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ephemerlskies · 5 years ago

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the lighthouse | jjk

⇢ pairing: reader x jungkook

⇢ genre: one shot, fluff (what's new), strangers to "lovers", mutual pining, so much sap you're gonna have to shower after reading this, ANGST, jungkook is a literary scholar (?) of sorts

⇢ word count: 12k

⇢ warnings: as stated before, it's Cheesy with a capital C, lots of introspection, brief mentions of death, explicit language, mommy issues, (((major plot twist)))

⇢ summary: you and jungkook had one thing in common: you were both lost souls stagnant in the search of some fulfillment. the one of many differences was that your story had been written on your sleeves, while jungkook’s was a story needed to be unriddled. was this going to be another disappointing chapter in the book of unattainable desires or could your encounter with the mysterious man who lived in the lighthouse lead to something much more?

a/n: i'm super proud of how this turned out even though it ripped my heart out of my chest... this was probably my favorite fic to write and ahh im so happy to release it!!!! i hope you lovely little angels enjoy!! :) <3

What makes us human? This question posed by your philosophy teacher had been stalking your thoughts hours after class had ended. As the rain padded against your umbrella, you piled in a few answers to this question.

What makes us human? A question that would seemingly have a clear cut answer, but when you got down to it, there was no distinct characteristic that differentiates humans from other animals. It was easy to say something such as how we have complex linguistics or industrialized civilization, but that is to discredit how the packs of wolves howl to each other, the birds sing from tree to tree, the beavers diligently construct their dams, or the dirt cities in which ants build their own societies not much different than humans.

You pondered the idea that we love so deeply, even when it is often unreturned, but there is no denying the way a mother bear strikes down any and all enemies to protect her baby cub is anything other than true love.

So, what makes us human? You sat on a bench placed on the sidelines where you could witness small scenes of the lives of passing strangers. This sonder might be what makes us human. The knowledge that each person lives and loves and cries and fears and speaks and dies in ways with which you will never begin to familiarize. Life continues on around you despite how unimportant it may seem to the rest.

Does a lion waste any moment of his time wondering how the deer had found its way to the shallow pond, whilst preparing to strike? Of course not.

You watched a couple clinging onto each other and wondered where they met. You then were captured in the peace of an old woman prodding around in the grass with her golden retriever; perhaps it was her last companion. Then, your eyes drifted towards the two boys pushing each other over but with the gentleness one could only assume that was out of friendship or perhaps brotherhood.

And then you saw him.

Gentle fingers tracing the stacks of magazines lined in a perfect column; an arm that disappeared into the sleeve of his dark, wool coat. A tweed newsboy hat sheltering his eyes, and deep chestnut Oxford shoes stepping lightly, nearing a tiptoe, between the cracks of each cement plate, weathered by the infinite other shoes that tread on those very grounds. A body so magnetizing and moving as if it were a secret, and you couldn’t imagine why no one else had been ingested by the enigma that is this man. You longed for him to reveal these secrets that hid underneath his hat and coat, though if he wouldn’t, which he most likely wouldn’t, you had no problem with seeking them out yourself.

In a city filled with young souls draped in modern streetwear, jeans, bright colors, and converse or Dr. Martens or perhaps high heels, catching this needle in the haystack plugged into every synapse of wonderment. The muted tones of his clothing gleamed the brightest out of the sea of strangers.

This is what made you human. Your desire to know everything that lies barely beyond your wingspan. Everything you could hold was close to nothing in meaning, and everything your arms could not reach was always all you could ever want. The rise of your legs, the way you replicated his every movement, running your fingers along the stack of magazines, fastidious prancing in the spaces between the cracks, and your subtle pursuit of the man just out of reach was what made you human.

Bodies bustling through your path failed to untether you from this chase. It felt far beyond your power to stop yourself from the rising excitement and allure in your chest that pulled you towards him. The man was quick and swift to dodge oncoming bystanders, however your eyes became a missile fixed on a target.

The unexpected turn he took had you floundering for you had been trapped behind an older lady and a couple walking side by side. Sadly, your memorization of the streets and landmarks had been admisal, so you found yourself in uncharted territory. Each road sign and corner store had been displayed like a foreign language, and you mentally cursed yourself for letting your silly lust for learning what shouldn’t be learned lead you into this difficult position.

You stood defeated, the man had evaded your fragile trail behind him with ease. You lost him, or maybe he got away.

It was still midday, prompting you to make an end of this means. Your eyes discovered the coast set along the edge of the town, and though this was the furthest you had ever gone, you dared to go further. This mishap of yours granted you the opportunity to introduce yourself to the shore, and the waves have always delighted your interest. So, you found it just to walk down to the sand. The sound of the water pressing into the wet sand was calming; it was something you could find yourself getting used to. Luck presented itself kindly, giving you a moment unencumbered by the rain that had ceased not long after you stepped foot on the beach.

You took this time to be with yourself and sort out all the problems that have been worrying your mind these past few weeks. Your best friend, Chaeyoung, had an upcoming birthday that had snuck up on you before you had the chance to even think about getting her a card, let alone a gift or celebration. And you would be disappointed with yourself if you failed to outdo last year’s efforts. There was also the test in your Chemistry class scheduled only a day after her birthday, curtailing your plans of staying out late because there was no way you would allow for anything less than your very most on this exam. Then, there was the essay on what makes us human that you denied any chance of regaining priority to your list of worries, knowing it would gnaw at your mind until you forcibly shut it out.

And the man that willed you to seek him out, and that wore the title of his stories as if he intentionally wished to spark your wonder to learn them.

That should have been the last of your worries. It should have been.

The day began to fade into a warm, orange dusk. Skies once gloomy and grey now covered in blankets of clouds reflecting the sun’s gentle rays and you found yourself reunited with the calming feeling similar to when you first stepped on the beach.

Not long after registering how far you had traveled along the shore, you noticed a quaint lighthouse with a house-like structure at the base. The off-white stones cemented up until a red paneled roof covered it, tempting you to know what lies behind those walls.

It looked like it was about to rain again.

Are lighthouses closed off from the public?

There’s a house, there must be someone inside that could help me find my way home.

All these comments to yourself made to premise the conclusion of entrance into this lighthouse. As you approached the door, framed in oak lining and painted red, the clouds appeared heavy once again. A few drops of condensation was enough persuasion that what was about to be done was for the good of your well being. You pushed it open and a creak echoed around the room inside.

The walls were covered with stone bricks and there was one table in the center of the room. Other than that, this house was barren and if it weren’t for the second door that you guessed led to the lighthouse you would have called a car to take you home.

Your walk was pensive and mouse-like; there was some quality about this structure that made you feel like you weren’t alone and sudden movements would disrupt an established peace. Your hand turned the cold, gold-plated handle and pulled open the door, soon being met with a warm gust of air that engulfed you into the lighthouse.

This part of the building was exponentially more decorated than the room that preceded it. A staircase cemented into the sides of the lighthouse plastered with shelves upon shelves of books spiraled along the cylindrical walls, paired with dull lanterns that illuminated each level of railing had you drawn into its magnificence.

You stared up to what looked like a platform that held a place in which one would rest and look out into the ocean. There was no one in sight, and you assumed permission to climb up the staircase. Your eyes scanned each spine, creased and slightly warped from the moisture of the air, like they had been read over and over again. Your breath became heavy and your stare was focused on the books to ignore the dizziness settling in.

Reaching the top of the staircase came as a blessing, your lungs were close to catching fire. There were two armchairs, side by side, one fashioned a knitted blanket and the other was used as a table for five to seven or so novels, and the walls behind buried in high stacks of more books. There had to be at least seventy in the first half of piles you accounted for, and before you had the chance to snoop around the rest of the room you heard a voice coated with alarm behind you.

“What are you doing in here?” Your breath halted as you turned around, about to explain why you had let yourself into this building, however no amount of words could fully justify this invasive act.

You recognized the wool coat and the tweed hat now resting in his hand instead of on his head. His eyes were shrouded in a youthful innocence despite his attire that implied he was a sophisticate of some sort.

“Are you going to answer me or do I have to call the police?” The boom of his voice was chilling, sending shivers along your neck and chest.

“Sorry, I’m-” How could you possibly defend your intrusion without sounding juvenile or absolutely insane? “I was… It was raining and I just was walking on the beach so-”

“So, you decided breaking and entering was better than getting a little wet?” His barbed responses hurdled how you plaintively stuttered around excuses. Despite his efforts to seem menacing, you couldn't let go of his boyish facial features. It was absolutely astonishing to you that someone who looked young enough to attend your own college and handsome enough to garner quite a bit of attention had anything to do with this dingy, aged lighthouse.

“No, I was going to come in here to ask for directions. I’m lost.” The pitiful temperament of this comment was not intentional, but the man who now stood in front of you felt itched by it. He couldn't ignore how your legs trembled, partly from the cold but also because of his raised voice directed at you, and how that admittedly aroused some guilt.

“It’s fine. Just-” He sighed deeply, placing his hat on the side table adjacent to the left armchair, “You can just wait here until the rain stops. Though, I have to say it looks unrelenting at the moment.” The man’s attention was captured by how the heavy rain seemed to wage war against the raging tides. You caught a glimpse of a smile. The slightest upturn of the corner of his lips almost compelling you to reveal you had spotted him in the town earlier today, and that you found yourself enamoured with his every movement, and he was ironically the reason you were stuck here.

“Are you sure? I can go, I shouldn't have been here in the first place.” The words escaped from your mouth quickly as if they were trying to race each other to be spoken.

“No, I said it’s fine.” The suddenness of this offer hushed you. He then removed his wool coat, unveiling the clothes he wore beneath it. The burgundy crew neck sweater layered tastefully over a collared shirt was just as old fashioned as every other article of clothing he sported. How intriguing.

“I'm sorry.” Your muscles grew sore from suppressing how aggressively you would have been shaking from the cold. “Thank you.” Him granting you shelter gave you motive to keep the umbrella that would suffice to protect you from the rain under wraps. The option he presented was far more favorable.

“Sit down. Please, use this blanket.” He gestured towards the throw draped over the right armchair. His eyes avoided you as much as he could manage though you had this glow emulating from your wanting eyes and soft looking skin that crept to the corner of his vision too brightly to ignore. Consequently, this comment soothed both your body and mind for he unguarded a kindness that was hidden when he first spoke to you.

“My name is ___.” He was facing the window that displayed the sea, now thrashing and falling into itself, and without moving his head, his eyes drifted towards you.

“I know who you are.”

“Wh- How?” Maybe accepting an invite in a secluded lighthouse on the beach wasn’t the safest thing you could be doing on a Friday afternoon. Anxiety pioneered a place in your breathing, turning it rushed and choked.

Before your mind could theorize all the ways in which you could make an escape from this room or how quickly you could use your hidden umbrella as a weapon he said, “I noticed you following me in the town’s square earlier today.” You sighed, releasing the terror that pricked your lungs. If anything, it was he who should be afraid of you.

“I’m not a stalker!” That weak defense was all you could push from your throat before any well constructed explanations could be put forth.

His laugh, along with his cryptic gaze towards the waves, made you feel even worse about your actions.

“You were just so stunning and I wanted to know what kind of person still wears a newsboy hat without trying to make a statement.” Your lower lip tucked between your teeth stopped the nervous laugh about to spill and expressed worry that the more you tried to explain yourself, the more this man believed you should be charged for stalking not to mention trespassing.

“Stunning?”

“I mean, like, someone I’d want to meet.”

“What were you planning on doing once I stopped somewhere, or noticed you?” He questioned you only because he relished how you were scrambling to a proper defense. He knew you weren’t any threat to him, not many people were, however he enjoyed your chatter more than the silence that would have taken its place.

“I don't know, maybe just… introduce myself?” This sheepish, yet honest, reply had you drowning in humiliation, while the man before you seemed as if he were floating effortlessly along the surface.

“I’m Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook.” Relief replaced the worry that he would turn you away, leaving you to the hands of the storm outside. The fact that any other person would have done so led you to believe Jungkook held a lot more compassion than he let on. You held your hand to greet him, finding it only polite to execute this formality. His, however, remained folded behind his back, notably denting your ego as you retracted your hand quicker than you extended it.

“Okay.” You muttered to yourself in slight embarrassment from this trivial rejection. “So, do you live here or something?” Your question was first replied to with a breath of annoyance. Jungkook was kind enough to allow you a sanctuary from the rain, exemption from the intrusion and stalking, and now he found himself having to entertain you.

“Yeah, something like that.” All this disinterested answer did was persist your attempts to break his catatonic gaze. However, his reserve had been solidified steadily over the years, so this venture was going to be tough.

“I didn’t know you could live in a lighthouse?” Your inquiry was spoken with the hopes this would ignite a lasting conversation.

“It’s not a lighthouse, technically.” Jungkook’s affirmative tone flew right over your head, conjuring even more annoyance that oddly enticed him to continue responding to your dense questions.

“Well, it looks like a lighthouse. It’s shaped like a lighthouse. It’s on the beach, just like a lighthouse.” A chuckle joined the sigh of his breath and his head that shook at your shallow observations. Jungkook eventually turned around and made his way towards the stacks of books, trying to preoccupy himself from whatever this exchange was. “All signs point to this being a lighthouse.”

“Well, it’s not. Lighthouses are meant to send signals to the ships out at sea. This doesn't,” His curt response tickled your amusement, only encouraging you to further aggravate him. “Therefore, not a lighthouse.”

“Okay,” You sounded agreeable, but this was soon followed by a doubtful comment whispered just loud enough for Jungkook’s ear to catch it, “It’s a lighthouse.” He found his stoicism melting away due to your spiteful attitude and conniving giggle in the face of his frustration. You wanted to get a rise out of him, and he knew this, and you were doing a fine job at it.

“It’s not-” His voice elevated with excitement, but he soon tamed the defensiveness threatening to spill from his lips, “Do you want to go back out into the rain?”

