in a way that I had never before imagined while gazing at the ships from a distance, from the safety of the palace.

“First time is always rough. You’ll get used to it soon enough, though.” He pushed open a door to a small and narrow room, barely wide enough for two men abreast to fit through. He almost dumped my bag at the feet of the small cot like the previous sailor had, when I stopped him, my arms raised in alarm.

“Please, be careful with that.” I held out my hands to take the bag from him.

“Oh. Forgive me, my lord. I did not know—” He stood for a moment, shifting awkwardly on his feet. He seemed too large for the small room, out of place. Our gazes met, and at that moment I was sure that I was the one that must have looked entirely out of place to him.

He ran his fingers through his hair. It looked like it was usually cropped short, yet now had grown longer, wisps of it falling over his sun kissed brow. Its colour was a light brown, bleached lighter still at the ends from the merciless beating of the sun. His name, Xanthos, meant blonde, aureate, with a quickness and sparkle like the light that catches on polished gold before it disappears. People often called Achilles that, but where Achilles was fair and golden, Xanthos was burnished bronze. It suited him well, I thought. I figured it was more because of the golden brown tan of his skin, of his honey brown eyes. Among the other sailors, with their dark hair and weather beaten skin, he would have looked the fairest.

He was peering at me now with those golden brown eyes of his, as if afraid to inconvenience me, and the natural, unadulterated kindness in them took me by surprise. His gaze was clear and honest; I felt like I was looking at crystal clear waters, so diaphanous that I could see right down to the sea bed.

I had not realised I had gone quiet until Xanthos spoke again. “It must be important to you.”

I swallowed thickly, then tore my gaze from his to place my bag gently on my cot, as if it was precious glass. “Yes. It is.” My answer sounded too harsh in my ears, so I softened it by saying, “There’s a lyre in there. It used to be my mother’s. I took it with me because—”

Because Achilles didn’t.

My throat tightened, my eyes burning with the tears I had tried to suppress since that morning, when I had woken up in an empty bed. The lyre had been at its usual place, leaning against the wall adjacent to our bed, untouched. Achilles hadn’t taken it with him this time. I believe it was this that had unsettled me the most. I knew he could not have gone willingly, not if he'd left it behind. Now I know how to make you follow me everywhere, he’d told me once, years before, when he’d brought the lyre with him to Pelion. I would follow him anywhere, it seemed, with or without it. I would do anything, cross oceans and mountains and plains, just to be with him.

My worry and sadness swelled, ready to consume me. I cleared my throat, pushing it down. “I took it with me, because I need to give it to someone. Someone… important to me.”

The words seemed paltry and frail, too small to encompass the true depth of what Achilles was to me. But for now, they were enough. They had to be. Otherwise, the emptiness of his absence would swallow me whole.

Xanthos nodded solemnly. “I understand. I do hope you get to give it to that person… whoever they are.” When I did not reply, he bowed his head and slithered past me to the door. Even though he was tall and broad, the muscles in his bare arms strong and defined, he moved quickly and agilely, not missing a step despite the smooth rocking of the ship. He stopped at the doorway and glanced at me over his shoulder. “The food is served after sunset, usually. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to. Most visitors don’t like spending much time with the crew. Not that we have that many visitors, but, uhm…” He seemed not used to speaking with many people other than his crew mates. He moved with much more ease and grace than he spoke, and my fine tunic and royal bearings did nothing to put him more at ease. Still, he smiled at me, quick and fleeting, before he continued, “You are more than welcome, in any case. There’s good food, and perhaps even some good company too.”

“I…” I started, then stopped. I wanted to tell him that no company would be enough to take my mind off my troubles, however pleasant. That there was nothing to soothe the ache that plagued me, to make me forget the worry that was gnawing at me from the inside. Instead, I bit the words back and inclined my head in gratitude. “Thank you.”

With another small bow, Xanthos left, closing the door softly behind him. I was left alone in my narrow cot. Suddenly, the walls seemed small and tight, closing in on me. There was no window, so I was half drowned in darkness, too. I lit the small lamp that had been left there for me before I’d arrived, and sat on the bed that would be mine for the foreseeable future. The mattress was hard like dry, packed earth, and the blanket on top of it rough and scratchy.

I sighed. It was not going to be a pleasant voyage, or easy. Of that, I was certain.

I was falling. A stone sinking in dark waters.

The world around me was darkness. I could not see where I was, nor could I tell where I was going. I was looking for something, at the same time that I was running from something; what, I did not know. My mind was seized in an icy grip, and I felt cold and hollow. The weight of that emptiness crushed me. I did not know how to fill the void, yet I knew I had to find what I was looking for soon. Before my time ran out.

Footsteps echoed behind me, ringing hollowly as if I were in a deep, dark cavern. The light of a lone candle trembled in the darkness, but its light was grey and lifeless. I moved towards it, following the tremor of the shadows it cast. That was when I saw him.

Clysonymus.

He was standing before me, watching me solemnly with empty, transparent eyes. He was perfectly still, his countenance ashen and grey, but all I could see was him falling, tipping backwards in a moment that felt never ending. The sound that his head had made when it cracked against the stone like an egg, the brightness of his blood that had made every colour seem dull, crimson poppy petals drifting with the wind.

He opened his mouth.

Terror gripped me, flooded me to the brim. I turned around and ran, as fast as my legs could carry me. I could not let him take me with him. I could not, not before I’d found Achilles. I knew, with a certainty that seemed to be embedded deep in my bones, that I had to be with him, no matter what. Otherwise I would be caught in this dark, desolate place of haunted and desperate souls, and everything bright and brilliant and beautiful would be taken from me forever. I would be caught, trapped; I would slip and slide and disappear in the depths of the underworld, never to be seen again.

I would never see Achilles again. Not ever.

Despair consumed me, a wave that curled over me. I called out his name, again and again, hoping he would hear me, desperately wishing he would take my hand and pull me back up to the light with him.

Achilles, I whispered, pleading. Achilles, Achilles—

I woke up with a start, jolting bolt upright on the bed. My breaths were coming in fits and starts, clawing at my throat. For several moments I could not tell where I was, what I was doing. I fumbled on the mattress, searching for Achilles’ hand that surely lay beside me. The safety of his presence was always enough to calm my beating heart, to ease my terror after every nightmare. I searched frantically in the dark, but my hands only found scratchy blankets, a wooden wall, the leather bag that lay beside my bed. Panting, with trembling fingers, I lit the lamp beside me, blinking as the shadows were driven away.

The trembling flame illuminated my narrow berth. The floor beneath me bobbed gently, in time with the rocking of the waves underneath the ship. I took a deep breath, leaning back against the wall as reality slowly solidified around me. I was alone, on ship filled with strangers, that knew nothing about me and cared not for me. I was alone, without him. Without Achilles.

The realisation bore down on me like a mountain. My throat tightened and my eyes burned as tears started streaming down my cheeks in an unbroken stream. I pressed the back of my hand against my mouth to muffle my sobs, hugging my knees tightly as I curled in on myself. I could feel his absence as acutely as a missing limb. It was as if part of him was still there, his presence tugging at the edges of my consciousness, but I couldn’t see him, couldn’t hear him, couldn’t reach him. My mind struggled to comprehend it, but nothing seemed real. It would surely drive me mad, if I let it.

I took in a deep breath when my sobs had finally ebbed, wiping my cheeks on the fabric of my tunic. I felt weak, lightheaded. I had had nothing to eat since the day before when we had sailed away from Phthia, so tight the knot in my stomach had been. Even if I tried, I wouldn’t have been able to keep anything down, not with the way the ship rocked as it glided over the waves. Sleep had left me completely. Even if it hadn’t, I was too scared to close my eyes, in case my nightmares found me again.

With a sigh, I swung my legs over the edge of the narrow bed. I hastily pulled on my cloak, eager to leave the small, suffocating cabin behind me. The ship was largely quiet when I walked out onto the deck, the sea wind and the waves that crashed against the ship’s belly the only sounds. I walked up to the railing and gripped it tightly as I stared out into the dark and frothy sea. The salt air whipped at my hair, the fabric of my cloak. It was a chilly night, but the sky was clear and bright with stars.

I started slightly when I heard footsteps behind me, light and careful, in sync with the rhythmic whispers of the waves below.

“Can’t sleep, I take it?” Xanthos asked, and his voice was laced with genuine concern. I had learned soon after I’d boarded ship that he often took the night’s watch. I made a weak attempt at a smile.

“The ship’s rocking is keeping me awake,” I lied. He believed me.

“It takes a while to get used to it, but once you do, you can’t sleep without it.” He leaned against the railing, reaching for something at his belt. He offered it to me, and I gingerly plucked the wineskin from his hands.

“It’s from Lesbos,” he said. “It’s good. Try it. Might ease the nausea a bit.”

My first instinct was to decline, but then I thought better of it. What did I really have to lose? At the most, I might be able to sleep a little easier. I uncorked the wineskin and brought it to my mouth. The wine was strong and aromatic, already watered and spiced. It was indeed good, I realised, though I had little taste for wine. I took a sip, then another, before handing it back to him. “Where are we now?” I asked, nodding at the dark outline of the mountains in the distance.

“North of Euboea.”

“And where are we headed next?”

He pointed to the bright constellation right above us. “See that?”

I squinted at where he indicated. The stars twinkled in the dark, one among them shining the brightest. “Polaris,” I said quietly. “The guiding star of sailors. We’re going north.”

“That’s right. We’re going to to Alonissos. The captain wishes to sell the amphorae and the fresh plums we got from Chalcis and Eretria there.”

“I see,” I replied, though I had scarcely heard what Xanthos had said. My heart thumped painfully in my chest as I traced the constellations with my eyes. Micri Arctos, Megali Arctos. Orion. The Pleiades, just starting to glow in the horizon.

So many times had Achilles and I named them together, either in the open sky or the painted ones of our cave, that it felt odd now to do it without him. Unnatural. Wrong. My sadness mingled with my anger at Thetis, for taking Achilles away from me, for trying to keep us apart— for I was sure that was the reason for her spiriting him away to Skyros. She must have known what had transpired between us the moment we stepped foot beyond Chiron’s protection. But more than that, I was angry with myself, for challenging my fate, the gods themselves. I had been drunk on love, on my own foolishness, holding him like nothing could ever come between us. At that moment, it all seemed so hopeless. My entire life felt like an uphill battle, like I’d been fighting waves large enough to engulf me, with the only moments of respite being the ones when I was with him. The time when I had felt invincible, happy beyond measure seemed distant, a dying star on a winter night.

I hadn’t even realised that my eyes had filled and overflowed once more until the tears that had been coursing down my cheeks had soaked the top of my tunic. I heard Xanthos opening his mouth to speak, to ask if everything was alright, but I cut his sentence short.

“Have you been travelling on this ship long?” I asked, hoping to change the subject, and that the darkness hid my puffy eyes and reddened nose, my haggard appearance. “You seem perfectly at ease here.”

He gave me an awkward smile and glanced politely away from me, yet I could still see the concern that furrowed his brow. He wasn’t particularly good at hiding his feelings. Like someone else I knew. “I’ve been with this crew for two years now,” he said softly, gazing out into the sea. “Before that, I was a ship’s boy in a trader that travelled the coast of the Peloponnese. I even went to Crete twice. This one, it only travels through the northern islands, for the most part. Modest pay, but decent work. Fewer pirates around these parts, too,” he added. “It’s good work, really.”

“I don’t doubt it,” I responded, and instantly I felt my sadness ebbing. Xanthos’ voice was gentle, almost soothing. His eyes and expression were earnest, and he was surprisingly easy to talk to. At that moment, I couldn’t have asked for a better distraction from my own thoughts. “Where are you from, Xanthos?” I asked in honest curiosity. His accent was light and sing-songy, with a strange sort of rhythm to it, and had none of the flat and clipped vowels of the Phthian dialect. It had always sounded rough to my ears, until I’d heard Achilles speak. After that, I had come to love it. “Did you grow up far from here?”

