#that said it has reawakened in me a strong desire to keep working on my ND WIPs

[teamdoofus]

fic: mourning boy, mourning city [bess/henry]

Pairing(s): Bess Marvin / Henry Bolet Jr. Rating: E Word Count:  44,095 Summary:

This fic is the answer to the question of what would have happened if Nancy and Bess’ roles had been reversed in Legend of the Crystal Skull, and Bess had ended up at Henry’s place instead.

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[freshlyjuicedbeetles]

Commodore Norrington x Reader Fic! Chapter 2

Dearest Readers: If you are in Galveston or the coast of Louisiana, please make sure you are safe! Please, no one worry about me, I’m in Oklahoma, safe from Hurricane Laura. I know a lot about Galveston because I visit regularly, and it’s where my grandma was born and raised, and grandpa was stationed in the Coast Guard. A lot of my family history took place on the island!

Title: The Same Water

Genre: Romance, Supernatural

Rating: General Audiences thus far.

Warnings: Mentions of trauma, drowning, and racism.

Summary: Commodore Norrington washes up on the shore and you must find out why.

Notes: I intentionally kept the main character ambiguous (but female) so readers can fill themselves in!

The next morning, Jericka and I visited the man. We sat mostly in silence.  I barely registered the bustle of the hospital and the beeping of the machines he was connected to. I was still buzzing from yesterday. I was still in a bit of shock about what had happened and was trying to process it. He was on an IV drip of saline, a nasal cannula, and a heart monitor.

“Good morning, ladies!” Dr. Greg said, cheerfully, a chart in his hand. “So, I ran his blood sample, and it yielded interesting results. This man has no titers for anything we currently vaccinate for, but he has antibodies for smallpox. Thus, I can assume he was never vaccinated but survived smallpox.”

Jericka whispered in my ear, eagerly, “I’m telling you! He was a part of that mess my nana told me about! I bet he was the Admiral! What’s the more likely scenario here?”

“I dunno. Maybe he’s Amish or something,” I shrugged. I turned back to Dr. Greg, “What do you think it means?”

“Logically, I would say his parents didn’t believe in the efficacy of vaccinations.” He answered.

“Or they weren’t invented yet,” Jericka muttered.

The man started coughing. Dr. Greg rushed to his side.

“It’s okay, sir, we’re taking care of you. You’re at the University of Texas Medical Branch. My name is Dr. Greg. We’ve got you on supplemental oxygen and IV fluids.” He said in a calm voice as he checked the man’s vitals manually, even though the machines were monitoring him. “Can you tell us your name?” He asked.

“Norrington…James.” The man answered, and I was able to register an English accent. He opened his eyes, still confused.

“Good, do you know what day it is, James?”

“May…1729.”

The doctor chuckled, “No, not quite. Do you know who the president is?”

Norrington had slipped back into unconsciousness. Dr. Greg continued to check over him before saying, “He’s getting stronger. I expect him to be in and out today, but tomorrow is a new day.”

After Dr. Greg left, I scrambled to my phone.

“Google his name! Google! Google it!” Jericka ranted.

“I am, I am!” I said, typing the name.

I hit pay dirt. He had a Wikipedia article and dozens of other sources. “James Norrington was an officer of the British Royal Navy and the East India Trading Company. Bewigged and resplendent in his uniforms, Norrington owed his allegiance to King George II. Norrington took pride in his service to others before himself, showing a strong dedication to the law, until the occasions of pursuing the right course that demanded acts of piracy.” I read it aloud.

I continued scrolling with Jericka watching. I skimmed the article. It talked about his early life in London, the notable battles and commendations he earned. I scrolled back up to the biographical information bar. I had purposely ignored looking at the painting of Admiral James Norrington because I wasn’t ready to confirm if the man in the hospital bed was him or not until now.

I stood up and held my phone up to his face against the painting on the article. Jericka’s eyes widened, and my heart raced.

“It’s him,” I said.

“Am I in the colonies?” He asked, not opening his eyes. I must have jumped a foot back, not expecting him to reawaken so soon.

“Yeah, well, sort of,” I answered.

“The colonies declared independence in 1776. There are fifty more called the United States of America. It’s currently the year 2020.” Jericka explained.