“Okay, okay. Sorry.” Though, you sounded all but remorseful. The sly smirk resting on your face matched Jungkook’s satisfied expression, despite these smiles surfacing for different reasons. You couldn’t deny how humorous it was to distemper this man. How all the worries you laid out like the pebbles and seashells on this beach were washed away by the tides. Meanwhile, his grin provided little contribution in masking his enjoyment of your company and relentless curiosity.

You now sat in the right armchair, bundled in the blanket. It was not necessarily a thick blanket, but the chills once disturbing you had dwindled almost immediately. You were still entranced by Jungkook's movements. His hands were now occupied with a book from one of the stacks he’d been eyeing; the way he cradled the book like it was a newborn baby further revealed he had a somewhat protective attitude towards them.

“What are you reading?” His eyes remained between the pages and lines of the book, but his focus was yet again thieved by your incessant curiosity. Jungkook thought it irritating similarly to how one would find a cat disrupting their owner from work, annoying yet ever so endearing, and adorably distracting.

“I’m not reading, I’m being bothered by you.” His snark was meant to damage your brazen pestering, but unknown to him it merely fueled it.

“Boohoo.” No matter how elementary that retort was, you still managed to fever him and hold hostage his attention.

“I’m reading The Odyssey.” Jungkook surrendered to you, placing the book on his lap that was now sitting in the armchair next to yours. “Why do you ask so many questions?” His eyes laid on you the same way they laid on the sea, filled to the brim with fascination.

“I just wanted to know what you were reading.” Even when he expressed a clear indication that he was past your nonsense, it went unnoticed like the particles of dust flitting around the darkened room. This oblivion of yours prompted your next question. “Could you read it to me?”

His eyebrows furrowed at this request. Jungkook had already found himself exhausted by your persistence, and predicted ‘no’ would not be accepted as a viable answer. He just sighed and began to read aloud.

His soft voice somehow drowned out the sea’s commotion. The words flowed off his tongue as if he wrote the book himself; such poise for a young man lured you to immerse yourself in his narration and time grew more and more abstract.

After a bit, Jungkook paused to examine how you'd received his reading and he was pleased to find your chin resting in your palm and your eyes and ears fixed onto him as if he were reading the gospel. This made it difficult, impossible, to deny entry for the subtle blush working its way on his cheeks.

“Are you satisfied?” He closed the book, peering out of the window to check if the weather had eased since you arrived. Though the intensity of the storm hadn’t lightened in the slightest, there was a new tranquility adopted by the drizzling sky waters that sank and fed into the waves.

“Never.” You replied with a hungered conviction twisted into your words, “What happens next?”

Jungkook laughed in shock of how eager you were to hear more of this story. It was unlike someone who wasn’t well versed in literature to genuinely enjoy listening to this archaic novel.

“Why are you laughing? Read more!” Your whine came off a bit childlike, but succeeded in its goal.

“It’s getting late.” He commented with a gentle sternness, though he proceeded to reopen the book. Your peculiar attention naturally drew him to oblige your desires. Even in the midst of a storm, even as the hours slipped by and the evening had been born, he continued to read.

You settled back into your chair in rejoice that you’d get to spend a bit more time with Jungkook. He was practically a stranger, and still there was a climate of comfort and intimacy that took the place of the crisp, winter air when he read from his book. He felt it too, and that was reason enough to allow you this company.

Throughout the chapter he had been working to finish, he snuck glances to find your eyes growing heavy with sleep as each page turned. Jungkook halted from reading and was trapped in the flush of your cheeks and lips and how your mouth hung slightly ajar as you inhaled the cold, wet air of the lighthouse. The puffs of breath that billowed from your lips had him yearning to know a warmth so full with life and curiosity.

“Are-” Jungkook tensed at the idea of disturbing your sleep, as if you hadn’t barged into his life without a hint of permission. “Are you asleep?”

Your head lifted slowly, then held stiff to maintain consciousness, “I was just resting my eyes. I’m not tired, I want you to read more.” You said this in spite of knowing you would drift asleep if he did.

“I think we are done reading for now.” The book closed for the last time, his hands pressing against the cover to seal his assurance. “You should head home.”

“But, I don’t know how the book ends.” This weak argument came from a place of jaded desperation. Regardless, he almost fell victim to your subdued urgency but any sensibility he could garner warned him not to allow this. You were quite obviously tired and he prefered you be safe in your own bed before the night advanced.

“Well, that’s because I only just started this book and it is very, very long.” Jungkook hoped this would usher you out even if that meant the return of loneliness would seep between the pillows of the right armchair after you left him with his solitude.

“Well, I won’t be able to get these questions out of my mind unless I finish the book.” Another weak argument drained from your inventory of excuses. Maybe a change of subject would present an opportunity to linger in his company. “Also, why do you live here all alone?”

“I just do. I feel like I don’t have to explain this to you.” Jungkook was bewildered at his admission to give you, an unannounced and uninvited visitor, any explanations and still he was close to doing exactly that. “You’re quite invested in my personal life.” As much as that was true, his withdrawal from your curiosity wasn't all that effortful. Living in secrecy and desolation had the feeling of companionship nearly vanishing from his memory and you reunited him with that warmth. And, he had not realized how it had nearly been forgotten or how much he missed it until he finally felt it again.

“You seem like someone who has better things to attend to.” The lament that stained his words bore such heartache that was soon displaced in your chest.

“No, no. My life is boring, and I don’t know. What person wouldn’t be interested in the personal life of a hermit who lives in a lighthouse?” You stood and paced around the platform towering over the swirling bookshelves below, towering over what felt like the entire world with Jungkook. The end of the blanket trailed your footstep as your drooping eyes skimmed the multicolored novels which were remarkably arranged alphabetically by author. How he had the time or patience to organize the hundreds of books he owned was beyond your comprehension. Every detail you acquired from Jungkook was stored in a compartment of your heart, almost as if it were assigned by fate. They were told in riddles and secrets and everything else meant to be deciphered.

“Not a hermit, and not a lighthouse. I couldn’t imagine someone like you being bored with your life.” His voice had become welcoming, with a hint of genuine interest, and this transition felt imminent ever since you first introduced yourself. The tilt of your head signified your agreement with his last statement and implied there was something that bothered you about this truth.

“Someone like me?”

“Someone like you. Curious, young with your whole life ahead of you. It's hard to believe you should be bored with that.”

“You say that as if you aren't the same age as me.” Jungkook shrugged lazily and scuffed his shoes against the rug as he now stood against the window sill, observing your interest of his books.

“I shouldn’t be a lot of things, and yet I am all those things. Bored, curious, and I’m here talking to a complete stranger that totally has the capability to murder me like in those movies instead of going back home.” Your comment that snuck out had wrested a soft chuckle from Jungkook. They were absentmindedly thrown into the air that filled the space between you and him, nurturing his reciprocated fascination with you. Your diligent grazing of each book had distracted how the weight of your eyelids heavied by the minute.

“It’s not like I don’t have great people in my life or a quality education that takes up most of my time, I just,” Your brief pause was to turn your attention over to Jungkook, who did not hide how he was listening intently to these confessions, alleviating from a place in need of emptying. His eyebrow was arched in a manner that jolted you back to your senses. You’d revealed one too many privacies to someone who you had been acquainted with only hours ago. Mortification would have bathed your body if not for the way Jungkook seemed to strongly engage with your openness.

“You just?” He staged his interest overtly to correct the imbalance of how your genuinity left you hanging lower than him on the emotional scale. Jungkook believed that was the least he could do to mitigate the embarrassment about to silence you.

“Uh, I just never seem to be satisfied with what I have. And that makes me seem like a greedy, spoiled child which makes me even more frustrated with myself.” You admitted, pulling the blanket over your shoulders tighter as if that would shield you from the compromising guilt slithering out of your body. “And that’s how I see myself. Ungrateful and spoiled.” This certainly scraped the barrel of your deep rooted disgust with yourself.

“Not spoiled, just lost.” His response felt like a soft and thoughtful embrace, granted that this was meant to ease the tinge of reproach in your heart. The words he spoke caressed your cheeks and told you that every horrid thing you thought of yourself was flawed.

“I’ve certainly been in your position.” He euphemized what he really wanted to say to you, that he saw himself in you. Even though you spoke very little on this, he felt himself living every experience you alluded to as if he had been right beside you your whole life. Or rather that you had witnessed his life and suffered identical desires and grievances and adversities and were simply retelling his story down to the most intricate detail; and somehow you made it sound brand new and a thousand times more aching. He was stranded in a state of amazement, ambushed by your pain and how even in moments of emotional destitution, you were unquestionably beautiful.

Likewise, this stranger, who was no longer estranged, and his kind words nearly compensated for the billions of people you could never meet, all the dreams you wanted but could never alter into incarnation, and all the disappointments that plagued your heart.

And you felt held by his words, his voice, him.

“You’ve been in my position?” You requested confirmation.

“I was. Certainly.” And he confirmed.

“Where are you now?” In turn, you wanted this to suggest, ‘where can I find you?’

This question carried profound sentiment on both the giving and receiving end of it. To you, this yearned for advice. Any piece of wisdom would gladly, gratefully be accepted to ease this rampage of constant dissatisfaction. To him, it resurfaced a series of speculations long undisturbed until you had asked this question; a place intentionally void of all attention because it was sometimes too grim to remember. A haze of difficulty crowded a definite answer, though he knew there was one. He couldn’t place his finger on a fitting response and found himself next to you in search of the answer.

Where are you now?

This haunted his mind for a bit, leaving him speechless and albeit impressed, for once, by your curiosity.

“It’s hard to say. Somewhere in between, I suppose.” Whatever meaning this carried did not resonate as sound to you. The mere idea of being on the end of perpetual longing, waiting for a clear path to the end that promised fulfillment, made it implausible to settle on being somewhere in between the two. Again, you were left unsatisfied and feeling a burden placing itself on your shoulders and wallowing a fit of disappointment in the pit of your stomach. Jungkook noticed how your eyes fell from his, down to the maroon accents of the rug, and felt out of place. Out of place, in his own lighthouse, all because your gaze and attention he’d grown used to in this short time wasn’t directed at him.

“That’s the kind of ambiguity that leaves me so hungry.” He nodded in agreeance with the twisted cruelty of his response you had pointed out. Jungkook didn’t know how or why he’d come to turn every corner and check each crevasse to find what could settle your appetite. This whole time, though, he sailed through this painstaking search without a trace of uncertainty. His illusion of disinterest and annoyance soon dissolved into the floor that your eyes hadn’t strayed from.

“Maybe if I lived in a quaint, not-lighthouse I would be satisfied with that answer, but I don’t. I live a normal, normal, normal life.” The repetition of your words stressed your fatigue of this dullness, your desire for everything just inches away from your fingertips.

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with a normal life. I think it’s wrong that we have put the idea of drama and excitement on a pedestal.” This outlook, unlike the last, did gain traction in stripping the thick ambiguity around Jungkook’s mind. To your surprise, you could be satisfied with the small pieces of this man’s mystery being chipped bit by bit.

He was well aware of his deep rooted appreciation that accompanied your eyes as it moved towards him once again. There was some sense of purposefulness in this glance that demoted his callousness to tender captivation.

“Can I ask one more question?”

“I have a hard time believing you only have one more question.” His doubtfulness didn’t seem to discourage you, or him.

“For real! Only one more, it’s important.” The only way to prove whether or not this question was truly important was for you to ask it. His head nodded his approval.

“What do you think makes us human?” Before he could answer, a swell of perplexity had overtaken his thoughts on this. You could tell, out of everyone, Jungkook would have a profound answer that could save you hours of contemplation over your philosophy essay’s prompt.

“That’s an interesting question.”

“An interesting question in need of an answer.” You prodded him for his response, though this was pointless if there was no response that could possibly be constructed. Not a response of reason that you seemed to require, but of feeling. Like an instinct, and that in itself made it inapplicable to this question.

“Ask me again some other time. I don’t know if the answer is that simple.”

But, of course, it was. The answer, in his eyes, was blindingly clear.

“I’ll hold you to that!” He gladly took accountability for that commitment. An unfamiliar contentment with the unknown had lodged in your chest when the promise of spending time together emerged through the once conditional circumstances. The promise that transformed those conditional circumstances to voluntary acts.

This humbling discovery left a wide grin on your face, beaming directly towards Jungkook.

Jungkook peered over to the antique clock placed on a shelf next to the window. The aversion of his eyes was to save face from how your soft smile that projected praise and attachment had effectively unnerved him; he stuffed his hands in his pockets to hide his fingers that twitched out of pure elation.

The hour hand stationed on the twelve carved in roman numerals verified how his company had erased any discern for the hours that passed. They had floated away so silently, slowly that you could have sworn time froze altogether.

“Oh shit, it’s midnight? Fuck me.” The decibels of your voice boomed against the walls, it could have shaken the stacks of books down to a pile of mess. “I’m sorry, shit. I didn’t even realize it was so late.” You unraveled yourself from the blanket and collected your belongings in a bit of a frenzy.

“It’s alright. I, um, I had a nice time.” He distanced himself from you swiftly as you dashed across the room to the edge of the stairs. Even in a hurried state, you still looked back to him and offered a smile, unsure if that was enough to suffice for a proper gesture of gratitude.

“Me too.” The words were close to inaudible, but you knew he heard them loud and clear, along with the string of implications that were laced in them.

“Oh and by the way, make good use of that umbrella. It looks like it could start raining again.” Your ears felt engorged with flames when he’d revealed his knowledge of your little secret. It was foolish of you to believe you could outsmart Jungkook because what you thought obscure was well within his range of astuteness and the umbrella, still damp from the rain, was apparent from the beginning.

You didn’t catch how he’d been smiling when you turned away bashfully, strutting down the stairs in an attempt to portray false confidence. But if you did, you would have picked up on his mutual indulgence in your visit, the absolute bliss laden in his eyes. You grasped tightly to the joy evoked from the thought of seeing him again, however your nerves held a tighter grasp that did not allow you to express this to him. Perhaps your giggles of excitement, surely heard by Jungkook, spilling from your throat as you rushed out the empty room or the way you clutched your umbrella to your chest in admittance you had purposefully kept that fact from him would give Jungkook a clue of how thankful you were to meet him. And even more so to be able to see him again.