“I’m from Naxos,” he replied. “From Apollonia.”

“You’re a long way from home, then.”

He huffed softly at that. “I suppose I am. There isn’t much there. It is beautiful but barren, and the winds are high in winter. They can tear the doors from their hinges, and blow the roofs away. My father was a fisherman. That’s all you can do there, really, if you don’t own land. That,” he tilted his head to the side, “or join a ship crew.”

“Do you... still have family there?” I asked, half-dreading the answer I would get. To my relief, Xanthos nodded.

“I do. My sister and my brother in law never moved away. My mother died many years ago, and my father is old. He can’t row the boat anymore. Aktaios, my brother in law, has taken over now. He fishes and sells what he catches to the market. It’s not much, but it’s enough for them. As for me… well. If I stayed, I would have just been an extra mouth to feed. So when I was strong enough to pick up an oar, I left.” He leaned with his elbows on the railing, letting out a soft exhale through his nose. He seemed to want to talk more, then thought better of it. We remained in companionable silence for a while. The sun was just peeking over the horizon, painting the sky in gentle shades of pink and violet, when he asked, “What about your family? Are they in Skyros?”

I blinked, taken aback by the question. I hadn’t realised how completely I’d been distracted from my thoughts in the handful of minutes that Xanthos and I had been talking, yet now they all came back to me. I remembered that I had no one, no family to speak of. Other than Achilles.

I swallowed thickly. “You… could say that.” I let my words trail away, unable to say more, and looked away from him. There was no way I could explain to him in simple terms what Achilles meant to me, what I stood to lose if I never managed to reach that island. How he was an extension of myself, and more than that; how we completed each other, like two pieces of a whole. How he was the one light in my life that never went out. My guiding star.

Xanthos noticed my long pause. He shifted on his feet, shooting me an uneasy glance. “If I’ve offended you, my lord, forgive me,” he finally said when I let the silence linger between us.

“You did not.” I smiled to brush off his concern. “This person I’m meeting in Skyros… he is very dear to me,” I said quietly, and even those words seemed small and trivial. I took a breath, then tried again. “Family, friend, companion. Everything. He is everything to me.”

He did not reply to that. He just stared out into the sea, the frothing waves that were turning from black to grey to golden pink with the sunrise. “I envy you,” he said softly, yet there was no malice in his voice. “It is a rare thing, to have someone that means so much to you.”

The signal for the change of watch sounded cleanly across the deck, startling me. Xanthos, on the other hand, seemed quite used to it. “That’s me,” he said with a sigh as he pushed himself upright. His bronzed skin was gleaming with the light from the rising sun, his eyes a deep golden brown. “It was nice talking with you.”

“You, too,” I replied, and I meant it. “Thank you for your company, Xanthos.”

“You’re welcome, my lord.” He turned around to leave when my voice stopped him short.

“Patroclus.” He looked at me quizzically over his shoulder, and I said, “My name. It’s Patroclus. You... can call me that, if you’d like.”

He turned to face me then, his expression unusually solemn. "Patroclus," he said, and something in the way he said it, so slowly and deliberately, as if testing out the sounds, reminded me of the only other person that spoke my name thus.

Patroclus, Achilles always called me. Pa-tro-clus.

“I’ll see you around then, Patroclus.” He smiled warmly before turning around once more. “Make sure you get some sleep.”

I listened to the muffled sound of his retreating footsteps, to the ship slowly stirring awake. I stayed by the railing, for a long while, watching as the sun rose higher, bathing the world in its amber glow. Somewhere, beyond those waves, across that great divide, my guiding star was waiting for me.

I would not rest, until I reached him.

#the song of achilles #tsoa #patrochilles #patroclus #tsoa fanfiction #at the water's edge #johaerys writes

4 notes · View notes

jarienn972 · 4 years

Text

La Sirena - Chapter Two

Captain Swan Supernatural Summer 2020

Chapter Two of my @cssns is now here! I used Chapter One to set up each character’s POV of how they were brought together so this chapter will officially focus on their actual introduction as shipwreck survivor Lt. Killian Jones regains consciousness, discovering that he’s traded imprisonment on a pirate ship for a deserted paradise with a beautiful woman as his sole companion.

I have to thank all of the admins and creators of this fun event that allows all of us to stretch our creativity and I especially want to extend thanks for @kmomof4 for her wonderful beta and cheerleading assistance and to @courtorderedcake for the incredible artwork she created for this story!

This story can also be found on ff.net and AO3. Tumblr Chapter One

Chapter Two - Encountering an Angel

Killian woke with a jolt, body arching upright until his throbbing head protested. He sucked in a deep breath as he settled back to the ground, clutching at the sharp pains crisscrossing his rib cage. He felt as though he'd breathed in pure fire. Had he passed through purgatory straight to the flame and brimstone of hell?

No, no - he wasn't dead. Was he?

Bits and pieces of memory flashed within his mind. A map… That cursed island… Pirates… Escaping an abandoned, sinking ship… Clinging desperately to a makeshift raft of wooden planks until he'd slipped off into the depths. And then a cascade of pure gold beckoning him to paradise… or something like that.

But would the hereafter be this painful?

Pull yourself together, Jones. Use your wits.

He was still near the sea. The gentle lapping of waves against the shore and the squawk of seagulls sounded nearby. A wafting of crisp, salty air filled his nostrils as did the earthy scents of sand and rock. There was a solid surface beneath him. He'd made his way to land somehow, but where?

But when he dared open his eyes, even the diffused sunlight filtering through the canopy of palm fronds swaying overhead assaulted his vision. Squinting and shading his gaze with his outstretched hand, he allowed his pupils a few moments to adjust before rolling himself onto his right side and propping on an elbow to survey his surroundings. He spied the shoreline from where he lay yet he was a fair distance from the water's edge, sheltered amongst a grove of date palms, cycads and a few gnarled low trees that had branches laden with what appeared to be olives. A craggy outcrop of rocks was a short distance away and the stone barrier seemed to extend all the way out towards the sea.

He couldn't remember stumbling or even crawling this far from the shore. He barely recalled reaching the beach. He'd been so weak that he couldn't possibly have made it this far without assistance… All of his senses instantly went on full alert as he realized he must not be alone on this idyllic looking isle. Someone else was here but were they friend or foe? What a ridiculous question, Jones… Why spare your life if they intended to harm you?

His memory brought back hazy images of a woman's soft face framed by a halo of pale blonde hair just as his eyes drew skyward to gaze upon that same angelic visage looming above. Clad in a full length, flowing gown that was only a few shades paler than her porcelain skin, she had arrived as stealthily as a ghost. She eyed him quizzically, as though she were as surprised to see him alert as he was startled by her arrival.

He initially recoiled, not from fear, but rather from her abrupt appearance. Now that he was able to see her features clearly, he was transfixed by her ethereal beauty. Only a being sent from the heavens could ever be so lovely. Why this angel would ever want to aid such a broken man as him was beyond his comprehension.

Awake since dawn, she'd left the human's side for only a short while to catch some breakfast and to collect sweet water from the cavern spring. The man would likely be parched when he awakened but unlike her, he couldn't survive by drinking from the saline seas.

After he'd collapsed on the beach yesterday beside her tentacled form, she'd immediately transformed back to her humanoid self to drag his unconscious body away from the shore before the tide set in. He was heavier on land than he'd been in the water but she managed to pull him beneath the safety of the trees. She'd done her best to clean his wounds while he slept but with little knowledge of human physiology, she wasn't sure what else she could do.

She had remained close to him throughout the night, continuing to tend to his injuries as needed and to provide needed warmth. Never in her long life had she been in such intimate proximity to a human but every ounce of her being was insisting that this was where she was meant to be. Despite her species having been bred to lure humans to their demise, here she was seeking to save one of them.

The debris that she'd found him amongst was proof that he'd survived a shipwreck but she wasn't quite sure how. In the treacherous waters that surrounded these islands, no ship that sailed too close to the siren's cove could resist their call. For him to have been found alive, floating into her placid bay, he must have some special power. No man was immune to the siren song, yet here he was.

His sleep had been restless, which she had anticipated and attributed to his injury. The jagged laceration at his temple appeared to be the most serious but she assumed he could have wounds not visible on the surface. She was also concerned about the amount of seawater he may have swallowed. He'd spewed a fair portion when she'd rescued him but more could be lingering within his lungs as he was without the benefit of transformative gills. It would certainly bear watching once he awakened.

As she returned to the sheltered thicket carrying a ceramic jar of potable water, she was surprised to find him alert and staring directly at her face. In deference to her understanding of human modesty, she'd donned a simple, breezy, off-white linen column gown. It was horribly itchy but she feared overt nudity might offend her companion so she'd suffer for his sake.

She dipped her free hand into the water jug and withdrew an ancient, hammered copper cup that she extended towards him. "Drink," she instructed, firmly, yet politely, but the command wasn't spoken in English.

He quirked an eyebrow suspiciously until he could see that the cup contained water. He then softened his features and accepted the offering, gulping the contents a little too quickly in an attempt to quench his thirst. It was the first he'd ingested in at least a day and he was ever so thankful that it didn't smell or taste as though it had been drawn from the bilge tanks. But there was something strange to her statement - he'd understood her although his weary mind couldn't fathom why.

"Who are you?" she queried in that same familiar, yet foreign tongue.

His military training kicked in as he stammered out his rank and full, legal name. "Lieutenant… Lieutenant Killian Charles Arthur Jones…" He paused for a breath before adding the rest of his title. "Of His Majesty's Royal Navy. At your service, m'lady."

"Ah, English," the woman replied with a giggle as she switched to his language. "You didn't appear to be Greek."

"Greek?" he repeated, brow furrowed in confusion. "Was that what you just spoke?"

"It was, and I am surprised that you seemed to understand."

"I learned Ancient Greek in the Naval Academy, just not the conversational form. You speak both Ancient Greek and the King's English?"

"I speak many tongues, but Greek is native to me."

"So, is that where I've landed?"

"No, not exactly," she responded cryptically. "These isles owe their heritage to Greece, but they've no allegiance to that land any longer."

"What do you call this land then?" he pressed, trying to gather more information as to how far off-course his imprisonment by the pirates had taken him.

"No name you would recognize from any map or chart. Officially, these islands exist only within the world of myth and legend."

"I'm afraid I don't understand," he sighed, rubbing his aching head as he shifted his position onto his back. "How did I get here? Have I crossed over into the ever after with you as the angel welcoming me?"

"No, you are still amongst the living, Lieutenant Killian Charles Arthur Jones. You are still very weak from nearly drowning out there in the bay so you should rest to regain your strength."

"Aye…," he replied without argument. "But first, Killian will suffice. I've no need for formalities. It's just habit…" He broke off his sentence there, squeezing his eyes closed as he thought of the question he absolutely needed to ask but feared the answer. "Did anyone else reach these shores?"

"No, only yourself."

"Oh," was his dejected response as he turned his head away from her gaze. Neither dared elaborate as unspoken words weighed heavy but after a few moments of tense silence, he at last spoke up. "In my malaise, it would seem I've forgotten to ask for your name, lass."

The question elicited an odd response from her. She remained quiet far longer than he expected, as though she had to think about her reply. "No one has asked me that question in a very long time… My given name was Erimetha, but for simplicity's sake, you are welcome to call me Emma."

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Emma," he said with a weak, pained smile crossing his lips.

"You should get more rest," she insisted. "I can see the exhaustion in your eyes but I promise, I will be here when you wake."

"You'll have no protest from me," he answered sluggishly as he allowed sleep to claim him once again.

**********

A few more hours of deep slumber had been much needed, allowing Killian's battered body and troubled mind to relax and try to heal. As he began to stir, the crackle of flames perked his ears right before he noted the acrid scent of wood smoke mixing with the marine air. His eyes looked skyward where beyond the canopy of palm fronds and olive branches, the heavens were awash with pastel tones while the twilight sun began its descent below the horizon.