“Do you understand what’s going on?” I asked gently.

“Indeed,” He answered and took a deep breath. He opened his eyes.

“You’ve must have seen some things if you’re taking this news so calmly,” Jericka said.

Norrington remained quiet, the far-off look of stoic contemplation on his face. Jericka and I gave him his space to sort it all out but stayed close to keep him company. Dr. Greg returned a little before lunch to check on him and was happy to see him awake. He pulled us aside into the hallway after a quick examination of Norrington’s reflexes and cognition.

“I am releasing him into your care tomorrow. If desired, of course. We’ll continue an investigation, maybe he’ll turn out to be a missing John Doe, but since no foul play is suspected, it’s not likely to go anywhere. Here’s some information about services that can help him.”

I took the information, “I’ll take him. I have an extra room.” I didn’t even look at them. I wasn’t about to let him get lost in the system and fall through the cracks. This was something extraordinary. I couldn’t bear for him to be treated like a freak show.

When the nurse came in with lunch, Jericka and I excused ourselves to the cafeteria.

“We’ve got to get him some clothes. He can’t run around in that hospital gown, and his uniform is at the police station being tested for fibers and whatnot.” I said, toying with an empty bottle of water.

“Dang. How do we dress a high-class guy from the 1700s?” Jericka asked, eating a bag of chips. “Whose closet do we raid? Our dad’s or our grandpa’s?”

“I dunno, but the Coast Guard Station over on Fort Point Road is looking pretty good. Think they’ll let us use their uniforms?” I joked.

“I’d think he’d miss the brocade and feathers,” Jericka said, popping a chip into her mouth.

I sighed, “Well, I’m heading over to Houston, maybe I can find something. Can you sit with him?”

“Yeah, of course.”

As I drove over the causeway that connected the Island of Galveston to the mainland, I thought about how I would explain things to Admiral Norrington. How would I explain a car? Electricity? I barely knew how such things worked. Maybe I needed to get him a book.

I had to guestimate his sizes; I didn’t want to embarrass him by outright asking him. I could tell he was very reserved, even for someone from his time. I went for conservative styles and patterns, quality, and modesty. Even men back then tended to cover up. I had to balance the Texas heat against it. I made sure to have a fair amount of navy blue, gold, and white.

I found several outfits that I knew he’d look good in and hoped he found comfortable. He was a very handsome man with aquiline features, short chestnut hair, and beautiful eyes. I suppose the powdered wig he wore in his portrait did not make it.

After procuring his clothes and other sundries, I zipped over to Barnes and Noble for a history book. I settled on a hefty book by the Smithsonian that spanned the dawn of humanity up until the present day; well, 2015.

On the way back over the causeway, I had to wonder about what I would do with him come Monday when I went to work. Would he be okay on his own? Should I take the day off? I didn’t want to smother him or disrespect his abilities. Maybe it was a good thing he was a high-ranking military man, they were logical, right? He would probably be okay.

I found Jericka in the hallway upon arriving back at the hospital, “Has he said anything?”

She shrugged, “Not really. He’s still processing everything. They’re taking him off all those machines and IV right now.”

After the nurses left, Jericka and I entered his room. He was looking at his hand where the IV was.

“Hello, Admiral. We never got a chance to introduce ourselves.” I introduced myself and Jericka. “Tomorrow, you’ll come home with me if that’s alright with you.”

He nodded, “I suppose that is for the best, but don’t call me Admiral. James will suffice.”

Jericka and I were surprised that he didn’t want to be addressed by his title. I decided not to question it. “I got you some clothes and this,” I said, pulling out the book and handed it to him. He looked at it with interest and immediately started flipping pages. “It’s the history of the world. Of course, you can ask either of us anything.”

Jericka nodded earnestly.

“I appreciate your charity,” Norrington replied. “I endeavor not to be a burden.”

“No, no, no! Never think that.” I said.

“Yeah, you’re stuck with us.” Jericka teased.

Jericka and I vowed that nothing would happen to this man.

James was released the following evening. He was dressed in the new clothes I bought for him. He looked perfect in them and didn’t seem to mind them. I must have done well!