As you parted from the lighthouse that was not a lighthouse, something in between, you felt that the comfort you once had taper off with the growing distance from the not-lighthouse. You were fraught with a gentle yearning to turn back, run up the spiraling stairs, settle yourself back into the right armchair, and ask humbly to stay a while longer.

Little did you know, Jungkook’s hopes coincided with yours like two concentric circles.

(One week later)

If it wasn’t the question left unanswered that motivated you, it was the fact that you missed the view of the beach from the window. Or maybe it was the countless supply of book titles that you didn’t get to finish inspecting. Perhaps it was that you missed how the soft blanket complimented the feathery cushion of the right armchair.

Any of these excuses could be suited to explain how you rushed through the town, determined, goal-oriented and passing down streets now ingrained in your memory, with a destination clear in mind.

But it definitely couldn't be how dearly you missed the sound of his voice when he read to you or his smile or the way he studied the waves with gentle affection. No, it couldn't be that.

Either way, you arrived at the base of the lighthouse. It had been a week since your first visit and you hoped that the invitation still stood for your return. Making your way through the empty room felt quick since you hadn't wasted time to notice how the table now had a vase of flowers in the center. Nor did you notice the new mat placed in front of the interior doorway to the lighthouse.

Your heart dropped from your chest when you reached over to the door knob only to find it was locked. You turned the handle back and forth as if that would miraculously function as a key to unlock the door. After a bit of knob fiddling had proven itself useless, you turned away with a huff of air releasing your frustration.

The click and turn of the handle had you twirling around optimistically and seeing him made all that disappointment dissolve.

“You’re back again.” He was smiling at you, then cocked his head to say come in. The moment you stepped into the lighthouse, its lackluster disappeared as if by magic. But Jungkook knew it wasn’t magic at all; it was the person that hid their umbrella, and asked him to read and promised to return as much as he promised to let you return.

“I believe you promised to keep reading to me.”

“Did I?” The reasons for your return weren’t all that important to discuss, both you and him were just glad to make your way up the stairs to the two armchairs once more, hearts both racing not because of the physical exertion from the stairs but from the excitement rasping through yours and his bodies.

“Yes, but this time I won’t fall asleep.”

“We’ll see about that.” There was no question that your intense focus wasn’t because you cared about the book he had been reading. In all honesty, you would not be able to summarize any bit of the plot if someone asked. You probably would have a hard time even naming the author of the book because what sank you into the words on the pages wasn’t the story itself, but the voice that read them. Jungkook made those languid paragraphs sound like the first words ever to be spoken; he reinvented the English language through his unique dialect, inflections and phrasing that had the words of Homer dancing off the pages. So, of course there was no question that you wouldn’t be able to name any of the characters or recognize the writing style of Homer because those details faded away, leaving only the memory of his voice with you.

This time, Jungkook didn’t have to offer you a seat. He made it clear that this spot had been reserved and waiting for you by the way the blanket had been folded and worn by the arm of the chair and the new pillow resting at the base of the chair’s backrest. You planted yourself on the cushion that felt more plump than the last time you sat in it and faced towards the large window that showcased the ocean’s energetic swaying.

“I would never get tired of this view.” You commented while Jungkook pulled back the curtains further to widen the seascape. He too was drawn to the deep blue waters making their way to and from the shore.

“I usually don’t leave the windows this open, but my love for the scenery of the ocean has rekindled.” When he said this, your eyes hadn’t budged from the window unlike Jungkook’s that peered over to you. You pretended not to notice that or the way your heartbeat had taken a quickness that had your skin growing warmer.

“How could it leave in the first place?”

“It is well known, especially by you, that having an abundance of something lessens your appreciation for it.” A corner of your lips lifted at this, knowing exactly what he had been referring to. Each wave passed by and in a comatose-like state, you wondered where on the shore it would land.

“No need to call me out already, Jungkook.” He had left the window and retrieved The Odyssey that hadn’t left the side table since the night he read it to you. This broke your trance, and you shifted to face the left armchair.

“You made it too easy, ___.”

“Okay, Hermit.” Your smile did wonders to ease the irritation in Jungkook’s chest to tenderness. Though he refused to admit it, this otherwise taunting nickname sounded affectionate coming from you.

“Technically a hermit is-”

“Technically, I don’t care about your technicalities. No amount of facts will persuade me that you aren’t a Hermit.” Jungkook dug his tongue into the side of his cheek to resist from joining in with your laughter. He’d been fidgeting with the book that was waiting to be read, but neither of you seemed to mind putting that off.

“Ho- How was your day?” You shouldn’t have felt as proud as you did for making a man who could read aloud for hours stutter over his own words, and nonetheless you were extremely flattered by this.

“It was good.” Good never really meant good, and Jungkook knew this.

“And what’s the truth?” Your playing field had once again been unleveled, the advantage returned into the palm of Jungkook’s hand in the blink of an eye. His perceptiveness had been bordering on annoying but still remained on the side of impressive.

“Well,” You bunched the blanket in your fists as an expression of worry, “My mom called today.” Anyone who could hear would be able to tell you sounded unhappy about that.

“Why do you say that like it’s a bad thing?” Jungkook articulated his question to get the answer he’d been looking for, finding the hostility in your voice far more interesting than the actual conversation between you and your mom.

“You don’t know my mom, but she projects her over achieving personality onto almost everyone she meets, but most of it goes onto me.” Your back had straightened when mentioning your mom, almost as if it were a reflex, like Pavlov’s dog, that you were conditioned to be on guard at the thought of her. “I don’t know why I get so mad at her when she does that because I know it comes from a place of love.”

Jungkook hummed softly, granting you space to continue talking.

“Yeah, it probably comes from a place of love but part of me doesn’t believe that. Part of me thinks every time she calls to check on me it’s really just a ploy for her to nag me on what I could be doing better.” You scoffed as the conversation from earlier in the morning played out in your head again. Envisioning the back and forth between you and your mother only fueled your frustration but you couldn’t help yourself. There was no stifling the seething anger imploding before Jungkook’s eyes. “She always says stuff like, ‘Maybe if you applied yourself more you would be doing better than this.’ or ‘I told you that you should have done this or that and now it’s too late’ or the infamous ‘Do you not care about your future?’ lecture that just gets under my skin. She’s so good at saying the wrong things at the wrong time. I don’t know how she does it but she always manages to rub dirt in the wound.”

“So, she’s never satisfied with you?” Jungkook observed.

“No, never! And you’d think a mother would be supportive or happy with all the things her child had already accomplished but somehow it’s never enough. And she knows what she’s doing. That makes it worse. She knows how she weaponizes my guilt against me.” You held your tongue from the much longer rant about to digress, feeling a sudden discomfort in the way you’d been complaining to Jungkook. You couldn’t understand why it was all too easy to talk of these kinds of things to him, why he looked so interested in what you were saying even when anyone else would have grown tired of you by now, why you found in him a warm confidant much more comforting than you’d expected, yet there was no way to dismiss this reality.

Jungkook did not offer advice, or tell you that you should be thankful or that maybe you were handling these situations poorly. He did none of that. His silence was more thoughtful than any number of things he could have said. He simply listened.

You rose from the chair to get a closer view of the sea. Past your reflection in the glass, the consecutive tides seemed to grapple over the next and the next; the previous wave always just short of reach to tackle the immediate wave. He had followed you without a word, living up to your desire to have him at your side. There was no need for mindless comments or condolences to fill the silence, only mindful amity, at your side, because watching the ocean with you was enough.

“So, that was my day.” It was the first thing spoken after a period of quiet, perfectly timed and delivered for it to bear a dry humor in its intention. Jungkook and you laughed, finding this the long needed release of tension in your head.

“Is this going to become a habitual thing?”

“What’s that?”

“Me complaining to you about my personal struggles that would have gone in my journal or somewhere far more private than this.” All said while your and Jungkook’s gazes didn’t wander from the view of the window. “Me inviting myself into your lighthouse, or not-lighthouse, whatever.”

“I wouldn’t mind that.” Two heads turned towards each other almost as if it were on que.

The way your pupils dilated and softened conveyed every bit of thanks you held in your heart but couldn’t muster the courage to voice. Jungkook’s doe-eyed smile thanked you likewise and confessed the gratitude for how you had rescued him from yet another lonesome afternoon with a curtained window, an unused blanket, an empty chair, and a melancholic silence as he read his one of thousands of books. Not including The Odyssey, that was for your ears only.

“You wouldn’t?”

“Maybe a little.” His tease succeeded to provoke that smile of yours. And even though that was a favor on his end, he was the one that felt graced by it. Realistically, a smile costs nothing yet there grew an enormous debt in his heart; and even though he couldn’t afford it, all he could do was bask in every detail your smile, of the crease of your eyes, and of the way your cheeks took the form of a sweet Spring Peach, and the scrunch of your nose and brows. Before he sank himself deeper in debt, Jungkook beckoned for the two of you to return to your seats and read all your worries away.

---

Who would have guessed that The Odyssey, of all things, would be the thing that would occupy most of your Fridays through the rest of the winter? Sometimes you visited a Sunday, and other times you’d find yourself needing to hear The Odyssey on a Wednesday evening or a Monday morning. The days on which you swung by the now familiar lighthouse would vary, but they remained a weekly occurrence.

Jungkook had grown comfortable with this routine, reading to you while you watched him and the waves, but mostly him. Occasionally, his reading would cease to an interruption of his own doing to ask how your day was in a very specific way that only Jungkook seemed to exhibit. He’d ask you say anything but ‘good’ or ‘boring’ and he’d clarify that he wanted you to not leave out any details.

“Why?” You would ask. And he’d look at you as if you set yourself on fire.

“It’s important to me.” He’d reply as if it were that simple, or the answer you were looking for. Still, if it was important to him you didn’t need any more persuading.

Like when you told him you stopped by a coffee shop, he’d tell you to specify which drink you ordered and how it tasted.

“Cinnamon.”

“Is that your favorite?”

“No, I prefer peppermint but sometimes I combine those flavors and that becomes my other favorite.”

“That sounds sweet.”

“It absolutely is.”

“Does that make you happy?”

“It makes my insides feel like Christmas.”

“Is Christmas a feeling?”

“It is to me!” He smiled at your childlike enthusiasm because it made life seem a lot more appealing than he’d ever believed. Before you, the world was a little greyer. After you, suddenly full of vibrance, saturated to the grandest extents.

Or the time you brought a candle to fill the air with something a bit more pleasant than the smell of the old, wet stones of the lighthouse.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a candle, vanilla and patchouli.”

“Where did you get it?”

“I don’t remember. I just found it in my house and thought this place needed something sweet.”

“But you’re here.” Your teeth bit down on your tongue when he said this. You almost fallen trapped in figuring out what motivated him to say this, but the flattery of his comment was all too pleasing to ignore.

“But I don’t smell like vanilla and patchouli.” You said, only to save face from the fact that you suddenly felt like a deer in headlights when he looked at you, bracing for when he would crash into you and hoping to god you can absorb the exhilaration of souls colliding; and hoping to god he would crash into you.

“Could you light it, then?”

“Of course.”

And the room filled with a sweetness that complimented your company finely. Now, whenever he would smell the scents of vanilla and patchouli he would think of you, and you of him.

He would continue asking these simple questions, and so on.

Why he thought it was essential for you to relay these almost invaluable intricacies was beyond you, but it did make you feel heard; it made you feel held as it always did. It made the value of your life gone without the need to be earned or proven, the value of the smaller moments that fell between bigger moments.

It made it all okay that you felt like you stripped the clothes from your whole life off for him to revere and that he’d rarely ever display such emotional nudity for you; you were okay with lying bare before his eyes, vulnerable and pliant to his every whim. Even when you wanted to know all of these things about Jungkook and he’d hold them captive or he’d only offer half sufficient answers, you collected as many bits of the puzzle as possible to try and piece together his story.

“How are your parents, Jungkook?”

“Long gone.”

“Oh, Jungkook… I’m sorry for your loss.”

“I watched them grow old and content and that softened the blow.”

“Are you lonely?”

Yes, it’s excruciating when you are not here. I am tormented in your absence and all too plagued with despondency and I wish you knew that.

“I’ve grown used to it.”

“So you have.”

“So I have.”

You did not want him to be lonely; you didn’t want him to ever be sad but you wanted him to be able to say that he was to you. You wanted him to be able to tell you he was lonely; you wanted him to want you to know his heart. You wanted him to feel as naked as you felt. Vagueness was all you could ever manage to arrest from his gated mind.

And for once, the little he had given was more than you could ever ask for.

Sunday mornings with Jungkook were your favorite. The ocean was tame during this time on Sundays specifically and sailed you into its calmness; you were half asleep, resting on the sill running along the base of the window panes. Spring had been approaching which meant there were radiant glimmers of the early sun that reflected and glided along the ripples of the waves. Jungkook once said that every time he looked at these little pieces of diamond rays, he believed the sun and the sea performed in devotion for you and him alone.

“I love that.” And indeed you did. The idea that no one else witnessed this ocean, not this one, not the way you and Jungkook had, was a greedy disposition but felt so true.

“Would you like me to read?” He said in place of, Is my voice properly fitting for something as lovely as this moment?

“I want you to talk, but not of books.” You blinked slowly at Jungkook, “Could you tell me about yourself? Just one thing, anything you choose.” He saw those specks of diamonds glimmering in your irises. He felt so close to you, sitting on the other end of the window, and close enough to finally surrender a bit of his gated mind.

“When I was a child, I knew my days were numbered. The details of why aren’t important, but I digress.” You stuffed a scoff down your throat at the assertion that the details weren’t important. Him, of all people, claiming the details were unimportant had you whirling in a paradox. “With this in mind, I did my best to fulfill everything any child would have wanted. And I don’t think I’ve ever stopped because that list of desires was never ending.”

Was this what he meant when he said he was in my position once? You wondered.

“I spent all my time looking for the next best thing I could achieve, because the best things that I had was, as you know, never enough. One week, the best thing would be finding a four leaf clover to give to my mother. The next, it was being the first in line for the new, long awaited comic book. Or, it was the time my father took me fishing on the lake, and then seconds after it was the first fish I caught and threw back into the water, and that best thing was soon replaced by my father’s proud smile.”