Another day passed.

More than a week now passed since he'd debarked his ship for that ill-fated expedition.

More than a week passed since he'd last seen his brother.

Was Liam even searching for him? Did he believe his younger brother had perished? Did he know he'd been captured?

He didn't even have the slightest idea where he was so how could he expect Liam to locate him?

His audible, defeated sigh drew Emma's attention from the fire she was stoking.

"You seem quite distressed," she noted, to his chagrin.

"Yes, I suppose you could say that," he replied with clear irritation in his tone. "The events that have transpired over the course of this week have been rather overwhelming." He ignored the swell of nausea and the constant drumming within his skull to force himself into an upright, seated position. Muscles that hadn't been used since his escape from the pirate ship screamed in protest but he continued to push through all of the discomfort to look his alluring companion in the eye while she lowered herself to her knees.

She didn't wait for him to elaborate on whatever he'd endured, instead placing a woven reed basket onto the sand between them. "I thought you might be hungry," she said with an unassuming smile as she gave the basket a gentle push closer to him so he'd be able to inspect the contents. A quick glance downward revealed a bunch of bluish purple grapes, a few figs and a scattering of ripe green olives. "I have some freshly caught fish as well…"

"This is fine," he replied in a softened, more appreciative voice. "Best to take it easy so I don't lose my constitution, but thank you."

"I do believe you lost most of that constitution yesterday, but I absolutely understand," she chuckled, causing his cheeks to redden.

"Sorry about that… I really don't remember much after getting knocked off the ship's deck into the deep." He lowered his head with embarrassment. Vomiting in front of a beautiful woman was not generally the best first impression. He shyly reached for a handful of grapes, keeping his eyes averted as he popped one into his mouth, hopeful that the fruit would appease his growling stomach without further incident.

"My apologies. I didn't mean to further upset you," she replied as she slid further away from him. "It's been so long that I've clearly forgotten how to have a proper conversation…"

"You've no need to apologize," he retorted, extending his hand to grasp hers, staring into the melancholy of her emerald irises. "I am thankful for all you've done for this hapless sailor but is there no one else on this isle?"

"Not this far south. I chose this isolated isthmus long ago to escape others like me. It has been many years since I've had another creature to talk to who can actually talk back."

"You chose this isolation?" he repeated, incredulously.

"It was far preferable to what was expected of me…"

"Was it your family?" he pressed. "Were you unable to live up to what they required of you?" His curiosity was increasing with each inquiry, wondering if he might have more in common with this intriguing young woman. "Did you fall short of their expectations?"

"Not exactly," was her initial response, but she was caught unprepared by the introspective nature of his questioning. This human was proving he could be a kindred spirit in many ways but she wasn't ready to share. "Suffice it to say that I grew tired of their ideology and separated myself from their ways. It was best for all at the time."

He sensed there was so much more that she was holding back. His barrage of questions had opened a still-smarting wound and it was abundantly obvious that she wasn't ready to confide in him. Of course, if she had been alone on this shore for many years as she'd stated, it might be equally as long before he found rescue so there would be plenty of time to break down those walls. She'd saved his life. The least he could do in return was to help ease her troubles.

"You know, I'm a man who's spent a lifetime living in my brother's shadow, so if anyone understands what it is like to try to be something you're not, it would be me. Liam was always bigger, stronger, smarter… Graduated top of his class at the Naval Academy. Youngest ever Captain in His Majesty's Royal Navy. The bar was set pretty high and I was pushed to be just like him. I've never been good enough. I've worked hard to get where I am, but I'm not sure it's where I wanted to be… I took that stupid expedition into uncharted waters to prove that I was a leader and what happens? Pirates overtook us and most of my crew was slaughtered. The rest, myself included, were taken captive to be tortured and some were probably executed. Some leader I proved to be… I wish I'd never agreed to follow that cursed map!" He hung his head in shame, realizing that he shouldn't have unloaded so much baggage onto her. He didn't want her pity. "You must think I sound like a blabbering fool…"

"You sound like a man who's been trying to please his family rather than himself," she mused. "Perhaps fate brought you here to discover who you are?"

"You think this is the gods testing me?" he scoffed.

"If that is what you choose to believe."

"And you - were the gods testing you as well? Is that what caused our paths to cross here?"

"Perhaps more than you know," she replied cryptically as she pushed herself back up, brushing grains of loose sand from her gown as she stood. "It will be dark soon, but you will again be safe here for the evening. I shall leave the fruits here and you'll find the carafe of water there amongst the brush. Rest well, Killian."

"You as well, Emma."

He stared blankly at her departing silhouette as she strolled towards the flickering fire, the backlight of the flame giving her form an ethereal aura. Damn this woman! He might blame it on his concussion later but although he'd been coherent only a few scant hours, he was already entirely bewitched. He winced as his hand unconsciously rubbed the bruised and still raw skin adjacent to the gash at his forehead, momentarily speculating if this all might be some vivid hallucination or lucid dream.

Dream or not, he'd never experienced such a soulful connection with any person, yet alone any woman and it only solidified his desire to uncover her secrets. He'd gladly spend a lifetime trying.

#cssns #cssns20 #captain swan supernatural summer #cs ff #cs au ff #la sirena #siren emma

28 notes · View notes

there-must-be-a-lock · 5 years

Text

Ocean Eyes

Sam x Reader

Word Count: ~1870

Warnings: Gratuitous ocean metaphors, Sam being his panty-melting hotdorable self.

A/N: Remember how I was going to write ~200 words of fluff, just to switch gears for a day? Remember how it spiraled wildly out of control and I thought it’d end up more like ~1000 words? Um, yeah. That wasn’t quite right either. Fuck me, I’m long-winded. Partly inspired by Billie Eilish’s song “Ocean Eyes,” which was recommended to me by @dawnie1988, who is basically just the best.

She noticed the sweater before she was fully awake.

She’d fallen asleep in the backseat of the Impala, curled up sideways with her knees tucked up to her chest. It had been warm that morning, but she wasn’t prepared for the chill of October in New England when the sun set and the temperature dropped rapidly; she had a vague memory of shivering, trying to huddle tighter against the seat, as she started to doze off somewhere around New Hampshire.

So she noticed the unexpected warmth, first.

Then it was the scent. It was familiar, and so was the maddening twist of heat she felt, the gut-wrenching spike of need, followed by the certainty that everything was right in the world. It was a combination of sweet-safe-comfortable and ohgodwant that only Sam could make her feel.

She could never put her finger on what that smell was, exactly. She could never conjure it up in her memory when she was away from him, but no matter how long it had been since she’d seen him, the first hug had her inhaling deep and remembering: right, of course, how could I forget? It was just Sam. That smell meant Sam, and Sam meant she was safe.

She snuggled in deeper, rubbing her cheek on the soft fabric impulsively, before she’d even opened her eyes.

Her sleepy brain was slow to put the pieces together, but she got there eventually.

It must’ve been the dark charcoal-grey sweater he’d worn the previous day. It brought out the grey in his eyes; she remembered the way her stomach flipped when she saw him. They’d been working a case in a quiet seaside town in Maine. His eyes had looked steely, but they glinted gold at the edges when the light hit them right, just like the last rays of sun slanting through stormclouds and flashing off the distant ripples of the sea. She smiled at the memory.

Someone snuffled and snorted in their sleep.

She opened her eyes. Sam was the first thing she saw: sprawled out next to her with his cheek against the headrest, long limbs at awkward angles in the confines of the car, looking right back at her. He didn’t look away or try to pretend that he hadn’t been staring. Even in the dim not-quite-dawn light, she could see the strange, wild expression on his face, focused intently on her. It was the way he looked when they were in the final stages of solving a case, racing toward the conclusion. He was watching her like she was the last missing piece of a puzzle.

“Morning,” she mumbled. She blinked, trying not to stare, but it was no use. He was too fucking beautiful to be real sometimes.

“Sleep well?” he asked, quiet and hoarse.

She nodded. “Thanks for the blanket.”

“You needed to rest, after that fight. How’s your shoulder? Let me check it out?”

She scooted over a little and he leaned in to meet her in the middle. She tilted her head to the side and kept her eyes on Dean, snoring in the driver’s seat. Cas was mirroring him on the passenger side. It was much safer to look at them than to acknowledge how close Sam was.

His long fingers were careful and gentle as he tugged at her shirt, exposing the gauze-covered cut where her neck met her shoulder, and pulled up the corner of the bandage. She could feel his breath, just a feather-light tickle of warm air. She shivered.

“Still cold?” Sam asked.

She was still wrapped in his sweater. His proximity was making her feel overheated, if anything: a flush in her cheeks, a tingle starting low in her gut.

“No.”

Sam’s fingertips brushed ever so slightly over swollen skin as he smoothed the edges of the bandage back down.

“Looks okay. We’ll wrap it better when we get home.”

He wasn’t pulling away. He tugged her shirt back into place and then he was touching her again, running his fingers gently down the side of her neck. His hand cupped her shoulder, his big palm curling around the curve of it, and his thumb rubbed a little circle, massaging the muscle there. Her breath caught in her throat.

She went utterly still for a moment. It was nothing, or it should’ve been nothing, nothing more than a sweet touch between friends, Sam taking care of her and grounding her and reassuring her as fucking always… but the simple pressure of his thumb under her collarbone was lighting every nerve ending in her body on fire. Her exhale was more like an uneven, shuddery sigh, mortifyingly loud in the close confines of the car.

Sam snatched his hand away abruptly.

The silence felt thick and hot.

“I need some air,” she bit out, and she untangled herself from his sweater hastily, shoving it back onto the seat without looking at him. He made a little noise, an indistinct protest, but she was already fumbling for the door handle, easing it open as quietly as she could, clumsy with sleep and cramped muscles.

The Impala was parked next to the ocean. Out over the water, where the sea met the sky, she could see the first hints of pink and lilac blossoming at the horizon, but almost everything else in her field of vision was a deep, monochromatic green-grey. The shore was a tumble of massive, weathered rocks, without any sort of welcoming bank that could be called a beach. A lone fisherman was silhouetted in the distance, perched at the end of a long jetty. Otherwise it was deserted: just some seagulls wheeling overhead in the sharp chilly breeze, and the car, and her.

She stepped from the pavement to a boulder and started to pick her way down toward the water, hopping from crag to crag, stopping short of the slippery shine that marked the reach of the waves and their spray. There was a flat-enough stone there where she could stand without worrying about her balance. The wind was cutting right through her thin shirt. She wrapped her arms around herself and tried not to shiver.

It was hard enough working with Sam and keeping her professional cool. Waking up next to that smile? God. This whole thing was just getting so pathetic, and that sigh might as well have been a moan. Her cheeks burned all over again as it replayed in her memory.

The crashing waves covered the sound of his footsteps. By the time she heard and turned to look, he was close, stepping easily from one rock to the next where she’d had to jump and scramble to cover the distance. She turned her back to him and watched the sea, as if she could ever ignore him.

She didn’t know what to say. It was a miracle he hadn’t realized, years ago, how she felt; it had to be written all over her face whenever she looked at him. It was inevitable, really, that he would figure it out eventually. Still, she wanted to squirm with embarrassment as she braced herself for the speech: I don’t see you like that… fuck. At least it’d be over soon.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, barely audible under the sound of the water, and she turned just as he took the final step onto the rock. He found his footing and drew a deep breath.

“What?” she blurted out.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. He grimaced. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have touched you like that. You must think I’m a fucking creep.”

She stared at him blankly.

He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes and heaved a sigh. “I know you don’t feel the same way. I’m sorry, I crossed a line. I don’t ever want to make you uncomfortable.”

She spluttered wordlessly for a moment and then laughed, too shocked to hold it back, loud enough that he let his hands drop and looked at her with his eyes wide like a kicked puppy.

“You fucking dumbass,” she said. Her voice cracked.