As we were walking out of the hospital, there was crowding at the door. It was a going home celebration. James and I smushed ourselves against the wall, waiting for the ado to die down, and we could leave.

A patient was wheeled in from the opposite corridor. We watched as a nurse wheeled him to the edge of the entryway. On new titanium legs, this man stood and walked out with his family. He was in the Navy; I could tell by the signs his family and care team were holding.

I could tell this experience moved James, he wanted to say something to the young soldier but thought better of it.

I purposely kept the car ride as underwhelming as possible. I turned the radio off and kept the A/C blowing gently. He seemed to be taking it all in stride, learning from my actions.

James mostly watched the water as we drove the short drive home, occasionally interested in the wide range of vehicles on the road; cars, trucks, vans, golf carts, motorcycles, and four-seater bikes.

“I see that the seagulls and pelicans are just as intrusive as always.” He commented, watching a horde of seabirds steal tourists’ food.

I giggled, enjoying the familiarity. We had something in common, and it was a link to his past.

Home was a raised bungalow on a heavily tree-lined street.

James looked at the stilts it rested on, “For flooding?” He asked.

“Exactly. Galveston has had several bad hurricanes hit, but the house has weathered them all. It’s up high enough that you can go around back and see a bit of the Gulf.”

I showed James to the guest room and how a modern home worked. After dinner, I gave him his space. Around midnight, I heard a door sensor chime. I found James sitting on the balcony, watching the ocean ebb and flow. I sat down across from him.

“How are you doing?”

“It’s overwhelming.” He answered, “I have so much to learn, new vocabulary, all the major events. I cannot fathom how much progress I have missed, but the ocean is the same, and I take comfort in that.”

“Well, if you’d like, we can get out on the water tomorrow. I’ll show you around the island.”

“You know how to sail?”

I laughed, “No, my boat has an engine, but I assure you that the art of sailing by wind has not been lost yet.”

For the first time, I saw a genuine smile on his face, “I’d like that.”

I endeavored to make him smile that cute boyish smile as much as possible.

[k-p-p-d]

Forgive Me Father... (M)

Warnings: Blasphemy.  Sin. Word Count: 2100 A/N: This wasn’t a request, this is just how my mind works.   I saw Taecyeon dressed as a priest, I remembered the Pretty Reckless song “Going to Hell,” and now we’re all on our way into the pits… Also, I read a Priest!Soo/Incubus!Chanyeol fic and my Priest kink was reawakened a few weeks ago.  Thank you Universe.

Taecyeon sat in the confessional as the parishioner said her thanks and left.  Most of the confessions had been the same.  The married women, sinful thoughts and desires for another man.  The single women confessed to impure thoughts and masturbation.  

It no longer shocked him, the sinful confessions.  After the first few months of being the new young priest, he predicted a few admirers here and there.  However he never expected that nearly half of the parishioners, both male and female, would take such a liking to him.

The first thing Taecyeon noticed about her was the click of her stilettos across the stone floor of the sanctuary.  Her steps weren’t rushed, the pace even and precise.  The usual constant hum within the church was restrained, as if everyone had frozen in time.    

Her heels brought her closer and closer, Taecyeon held in a long breath as he attempted to see his newest confessor.  A flash of black with a streak of red lips, was all he could see through the small crack in the door.  The creaking of the hinges as she opened the old wooden door seemed to carry on for a lifetime before he heard it finally snap shut.

“Don’t forgive me Father, for I have sinned,” her velvety voice drifted through the partition, a teasing lilt to her words.  He could visualize the vexing smirk on her blood red lips, the twinkle of playful mischief in her eyes.  “I have never given a confession and don’t plan to start today.  I just came to see if you would like to play with me.  For old times sake.”  Taecyeon’s hand twitched at her blatant disrespect and from the memories of a life long forgotten.

There was a pregnant pause, her offer left stagnant in the air.  The old wooden chair groaned from Taecyeon’s weight, the sudden sound thundering to his ears as he repositioned himself.  His body, now tense, searching for some form of relief.  He didn’t speak yet, he couldn’t.  His eyes stayed locked on the crucifix before him, praying for the strength to resist this sinful temptress from his past.  It had been too long since her scent had covered his body like it did now, a heady mix of sweet fruits and deep spice.  The taste of fresh mandarins and peaches on his tongue, the spice of pepper warming his blood.  Clearing his throat as he adjusted his tight collar, a sheen of sweat beginning to cover his skin.