Your throat tightened as you visualized a young Jungkook sitting on the dock with his father, full of youth and excitement, and how nostalgia had ripened into your heart even though you had no place in this memory of his. This dream-like sequence had compelled a few tears to fill your eyes, fogging your vision of the older Jungkook that sat before you.

“When I grew older, in my adolescent and teenage years, the next best thing was fulfilling a newfound passion. It prompted me to buy out almost the entire library and major in World Literature. I spent the rest of my days from then on immersed in reading, as you can see. It was the only place I felt like I was achieving the next best thing, and it was cruel when I came to realize there was no way in hell I could finish all the books I’d collected in time.”

“In time for what?”

“In time... for the next best thing to come along, I guess.” This answer appeared fabricated, but was subtle enough to pass through your mind without a second thought.

“And did it? Did it come along?”

It would have made no difference if your question had been asked to a brick wall because Jungkook brushed it off as he did every other question that would have given you another piece of his puzzle. He took precautions to avoid a defeat to your pouting by walking over to the left armchair and burying his face in the book’s fortitude. Before you had the chance to reiterate your question, Jungkook began to read, making it all too clear he was evading.

“Jungkook?” You whined to which he paid no mind by continuing to read.

“Is he being serious right now?” Again, you might as well have been talking to an inanimate object. There was nothing to be done when he lodged his restraint other than joining him in your armchair, quietly, permissively.

Every day, like this one, spent with him had you convinced it couldn’t be surpassed in enjoyment. And every day, your expectations had been exceeded. That was something you’d never think could happen. Soon, the cares and worries of this Winter melted as the avenue of Spring had unfolded before you. A long path, surrounded with flower blossoms and diamond coated seas, or in other words, the unfathomable had fallen into your hands.

The remainder of this pleasant Sunday had been consumed by The Odyssey and Jungkook’s voice singing its words as smoothly as the waves surrounding the lighthouse and small conversations during the pauses of his reading. One struck you into reminiscence of the first night you met.

“You never answered my question.” He paused, flipping through the many unanswered questions he’d left with you. Jungkook raised his brow to order specification of which one you referred to.

“What makes us human?” The due date of your essay passed over two months ago, however this didn’t diminish your curiosity to know his answer.

“In all honesty,” He paused and looked to assure you would believe his answer would be honest, or honest enough to cater your satisfaction. “I think it’s our desire to achieve the last best thing.”

Every fiber in you compiled its own list of questions in regards to his yet again ambiguous answer, though you had grown to accept that as a part of Jungkook. And you sure as hell accepted Jungkook, ambiguity and all.

“Hm.” It didn’t take a mind reader to know you had theorized any and all connotations branching off from his answer and he didn’t mind that you could be lost in search of whatever the actual meaning of it was.

The moon was in its fullest bloom tonight, and tomorrow, it would begin to wane into a crescent then into nothing but an empty space full of new and perhaps fortunate opportunities. Jungkook found the romance of this lunar phase well equipped for the dusty instrument he discovered in the base of the lighthouse.

“I found something that I think you’d like.” Your ears perked like a dog when it’d been presented with treats. “But you have to go get it. It’s in the other room.”

Whatever this surprise was, it had excited you enough to ignore how you’d have to descend and re-ascend the many stairs that would surely tire you. Your eager legs would have jumped right from the platform to the bottom of the lighthouse if the reality didn’t result in broken bones. As you rushed to the door to the other room, you pushed through and discovered a telescope standing in the corner of the otherwise empty space. A few moments later you were hustling back up the stairs, the telescope making the re-ascension of the stairs ten times as strenuous. All the while, Jungkook just stared in amusement at the way you struggled your way to the platform.

“No, I don’t want any help, thank you!” You said sarcastically through grunts of exertion before positioning the instrument in front of the window.

“Well, I didn’t offer you any, so, you’re very welcome.” He stood on the other side of the telescope, admiring the way you fell so easily in love with it, hands scaling the length of the scope.

“Do I just?” You pointed to the eyepiece at the end of the rod and he nodded. You brought your eye to the magnifying glass which was flooded with the enchanting glow of the stars. You’d never seen them this close, but this little gift of Jungkook’s had catapulted you into the illuminated abyss of the night sky. A measly woah was all that squeaked from your voice, because all the other words were stolen by the stars.

“Can you find any constellations?” He’d seen all the stars in the galaxy; that he was sure of. But none had shone brighter than the person he couldn’t tear his eyes from. Three o’clock had crept onto the antique clock, this late hour had worn down Jungkook’s walls completely as the soft glow of adornment laminated his eyes.

“I think I see ORion's belt. That’s the only one I know other than the Big Dipper.” You laughed at your own lack of knowledge of the stars. Knowledge didn’t seem to matter though, the beauty of the stardusted sky had taken care of that deficiency. You lifted yourself away from the telescope, allowing Jungkook a turn to stargaze.

“Have you heard of the Astral Plane?” Jungkook asking you something other than, ‘how was your day’, was a rare occurrence which most likely meant this was of some importance.

“I’ve heard of it, but I think I’ll need you to refresh my memory.” You really did need clarification on what exactly the Astral Plane entailed, though you mainly just wanted to hear him explain it.

“Some say it lies in the fourth dimension. It isn’t tangible or something that can be touched. It lies between everything, every atom, every cell, every city and forest and mountain and even between the crevasses of one’s own mind and soul. A place like this is full of divinity and complete attainment and the way it is reached has been theorized by many.” Jungkook’s meticulous readjustments of the telescope had you wondering which constellations he was searching for, or maybe he’d been looking for Venus or Mars or the Moon. “Some say you arrive there in your dreams, or when you reach enlightenment, or when death draws its curtain on you… I-I don't know why but I’ve always thought that it was stitched into the sky. Far beyond our galaxy, maybe the Astral Plane has situated itself in between each star, just like it does our souls, and exists as the vastness of outer space.” It turned out he wasn't looking for any of those things, he was looking for the Astral Plane.

Could the heat rising throughout your body be merely adoration, or was it something along the lines of a forlorn longing? When he spoke, you felt this sensation growing dense in your bones; you felt a gravitation towards him.

“Seems about right to me.” Fondness had stained your tone which filled some void in Jungkook’s hungry heart, and he’d failed to predict you were the one that would be able to settle it. “Maybe we’ll never reach the Astral Plane, but at least I’m here with you.”

When you said this, the hairs on his arms pointed towards the ceiling. For once in a very, very long time, Jungkook felt a euphoric resurgence striking through the catacombs of his soul and hot tears dripping down the expanse of his cheeks, to the tip of his chin, and onto the glass scope that was shielding this sudden emotional combustion. He blinked away the tears to the best of his abilities and turned away from you and the telescope and the sky. Jungkook felt the push of air from your movement towards him, but he shifted further away.

“Are yo-”

“I found a cluster of stardust, go look.” He averted you from him and you always fell victim to every trick in his book.

“Wow, that’s amazing!” The grip you had on the telescope was firm, like you were trying to hold onto the stars themselves.

“Amazing.” He said. This reiteration wasn’t for the stars, however. He wondered if you knew that. He wondered if you could feel how consumed he was by your magnificence under the full moon that reigned with gentleness over the waves. The once wild tides, now moving with the same serenity and romance embedded into Jungkook and this lighthouse. He wondered if you could see he had been emotionally disrobed and bearing all his affection for you. And he wondered how he was so okay with that.

Six o’clock didn’t feel like six o’clock. Your eyes that struggled to keep open told you otherwise, so again you and him were parting ways as the sun had begun dawning over the horizon and there were no more stars to fill the hours slipping away. Jungkook did all he could to compose himself. He’d offered to walk you out; you reached the door that led to the dewy, Spring air awaiting your departure from the lighthouse.

“Wait, ___!” This exclamation echoed louder than the beating of his crimson heart. After stepping through the threshold, you turned to meet his gaze, teary-eyed from what you guessed was from lack of sleep. Teary-eyed from what he knew was because of another egregious goodbye. “Thank you.”

This moment seemed fitting to test the theory that actions speak louder than words. This moment called for the lapse of courage in need to act, not speak. This moment was the moment when you finally expressed the thankfulness that, to you, seemed to outweigh his by pressing a tender kiss to his cheek. It was much colder than your lips and the docile warmth of the morning, but once you pulled away the warmth had stained his cheek.

Jungkook felt like every cell in his body was evaporating into the space around him. Like the way a fire would extend its heat into the air or the way Spring melted away the frost ridden Winter, your act had covered him in a blanket of love and refuge from the loneliness once vaulting his heart. And it certainly spoke louder than words; all the words in every book Jungkook had ever read and the words left unsaid and the words passing between everyone in the universe.

“I’m the one who should be thanking you, Hermit! You helped me see Orion’s Belt up close and personal!” You called as your strides began a slow fleet from a laughing Jungkook. You waved, now standing a generous distance from him, and he found this gave him the space needed to finally let his tears fall.

“I love you.” He whispered, hoping the wind would carry it to your ears and heart.

A revelation had overcome him, and no matter how many times he tried to wipe the tears away, they’d be instantly replenished like a stream of water rushing from a conquered dam, spilling over endlessly, with all control suspended in the air around him.

Was it finally here? The last, best thing?

---

A week after the stargazing, your mind had mapped out the stars as you too searched for that Astral Plane. To you, Jungkook’s proposition of it being strewn in the night sky was the only theoretical that made sense. You wanted to flaunt your newfound passion for this concept he’d introduced, and admittedly - and more importantly - you wanted to kiss him again, leading to yet another blissful walk down the seashore to the lighthouse. The air was warm but not humid, carrying a breeze that evened out the sun’s heat nicely. A few pillows of clouds were cascading through the sky, never staying in one spot for too long; you’d come to appreciate each one’s temporary presence and when they passed, you grew to appreciate that as well. The gaze once fixed on the sand had now traveled to the waves of much gentler motion than ever before.

This walk, unlike the dozens of others, felt different. The streets looked lovely and the air felt clean in your chest, giving you a pleasant journey far more intimate than the last. Then you realized, it felt like you were walking back home.

When you grew closer to the lighthouse, you noticed the curtains had been drawn which was strikingly unusual for a sunny day such as this one. This was a passing observation as you made your way to the base of the lighthouse.

Through the door to the room before the lighthouse, you were taken aback to find your armchair sitting in front of the table. you walked up to discover a single, folded parchment sealed with a red wax stamp labeled with your name along the top of the paper.

This felt eerie, for some reason, and you called out his name only to be met with silence, before sitting yourself down and unsealing the note.

It read in his voice:

My Dearest, ___

I wrote this to relay a lot of things left unsaid. The first being goodbye. I’m sorry to have to leave you like this, though no amount of remorse could possibly appease my actions.

Your heartbeat had grown rampant, until your eyes read those words. It was then when it stopped altogether. Still, you continued to read.

I kept things from you like the fact that our encounter in the town’s square was all but coincidental. The truth is scary, and my truth would have turned you away from the beginning. It was selfish, I admit, but I do not think I could have endured such a loss. Forgive me for keeping you in the dark all this time, but I am beyond gratified for what you granted me in spite of that.

Maybe it might seem cruel. You are not alone in feeling that — never alone. But, we were never meant to spend every Sunday morning, or Friday evening, or Wednesday afternoon together to watch the waves float along with the hours lost reading to you; I knew this was not the end of your story, just mine.

The books I have read over and over have imprisoned me in search of the “next best thing”. To my dismay, I thought I had run out of time to find it. But then you came along. You helped set me free by allowing me to live out a few more “best things” through the way you shared your life with me, unselfishly, warmly, kindly— You helped me move on.

I know you too will move on from this. I hope I could at least leave you with the tools and courage to find each “next best thing” in store. If not that, then this lighthouse, open to you and only you, and a myriad of good memories to ease our parting. I know in my heart you deserve nothing less.

I hope you find contentment somewhere in the sea or on the sand or in the stars, or perhaps somewhere in between.

Once you do, we will meet again within the Astral Plane, my love. I swear it. And if you miss me, just look through the telescope and find me woven in the spaces amidst Orion’s Belt.

Thank you. Again and again I thank you and it is still not enough. Thank you for you, for your warmth, for your salvation, for your smile, for your endless questions, for re-introducing me to the aroma of vanilla and patchouli but it was not as sweet as your companionship, for putting good use of the right armchair and the view from our window, for making the odyssey a little less lonely to read, and thank you for stepping into my lighthouse and my life.

Don't you see, it was you. You were my last, best thing.

with love and sorrow,

Jeon Jungkook

Before you got to the end of the letter, you were racing up the spiraling stairs, ignoring the burn in your tightened chest, how the air in the lighthouse had suffocated your lungs. The dizziness that blurred your eyes had not slowed your climb up the stairs, and the wetness of your tears now seeping into his letter.

You reached the top, The Odyssey greeting you on the chair Jungkook would have been seated in. Your breaths were staggered and warm, filling the mournful emptiness of the lighthouse.

“Jungkook.” You whispered. You begged for a reply. The curtains were drawn over the window, like never before, and exposed a bronze plaque peeking out from the end of the fabric. You pushed the drapes aside to read what was engraved into the metal plate and the first page of The Odyssey that hung below it.

In loving memory of our beloved son, Jeon Jungkook. May he rest in peace. 1918-1942.

The note below read:

The Odyssey

Jeon and ___ Lighthouse.

You pieced the puzzle together, finally. And with that, came the final picture, so beautiful and mesmerizing and everything you could have ever hoped for, and more.

“Jungkook.” You repeated as a bid of farewell, with a heart full of satisfaction and content, and Jungkook. You pressed the letter to your chest in hopes his words would mend your aching heart.

And it was true, he was not your last best thing, only one of them.

But he was undoubtedly your most cherished and beloved best thing.