With one unsteady step, she closed the gap between them, throwing him off-balance and almost knocking them both over as she grabbed him by the front of his flannel and pulled him close.

He was frozen in surprise for a moment. The first kiss was quick and clumsy, a barely-there brush of her mouth over his lower lip, exploring the curve of it, and it was just as soft as she’d always imagined.

“Oh,” he breathed.

Then his hands were pressing her closer, one at her waist, one cupping the back of her neck, and he was leaning down to kiss her properly, mouth hot and sure, hungry, fucking desperate, like maybe he’d been waiting for this, too.

She’d thought her nerve endings were on fire earlier. That was nothing, compared to the blaze wherever he touched her now: his palm on her back, his fingers tangling in her hair, the planes of his chest where she was crushed against him, his teeth nipping at her lower lip, his slick tongue dipping and probing and tasting like he was ready to devour her. He was everywhere, filling her senses, igniting something that had been smoldering in her chest for too long.

Her legs were shaking. She pulled away, just enough to suck in a breath, and almost stumbled when Sam took a half-step back too. His hand cradled her cheek, tilting her face up to meet his eyes; he looked shell-shocked.

His smile came slow at first. She watched it spread, dimples tugging, bitten-red lips curling, until his whole face was just glowing with it, with this pure sweet joy, shining too bright to look at for long.

“Dumbass,” she repeated breathlessly.

He traced her jaw with one gentle fingertip, still grinning, and nodded. “So I’ve been told.”

Neither of them spoke for a moment. The earth was spinning on its axis in spite of the seismic shift in her world. A seagull shrieked overhead, waves crashed and receded, the salty breeze bit at any exposed skin, and none of it mattered. If the tide had come in, if water had risen up to her waist, she wouldn’t have noticed until she was being swept out to sea.

She thought about legends of sirens and their songs, and for a moment she sympathized with the sailors.

“Sun’s coming up,” he said. She was startled out of her reverie long enough to spare a glance at the horizon, where rays of pink and orange were lancing through the lightening sky and dancing off the waves, painting them in hues of pastel peach.

Sam’s smile outshone any sunrise she would ever see.

His eyes were sparkling, rippling with shades of green and blue and gold in the weak early-morning light, kaleidoscopic and dizzying. She could drown in those eyes, if she wasn’t careful.

She stood on tiptoe for a kiss and he leaned into it, dipping her backwards, so that she would’ve fallen without his steady hands at her waist. Her head was spinning.

“Don’t let me sink,” she whispered, and he kissed her again, long and sweet, before answering.

“If we go down, we go down together.”

If you enjoyed this, please reblog or leave something nice HERE!

If you want to read more of my scribbles, go HERE.

#supernatural fanfiction #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester x reader #spn reader insert

196 notes · View notes

simplyrali · 6 years

Text

July Morning

1999

They’ve arrived at the beach half an hour ago. It was still dark, but in the distance, the light was finding its way, creating a glow where the ocean met the sky. It was mostly clear, with a few puffy clouds littered here and there, creating strange shapes that let the imagination run wild.

The ocean was still a little chilly even at the end of June. The sensation of sinking their feet in the cold sand almost made them shiver, the night has sucked all warmth from it during the dark hours.

There was even a gentle breeze in the air. It played with Cameron’s blond locks, just as Joe'd imagined it would a few days ago in the trailer, when she suggested they should watch the sunrise together.

Joe paused every now and then to wiggle his toes in the loose grains. They should really travel to the beach more often, Macmillan thought.

He lifted his head to watch Cameron, several steps away from him, drawing something in the wet sand with her big toe. She noticed him staring and smiled at him, without saying a word.

He found himself smiling back, something he did a lot these days. Then he returned his gaze to the horizon, where purple, red and pink started to slowly spread across the morning sky.

Joe stepped closer to the water, Cameron right next to him. He leaned forward to roll his trousers up to the knee when he reached the water-darkened sand. Taking a few more steps, they let the salty water, clouded with sea foam, to lap over their feet to the ankles. The ocean ambience completely surrounding them and giving them both a sense of freedom and peace of mind.

They had a few more minutes before the sun appeared, so they decided to take a little walk across the beach. There was no one there, and it was quiet, relaxing environment, that gave them genuine calm and happiness. Walking hand in hand in the middle section between the dry sand and the water, the couple left footprints in the wet sand.

More and more colors filled the sky, the clouds catching them beautifully and throwing shades across the horizon. Cameron and Joe stopped to observe how the light broke through the darkness.

It’s like the sky is on fire, Cameron thought. Her big eyes reflected the red-orange glow over the ocean waves.

This sunrise was magical, it brought a new day with new hope.

"Shall we?" Joe asked.

“Here? Okay.” Cameron replied and threw on the ground her sneakers, which she held the entire time. Joe set his shoes down next to hers.

They sat together on the ground, legs outstretched. Cam playfully brushed her pinky toe with his a couple of times, which made them both laugh.

He watched as she closed her eyes and let the warmth of the new coming golden light wash over her face. She looked peaceful, he noted and smiled.

Cameron felt his gaze and cracked an eye open to look at him.

“What?”

“Nothing”, he replied as his smile grew into a full grin.

Cameron’s lips twitched a little and she shook her head at him.

Then Cam leaned and placed her head on his shoulder. He smiled affectionately down at her and kissed the top of her head. His right arm went around her body and pulled her closer.

The couple spent a few moments in a comfortable silence, listening and watching the waves crash upon the shore. For a few seconds Joe let the sound of Cam’s breathing, her heartbeat, and the ocean waves send him into a hypnotic state, in a world where nothing else existed, just him and her.

He felt her shift a little, making herself more comfortable in his arms. Then she grabbed his hand and gently intertwined fingers with him, her thumb drawing lazy circles at the back of his hand. He looked at their connected hands and gave a little squeeze to let her know how much he enjoyed the small sign of affection.

Joe closed his eyes and smiled into her hair, which smelled like it has been freshly washed. He rocked them very slightly back and forth as he hummed contently into her silky head. He liked their position and the weight of Cam against him. All worries were gone and peaceful stillness enveloped his mind at the thought that he had everything he ever wanted in his arms.

Cameron turned back to look at him and noticed how his face was illuminated perfectly in the light of day, which seemed to give it a sort of glow. His gentle eyes fixed on her big blue ones. A soft content smile was shining on his mouth. He looked irresistible.

Cameron licked her lips and softly touched them to his. The sweetest small kiss, yet containing so much love, it made his chest aglow with happiness.

“I love you.” she murmured softly and settled back into his arms, to watch how the colors on the sky faded away and were replaced by stunning baby blue.

Joe brought his head to her neck and left a gentle kiss right on the base of it. He breathed deeply her unique scent and closed his eyes.

“I love you, too.” Joe replied, nuzzling close to Cam’s ear.

She reached back and put a hand on the back of his head, holding him close.

Her long fingers played with the soft brown and grey strands.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it, Joe?” she asked, staring ahead at the rising sun.

"Yes," he breathed. "It's absolutely perfect."

There I was on a July morning

Looking for love

With the strength

Of a new day dawning

And the beautiful sun

With the day came the resolution

I'll be looking for you

La la la la

Notes:

July is only a few hours away... We, bulgarians, celebrate July Morning. It is an annual Bulgarian festival, celebrated on the night before and the day of July 1st of each year. People from across Bulgaria travel (often hitchhiking) to the Black Sea coast to meet the first sun rays on the first day of July. People gather around fires, play music and wait for the sunrise. On many locations, there are concerts with professional and amateur bands. Camping at the locations of choice for the July Morning celebration is also very popular.The name of the tradition comes from the British rock band Uriah Heep's 1971 hit "July Morning" which became widely popular in Bulgaria in the 1980s. There are many versions of the meaning of the tradition. Most people consider July Morning a celebration of a new beginning and freedom in the spirit. For others, it is just a good reason for a late night/early morning party. So, this fic was inspired by Uriah Heep's July Morning. I hope you enjoyed it. What a beautiful way for these two to welcome the new day... :)

If you prefer you can read it also on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15108470

#halt and catch fire #joe macmillan #cameron howe #jameron #hacf

7 notes · View notes

thedefinitionofbts · 7 years

Text

A Story that we paint (Ch. 3)

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Epilogue

Pairings: Jeon Jungkook x Reader | Kim Taehyung x Reader

Genre: College Au, Future, Scifi, Slight Fluff and Angst

Words: 6K

Description: Butterfly Dream: In which the lines between virtual and reality are blurred.

Somewhere on the sandy shores of a large ocean side city, you are lying next to your boyfriend Kim Taehyung, under the cooling shade of a beach umbrella. Subtly feeling the rise and fall of his chest, you lean closer against his bare torso as the scent of his vanilla sunscreen fills the air surrounding you. His summer-tanned complexion is glowing from the reflecting rays of the sun ricocheting off the soft yellow sand, and for a moment, you allow yourself to lose your grip of the physical world and be submerged in a carefree bliss, forgetting about anything and everything that had been troubling you.

“This was a great idea,” You sigh, feeling more relaxed than you’ve felt in a long time.

“Traveling the world?” Taehyung hums. The vibration of his voice tingles in your ear, right before the sound of the ocean floods your senses.

“Yeah” You confirm.

Having been hesitant about taking a whole month off from work, afraid your boss might think you were slacking off, it was Taehyung who had convinced you that you were in dire need of a break. You had always been a loyal employee, sacrificing sleep and most weekends for the sake of the company, thinking that the only way to get anywhere in life was throwing all your time and energy into work. But now, as you feel the knots in your sore muscles loosen and the jumbled thoughts in your mind clearing out, you were finally realizing that this trip was exactly what you needed. You needed to get out there and explore the world while you were young, and you wouldn’t have wanted to experience this adventure with anyone but Kim Taehyung.

On this month long trip, the two of you had gone to many different places around the world, each with its own unique culture and characteristics that left unforgettable memories of your time together. You recall a historic castle in the mountains reminiscent of many that can be found in Western Europe, where Taehyung had recited poems to you as you gazed across the forest covered valley below, and gaped at the crystalline surface of the river that ran in between the steep hills, reflecting different wavelengths of sunlight, like a prism giving birth to rainbows.

You can still see the small village at the base of an inactive volcano on a tropical island, lined with palm trees and bright orange hibiscus. The hotel you had stayed at was positioned right on the shore, giving the two of you unlimited access to the vast ocean. Sunrises and Sunsets were spent eating delicious meals and crafting little gifts out of the vibrant flowers covering every visible inch of the islands fields. Effortlessly, you are able to retain the memory of the way Taehyung had smiled at you before lifting you off your feet and running towards the aquamarine waves rushing towards the sandy beach.

Even now, as you look him in the eyes, ringing in your ears are the sounds of the bustling market places in the sand dunes of the Middle East, and in your nostrils still lingers the scent of the fresh breeze drifting across the Western coastlines of North America, where you two took a road trip driving along the forest covered coast of Northern California.

You knew your memory of these places would be safely contained in small pieces of your heart, tucked away in hidden sections only to be brought out when a new experience would call them forward. As all memories are, they would be strengthened by each connection you made, whether it was now or in the future. But the sheer depth of these particular memories from this trip is unlike that of first time experiences. It is conceivable that this is due to the events happening not too long ago, a month is a rather short period of time to expect your recollections to fade, but these memories seem to have multiple layers. And it is because of this peculiar trait that makes you question if these are strengthening connections rather than brand new experiences. But that was not possible because you knew for a fact that this was the first time you and Taehyung traveled the world together, so why does everything that’s seemingly perfect now, feel so strange?