“Your eternal soul is nothing to joke with.  Asking for forgiveness and atoning for-”

“Asking?”  Her throaty chuckle sent shivers down his spine.  Taecyeon hoped–or, he hated to even think it, feared–he would never hear that enchanting sound again.

“Here I always remembered that you preferred it when I begged.  No, not preferred…” Taecyeon sat forward hanging onto her words like a life raft in the sea of sin he floated upon.  Each word that fell from her lips like a wave crashing into his body weighing him down more.  He hoped his faith would give him the energy to fight and keep from sinking into the darkness her sea offered.

“Commanded, no,  No, that’s still not it.  You, you compelled me.  Made me want nothing more than to beg you, because you loved me on my knees or chained up before you.  You got off on hearing my voice raspy and torn from you fucking my throat, tears streaming down my face as I prayed to you for release.  Did your pretty little collar wash away your memories as well as your sins?”

Taecyeon’s breathing deepened, his hands contracting on his knees, blunt nails digging into his pants.  His head turned towards the partition at the soft thud of her falling to her knees on the bench before her.  His heart stopped, nostrils flared, eyes widened.  He could feel the heat her body exuded, feel the warmth of her breath against his neck, her hand as it rest upon his cheek.  He shook his head to remove it only to realize it was never there.

“Is this better?”  Her voice was so soft Taecyeon barely even heard it.  “Is this how you want me Father?  See, I can still be a good girl for you.  Or do you want me defiant?  I think you would prefer that, bend me to your will.”

“I would prefer it if you left me.”  Taecyeon turned to the shadow of his past, his deep voice pleading.  “Leave me and this Holy place behind.  I am begging you, please leave.”  Taecyeon startles at the effervescent laugh that left him with chills.

“You?  Begging me?  Oh, I thought I would never hear those delicious words leave that beautiful mouth.  Come on Father, you can do better than that.  Beseech me, plead to me, sway me to give you that sweet release.  Let me hear how desperate you must feel sitting there in your cassock, looking the picture of sinfully Holy.  Yet your mind and body betraying you as you battle your deepest, darkest desires.  As you sit there trying to ignore that deep itch that has long since been scratched.”

Taecyeon bowed his head as he slowly slid to his knees in the small space.  His hands atop his thighs, straining in the offensive material from his new position.  Taking a deep breath to steady himself he finally spoke.  

“I beg of you to please forget me.  The man you once knew is no longer here.  I pray you will find it in yourself to grant me this one mercy.  Allow me the peaceful life I so crave to lead.”  Taecyeon’s voice cracked as he spoke, his hand came up to the tears cooling on his cheek.  He prayed for the strength to persevere and for forgiveness for his thoughts.  He was startled once more by the cause of his sudden questioning of his faith and life.  

“Well,” she started softly.  “When you use such pretty words, who am I to refuse?”  She stood and peered down at him through the partition.  

“I always knew you would look good on your knees.  Who knew you would be so eager to obey?”  She chuckled to herself, “You know how to reach me if and when you need me.  I’m always ready to play, Father.”

Taecyeon stayed on his knees, long after she left.  He was trapped, like a moth in amber, frozen in time.  He faintly remembered the retreating sound of her heels after the sharp click of the confessional door.  When the door opened and he met the wide eyes of the elderly cleaning lady did he finally move.  His steps were heavy and dragging as he made his way to his office. He didn’t remember removing his robes, leaving his body clad in just the black shirt and pants.  He didn’t remember if he lit the candles or if they were already lit when he opened the door.

All he could remember was the indulgent gratification of her body. The way her full lips would stretch into a snarky grin one moment and the next instant the flesh plumped as teeth sunk into her bottom lip.  He could still taste her lips, the salty mix of his body and her tears as she begged him for more and less all the same.  He hissed, his back arching slightly at the stinging heat of her nails dragging down his back leaving him panting, a moan falling past his lips at her warmth.  Her mouth like satin–warm, wet, and tight around him.  Her lips secured around the base of him like a bow as her throat stretched to welcome his length in a tight embrace.