712 notes · View notes

carelessannie · 3 years ago

Text

here’s the second part of my winteriron mermay au! enjoy!

while we’re devoting full time to floating chapter two: boy you better do it soon

Rating: M (for now) Word Count: 6.8K Relationships: Tony x Bucky Warnings: Smut adjacent (unintentional sex toys), sexual tension, profanity, kinda drug/alcohol use Read on AO3 Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three

- - -

His eyes blink open slowly. It’s strange to wake up without a blinding headache. Actually, it’s strange to wake up without any pain. And with the sun shining in his face.

To his left, he sees a small form on the water’s surface. In his mind’s eye he knows the form is familiar, knows that there should be someone inside— but it slips quickly, evading his memory as the dark form fades over the horizon.

Tony shakes his head. He smacks his lips.

Where is he?

First of all, he’s definitely not in the ocean. It seems like he’s resting on some type of rock formation, with just his tail hydrated in the water. Interesting. He seems to be inside a cove, the shelter working wonders to hide him from the mid-afternoon sun.

Secondly, he’s alone. He never travels alone, especially not to the shore. It hurts to try and remember, but reality slams into him like an orca whale. Rhodey and Pepper. The exploration to colonize. The fucking Tiger Sharks, dammit! Tony’s tail slaps the surface of the water in frustration, and he lets his body slip into the shallow pool.

He hopes the sharks didn’t get his friends. The memory of the fight is hazy at best, but he knows he shouldn’t be feeling this good afterwards— he’s pretty sure he got hit at least once. There are no scratches or bruises anywhere on his body, and it’s confusing that he doesn’t even have a headache.

That’s a problem for later, though. Now, Tony needs to find his friends— or, what remains of his friends. He swims out of the cove and down, through the reefs. Fish seem to be tentatively peeking out of their hiding spots, and he follows the empty spaces to trace the path a shark might have taken. He whistles, sharp and quick, to try and map out the figures in the surrounding area, and is satisfied when his call is returned with a low chirp. Thank the sea.

“Rhodey!” he hollers, pushing through the crowded reef, searching wildly for his closest friend, his faithful number two. As Tony breaks into the clearing, he freezes at the sight in front of him.

Rhodey and Pepper are swimming territorial circles around all three Tiger Sharks— and, from the looks of it, all three are dead.

“Tony!” Pepper notices him first and beckons him closer. When he swims up, she throws her arms around his neck, sobbing briefly into his shoulder, before reeling back and lightly slapping his arm, “How dare you worry me like that! I was sure all we’d find were scales— how did you get away?”

“I…” Tony tries to remember, he really does, but the only things coming to mind are brilliant blue eyes, an ethereal glow, and a deep, alluring voice, “I think someone saved me. But, by the time I woke up, they were gone.”

“You didn’t recognize them?” Rhodey swims closer, looking him up and down, inspecting for injuries.

“No, I don’t… I don’t think they’re part of the Kingdom,” Tony murmurs, reaching up to subconsciously play with his signet ring. His memory is usually so sharp, it’s strange that—

“Holy shit, Tony— look!” Pepper interrupts, pointing at his chest. He looks down, but all he can see is a slight illumination around his sternum.

“What—”

“Stay still,” Rhodey snaps, gently lifting the ring off of his skin. Pepper reaches in to trace a delicate circle on his chest, and both of his friends look awestruck. And afraid. He tries to crane his neck and see, but all he notices is that the glow fades the longer the ring is kept from touching his body. Rhodey hums, thoughtfully, “Seems like the ring is enchanted. I haven’t encountered a witch in ages— but I guess one came out of hiding to save you.”

“I guess. Pep, do you have a mirror?” The longer Rhodey holds the ring, the tighter Tony’s chest feels. He plucks it out of Rhodey’s hand as Pepper pulls a mirror out of her satchel, turning it around so Tony can take a look.

His signet ring lays in the center of his chest, a steady weight, and radiates a faint glow. It’s more concerning that, surrounding the ring, there’s a few inches of light emanating from under his skin. Tony reaches up to trace it— the gold ring and blue haze, so similar to the eyes he remembers saving him. Still, nothing hurts, and Tony pushes the mirror away.

He ignores their concerned looks and starts to tie up the sharks, concentrating on getting them back to the Kingdom before any larger predators arrive to investigate. After a moment, both of them swim down to help him, shouldering the bodies and heading back towards the Kingdom’s butcher.

It’s a few more minutes before Tony breaks the silence, giving his friends a break, “So, uh… do you think I’ll be a lanternfish forever?” He throws them a smirk and laughs at Pepper’s exasperated sigh.

Rhodey bumps into his shoulder, “You have trouble blending in as it is— at least now we’ll be able to keep track of you… in night clubs.”

Tony gwuafs, offended, and shoves at Rhodey’s shoulder. With everyone happy and laughing, it’s easy to forget about his mysterious savior and the inevitable conversation he’s going to have with his father later on. They head straight for the butcher when they enter the city, several citizens cheering and praising their kill. Tony knows he’ll get the credit for it, even though it was Rhodey and Pepper who slew the sharks, so he takes off as soon as they drop the bodies, heading to the castle to see the King.

---

Hours later, Tony sits at the far perimeter between two sentinels, staring out into the open ocean. The nocturnal fish have emerged, sending an eerie glow onto the city as the lights dim, throwing the Kingdom into gentle darkness. It does nothing to soothe Tony’s anger.

He takes Pepper’s satchel, full of rocks and shells and other samples from their journey, and dumps it over the side of the wall. Useless. It’s almost as if his dad doesn’t even want to explore anymore, just sending Tony out to keep him distracted. And he knows that’s probably the case, he’s not stupid, but he can tell there’s something deeper his dad isn’t telling him.

Well, fuck ‘im. Tony’s more than capable of figuring it out on his own.

For now, he stares out into the distance, throwing a silent Tony pity party.

There’s movement in the distance. At first, Tony thinks it’s debris. It’s not uncommon for items to fall from the surface— but this object suddenly twists, and he sees… shit, he sees arms. Fuck. It’s a person.

“Stay alert,” he instructs the guard on his right, “I’m gonna check it out.”

Tony takes off into the dark, distantly aware that one of the guards is hot on his tail, and heads straight for the figure still drifting towards the ocean floor. He slows down as he approaches, thankful for the light in his chest that illuminates his surroundings. When he gets to the spot, sand is settling in a cloud around where the figure landed. It takes a moment for everything to clear, and Tony waits patiently, the guard at his side prepared with a weapon.

It’s a man. “Holy shit,” Tony breathes out, swimming closer to the limp body stretched across the sand and rock.

“Be careful, your Highness,” his guard warns, and Tony waves his hand in dismissal.

The man landed facing away from him, giving Tony a good view of strong, muscular shoulders and wavy, shoulder-length hair, half tied back behind his ears in a small knot. His back rises and falls, expanding with slow breaths that reassure the man’s gentle sleep. He leans over and pulls on his shoulder, carefully turning him onto his back.

He’s absolutely gorgeous. Lips slightly parted and turned down in sleep, his face is utterly serene. His lashes are dark and cast a delicate shadow over sharp cheekbones, sprinkled with a tasteful amount of scruff, not quite enough to hide his full jawline and smooth, tanned skin. Tony can’t help himself— he reaches down and cups the man’s jaw, brushing his thumb over full lips and wishing he could look into this man’s eyes.

With a gasp, the man jerks awake, and Tony gets his wish. Deep, electric gray eyes bore into his own, the handsome face overtaken with shock and confusion as he bolts upright, pushing Tony away and looking around frantically.

“Hey, hey— it’s alright. You’re okay, please don’t panic,” Tony tries to calm him down, sighing in relief when the man turns his focus back on Tony, still looking desperate and confused, “My name’s Tony, you’re outside Howard’s Northern Kingdom— can you… can you tell me your name? Where you came from?”

The man shakes his head. He’s shaking slightly, and Tony watches as he runs his hands over his chest, his hips, and his silver and crimson tail— as if grounding himself in the present. Tony understands and gives the guy some space.

He hates the devastated look in the man’s stunning eyes, but is grateful when he croaks out, “The… the Northern Kingdom? Under water?”

Tony snickers, motioning around, “For now, yeah— that’s where sea life generally lives.”

The man nods, a little too quickly, “Right, I… of course, right. My name…” he grimaces, as though it’s painful to remember, “I’m James, but… but people call me Bucky.”

“Bucky,” Tony repeats, liking the sound of this stranger’s voice, somehow familiar, “I’m Tony, and King Howard is my father. Unfortunately, before I can help you out, I’m gonna need to know why you’re here, or where you’re from,” he gestures to the guard behind him, “otherwise this guy’s not gonna let you come home with me.”

Bucky’s smile is a revelation as it breaks over his face. Tony feels something twist in his chest as he ducks his head, looking up at Bucky through his lashes and watching the other man’s cheeks flush pink in delight. Oh, Tony likes this a lot.

“Well, I’m… I’m from…” the smile falls from Bucky’s face as he concentrates, a painful grimace maring his features again, “The Kingdom of Brooklyn, and my brother is the King. His name is Steve. And I… I don’t know why I’m here,” his brow furrows and a small whimper leaves his throat as he concentrates harder, and Tony has to stop it.

“Hey, Bucky? Please don’t— don't’ hurt yourself, okay?” He grins in approval as Bucky relaxes, “We can work on it, sweetheart, for now, what you’ve given me should be sufficient. I’ve never heard of Brooklyn, but if you’re a Prince and not one of our enemies, our King shouldn’t have a problem with offering you temporary residence.”

“I… okay,” Bucky agrees, looking down at his hands, “I don’t want to impose.”

Tony holds out a hand and pulls Bucky along with him. They swim back through the gate and into the city— most families are already tucked into their homes for the night, so no one sees them on their way back to the castle. Bucky looks absolutely stunned, barely talking during their journey, and it amuses Tony to no end. Obviously whatever Kingdom he’s from is small and underdeveloped in technology and population.

They travel shoulder to shoulder, and Tony can’t help but feel a familiar warmth when their arms brush against each other, the ring around his neck pulsing brighter. It seems like Bucky notices it too, but the expression on his face is difficult to read.

“So this is a weird question,” Tony starts, fiddling with the ring as he studies Bucky’s face. The other man smiles encouragingly, so Tony continues, “have we… met before? Like, specifically earlier today?”

Bucky stops suddenly, looking at Tony as if he’s actively growing another tail. For a moment his face looks surprised, filled with recognition, but it quickly disappears as Bucky hunches over and lets out a pained gasp, clutching desperately at his head. Tony has no idea what to do— and in panic, he pulls Bucky closer, wrapping the larger man in his arms.

“Shh, I’m so sorry,” Tony whispers, trying to soothe away the pain. Bucky is trembling like a leaf in his arms, and he’s helpless to do anything about it. He’s also aware that they’re drifting in between several dwellings, and Tony needs to get them inside, soon.

Soft, red-rimmed eyes blink up at him, and Tony brings up his hand to push a few wayward strands of hair out of Bucky’s face. Even upset and in pain, this man is flawless. He sniffles and blinks a few times, struggling to turn a reassuring smile up at Tony.

“T-thank you,” he murmurs, face flushing pink again in embarrassment, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Everything is… familiar. But I can’t remember you, I’m sorry.”

Tony clicks his tongue, following the blush with his fingers and enjoying the close press of their bodies, “It’s okay, Bucky— we’ll figure it out.”

---

They make it back to the castle in one piece, and Tony knows it’s going to be best to present his guest to the King immediately. He knows his presence isn’t welcome due to the argument earlier in the evening, but the consequences will be worse if Tony tries to hide what he’s found.

The two of them wait outside of the King’s rooms as a steward leaves to announce them to his father. Tony tries to fill Bucky in on procedures, but it seems his guest is already familiar with a number of expectations and etiquette.

“Oh, and remember to tuck your tail as well. And if he tells you to be informal, he really means you can call him ‘Your Grace,’ not to call him Howard. He’ll hate that.” Tony rambles, listing off everything he can think of.

“Wait,” Bucky stops him, “tuck my… tail? Why?”

Tony chuckles, backing up slightly to face Bucky. He looks around to make sure no others are watching— it would be improper for the Prince to bow, even in jest— and when he’s satisfied that the coast is clear, tucks himself into a formal bow.

“Oh,” Bucky breathes, and Tony unfolds himself, his smile erased completely by the intensity in Bucky’s eyes. Fuck. “That’s… that was…”

And then smoothly, gracefully, Bucky mirrors his bow, curling his tail forward, dipping his head, and crossing one arm over his chest respectfully. Tony is speechless. The show of respect— even casually— from this breathtaking man, has him breathing deep to keep his desire at bay.

It seems as though Bucky’s having a similar problem. As he unfolds from his bow, Tony can see his pupils blown wide, the scales around his groin flushed pink in arousal. Tony can bet his own scales look the same, and tries to laugh, tries to calm them down as he backs away slightly. It won’t help either of them to see the King looking like this.

Of course that’s the moment the King’s steward chooses to return, giving both of them a disapproving once over before opening the door wide, “His Majesty will see you in his library.”

Okay, not the worst then. If Tony was in deep shit, Howard would just see them in the drawing room. At least Tony likes the library.

He leads Bucky down the hall and into the library, hiding a smile at the awe clearly written on Bucky’s face. He takes a second look, trying to view his father’s library with fresh eyes, but has trouble when his gaze keeps landing on the handsome man swimming next to him.

Howard is reclining near a window, absently eating a few fermented algae— his usual method of winding down from a difficult day. As the King looks their way, a piece of algae still in his fingers, Bucky dips into a formal bow. Triton, he looks good like that. Tony dips his head, informally, and both of them straighten up a moment later.

“What is it, Anthony?” his dad sighs, putting the piece of algae on his tongue to dissolve. Tony suddenly feels parched, but holds his arm out to present Bucky regardless.

“An hour ago, as I was watching the border of our Kingdom, a figure fell from the surface. I went to investigate with a guard, and we found James, here, unconscious and unarmed. James claims to be a prince from a Kingdom called Brooklyn, with a King named Steve, and is seeking asylum until he can resume his travels. His mind is damaged, and I wish to extend my care and hospitality towards him for the duration of his stay.”