You opt not to dwell on that anymore because it’s not like you would get answers to such absurd questions. It was likely that you were beginning to overthink again, a habit that is not completely uncharacteristic of you. The trip was amazing, and that was all that really mattered. Maybe it was also because this trip was nearing it’s inevitable end, and that was the reason behind your growing anxiety. You knew all good things would eventually come to an end, and even before the trip started, you were mentally preparing yourself for post-vacation depression by telling yourself there will always be a next time. But even your self-induced pep talks were unsatisfactory, because the more you ventured around the world, the more you grew accustomed to traveling, and the more you dreaded the thought of going back to everyday life when the trip would finally come to its end.

“Tae, when this trip is over, I’m going to quit my job”

He leans up and lowers his sunglasses. “Really?” He asks.

You look at him and nod, waiting for him to tell you, you were being unreasonable or something and giving you a long talk on how you shouldn’t make rash decisions like this. Because it sounded silly, even in your mind, but you genuinely wanted to see how he would react.

“Thank god” He sighs with relief. It was a response that you had not expected.

“What?” You ask, rather astonished.

“I’ve been waiting for you to come to that decision for ages,” Taehyung explains with a soft chuckle. “But I wanted you to decide that on your own.”

“You’ve been hoping I’d quit?” You ask, still feeling a little dumbfounded.

“I can tell you don’t enjoy that job.” Taehyung says. He reaches over and begins tracing indecipherable shapes in the palm of your hands as he explains. “Seeing you unhappy and stressed is not something I want to continue doing.” He leans in and gives you a peck on the cheek, and it feels so right you start to wonder where that foreign feeling tinkling in your chest is coming from.

You had been so stressed from work that there were fragments of memories before the trip that were just gradually beginning to return to you. The sleepless nights working on some big project that required an intense amount of design and testing, conversations with an old friend who you had known for years, and a song that you had obsessed over at one point in time but somehow can’t quite remember the name of.

“We should move somewhere like this” Taehyung says, after the two of you took a moment to enjoy the rhythmic waxing and waning of the salty waves.

“By the sea?” You hum.

“Yeah” He breathes out.

…

Not long after your trip around the world with Taehyung ended, did your plans of starting a new chapter in your life actually become a reality. You had quit your awful job as planned, and though you were nervous about what lay ahead in the future; it felt nice to at least get one thing off your chest. It was satisfying seeing the look in your boss’ eyes when you handed him your letter of resignation. He had always taken your hard work for granted, and made you feel incompetent when products didn’t turn out the way he wanted. At least you finally got to see the look on his face when it had finally dawned on him that he was losing one of his most valuable employees.

It was only a couple of weeks later, when Taehyung had excitedly announced the news that he managed to find a house in some southern city by the ocean. It was a beautifully designed little hut, right next to the water, just as he had wanted and miraculously within your budget as well. Being a freelancing photographer, his work never held him down like yours did to you, and it was only for the sake of your job that the two of you had decided to live in the same town for years. Now that, that wasn’t an issue anymore, you guys finally had the opportunity to live out a long dream of his. And it definitely seemed like everything was falling into place.

“Remember when we first moved here?” You hear Taehyung’s voice travel into the bathroom as you were brushing your teeth, preparing for bed.

You walk to the doorway, toothbrush still scrubbing away, and see Taehyung half tucked into bed. He was looking around the bedroom with nostalgic eyes, reminiscing the years the two of you had spent in this lovely little apartment. How happy you were when you first moved in together after finally saving up enough money to get your own place. Those long nights spend chatting under the covers with the newfound excitement and anticipation for the start of your lives together. You think you can still remember the look in his eyes as he laid in bed facing you, just faintly visible, thanks to the moonlight filtering through the curtains, and just before you closed your own.

Now it was merely a week before you were to leave this memory filled place and enter the next chapter of your lives. All of your belongings were safely packed away in brown boxes of different sizes stacked in one corner, and the room was mostly empty except for the bed the two of you shared.

It almost feels like Déjà vu, because you swear you viewed a similar scene somewhere else. And you truly believe something exactly like this had happened before in the past, but you know it hasn’t, or at least you’re pretty sure it hasn’t. No matter how real that feeling seems to be, your mind is telling you that it is impossible. Maybe it was just from a movie, or a book, or….a dream?

You walk back to the sink to finish washing up, taking the time to rinse every last bit of toothpaste foam off your toothbrush. You make sure the faucet is twisted shut and turn off the light before you exit the bathroom.

You can’t see anything because you’re eyes haven’t quite adjusted to the darkness yet, but you know the room so well that you could easily find your way around even with your eyes closed. You can hear Taehyung scoot over a little to make room for you to join him on the bed. A shift of his body tells you he’s turned to lie on his side facing you. The same position he’s always in, because he had once said something along the lines of “I will never leave you alone even when your mind has drifted off to the realm of dreaming”. You can’t quite recall the exact context of that, but you think it’s something Taehyung has said in the past because if it wasn’t him, who else could it be?

The bed is soft like it always is, and when you slip under the covers, you’re immediately in contact with the warmth of his body as you position yourself next to him. The room is quiet, and nothing but the faint rumble of the central air conditioner can be heard. Your heavy eyelids are slowing shutting, but the smooth sound of Taehyung’s voice keeps you clutching on to your consciousness for just a little bit longer.

“Y/N?” You hear him murmur.

“Hmmm?”

There’s a drawn out pause, and it makes you wonder if Taehyung might’ve fallen asleep mid-sentence, but you feel the light flutter of his breathe as he sighs.

“I really miss you,” He whispers at a barely audible volume, and once again, it is so soft that you would’ve missed it entirely had you not been paying attention.

You take a brief moment to let his words sink in. “What do you mean?” You ask, feeling an eerie uncertainty wash over you. How could he miss you, when you were right next to him sleeping under the same stars and wrapped under the same blanket? You’ve never left him for longer than a workday at a time in the past, and you two were always together. Was he maybe referring to it in a metaphorical sense then?

You lift your gaze, and it settle on his glossy pupils, waiting, but he takes his time to stare into your eyes, and for some strange, unexplainable reason, it feels like he knows it’s the last time. “As long as you’re happy, I’ll be ok.”

“Tae…” Your voice trails off.

“I love you,” He says.

……….

“You’re not going to tell Jungkook that you almost thought the virtual world was the real world?” Jimin practically screams, after you admit your last simulation test was way freakier than you ever thought was possible or ever wanted it to be.

“I don’t even think the word “almost” can really put it into perspective.” You shake your head slowly, blankly staring at the water coming to a boil on Jimin’s stovetop. He had frantically started making tea after he saw you arrive at his dorm wholly shaken up; thinking you just had an anxiety attack or something. “I wouldn’t even be surprised if I didn’t make it out.”

“Y/N!” Jimin screams again. “You need to stop going in those simulations!”

“I can’t!” You exclaim, finally snapping out of your detachment from the conversation at the mention of giving up. “Jimin the project is due in two weeks, I can’t stop now.” You run your hands through your hair in frustration.

“That shit’s no worth it, Y/N” Jimin says, in a much calmer tone as he pours you a cup of tea.

“But, we’ve already worked so hard” You murmur, staring at the cup and the tiny slivers of steam radiating from it.

It was true. This entire semester, all you’ve done is put work into this project, spending endless hours in the HCI lab, just as Professor Namjoon predicted at the beginning of the semester. You barely had any free time, except for the occasional weekends you spent catching up on sleep.

“That time warp thing, or whatever it’s called, is so messed up” Jimin comments. “I can’t believe Jungkook made you do it.” He shakes his head in disappointment.

“It’s not his fault, I’m the one who made the decision” It surprises you how quickly you are to defend Jungkook, your project partner and the only other person who’s probably spent even more time on the project than you have.

Jeon Jungkook.

Things really haven’t gone anywhere since the last time you two did anything non-project related. Frankly, it was just awkward for you, knowing he’s already in love with someone. He never really talks about her either, and it’s not like you had the right to ask.

He was nice to you. Almost a kind of, pretend nice, the way he would probably treat every other girl on this planet. Nothing special, nothing extra, nothing that would make your relationship with him would go beyond the scope of project partners.

Absolutely no potential there.

You had to admit it was disappointing, and normally you wouldn’t be so caught up in this one-sided love scenario if it weren’t for those dreams. It was actually verging on laughable, knowing your subconscious mind was calling out to him for reasons you couldn’t explain. Dreaming about a crush, story of every teenage girl’s life. You thought you were over those days, but apparently not. The only thing that brought you solace was telling yourself that it’s his fault for shinning so brightly in the darkness. Whatever that meant.

“Have you talked to Professor Min Yoongi about it?” Jimin asks, awakening you from your thoughts and taking a sip of the hot liquid from his own cup.

“No...”

“Well what the fuck are you waiting for???!?! The semester is almost over and you still downplay the importance of Mental Environment Homeostasis. Unbelievable!” He almost slams his cup down on the table.

You roll your eyes. “Yes, Mr. Psychology major, or should I call you Dr. Park?” You huff in annoyance.

“Y/N, you really shouldn’t take this lightly.” Jimin gives you a serious look, one that made it indisputably obvious that he wasn’t playing around.

“I know, I know, I’ll go talk to him. I will.”

…

As you had promised Jimin, you set aside some time on a Friday afternoon to talk to Professor Min Yoongi during his office hours. The tread up the grand staircase of the Psychology building was admittedly a bit nerve wracking. You weren’t exactly the most eloquent when it came to interacting with professors, especially for reasons as personally exposing as these.

It felt quite awkward, knowing you hadn’t spoken to him directly all semester and was just now (with less than two weeks before finals) that you decide to pay him a visit over this serious issue that may or may not have been able to be prevented had you gone to him earlier.

In your defense, Professor Min Yoongi has always been on the intimidating side. Compared to the jokester Seokjin and the bright and enthusiastic Hoseok, Yoongi wasn’t exactly the most approachable out of your professors. Heck, even Namjoon felt easier to go to for help.

He’s going to think I’m a horrible student. You think to yourself as you approach the large wooden door to his office that was slightly ajar. You tentatively lift a hand to knock, wincing a little as the sound interrupts the previously serene environment.

“Come in” You hear the familiar voice come as a muffle through the wood.

Pushing open the door, you swallow the saliva that has managed to build up to a noticeable volume. What were you even going to say?

“H-hi, Professor Min” You hesitantly utter as you walk into the dimly lit room. It was mid-afternoon, but he had the curtains of his window closed and nothing but his desk lamp on.

“Good afternoon” He says, lifting his head from the book he was reading. He reaches over and lifts his bookmark from the surface of his wooden desk and inserts it into the book, before opening a drawer to his left side and tucking it away. “And what brings you here today?” He asks, looking at you and giving you a faint smile.

“I’m Y/N, a student in Mental Environment Homeostasis, and I…ugh…had something I wanted to discuss about my project.” You pause, giving him time to respond.

“Ah, yes, please have a seat” He says, motioning to the couch on the left side of the room. There was a small coffee table in front of it, with a vase holding a single red rose.

You silently walk over and sit on the couch as the professor stands up from his desk and makes his way over to the other couch facing the one you had just sat down on.

“Y/N, was it?” Yoongi says. “You’re the one who’s doing the project with Jungkook, right?”

Your ears perk up at the sound of Jungkook’s name. “Y-yes” You nod. “How did you…?”

He chuckles. “Namjoon told me about the group who was experimenting with a conscious AI. He was initially a bit concerned, but I’ve been speaking to your partner, Jungkook, about it and I see you’ve been holding up well?”

So Jungkook has already spoken with Yoongi? Is that what he spends his weekends doing? You don’t have time to mull over what you think Jungkook might spend his free time doing because Yoongi is waiting for your response.

“Yeah, about that…it’s kind of what I came to talk to you about, today” You reply. “About our test simulations, and the time warp function we’ve been using these past few weeks.”

“Have the lines begun to blur?” Yoongi asks, getting straight to the point. You feel so relieved that he’s able to pinpoint the issue without you having to really explain anything.

You nod. “Yeah, in my last trip to the virtual world, I almost thought it was real.” You lower your head and allow your eyes to rest on the rose. “I don’t know if it’s dangerous to continue, but our project is almost due and I don’t know if I’m just overthinking or….”