Taecyeon’s hands came into contact with the bookcase as he steadied himself.  Her walls were the softest, plushest velvet his body had ever sunk into.  The luxuriant feel of her pulsing around him as he guided both their bodies to nirvana.  He could always tell when she was close, the way her body would writhe.  His fingers around her neck feeling her blood rush as her heart pounded much like their bodies when they connected.  How she would clench down on him and whine, their eyes connected the entire time as she fell apart and pulled him down with her.  

Taecyeon’s fist slammed into the wall knocking the crucifix next to him onto the ground as his orgasm rushed through him.  His head thrown back as a harsh and grating moan left his body.  His manhood twitching as he paints the inside of his pants in thick, sticky ropes of white.  Spasms wracking his body at the suddenness of his orgasm. “Impressive.”

Taecyeon shuddered.  That voice… he was hearing her now.  He pushed his fingers through his hair, fingers digging in as he gave the onyx tresses a sharp tug.  He was losing his mind, all because of her, just one conversation. “Lord, speak to me now,” he pleaded softly, “for I fear I’m losing my mind to dark clutches of the demon.”

“Breathe, Priest, you’re not completely unhinged.” He jerked around, eyes wild and jaw loose, to see her casually leaning against his desk, the very desk he penned his sermons admonishing sins of the flesh, the very desk a man he had once been before might have bent the temptress over– Her silky voice cut through his thoughts as she teased, “Obviously, you’re a little bonkers considering you decided to suddenly become a priest of all things after all.  But I’m not a figment of your deranged imagination.”  She crossed her legs, the small glimpse of her thigh making him groan as he looked over at her.

“Leave,” Taecyeon grunted, though his voice lacked the strong and commanding edge it once had, the edge that always pushed her body to the very edge before her walls dragged them both down into the sinfully blissful abyss.

“No,” she answered coolly as her shapely legs gracefully carried her from the desk to his leather desk chair in smooth, even strides. Each click of her heels calling his name and taunting him. “Tell me, how many times have you sat right here,” she purred, as she sat.  Her legs slowly opening as she ran her fingers teasingly down her body.  “Your priest’s collar ripped from your neck, thrown haphazardly onto your cluttered desk with one hand, while the other squeezes your hardened cock through your pants as sinful, vivid thoughts and wants flash through your mind?  Hmmm?  I bet you do it often,” her hand dipped under the short skirt of her dress.  A soft moan passed between the two, Taecyeon wasn’t sure who made the noise in his heightened state of arousal.  Her head was back, throat bared to him, her ink black lashes fluttering against the faint flush beginning on her cheeks.  “How often do you think of punishing the sweet young things of your flock?  Imagine how they cry and beg for forgiveness.  Their whimpered promises to abstain from a life of sin nourishing your lust,” she lowered her head, “all while wantonly begging for you.” Her heavy lidded eyes meeting his, her red lips parted as she softly panted, she gave him a knowing smile. “I can just hear them now…” She dipped another finger into herself and mockingly panted in that breathy, high voice he so desperately wanted to scrounge from yet emblazon in his memory, “‘Forgive me, Father! Fuck me, Father! Father! Father! Father!’”

“I don’t want this.”  Taecyeon lowered his head, his large hand coming up to the back of his neck as he tried to even his breathing, slow the wild thumping of his heart.

“Your body betrays your words, Father.”  Her eyes trailed down his chest, eyes finally settling on the prominent erection still tenting his now soiled pants.  “Look at that, you’ve already cum once thinking of me and your body still craves more.  I think you want this Father,” she purred.  “I think you want this more than you care to admit.”

“I can lead you into temptation,” she stood from the chair.  Her heels clicking as she walked up behind the tense man.  Her hands slid up his back, hooking themselves under his broad shoulders as she pressed herself against him.  “And deliver you to paradise.  Doesn’t that sound just Heavenly, Father?”

Taecyeon shuddered as her warm and intoxicating words drug across his spine, licking away at his resolve like flames to a paper.  “That’s blasphemy.”

She slid her slick fingers along her drenched core before bringing them to ghost over his parted lips, “Then baptize me in your waters and purge the sin from my body, Father.”

~Winter, the Reformed Sinner

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