The King looks at both of them, his face refusing to give anything away, but Tony knows from experience that he’s much more perceptive than Tony gives him credit for. He crosses his arms and addresses Bucky, “Prince James, then,” he says, testing out the title, “if not hostile, what are your intentions towards my Kingdom and my son?”

Bucky ducks his head and nods, “My intentions are to know your Kingdom and know your son, if he so desires, Your Majesty. I am healing and recovering my memories, and once I’ve reclaimed my original destination, I shall depart immediately.”

Howard nods, satisfied with this answer. He points to the small pail on his side table, “Anthony, would you bring your… friend a refreshment?”

Tony spares Bucky a shrug and swims over to the chilled container, lifting it slightly to scoop out a small bundle of algae into a glass, trapping them quickly with a lid. He grabs a few for himself and makes his way over to where Bucky floats, his eyes wide and curious as Tony hands over the refreshment.

Bucky looks down at the cup in his hands, obviously and adorably lost. Tony glances over at Howard— his dad looking between them in amusement— and touches Bucky’s shoulder, catching his gaze and motioning for him to follow Tony’s example.

Reaching into his glass, Tony fishes out a piece of algae, showing Bucky how it sticks slightly to his finger. Bucky copies him, and grabs a smaller piece in between his forefinger and thumb. Tony wishes he could feed the bit to Bucky himself, place it on his tongue and feel his pretty pink lips suck it from his hand.

Instead, he quickly places it on his own tongue, humming happily as the sweet and sour algae dissolves, sending a warm shiver down into his belly, clearing his head and heating him up from the inside out. Damn, his dad always has the best shit.

He turns his attention back to Bucky, watching intently as he follows suit and places the morsel in his mouth. His eyebrows shoot up, he looks down at the cup in shock— as if the remaining algae could provide some explanation— and then, to Tony’s dismay, Bucky lets out a guttural groan, eyes fluttering shut in pleasure as his cheeks hollow out, lips curling tight around his fingers while he sucks them clean.

Tony is having something close to a stroke, and his dad is laughing loudly in front of them, obviously finding Tony’s distress amusing. He’s going to commit regicide, and it’s going to be slow and painful and bloody.

He overcompensates by taking the lid off his glass and throwing the rest of the algae back, breathing deep as the sensation hits him all at once. As he sways a bit in place, he catches Bucky staring at him in amusement.

“Anthony,” his father sighs, shaking his head in annoyance, “do whatever you must. He can stay… in your rooms, primarily. Or in the guest lodging— as long as you have security on him at all times. Get Jarvis to set up residence wherever you’d like, Anthony. Just don’t let me hear it, and don’t let me see it.”

Bucky is frozen with another algae halfway to his mouth, flushed red and eyes wide. Tony is convinced that flustered is his natural state. Before his dad can embarrass them further, Tony takes Bucky’s hand and excuses them, swimming quickly back down the hallway.

He doesn’t stop until they reach his rooms and slam the door. They’re already cackling before they hit the nest, and Tony can’t catch his breath. He rolls over and tucks close into Bucky’s side, enjoying how his chest shakes as they laugh together.

“What the fuck did I just eat, Tony,” Bucky wheezes, and Tony loses it again, ducking his face into Bucky’s neck and sobbing into his skin.

“Fer… fermented algae, baby.”

“I— I can’t believe… it tasted like…” and Bucky’s voice cuts off, his body stilling. Tony looks up to see what happened, and Bucky is staring straight forward, unmoving. Frozen.

“Bucky? What did… what did it taste like?”

“It. I can’t…” And again, Bucky’s face contorts, breath stuttering as his hands come up to cradle his face, sighing in pain. Tony immediately pulls his hands away and replaces them with his own, massaging his temples until he’s met with deep, gray pools of sweet relief.

“Don’t push it, honey,” Tony purrs, resting his body gently on top of Bucky’s, rubbing their noses together and blowing a few bubbles, making Bucky giggle and relax. He lays his head down on Bucky’s chest, before realizing how close they are together— and how little they’ve actually gotten to know each other.

“Dammit,” he curses, pushing off of Bucky’s chest and floating away, “we don’t— shit. I don’t even know you. You have no idea who you even are. I am so sorry, I just fed you an unknown substance, oh seas,”

“Tony, it’s okay—”

“I’ll get you your own room, I promise. You don’t have to put up with—”

“Tony! Hey,” Bucky swims off the nest and presses him up against the ceiling, pinning his shoulders and staring into his eyes, “I remember who I am, I just can’t recall where my home is. I know the name of my brother, and my best friends. I have a…” small grimace, “pet named Alpine. I’m a scientist and a Prince, and I’m almost completely convinced that I’m—”

He pauses, a familiar blush traveling down his chest and filling his cheeks. Tony blinks down at him, “That you’re what?”

“That I’m already, irreversibly infatuated with you.”

Tony feels the ring around his neck pulse, bright and hot on his skin, as if agreeing with the sentiment. He wants to respond, really does, but everything is too new, too important. Bucky is too important.

They’re close, though. Tails brushing together, bubbles of air mixing and joining in front of their faces. Tony can hear his own heartbeat, frantic and longing for the man in front of him. Bucky reaches up, acting as if he wants to touch the ring, but he hesitates. His fingers flex, his eyes blink rapidly, and then he’s reaching into Tony’s hair, pulling on strands tenderly and cradling his face in strong, sure hands.

And Tony just melts in his palms, an absolute jellyfish for this mysterious stranger. The tension between them is heavy, thick and magnetic. He drifts into Bucky’s space and tries to watch for a sign, any sign, but his eyes are closed— when did his eyes close? And then their scales rub together, catching and pulling, tearing a desperate moan from Tony’s lips. There’s a hand in his hair and eyelashes on his cheek, and their lips— their breath—

“I can’t,” Tony whispers, forcing his eyes open to watch Bucky frown in confusion. “I’m sorry, I’m crazy about you, but you deserve…” and he can’t remember, right now, everything that Bucky deserves, but he knows it’s a lot.

“Oh, I… Okay. I get it,” Bucky nods, devastating resignation taking over his handsome features, “I’m not… I can’t…”

“Can we just sleep? Talk and spend the day together in the morning?” Tony suggests, like an adult. Bucky nods, suddenly yawning and glancing up at Tony sheepishly.

“Sounds perfect, Anthony,” he smirks, chuckling again as Tony swats at him playfully.

It only takes a few minutes to set up a guest room for Bucky, fit already with a flawlessly woven nesting kit and other amenities. Tony even makes sure to include a pail of chilled algae, ugly laughing when Bucky discovers it by the dressing mirror.

The next day comes soon enough, and Tony has enough sense to cancel his engagements, asking his steward to clear his schedule and plan a tour of the kingdom for the two of them.

Before Bucky wakes— Tony assumes he’s still asleep in the guest suite— he has the royal gardeners collect fragments of coral and deep sea sponges to present to his new… friend. He asks for crimson and gold, colors not only of Tony’s scales, but also of Bucky’s as well.

When the arrangements arrive, he spends a few minutes weaving them together with a few ties from his nest and small strands of his hair, intimate details that he’s sure Bucky will love.

He waits in his living space for Bucky to join him. The windows are thrown open, letting a gentle morning current sweep through, and Tony sits with the coral and sponges draped over his arms. And he waits.

After a few minutes, he’s done waiting. He calls his steward to check on Bucky, and watches as the boy disappears down the hallway. There’s a knock, the faint sound of the door being opened, and then low, urgent voices. The steward swims back to him, looking guilty.

“He sends his apologies. He says that he’s not used to rising without direct light, and missed the wake up call completely. He should be around in a few moments, sir.”

“Oh, yes— that’s fine,” Tony places the arrangement in front of him and dismisses the steward, choosing to pick on the assorted breakfast foods instead.

It’s only a few moments before Bucky joins him, looking absolutely delicious and well rested. He sits next to Tony— very close, actually— and takes a suspicious look at the meal prepared for them.

“It’s… fish? For breakfast?”

Tony’s surprised again by his confusion, “Yes, honey, we generally eat fish for breakfast. If you’d like, I can have the cook crack you open a few clams instead? Oh, he makes the best sweet clam mix— it’s to die for,”

“No, no that’s fine,” Bucky waves his hands, reaching for an assortment of fresh eel instead, “these should be… these should be good.”

Tony watches in glee as Bucky slurps down the eel, grimacing and gagging slightly when it hits his tongue. He hides a smile when Bucky sits up straighter, obviously testing the flavor on his palette, before turning to Tony and putting his hands on his hips.

“Okay, but… why was that so good?”

Tony splutters, “You ass! You had me fooled— thinking you didn’t like fish for breakfast, like a fucking lunatic.”

Bucky chuckles, but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes. For a moment, he looks so lost and confused that all Tony can do is urge him to eat more fish, shoving three or four more plates in his face.

After they finish eating, Tony picks up his arrangement, feeling like a guppy as he hands it to Bucky, waiting for his reaction. Bucky— seas bless him— gives him a lopsided smile, holding the coral and sponges like they’re about to bite him. It’s confusing.

“Thank you, Tony. I’m not… I’m not supposed to eat it, right?”

“What?” Tony chokes, throwing his head back in laughter, “no, honey. It’s a gift. To admire. From my gardens.”

Bucky’s eyebrows draw close as he concentrates, something from his memory probably slipping away again, so Tony takes the arrangement from him. He sets it on the table, perfect decoration for the room, and grabs Bucky’s hand, leading him out of their rooms.

“Let’s go,” Tony urges, giving Bucky a reassuring wink as they head into the city.

Their day is incredible. Tony had no doubts before that the two of them would get along, would laugh and talk and joke as naturally as breathing. He’s proud of his Kingdom, too. Welcoming Bucky and treating him like a Prince— draping chains of flowering wildlife around his neck and offering them both assortments of salted meats— shark and squid and flounder— and dozens of fine jewels and beads.

If Tony purchases a number of those jewels for Bucky, it’s no one’s business but his.

He’s enraptured by the way Bucky experiences things. He’s always gasping and blushing as if each moment is special, new and unique, instead of normal and mundane. Tony feels drunk on it. He wants to spoil Bucky rotten, hoard all of his reactions to himself and make sure Bucky is always smiling like this— happy and soft and warm.

So Tony might be a little infatuated as well. He’s not supposed to fall in love this quickly, especially not with a stranger, but he feels inexplicably drawn to Bucky, as if by fate.

The days after pass similarly. Even when Tony has to resume his responsibilities, they still spend most of the day together— Bucky helping him delegate and problem solve issues in the Kingdom.

There are some bad days for Bucky— when he tries to remember too much and ends up with headaches that won’t go away. It’s especially bad when Tony leaves with Pepper and Rhodey to explore near the surface. Bucky refuses to go with them and spends those days in his room, clutching his head and sleeping restlessly. Tony thinks he may have repressed trauma that’s related to the surface, to the day Tony found him, but without access to his memories, it’s hard to know for sure.

Even with a few bad days in the mix, most of the time they spend together is indescribable, and, after only two weeks, Tony already has the crown jeweler fashioning traditional courting gifts for Bucky.

He whistles on the way to pick them up, swimming faster than usual, and even doing a few twirls when the excitement is just too much. As he inspects each piece, he knows the smile on his face is ridiculously wide. They’re perfect. He can’t help but imagine Bucky wearing each item, draped and adorned with metal and jewels and his family crest.

Bucky’s lounging in the garden when Tony finally finds him, admiring the array of coral on the south side of the palace. His hair is tied back— half up half down, framing his face beautifully— and he looks up when Tony swims into view.

“Hey, honey,” Tony greets, silently hating himself for being so soft around this man, “do you have a minute?”

“For you, I have all the time in the world.”

Tony ducks his head, the warm twist in his chest pulling him towards Bucky, and he watches the other man swim over from under his eyelashes. Once Bucky is in front of him, Tony hands him the box, looking at his face patiently for a reaction.

He turns it over, and looks at Tony, confused. “What’s this?”

“Oh, sorry,” Tony touches the lid, trailing his fingers over the crest engraved there, “it’s um… they’re traditional jewels I had crafted… for you.”

Bucky still looks unsure, “Okay,” he says, toying with the clasp on the box, “is there a special occasion, Tony?”

Tony just shakes his head, giving Bucky a reassuring smile, “Just open it— you’ll see.”

He gets a small smile in return, and Bucky lifts the lid, revealing the intricate set of jewels— chains and cuffs and clamps, all symbolizing Tony’s intent to court Bucky.

Unfortunately, Bucky looks absolutely horrified. He extends his arms, pushing the box away, and looks up into Tony’s eyes, “I… what the fuck, Tony?”

“... what?”

Bucky puts the gifts back into Tony’s hands and crosses his arms, “I’m sorry if you misunderstood our relationship, but I’m not… interested in this. I don’t want this. At least not yet.”

“Oh,” Tony is shocked still, gripping the box tightly in his arms, “I just… I thought we were…”

But Bucky is shaking his head, “I like you, Tony. I’m probably even falling in love with you. But I’m just not into that. I have a few friends who are, but we’d have to be… I don’t know, married or something, before I’d want to talk about that.”

Tony looks down into the box, suddenly confused, “Bucky, what do you think I’m trying to do?”

“Those are… aren’t those—” Bucky flushes, all the way down his chest and bites into his lip, “— like… for sex?”

What?

“No?” he is so confused, and a little offended. Why would anyone use these things for sex? Sure, they can be sexy, but—

“Tony, in what other context would I wear these?” Bucky pulls out a strand of jewels connected together with a chain, two fasteners at the ends to hold them in place.

“You’d wear them when we go out.”

“Tony! These are nipple clamps!” Bucky shakes them a little bit, trying to emphasize his point. Tony, for his part, doesn’t see the issue.

“Yes? But they’re traditional, not sexy.”

And then it looks like something dawns on Bucky— his face lights up and he chuckles, dropping the jewels back in the box and reaching forward to touch Tony’s face, tenderly scratching behind his ears.

“Tony— I need you to tell me, as if I’m a child and have no idea what’s going on, exactly what these gifts mean.”

And then Tony gets it. Wherever Bucky’s from, he’s never seen courting gifts like these. Damn, he’s such an idiot.