“If I recall correctly, you two are writing a love story?” Yoongi asks, after your voice trails off.

You look up at him and nod.

“Ultimately it is up to you, but you don’t have to continue the simulations to finalize the project.” Yoongi explains. “You have your AI. You’ve built your world. The final component is painting the story, and that story doesn’t have to be limited to the virtual world.”

“I’m sorry, professor, I don’t quite understand what you mean” You voice, unable to determine what he was trying to imply.

“It may seem hard to believe, but I’ve been in a position similar to yours.” Yoongi voices nostalgically. “I attended this university the first year Virtual Universe 101 was added to the curriculum.” He glances briefly at the rose. “What’s interesting is, I had the same story genre as you.”

“The love story?” You gasp, unable to believe they kept such a topic around for so long.

Yoongi nods. “My partner and I also created an AI.” He pauses, and you could tell he was recalling a fond memory. “Have you fallen in love with your AI?” He suddenly asks.

“Ummm….” You think about Taehyung, the handsome guy with a smooth baritone voice and a cute rectangular grin. It’s amazing how the memories of him from the simulation are kept even when you come back to reality. Although they are somewhat blurred, the feelings are recognizably there.

Have you fallen in love with Taehyung? It was the one question you had avoided asking yourself.

“I’m not sure…” It was only half true. You weren’t fully certain, but deep down, you knew you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t feel something for your virtual male lead. And who would blame you? Taehyung was as perfect of a lover as can be.

“Professor Kim Namjoon did say that bit about having the option of choosing to live in your virtual world, correct?”

You nod, slightly fearful of where you think this conversation is headed. That idea was something Namjoon had mention on the first day of class, something you hadn’t thought much about until now. Was Yoongi going to suggest you just give in to the virtual world and accept that your mind has already chosen it over reality??

“I’m not advising you to choose that option,” Yoongi quickly says, when he sees the look of horror spread across your face unbeknownst to you. “But you can use it for your story.”

“My story?”

“The story that you are painting with Jungkook” Yoongi reiterates.

“But Taehyung is the male lead” You murmur, uncertain why the dark haired professor is acting like Jungkook is. Or maybe he just said that because Jungkook is your partner and the story you’re painting is just this dumb project. Ugh, overthinking again. You mentally scold yourself for being so sensitive at the mention of Jungkook’s name.

“And if I’m not mistaken, Taehyung is the AI created with Jungkook’s mind?” It’s not really a question. It was obvious he just wanted to restate for the purpose of emphasizing.

You nod again. “I know he’s just someone in the virtual world, but there’s something in his eyes that makes him real to me. He may be a product of Jungkook’s mind, but I always believed there was something uniquely Taehyung.” You don’t know why you’re beginning to get worked up over what Yoongi was saying or inferring or out right declaring, but it doesn’t settle well with you. Maybe you really were in love with Taehyung…

“Oh, he’s definitely real, but what impresses me is that Jungkook derived the AI’s consciousness from his own mind.” Yoongi comments. “You see, my partner and I, we didn’t think of doing it that way. We made a conscious AI from scratch, and when she fell in love with him, there was nothing I could do.” Yoongi falls silent, and you think you can faintly see a hint of pain in his eyes, but it’s gone as soon as you blink.

She?

Could he mean…?

“I was young, and too confident for my own good.” Yoongi chuckles ever so slightly.

“Your partner, did she….” You feel like an asshole for probing, but as always, curiosity got the better of you.

“She chose the world she wanted to live in.” Yoongi responds, smiling at the thought. “I don’t view it as tragic in the least.”

“Was it like the butterfly dream?” The words escape before you had time to filter them.

“In a way, yes, but I’ve come to believe that there is no way to prove which world is real and which is not.” Yoongi answers. “You and Jungkook, you guys could center your story around it. Something like… love that transcends the butterfly dream?” He grins.

“So you’re saying the story that we paint is me falling in love in the real world and choosing it over the virtual world, even though the virtual world is where I was supposed to fall in love in?” You ask, ready to make the argument that, that can’t possibly happen because Jungkook doesn’t even like you in that way in the real world. But it is just a story so it can be fake, right?

“That’s one option” Yoongi nods. “But the one that came to my mind, is one where you fall in love in both worlds, but ultimately realize they were the same love story all along.”

“Ok, you lost me again” You admit, slightly embarrassed that your brain couldn’t keep up.

“Like I said, there is no way to prove which world is real and which is not. Both worlds are real, and the virtual and reality titles are only given based on the reference point. In other worlds, the real world is real because a virtual one exists and the virtual world is virtual because a real one exists. If you are living in the “virtual” world with no perception that another “real” world exists, the only world you know, in this case “virtual”, will be deemed real to your reality.” Yoongi explains.

“So if that’s the case, how does my story work then?” You question, more confused than ever.

“There is only one thing you have to consider when deciding which world you want to live in. A way to know which one you belong in.” Yoongi pauses for the sake of giving you time to organize your own thoughts before continuing. “The question you have to consider is, do you love Kim Taehyung or do you love Jeon Jungkook?”

“B-but, aren’t they the same?” You ask, raising an eyebrow and wondering why he was separating the two now, when just a few minutes ago he was stressing the fact that Taehyung is Jungkook or whatever.

“Are they to you?”

“No” You reply, they were different to you. Vastly different. Kim Taehyung treats you as his lover, and Jungkook…well, there seems to only be one-sided love there.

“Alright. Then the second question is, does Kim Taehyung love you or does Jeon Jungkook love you?”

You scoff a little. Jeon Jungkook? Loving you? That was not possible. “Definitely Kim Taehyung.” You answer, feeling how unnecessary it was to even have to voice something so obvious out loud, especially when he had literally said, “I love you” in that last simulation.

“An AI is only able to love if they are conscious.” Yoongi politely reminds you.

“Taehyung is conscious.” You answer defensively, thinking the professor couldn’t have possibly forgotten that fact already. Where the hell was he going with this?

“And where did his consciousness come from?”

Initially you don’t quite register what Yoongi had asked, it was such a simple question, yet you had a flashing light bulb moment in your mind, and you felt your heart tug at the ultimate realization.

Seeing that you have gone speechlessly silent. Yoongi voices his last statement:

“Kim Taehyung is only able to love you because Jeon Jungkook loves you.”

…

You don’t remember your dream that night. Maybe you didn’t even dream, or maybe your conversation with Yoongi had made you recognize something you had been confused about for a very long time.

“There’s something in his eyes that makes him real to me. He may be a product of Jungkook’s mind, but there was always something uniquely Taehyung.”

What you had said to Professor Min Yoongi echoes in your head.

It was a conclusion you had not realized you had come to until he had asked the question. Yes, there was always something about Taehyung that was distinct from Jungkook. He was goofy, lively, understanding, and pure…all the things you dreamed of Jungkook being. He is the place between awake and dreaming, the place that does not exist in the spectrum of reality. He is a reminder of something you lost long ago but at the same time, an enigmatic puzzle that has no answer.

“There is no way to prove which world is real and which is not.”

What Professor Min Yoongi said was right, the electo-chemical signals in your brain are the only thing that really makes up your reality, without that, you wouldn’t be able to sense the world anyways. And the virtual world acts directly upon those signals, making it un-differentiable from reality.

“But there is always a way to know which one you belong in.”

You contemplate taking the mysterious professor’s suggestion for the story. Yoongi had lost his lover in the simulation, and it makes you wonder if the same story will be repeated in your case.

You had thought the hard part would be differentiating virtual from reality, but this was ten times worse. It was like trying to decide between two people, who are the same person, but not. And if Jungkook felt the same way about you as Taehyung, why was he so non-expressive about it? Like a lot of things in life, it made no sense.

The last day of the project was coming up, and you still hadn’t told Jungkook about your last test simulation and your talk with Professor Min Yoongi. Instead, you spent the last few days coming up with excuses about being too busy working on the completed plotline of your story, an alibi that gave you reason to avoid the HCI lab for as long as possible. It was partially true though. The actual storyline was what Yoongi had suggested you focus on anyways. You were just relieved that Jungkook didn’t pry about how you were acting so strange.

When the last lecture of the semester arrived, all of your professors gathered in one lecture hall to make the last few announcements before the project was finally due.

“You have three days to decide if you want to live the life you created” Professor Kim Namjoon’s voice echoes through the lecture hall one last time.

“Students, please do not take his worlds seriously” Professor Jung Hoseok had stepped forward and clarified. Namjoon laughs a little at Hoseok’s blunt comment. Hoseok was smiling from ear to ear, and literally glowing under the stage light. “Professor Namjoon says that only to remind you that your virtual worlds are very much real, and that you’ve created something much more meaningful that you could ever imagine.”

So that’s what it was all along? A joke to make students more motivated to create innovative projects?

“We are all very excited to see what this years class has brought to the table,” Professor Kim Seokjin adds.

“We just want to congratulate you all for making it this far, and hope to see your submitted projects soon.” Professor Min Yoongi finishes off.

The students in the lecture hall were beginning to gather their things, ready to leave and perhaps go back to finishing up all their projects. Fall semester was finally coming to an end, and it really hasn’t hit you until now, during the last class of the year, that Virtual Universe 101 was actually coming to a close. Finals week was rolling around, and the project was due in three days, as Namjoon has just reminded everyone.

“Y/N?” You hear Jungkook’s voice awaken you from your thoughts.

“Oh, we’re supposed to leave aren’t we?” You laugh, nervously, still trying to pull yourself together.

“I’ve finished testing out all part of the code, and the virtual world is pretty much good to go.” Jungkook says as the two of you walk between the rows of seats toward the exit. “H-how’s the story coming along?” He says, voice a little softer and less confident than it was for the previous sentence.

“It’s….umm…” You search for a response, but the words elude you, escaping from your grasp like trying to grip tiny grains of sand that continuously slips between your fingers.

“Even though Professor Jung Hoseok said Professor Kim Namjoon was kidding about choosing to live the life you create, we could… make that part of our project…or uh…something…” He trails off, perhaps waiting for you to jump in and say something, an agreement, express refusal, anything. But you don’t, and there’s only silence because all the students have left the lecture hall and the lights were beginning to turn off, except for a few dimly lit ones at the front near the stage.

Kim Taehyung is only able to love you because Jeon Jungkook loves you. Yoongi’s voice resonates in your head, and it gives you just enough courage to voice your next question.

“Jungkook, how did you know Taehyung would fall in love with me?” You ask, stopping to turn and look at him.

He nervously diverts his eyes, biting on his bottom lip and contemplating how to respond to your question. He knows exactly what you mean by that question. He also knows that if he messes up now, everything he’s done up until this point will all be in vain. He doesn’t really know what to do, and he doesn’t know if this is the right time to do it, but he takes a leap of faith anyways because it may be his last chance to save you.

“I’ve liked you since I saw you walk into the lecture hall on the first day of school. I just thought you were really pretty, and I secretly prayed you would come over and ask me to be your partner.” Jungkook blurts out, it comes out rushed and uncoordinated, and he’s left scratching the back of his neck awkwardly when he finishes. “I’m sorry, that was dumb…” He sighs, looking down at the ground dejectedly.

I just came because the rides looked fun, and when I saw you, I thought you were really pretty, so I approached. Another familiar voice echoes in your head, like scattered fragments of memory tossed in the air. That was the moment they all came raining down on you, like the blinding light at the end of a tunnel.

Butterfly. It’s my favorite.

It’s called Butterfly.

It’s because of a girl.

There’s a girl I use to like a long time ago.

She chose to stay in her dream.

She was someone really special.

Still is.

“Jungkook?” You manage to whisper, and although your voice is shaking ever so slightly, you are able to speak with absolute resolve, a type of sureness you had lacked most of your life. But now, as Jungkook slowly raises his eyes to meet yours, you had never felt more certain of your final decision.

“I want to paint another story together, only this time, let’s let our brushes move freely.”

You gaze into the pair of doe eyes you’ve been seeing in your dreams, those dark chocolate orbs that mesmerized you from the first day you looked into them. But there was something different about them today, something peculiar, a glint that was calling for you. That same glint you’ve been seeing in Taehyung’s eyes, as well. Is this where it came from?

That familiar feeling that has been following you around for quite some time now is stronger than ever. Inexplicably, you are just now beginning to feel like you can pin point what exactly it is.

And that’s when,

You wake up.

#bts fanfic #bangtan bookclub #btswriters #armiesnet #taeguknetwork #bts scenarios #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #taehyung x reader #taehyung fanfic #scifi #college au

91 notes · View notes

prcdigia · 5 years

Text

really LONG CHARACTER SURVEY. RULES. repost , don’t reblog ! tag 10 ! good luck ! TAGGED. found it ! TAGGING. all of ya !

BASICS.

FULL NAME : Sherry Birkin. NICKNAME / ALIASES : Agent Birkin, Supergirl, Cherry, Little Miss, Raccoon Survivor, Test Subject AGE : 26 years [ verse dependent tho ] BIRTHDAY : March 7th, 1986 ETHNIC GROUP : American RACE / NATIONALITY : Caucasian / American LANGUAGE / S : English, bits and pieces of russian, chinese and german SEXUAL ORIENTATION : Heterosexual ROMANTIC ORIENTATION : Heteroromantic RELATIONSHIP STATUS : Single / Verse dependent CLASS : Middle class HOME TOWN / AREA : Raccoon City / The outskirts of Arklay CURRENT HOME : There’s no such thing she can call a firm home atm but the DSO’s offering different places for her to stay [ motels, cabins etc. ]. She’s usually kept under strict surveillance by the government, however. PROFESSION : US government agent [ unknown agency, ?-2012 ] ; DSO - 'Division of Security Operations' agent [ 2012-to now ]

PHYSICAL.

HAIR : Flaxen-haired, short with bangs, slightly curvy. A little bit longer than a pixie cut. EYES : Azure blue and bright, adorned by long, spidery lashes. Usually optimistic or gentle. NOSE : Small sloped, ordinary, knobbly at the peak FACE : Delicate, with soft & youthful features; middle-high cheekbones and a gently pointed chin; eyebrows are semi-thin, trimmed in a natural way & expressive LIPS : Sharp, semi-full lips; upper lip is thinner COMPLEXION : fair && smooth, almost porcelain-like, giving a false indication toward her age, her skin is thin enough for her veins to show through sometimes BLEMISHES : Slight freckles scatter across her nasal area && cheek bones, though they’re only to be seen from close-up SCARS : None. Or at least none of them are visible to the plain eye due to the G-virus' infection meddling with her DNA. TATTOOS : None so far HEIGHT : 5’4" [ 163 cm ] WEIGHT : 103 lb [ 47 kg ] BUILD : Fit, Athletic, Tiny / Something between Ecto- & Mesomorph/ Curvy but slender. An all around petite figure, which is quite beneficial for both her speed and agility in order to execute smooth combat moves FEATURES : Nothing extensively peculiar except for the fact that despite how many scratches and wounds Sherry has sustained over the years, they've all healed well and left no traces for the raw eye to be seen. She's also very pale, not in a sick but distinctive way. ALLERGIES : A mild form of hay fever USUAL HAIR STYLE : Mostly smoothed with some parts being curvy; a little touseld, but all in all nothing out of the ordinary. She likes to keep her hair style sportive but simple. USUAL FACE LOOK : Focused, determined, optimistic, thoughtful, melancholic, kind, caring, maybe even judgmental sometimes, although she really never does judge a book by its cover. USUAL CLOTHING : Formal when on duty, a white shirt with green capris, turtleneck sweaters & leggings, coats, something casual & comfortable, though she doesn’t mind to dress playful or elegant as well. She usually always wears a azul scarf around her neck & brown boots if the occasion allows it

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEAR / S : Mild form of Claustrophobia [ The fear of being enclosed in a small space or room and having no escape. ] Mild form of Achluophobia [ The fear of darkness. ] Mild form of Aichmophobia [ The morbid fear of sharp things, such as pencils, knives and especially needles. ] Severe form of Atychiphobia [ The irrational fear of failure or being incapable to help and protect. ] ASPIRATION / S : To bring peace to the world & restore balance, not wanting to end up like her parents, to fight bioterrorism & live up to her childhood friends & idols Claire & Leon. POSITIVE TRAITS : Organized ● Holistic ● Commited ● Idealistic ● Empathetic ● Compassionate ● Firece ● Kind ● Reserved ● Determined ● Optimistic ● Artistic ● Intuitive ● Gentle ● Wise ● Loyal ● Selfless ● Romantic ● Reflective ● Profound ● Trustworthy NEGATIVE TRAITS : Fearful ● Naive ● Overly trusting ● Sad ● Hurt ● Sceptic ● Self-Critical ● Stigmatized ● Mournful ● Gullible ● Anxious ● Self-doubting ● Emotional MBTI : ESFJ / The Caregiver ZODIAC : Pisces ♓ TEMPEREMENT : Phlegmatic ANIMALS : White Dove VICE HABIT / S : Tends to overthink her own actions a lot due to self-critical behavior / Keeps people at arms length sometimes in order to steer clear from the involvement of personal feelings FAITH : She doesn’t believe in God or the church or any other beliefs but she believes in fate GHOSTS ? : Well, if there can be such things as zombies & monsters . . . ? She probably does believe in higher forces the eye cannot perceive AFTERLIFE ? : Yes REINCARNATION ? : Yes ALIENS ? : She finds the thought amusing but . . . no. POLITICAL ALIGNMENT : Liberal ECONOMIC PREFERENCE : --- SOCIOPOLITICAL POSITION : Law Enforcer EDUCATION LEVEL : Upper secondary education

FAMILY.

FATHER : William Birkin [ Scientist, Virologist, Biologist ], deceased MOTHER : Annette Birkin, [ Scientist, Virologist ], deceased SIBLINGS : None EXTENDED FAMILY : None she knows of NAME MEANING / S : Sherry is French for "Cherie"; Darling, Dear One & Birkin is a simple, english surname that is locational from a place called Birkin near Knottingley, in the county of West Yorkshire. HISTORICAL CONNECTION ? : None

FAVORITES.

BOOK : Romance, Thriller, Fantasy, Action, Comedy, Tragedy MOVIE : Disney Movies, sometimes love stories, sometimes crime or thrillers. That really depends on her mood. Though to be fair, she’s never really had the chance to watch a lot of movies in her life. 5 SONGS : Supergirl ; Drama for life ; Heal my wounds ; I want love ; Broken DEITY : Theia [ Titaness of sight and the shining light of the clear blue sky. ] HOLIDAY : Easter & Christmas MONTH : March SEASON : Spring PLACE : The beach at dawn or dusk, a lively room with broad, open windows, a balcony with view at the city lights below or the stars above, a market place or wild flower field WEATHER : She likes all kinds of weather conditions; the rain on her skin, the sun warming her up again, a gentle breeze tousling her hair & the snow giving her a chilly sensation. SOUND : A gentle breeze brushing the treetops & fields, the rush of ocean waves crushing against the shore, the sound of rain pitter-pattering against sturdy ground or the windows, the howl of a storm or the whistling of a gust, naked feet traipsing along cold linoleum, gentle & melodic hums. SCENT / S : A flowery soft, feminine essence that lingers and leaves a gentle impression, notes of sandalwood and cashmeran ground. It can be an exquisite blend of mandarine, magnolia and cedarwood for the natural, playful occasion, or a little more complex in theory for the starry, elegant nights with head notes of bergamot and orange, middle notes of rose, gardenia and orchid; and base notes of vanilla and coconut milk. Overall, she usually smells sweet and delightful, like a flower field after the rain, brisk with a hint of untouched innocence. TASTE / S : Something sweet that lingers but feels natural with a hint of sourness, like peaches or apples, kiwis & grapes. Sweet tea with fruits, green or jasmine tea, buttermilk & Orange juice. Creamy pies, hefty & extremely salty meals - she enjoys all of the sensations. FEEL / S : Soft linen against skin, mid-warm water in a bathtub or a shower, firm but warm hands around her hips, a breeze tickling her neck, a mild summer night where the sun shines down her back ANIMAL / S : Dogs, doves, horses, rabbits, storks NUMBER : 3 COLORS : Light blue, sky blue, cerulean, navy blue, silver, white, grey-blue, beige

#⭐･ﾟ: ι нσℓ∂ му вяєαтн αи∂ ѕтαяє ιитσ тнє αвуѕѕ. ✧ ━ ( HC )#⭐･ﾟ: α ѕтяσℓℓ тняσυgн тнє ∂αяк ωιтн α ℓα∂єи мιи∂; ρяσ¢яαѕтιиαтιиg. ✧ ━ ( MEME )

0 notes

puns-and-musicals · 7 years

Text

The crash of the waves on the rocky beach or the sound of small motor boats - the bustle of the marina just past the walls of your home. Small town diners, restaurants on docks, fish and chips shops, that food truck that's been in the same place so long plants have grown around the tires. Tidepooling and beach combing - wasting time in the most beautiful ways. The salty, seaweed smell brought in by the thick fog that blocks out the rest of civilization as you sit on the deck in the bath, listening to the patter of the incoming storm. Kelp under your toes, beach glass, shells, drift wood - all brought in by the rough tides and harsh winds. The cool, fresh smell of rain when the heat's been oppressive, pattering against the steamed over windows. Warm lighting and a cup of something hot and sweet, curled up in a favourite chair with a book in your lap and that one bookmark you got on vacation years ago. A typewriter on a wooden desk, backlit by the gentle sunlight from the open window. Fresh seafood, boiled and served with melted butter - savoury and comforting all at once. The creaking of an old wood pier, the support beams encased in barnacles, muscles, and other beautiful sea life. Glass bottle green rivers, clear all the way to the smooth rocks beneath the surface. A warm breeze that carries the summery scent of blackberry bushes. Unironically owning a Volkswagen. Listening to good music and talking to good people. Playing cards by candlelight to take shelter from the billowing winds accompanying the downpour just outside the window. A sun warmed, rain soaked banister on the edge of the patio. The brisk, dewy cold that can only be felt just before dawn. Dark country roads lit only by the occasional amber glow of an old street lamp. Cool, damp grass, the echo of crickets, the distant rumble of frogs, the brilliantly bright constellations in the midnight blue sky. Parchment and quills, the sound of pencils on paper, the fresh smoothness of hotel sheets. Hoodie sleeves rolled up to your elbows, mismatched socks, sweat pants, worn out runners, an old snapback. Blue raspberry candies, old books, dark highways with music blaring out of open windows. Leather jackets, fluffy socks, fingerless gloves, tattoo designs.

6 notes · View notes

gulescamisade · 7 years

Text

Mega Texas: Day 3, Ghostly Reunion

[ As evening gathers, all is quiet under the open Texan skies. This time of year was probably the most perferable for being outdoors as there were no swarms of mosquitos. Thank god. And as the breeze changes direction, there is the faintest scent of salt in the air. How far from the coastline WERE they? It's a good time as any for the group to ask themselves. ]

DIRK: -since the car broke down, he's been trying to "upgrade" it with all the tech he has in his sylladex. luckily a bunch of the engineers are also here, so eventually they might make this work, right?-

DIRK: -he feels the breeze on his face... feels good man, but something about it has him lifting his head curiously.-

ARADIA: -sitting outside, BREATHING IN the salty air-

NEPETA: =She hunted other meat for them to eat, if there's any place for her to steal from she's stolen from them=

NEPETA: =They've been thoroughly looted and she's left here gnawing on a bone=

EQUIUS: -It's him. He's the source of the salt. He's currently working on the other car-

DISCIPLE: -She has a little bit of a fire going... and scorpions cooking over the pit. Just in case anyone wants other, less conventional meats with a BIT of a tingle to them.-

NEPETA: =Can Equius salt her meat?=

NEPETA: =Wait a minute...... 👀scorpions=

DISCIPLE: -:33-

DISCIPLE: -ROASTED TO PERFECTION-

NEPETA: :33 < =nuzzles on Disci= do mew want the rest of this bone?