“They’re family jewels, forged with precious stone and metal, to create the traditional set of courting gifts presented by a royal family member to their potential spouse. Or consort, I guess. But yeah, it’s… I’m basically asking if I can court you, officially. And if you accept them and wear them in public, it’s a symbol of our relationship and eventual engagement.”

“Fuck,” Bucky curses, still playing with Tony’s hair, “yeah, yes— I’ll wear them for you. I’d love nothing more than to be yours, Tony. I just… do I need to give you something in return? For you to wear?”

“Actually, half of those pieces are for me,” Tony replies, pressing his cheek into Bucky’s hand. “If you’d like, we can try them on?”

“Sure, darling, let’s go try them.”

---

Tony can definitely see now why Bucky would think these jewels were made for sex. They lay each item out on Tony’s dressing table, organizing them neatly, and Tony has Bucky float in front of him, keeping his arms outstretched in front of the mirror so he can adorn Bucky with each jewel.

“So, first is the necklace— set with gold and twenty-five rubies,” he explains, draping the necklace around Bucky’s neck and clasping it underneath his hairline. He can’t resist, and places a delicate kiss on top of the clasp.

“Next is the belt,” he says, bringing his arms around Bucky’s waist to set the belt just above his scale-line, “usually these are more feminine in design, but I’ve had a larger crest engraved to rest over… well— let’s just say it implies masculinity.”

Tony busies himself with fastening the belt around Bucky’s waist and ignores the laugh he gets. He straightens up and hooks his chin over Bucky’s shoulder—

“Shit, you look beautiful.”

Bucky gives him a shy smile and turns his head to look into Tony’s eyes. He could get lost in those eyes, drowning daily in pools of ocean blue and gray.

Tony clears his throat and pulls back, “Okay, next we have, uh—” Triton, “the chest piece.”

He doesn’t even bother explaining this one, focusing on attaching it and quickly moving on before he can embarrass himself. Tony brings the chain around, holding it in place in front of Bucky’s chest. Unfortunately, his nipples are soft and there’s no visible place for a hold. Tony huffs and uses his left hand to reach out, lining up steadily, before quickly pinching Bucky’s nipple.

“Shit!” Bucky curses, looking down in surprise, but Tony is fast— attaching the first clip before Bucky can react. He keeps up a string of curses, gingerly touching the left clamp, and Tony uses his distraction to attach the second clip to Bucky’s now straining and hard right nipple. He backs up a bit to give Bucky space, waiting for the other man to calm down until he stops cursing and curiously touches the chest piece.

Bucky looks divine. Each chain floats lightly, reflecting light and casting shadow onto his pink skin, darker than usual due to residual embarrassment. Regardless, seeing Bucky in his jewels and colors is doing something to him.

“Only a few more,” he murmurs, picking up the wrist cuffs and motioning for Bucky to extend his arms. Bucky still looks overwhelmed— a mix of anger and confusion and arousal, probably— but Tony slips the cuffs on, fastening them snugly, and hooks a few rings around Bucky’s fingers, attached with delicate chains.

“Tony—” Bucky breathes, twisting his wrists to admire the jewelry. Tony’s determined to finish this, so he ignores his impulse— to touch and touch and touch and touch.

The last items are a set of jewels for his ears and a head piece. “Can you move your hair, Bucky?”

When Bucky obliges, Tony goes to thread the jewels, only to notice that Bucky’s ears are perfectly smooth. He feels around just to be positive, and Bucky giggles a bit at the sensation.

“So, we have a bit of a problem,” Tony backs up, showing Bucky the ear jewelry.

“Oh.”

“— if you don’t want to wear them, I won’t ask—”

“No, I…” Bucky feels around his own ears, pinching and tugging the lobes, “is there a way to fashion them with clips, like…” he motions to his chest, refusing to meet Tony’s eyes.

“Yes! Here, it shouldn’t be a difficult change, either,” Tony swims to his main doors, handing the jewels to his steward with a quick word of instruction for the craftsman. He swims back to see Bucky admiring the headpiece.

Tony takes it from his hands, giving him a reassuring smile, and Bucky dips his head forward. With perfect access, Tony lays the headpiece over Bucky’s dark waves, securing it behind his ears with two pins, and adjusting the chains and jewels to lay perfectly across his forehead.

It’s too much. Tony lets out a shuddering breath, finally finished with the gifts, and leans his head against Bucky’s, closing his eyes and holding on to Bucky’s shoulders.

“You look gorgeous, Bucky. I can’t believe you’re wearing my colors… that you’d agree to this.”

He feels a light touch on the back of his neck, and holds on tighter. Bucky pulls away— causing Tony to open his eyes, following his movement— and he draws Tony closer, dotting a kiss to his temple. They stay like that for a few more moments, enjoy the closeness and warmth, before Bucky chuckles and drifts away fully, turning back to the box.

“Alright— now how do I put these on you?”

Bucky holds up two cuffs, identical to the ones he put on earlier, and tilts his head. Tony grins and extends his arms, guiding Bucky gently in how to slip on the cuffs, tighten them, and attach the rings. When they’re fastened, Tony is captivated by the sight of both pairs of jewels shimmering in the light, practically shouting their attachment to each other.

The final pieces for Tony to wear are a necklace— similar to Bucky’s, but with a space for the signet ring around his neck— and a matching sash and belt. Bucky helps him put them on, and soon they’re floating and facing the mirror, mouths agape.

“Absolutely perfect,” Bucky murmurs, eyes never leaving Tony’s in their reflection.

Tony inhales slightly, “I know, the jewels are stunning.”

“No, darling,” Bucky turns him and looks down into his eyes, “it’s us. We’re a perfect match.”

He can’t help but smile, his stomach twisting with affection as he loops his arms around Bucky’s neck, pulling them close enough that their bodies are touching, tail to shoulder. Bucky gasps, the motion pulling on the chain across his chest, and suddenly all Tony can think about is getting his mouth on this man, wringing every drop of pleasure from him, watching him come apart with Tony’s name on his lips like a prayer—

“Your Highness, my apologies, but the King would see you in his drawing room.”

Tony laughs— unbelievable, “Tell the King I’ll see him within the hour,” he answers, never taking his gaze off Bucky, his dark, deep eyes, shining like the sea—

“I’m sorry, Your Highness, but the King insists on your immediate attention.”

“Shit,” Tony curses, letting Bucky go and turning to follow the steward from the room. He looks back, giving one last promise, “I’ll be back in a moment, I swear,” before disappearing out the door, heading down the hall to meet his father.

#winteriron #tony x bucky #bucky barnes #tony stark #mermay #starkbucks #tony/bucky #mermay 2021 #fluffy awkward cute boys #mermay au #mer!tony #mer!bucky #wip update #i haven’t edited this so i’m sorry if there are errors #i’ll do that later

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kat-hawke · 4 years ago

Text

The Renegade Agent Returns

(Following [Coincidental Meetings])

Looking out across the distant water Kat watched as the moonlight danced across the subtle waves and how the stars above painted dots in the deep blues. The ambient sounds of water crashing against the hulls of ships mingled with the distant city sound as her mind traced over the events of the day, from the office to the taverns. Bare fingers slipped into a pocket, encircling around an azerite crystal. Leaning up against the nearest lamppost, she looked down at the stone as it turned to grey, her breath feeling cold as the satisfying surge of energy numbed her mind.

The intoxicating sensation slowly waned as the depleted crystal spun in her fingers, the brittle edges slowly breaking off. With eyes shut, Kat was content to let the energy high burn away as she focused on the ocean sounds below, but the sound of footsteps upon cobblestones approaching from behind interrupted her mental escape.

Peeling her eyes, open Kat cast her gaze over the shoulder to find her lost agent standing a few feet away. Eyes widened as her heart nearly stopped, lungs freezing with a breath catching in her throat. Pushing away from the lamppost, Kat spun around, tossing the dead crystal to the ground.

"Trist?" Kat's voice shook with denial, questioning whether or not she was truly here. In an instant, her mind flashed back to the comatose vision of the young renegade, and the guilt buckled in Kat's stomach.

With pursed lips and furrowed brows, Tristana watched the crystal shatter on the cobblestone before looking back to Kat from under the hood. Her features the same as Kat remembered, with the addition of a faint scar across one cheek. A lasting memoir of the agent's participation in the Siege of Lordaeron.

"Thought you'd be slightly less surprised to see me." She spoke with little movement of the body.

"Two years ago, perhaps no'." Kat stifled a single chuckle, thinking back to how often Tristana would be lurking in her shadow. "But ya' can't fault me for startin' to doubt, after all this time. Granted, I never, truly, believed ya' were dead... Despite wot others chose to think."

"Life is often easiest lived by the ghosts." Tristana rolled her shoulders in a small shrug, her rigid posture and expressionless mask betraying very little to her thoughts. "You wouldn't take the opportunity to disappear, were it given so easily to you?"

Kat glanced towards the harbor with a gentle hum, mulling over the query. "I've spent most of m'life in the shadows, one way or another. Hidin' who I truly am, or simply hidin' outright." Slowly her gaze drifted back to Tristana. "Sure, it's easy, at first that is. But the other side of the coin is that ya' can miss just as much. I was in a coma for the last couple of months, that puts things in perspective, a real blink-and-ya'-miss-it sort of way." With a slow, deep breath, she gave a shallow shrug. "Runnin' away never solved anything, I think I'd do more harm than good if I were to disappear on everyone."

"That explains some things." Tristana's hood shifted as her head cocked faintly to one side, her eyes trained on Kat as she deliberated over the conversation. "It must be nice to have those who would miss you out of more than just guilt of not doing enough."

"Everyone wants something sooner or later." Kat arched a brow, staring inquisitively. "Sure, some would miss, but in time we all fade into the wind. It's no' like I have a family to devastate or abandon."

"That is one way to justify it." Tristana nodded slowly, fingers of her left hand twitched at her side, curling inwards before relaxing again. "So, a long absence... multiple months in a coma... have they forced you to step down from your position yet?"

Kat snorted quietly in amusement, shaking her head. "I feel like th' over m'dead body joke would be in poor taste here. Short answer is that it's complicated, someone else was appointed in my absence, and now there is a power struggle: that and the typical post-war bullshit. Shrinking funds, military efforts scaling back, people have nowhere t'go, yadda yadda yadda. For now, I have t'play nice. Things were pretty bad prior t'the coma for everyone. So..."

She trails off with a long exhale before vaguely motioning in Trist's direction. "Are ya' inquirin' if yer still employed, or just lookin' for an open window to try and prod me on failure?"

"Hm. I find it hard to imagine you playing nice - or playing by the rules, for that matter." The young agent's hand lifted to pull back the hood, giving a soft snort at Kat's query. "Can it not be both?" She drew her bottom lip between her teeth, deliberating a little longer before giving an actual answer. "Can't say I've given the idea much thought."

"I can play nice when I want to. As far as rules go, well..." Shrugging, Kat left the sentence unfinished with a subtle smirk, quickly moving on.

"And while it could be both, I'm willin' t'wager ya've been out of the loop enough to know of my failures. Aside from the obvious one, I wouldn't blame ya' fer still harborin' some level of spite. Shadows know I still hold guilt over it." Quickly scanning Tristana's leathers, Kat opted to push to call her bluff. "I find it hard t'believe it didn' cross yer mind more than once. I also can't think of more than two or three other reasons as t'why ya'd approach me after so long."

"Some things are just better off not dwelled upon," Tristana answered in a mildly cautious tone.

"Fair enough." Kat crossed her arms, glancing down at the cobblestone.

"And if I were to be interested?"

"If ya' were," Kat's gaze drifted upward to Tristana again. "Then ya'd find a rather decent amount of money tucked away. I was able to secure every third paycheck of yer's into a private account under a half-faked name. While the paperwork would be rather strenuous, it would be possible to reinstate yer rank, but nothin' I wouldn't be willin' to do. However, things are a bit different now, budget cuts and rollbacks, our work is less in the public domain."

"Understanding that this job has nearly cost me my life on more than a handful of occasions, gold is not a terribly exciting lure." Tristana slowly shook her head. "Hard to spend it from six feet under."

Kat pursed her lips with a faint nod. Judging by the armor's condition the woman wore, she had assumed money was no longer an issue. In truth, she had not expected that offer to be received openly, remembering that Tristana was never in it for the pay, but rather the broken and empty promises Kat had repeatedly made to her.

"What dreams are you selling people these days? Surely has to be more than 'come and be cannon fodder for a weekly paycheck."

Dropping her gaze to the street with a low-toned hum, Kat bit the corner of her lip as the head bobbed slowly. "I deserved that," she uttered the admittance in an exhale, looking up to Tristana again. That single sentence stung more than she let one.

"Shouldn't be any cannon fodder, and I'm no' sellin' dreams. I won't make excuses, and ya' have every right t'hold that against me. I don't expect ya' to trust me right away. It's earned. I get that." Fingers lifted off the crossed arm to pause her rambling, holding in a deep breath before exhaling and speaking again. "I won't make promises, but I will do woteva I can, in yer best interest. I'm no' here t'force anything; everyone is here of their own volition."

Short of scoffing, Tristana gave Kat a stiff shrug. "Actions have always spoken with far more truth than words... and you've always had a way with talking." Now she crossed her arms, mirroring the Director's stance with a cold gaze. "But I suppose the tides have changed. With Lordaeron considered, I'd say I don't owe you any favors now. Question is, are you making the offer out of guilt or because you have actual need for me?"

With a pained expression at the mention of Lordaeron, Kat's guilt was spoken just above a whisper. "I shouldn' have done that to ya'."

She moved on with an exhale in silent defeat, arms uncrossing and hand moving subtly as she spoke. "Would ya' believe me if I said one or the other, or perhaps both? Truth be told, Trist, I feel like I owe it t' ya' to do right. I fucked up more than once before, and I'll own that. But honestly, despite wot ya' may think of me, I did and still do like ya'. Yer potential and talent, ya' sell yerself short. Do I need ya'? Of course I do. But no' fer some project or misplaced projections. I need ya' because back then ya' were one of the very few worth that badge."