DISCIPLE: Is fine. Is good. There will be many more bones.

DISCIPLE: Rrrr. Show her, yes?

NEPETA: :33 < so meowny more bones! =leans to her= (i got a diffurent weird horse anyway h33h33h33)

DISCIPLE: Yes. This is good.

DISCIPLE: But she is thinking of gathering these, for purpose. Perhaps to whittle something, something like sharp teeth. Something to sink into the things that chase us.

NEPETA: =Hands her a thigh bone=

NEPETA: :33 < we could pawlways use more of those oh!

NEPETA: :33 < we can also eat what's chasing us!

DISCIPLE: Yes.

DISCIPLE: Both of these things.

DISCIPLE: -she produces a lil whittling knife and begins to WHITTLE-

[ As Disciple whittles, the smell of the ocean brought in by the breeze is then accompanied with the sound of it. A distant hush that blurrs the horizon to make it seem heavier than it actually is, the sound of waves coming and going. Can the group be sure that was there before? ]

DIRK: ... -he's PRETTY sure he can be, but... on the other hand... he looks around some more for the source until he's inevitably drawn to search for it.-

[ It has to be a mile out, coming from the east by the smell of it. The wind carries on as normal. ]

DIRK: -squints out at the horizon.- Alright so... I'm not the only one who hears that, right?

ARADIA: nope

TYRENA: SMELLS T00 NATURAL F0R TH1S PLACE

TYRENA: 1T D0ESN'T F1T W1TH THE SM0K3 AND A1R MUCH

[ Smoke? What smoke? There is only mile-out ocean. ]

NEPETA: =She smells the sea... she thinks about fish... she can eat fish=

TYRENA: -the smoke of TEXAS SMOKEHOUSES, DUH-

TYRENA: -the whole state smells like them-

TYRENA: -anyways, oceans don't make sense for texas. SHE DOESN'T TRUST THIS-

DIRK: -the whole atmosphere feels different to him, honestly. and strangely familiar? sleepy, hazy... he looks up at the sky, then starts making his way closer to the waves again.-

TYRENA: -following with her arms behind her back-

[ The sky is comfortingly devoid of anything resembling a satillite or drone. It's a normal starry night... At least until people begin to move towards the beach. Colors are beginning to shift, gradually lighting up until It looks like dawn is coming. Keeping track of time or even remembering that it was night for that long is now becoming difficult. ]

ARADIA: -follows after dirk-

DIRK: -this is nice... the loss of time should be stressful, but instead he's just admiring the sights as he wanders along.-

[ There's a whole lot of dry shrubbery underfoot and soft soft sand instead of hard earth. Seagulls call overhead, the sky is waking up to a deep blue that shrouds everything. With the beach so close to open water at this time of morning, it may even feel a little bit chillier. ](edited)

ARADIA: -startles suddenly before continuing-

DIRK: -ye. he's gonna sit down on the sand and embrace the chill.-

ARADIA: -this is the right one, she tells herself as she keeps a smile on and allows the tension she feels dissipate. she sits down next to dirk-

TYRENA: >:o

TYRENA: HOW

TYRENA: -wiglges her toes in the sand-

[ From the peripherals of their eyes, a figure is suddenly visible. Standing at such a distance with her hand on her hip, she might have only just approached them. ]

FEFERI: Because STUPID.

FEFERI: You're dreaming. -grins at them with blank white eyes. She is here.-

DIRK: -tilts head in her direction. that's normal...... oh wait, no it's not.-

ARADIA: -no wonder she couldn't remember everything happening here. she immediately stands to her feet- feferi?

FEFERI: -purses her lips in a fish face. The same face as always before she snorts a laugh. Throws her hand out like you guys.- GLUB.

FEFERI: Y-EA)(! IT'S M---E! 38D

????: -there's someone behind her, a little farther down the beach, but approaching the group. another blank eyed troll. she's a little hard to recognize out of uniform and with her hair down, like she's dressed for a vacation.-

FEFERI: -They're both dressed like they're on vacation. Every day is a vacation when you're dead.-

????: -most definitely-

ARADIA: -she steps toward feferi in a kind of earnest and curious fashion. can she touch her? Can she hug her? and in the distance...who is that?-

FEFERI: -Of course she can. Feferi is as solid as it gets. Do you REMEMBER how stacked she was before? 💪-

FEFERI: -beams the whole time, glancing between the group of assembled friends.-

TYRENA: -She sniffs the air, and falls back a little bit.-

ARADIA: -in that case she runs up and holds her as tightly as she can. there's an ache in her throat-

DIRK: -he's rising to his feet slowly too, recognizing the person wandering over to feferi's side.-

CIDNEY: -yes, you all guessed it. she looks peaceful, smiling and waving in dirk's direction, but then peeps at the women beside her.-

FEFERI: OOF. -holds still as Aradia rushes her... before gently settling arms around her fairy troll best friend. Hand coming to her hair as it always had done.- )(e)(e.

ARADIA: -she doesn't want to let go. this took her so off guard that she's definitely crying a little- i couldnt find you i kept looking but i couldnt find you

TYRENA: -She's probably unfamiliar to her. She's heard of Cidney, of course, she knows pretty well, everthing that happened. Something about being this close to the afterlife seems to be... throwing her off.-

CIDNEY: -looks at tyrena with... a strange amount of recognition. she offers her a smile as well, but she's going to approach dirk, knowing he likely won't be able to come to her first. that's fine.-

DIRK: -but even once she's there, he doesn't know how to react. it's strange... bittersweet to see her so relaxed. seems like the afterlife could offer her a peace of mind that her time in their world couldn't offer her. after standing there awkwardly for a moment, he carefully... pulls her into a hug too.-

FEFERI: -Tears are okay, she finds. Feferi keeps her stance steady, holding Aradia all the same.-

FEFERI: O)(...

FEFERI: Yea)(. T)(at must )(ave totally sucked. -chirrs, returning her hug with a snuggle into her hair. The favorite thing before EXCLAIMING dramatically, peeking back at Aradia's face.- T)(at's pretty muc)( t)(is w)(ole t)(ing!

FEFERI: SUCKING.

TAVROS: =He'd seen her, as the rest had, but he couldn't face her. He couldn't do this all over again. First Aradia and now Feferi. The first time had been needles and haunting memories of better times, and this was no different. If anything it was simply twofold, as the old feelings mingeled with the new. His face ran hot with tears and his veins felt cold. It's too much. It's all been too much, and he can't go on like this. Maybe he should try and face it all-- face her. But he's weak, he's realized, and that weakness had no place here right now. If he were to ever face her again he couldn't bear for it to be like this. Another ghost to hold onto with a feeble hope that was as fake as all the stories he believed in. He rushes from the beach as discreetly as possible, if it was possible, and he won't stop running.=

FEFERI: -All things in due time. Feferi isn't in any hurry.-

ARADIA: -she's actually here... and aradia isn't going to her normal place of slumber tonight--and she couldn't be more graceful. She smiles at feferi's comment and laughs through her tears, nodding- yeah!

NEPETA: =bruh u fuckin wish discreet but ok, he aint goin alone=

EQUIUS: -Notices the bull scampering and he feels like he should say something, anything. But he's quiet, standing in the background. He'd has his time. He's just going to...busy himself. Yes back to work on the human automobile-

FEFERI: -Empty eyes meet Aradia's, smiling without any kind of real warmth behind it. Like the tickle of strings in her bloodpusher that had long since been cut away.-

FEFERI: It's weird.

FEFERI: I feel like I've missed you. But I can't reely remember w)(y.

FEFERI: You were important t)(oug)(! So it all works out. 38)

ARADIA: -if anyone understands being dead, it's aradia. granted, they had different experiences that really fucked up their emotions, it seems. she smiles still, nodding again- you were always important too

ARADIA: no one can forget you

ARADIA: especially me

FEFERI: T)(AT'S GOOD.

FEFERI: One less t)(ing sucking. -boops her on the nose and grins.- Not reelated but you've met Cidney, rig)(t?

DIRK: -there's so much he wants to talk to cidney about, but he can't seem to find any words... when feferi mentions her, he draws away from the embrace. great, now everyone is gonna see him crying. as if they all haven't already at this point.-

CIDNEY: -looks towards feferi and aradia- I don't think we have formally.

ARADIA: -looks over at cidney and smiles- not formally no but

ARADIA: oh my god i know who you are too

ARADIA: im aradia

ARADIA: wow this is crazy

FEFERI: -Totally sees Dirk crying.- )(e)(e.

FEFERI: Aradia )(as been a LOT of t)(ings. First, s)(e was an arc)(eologist, t)(en s)(e was D-----EAD, t)(en a robot, t)(en ALIV-E again, and now s)(e's back to being an arc)(eologist. -ticks all these things off her finger claws.- O)(!

FEFERI: And somew)(ere in t)(e middle of all t)(at, s)(e was and t)(en wasn't my gillfrond.

FEFERI: ... FEFERI: Matesprit. 38)

CIDNEY: ... You've had a very... eventful life and afterlife. And... life again? -half smile, kind of awkward...-

DIRK: -wipes his eyes on his sleeve. hhhh.-

FEFERI: -pokes Dirk right in the squishy cheek.- (Someone's being tideally not cool rig)(t now.)

ARADIA: -she nods- yeah i have

ARADIA: theres a lot to it

ARADIA: -there's a tiny pang of something in her pusher when she refers to their past relationship-

FEFERI: -too busy ruffling Dirk to notice.-

DIRK: -shut up. he's going to hug her too now.-

CIDNEY: -looks between everyone, smiling still.- There's much more ahead of you, as well.

CIDNEY: You were all an excellent crew, when we worked together. You did things your own way... But with compassion. -looks down at her feet- It always inspired me.

CIDNEY: You need that same compassion now, more then ever. Even if the past comes to haunt you... Remember what it is that brought you to this moment. And fight to protect that.

DIRK: -she's always had a tendency to speak in riddles... being dead probably made her all the more cryptic, but he can't bring himself to question what she's referring to. it's just nice to hear her voice again.-

TYRENA: Y0U S0UND PLEASED

TYRENA: T0 BE HERE

TYRENA: 1 WAS N0T EXPECT1NG 1T

FEFERI: -Eug)(. You're so sweaty. 3XP -pushes at Dirk, straining like a cat that doesn't want to be hugged.-

ARADIA: -cidney's words speak to her, and she doesn't take them lightly- we will

DIRK: -one more squeeze and then he'll release you feferz-

CIDNEY: I am pleased to be here... Feferi helped give me that opportunity. To guide you again, as best I can. -she reaches out to dirk again, holding his hand.-

CIDNEY: You have someplace you need to be. It might be best to wake up now.

FEFERI: -Okay, fine... she sweetly wrassles him in a hug. Grinning from fin to fin.- I )(ope you're R---------------EADY. 38D

FEFERI: WAK-E UP.

[ And an instant later, the group is jolting awake. Right back in smokey smelly Texas where they were before. The beach, the ladies are gone.]

EQUIUS: -NOT THE BITCHES!!!!!-

CALIBORN: -WHERE ARE THE BITCHES, DIRK?-

TYRENA: -she wakes with a STARTand sits up, suddenly.-

DISCIPLE: -the fire is OUT now. No more scorpions.-

TYRENA: -stands slowly and walks away from the group. IS QUIET TIME-

#technetronicTactician #caballineTrottage #artifactualAnnihilation #arseniccaudal #apostolicChronicler #sybillineAutonomy #coaxialcoralition #imbroglioDogma #adiosTauromachy

1 note · View note