"To be fair, the bar of standards was set -really- low at that point. I hope it's improved since then." Tristana muttered back in response.

"It's improved greatly, yes." Kat couldn't help the smirk curling the corners of her lips. "If ya' don't count the barmaid, though she's not an operative. But there are only five others, and I don't plan on adding any more. I strayed too far from our roots before, and I don't want to make that mistake again. I still mean it when I say th' Unit is my family, and if that means dyin' t'protect it, then so be it."

"Good," Tristana stated, appearing to be more or less satisfied with that answer. "Suppose I might be willing to lend a hand then."

"I assume ya' still have yer badge?" Kat inquired with a smile.

Tristana procured the badge from a pocket on her side with a flick of her hand, flipping the tarnished yet undamaged metal in her fingers. "Just in case. Sometimes it came in handy for getting discounts."

I'm no' too surprised," Kat admitted with a mirthful expression. "Honestly, I'd have done th'same. I'm sure it would also loosen some lips. It's a little worn, but nothing a little polish won't fix, much better than expensing out a new one." Glancing towards the water for a second, Kat mulled over the thought of where the young agent had been for the last two years and what she had gotten into. It wasn't long before the guilt began to chew into the thoughts again, wondering now if Tristana was playing at her own angle.

"Well, couldn't exactly throw it out," Tristana said as she pocketed the badge. "Who knows what someone might have gotten up to with it if it fell into the wrong hands."

"I'll start the paperwork in the mornin'," Kat stated, looking back to the agent. "It'll take a few days to get everythin' sorted proper, but I'll be sure it's done." Pausing for a second, she debated whether or not to pose the next query. "Is there anythin' ya' want, from this?"

"Everyone wants something sooner or later." Tristana echoed the statement from earlier with a faint upturning of the corners of her lips. "But for now, I'll content myself with just purpose."

Kat's lips pursed to one side at the answer she was given, not entirely content with it, but aware that was deliberate Tristana's part. "Fair enough. Once the paperwork is finished, I'll be in touch, and we'll go from there. Cases are few at the moment, hindered mostly by the shrinking funds, but never a lack of work to be done."

"I'll be around," Tristana mused as she pulled up her hood. "Should you require me. I'm sure you'd need only to lob a rock at the nearest shadows."

"Old habits die hard, I suppose." Masking any sense of unease with a chuckle, remembering back to how often the agent managed to come across knowledge she shouldn't have. "I may no' be as entertainin' as I once was t'watch, though. Good night, Agent Sutton."

Tristana lifted her hand in a gesture that was halfway between a salute and a wave of farewell as she turned on her heel and ventured back into the city streets. "Goodnight."

In the silence, Kat watched as Tristana moved further away until out of sight around the furthest corner. With a contemplative hum, she turned to face the open ocean again, leaning a shoulder against the lamppost. The sudden urge for a drink began to churn as her nerves twitched, knowing full well that revealing the agent was not only alive but reinstated would send Fiske into a frenzy.

[ @tristanasneak ] [ Relevant: @myzariel, @nikkithorpe, @lovelydeadlysocialite, @jocelyn-wellson, @quinn-varden ]

#ic #rp #Unit Eight #Agent Sutton #The Renegade Agent

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hoodoo12 · 4 years ago

Text

Heated Clone Orgy (3/3)

Part 1 Part 2

Still NSFW, still PWP but with aftercare!

@janitor-boy @thewolfisapartofmysoul @beejiesbitch @dilfyjuice @ironmansuucks @beetlewise-and-pennyjuice

This was hedonism to its utmost, and before she even started coming down from the high of her orgasm, the clone's tongue was tickling her and Beej was back to fucking her again. He'd done something to his cock again, there was girth but not as extreme as it'd been before. Her voice, which had recovered while he'd been giving her a break, began to crack and grow hoarse as she cried out relentlessly.

She wanted to hold Beej's hand, wanted him to know that she appreciated him for this, but the clone teasing her clit was easier to grab. She took his head in both hands and kept his mouth pressed to her pussy, and in short order, she tensed and came hard enough to squirt on his face, crying out loudly as she did.

The clone looked pleasantly surprised as she gushed against mouth. Closing his eyes in rapture he swallowed what entered his mouth eagerly, even as some dripped down his chin and mixed with the come seeping out around Beej's cock on the sheets.

He made no attempt to move away, simply pressing his mouth down around the top of her vulva and rolling his tongue around her clit relentlessly as Beej picked up speed in his shallow thrusting at the clenching around his cock.

"Good girl, Car -- that's it baby, come on my cock darlin’, " Beej purred in her ear, hands moving to knead her tits as he held her body back against his own. Focusing on his shaft, he lengthened and shortened it in time with his thrusts to give the illusion of more movement inside her. This made some of his come squish out of her when he filled her with his length, and the clone dutifully writhed the tip of his tongue out over his bottom lip to collect some of the dribbles and swallowed them down with her fluids.

'You taste so fuckin amazing, babes--you got more in there for me baby?' The clone's voice sounded in her ear, though his voice was near identical to the note with Beej's.

"Oh-oh-FUCK!"

The physical sensations and the words of praise and encouragement in her ear, both from lips and thrown, were so much.

"FUCK--yes yes yes, please, please yes--" she rambled, semi-incoherently.

She had no idea if this crypt was soundproofed to the world outside, or if her near scream of pleasure was echoing throughout the cemetery. Beej and his clone were dogged at her pussy, and white hot pleasure radiated in her at a level she wasn't going to be able to maintain.

She writhed and shrieked. She was fast approaching a point where it was going to be too much, something that had never happened before and here, Beej and his clones had milked it out of her twice already.

Carmen let the waves of pleasure drag her under to the point where she lost herself, and fell limp again.

The other clones whooped and cheered as she got louder, throwing their seven voices all at once in her ear, telling her how good she was and how beautiful he cries and moans were, how sexy she looked coming all over his cock and how good she must taste gushing in his mouth.

Beej didn't stop thrusting until he came hard inside her as she reached her brink and started to fall limp. As gush after gush of his cool cum flowed into her, once again he knotted his cock, plugging her full and holding her limp body in his arms. He kissed over the side of her neck and down to her shoulder adoringly.

"You feel so fuckin' good babes. You come so hard for me, I adore you sweetheart." he whispered in her ear, stroking over her stomach and up her tits with his palms, being tender and gentle with her.

The clone backed off of her clit after noticing her body falling limp, and he lapped up their combined come from the sheets. When he'd gathered as much of the mess as possible, he stroked the length of her legs with his hands and peppered the insides of her thighs with sweet kisses, smiling at her as he did.

"Best taste in the world, babes. You doin' okay, love?" This time it was the clone who gathered another bottle of water and offered it to her. "Need ta rehydrate, babes?"

Her blood was pounding in her ears, and she could just barely hear the boisterous cacophony of Beej's voice, amplified by seven. Euphoria that nudged into pain took her. That overly full feeling of come trapped in her cunt was back along with the delicious burn of Beej knotting himself inside her to keep it there. All that, plus him gently stroking her stomach once again gave her a visceral feeling that he was breeding her, and that ingrained, irrational response made her moan again.

She couldn't stop shaking. Her limbs trembled and even her teeth chattered. A tiny part of her brain was able to watch the clone that'd been between her legs drink down the wet she'd manage to soak the bed with, and that plus his praise should elicit arousal in her, but she was too far gone. His gentle kisses were nice, and if she'd had control over her arms she'd have tugged him upward for a kiss. Water would be nice too, but her hands shook too much to grasp the offered bottle.

As he watched her shaking hands, the clone smiled and snapped his fingers, taking the lid off the bottle and replacing it with a straw. He held it to her lips to make it easier for her as the other clones quieted down, grinning a bit and returning to cuddling with each other near the warmth of the fire.

Gratefully, she drank from the offered straw, the water soothing her raw throat. The kisses he gave her were soft, and she licked at his tongue in a much less like she was getting paid to act a desperate slut in a gangbang porno.

Beej held her close, hands roaming over her torso and arms as the clone allowed her to drink what she was able. When she seemed to be finished, he placed the bottle on the nightstand and leaned over her, nuzzling at her collarbone and neck and covering her with kisses in a trail that lead to her lips.

He kissed her sweetly, humming against her mouth in enjoyment of the taste and warmth of her. He lingered at her lips for a bit, and as he pulled back, Beej asked,

"How're you feeling babes? What sounds best right now, love? You want the boys to come cuddle up? Want some space to stay here with me, wanna get fucked again? You call the shots and I'll do everything I can do deliver, sweetheart," he murmured beneath her ear, gently nipping the shell of it.

Her pussy felt well used too, aching in a sweet way. She slipped a hand between her legs for a second. She swallowed, cleared her throat, and coughed again.

"I feel bad I haven't payed them all attention," she whispered to him, wincing at the raspy sound of her voice. She nodded to the mass of clones on the couch. "But I'm tired and sore right now. A dog pile of them all around me sounds really good at the moment, as long as you're right next to me.

"Is that okay?"

"'Course, babes," he answered, beckoning to the clones with one hand. "You want me to stay inside you like this, love?"

As he asked her his question, the clones filed over, laying to either side near their shoulders, two more beside their hips and two more beside their legs. The last clone filed in and lay beside the one who had so insistently suckled at her clit. The hovered slightly over Carmen and Beej's legs as the clones cuddled in close, placing their arms over her body in what was essentially a living blanket of slightly warmed flesh from being near the fire.

Each of them leaned forward and pressed soft kisses to her arms, her shoulders and her legs.

She'd never been so completely surrounded before. She'd definitely never had so many kisses and murmurings of adoration against all her skin. Anywhere she reached there was another one, and she rubbed skin or pushed her hand through their hair, or used her fingernails in their scruff wherever her fingers landed. They all felt like Beej, sounded like him, smelled like him; it was like floating in a ocean of him and it was soothing. She let her body relax.

She kissed Beej on the mouth, wanting to thank him, but she drifted to a light sleep before the words made their way out.

Beej smiled and held her close as he kissed her back and hummed appreciatively as he felt her go limp with sleep. The clones all continued with their gentle stroking and kisses as she fell asleep, eventually calming down and simply laying around her. He and the clones rested their eyes and lay still around her, listening to her breathe, and the ones that could listened to her heartbeat.

⁂

All the rest was a blur, physically, mentally, and even how time slipped. She was pampered and treated like a goddess one moment, used as a come dumpster the next. At one point the two extremes intertwined: she was on all fours, laying on top of Beej who kissed her and held her and whispered how beautiful she was, how much she brought to his life, how much he loved her, while his clones took turns one right after another, a conveyor belt of cocks, each one fucking her and filling her with their loads, until her pussy was numb and she was dripping with come all the way down her inner thighs and onto the mattress.

It was easy for Beej to slip into her after all that too, fucked so open and so slick, and once again he knotted inside her as he ejaculated, keeping his come right where her body wanted it deep inside, even as she sobbed in pleasure and pain.

When she was spent, when she had no strength to handle any more and her voice was completely gone, each clone petted her and told her she was a good girl. They kissed and licked her and there were so many hands on her she couldn’t count them as she was eased into a bath. Between her legs ached, as did her knees, but the heat from the water soothed them. She fell asleep there, but was awoken by Beej quickly.

In the eternity of time behind her closed eyelids, he’d set his crypt back to more normal: his regular bed was there and no clones were present. He helped her out of the tub and dried her while she stood pliant. He wrapped her in a thick robe and had her eat soft foods, then he assisted her to the fresh bed and tucked her into it nude.

“Not because I think you want more--although all you have to do is ask, babes,” he told her, but because he was worried any fabric between her legs would chafe her well-used pussy, and he didn’t want to cause any more discomfort.

He pressed pain killers into her hand, fretting he’d forgotten about them earlier. Carmen accepted them and swallowed them dry, then asked he join her please. Her raspy voice was little more than a whisper but she repeatedly told him how much she appreciated him and how much she loved him. He slipped into the bed beside her, of course, told her to rest her voice too, and she was asleep again even as he wrapped himself around her and whispered he loved her. fin!

Thank you again to my rp partner @pinkbeej for indulging me! 💗

#writing #fanfiction #Beetlejuice #Beetlejuice x OC #rp #clones

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kumkaniudaku · 6 years ago

Text

Summer

Word Count: 4,209

Warnings: Language, Sexual Content (18+)

Written By: @justanotherloveaffair

MASTERPOST - PREVIOUS

Recommended Listening: SUMMER x The Carters

Without the interruptions they were used to, CoCo spent much of the remaining hours snuggling and dozing with her husband when she could calm her excitement enough to drift off. In the moments she stirred awake in his arms, vivid flashes in her mind of what awaited them made it almost impossible to return to sleep. Since she had none of the details, anything was possible.

The remaining hours were broken up by an incredible meal they ate with actual forks and knives, served by a young woman with a glimmer in her smile that made CoCo believe she was the unseen spectator from earlier. A quick glance between her and Chadwick as the shyly smiling woman retrieved their empty plates confirmed their shared suspicion.

Boredom and restlessness set in surprisingly late in the journey. When it did, one of the cabin crew noticed her pacing, and invited both her and Chadwick into the cockpit where flashing buttons, lights and screens crowded around a breathtaking view as they soared through a cotton candy sky. She nodded along through a quick tutorial from the friendly pilots, only half paying attention as Chadwick’s hand roamed her backside.

“We’ll actually be beginning our descent soon if you’d like to stay and watch,” the older woman pilot offered.

“That’s okay, we’ll leave you be.” Chadwick graciously thanked them both while pure joy bubbled in CoCo’s chest.

What had been a lifelong fantasy was becoming real.

CoCo seated herself in a large leather swivel chair next to a window with Chadwick seating himself across from her, pulling up her foot into his lap to rub her ankle lazily while matching glasses of champagne were placed next to them.

Over the next half hour, they both felt the gentle pressure of descent as the plane began moving below the clouds.

A small gasp left CoCo as the clouds parted to reveal a golden mid-morning sun glittering over an intense aqua green ocean that previously only existed in her fantasies.

The pair leaned towards the glass, as the tiny specks of land began to take on detail. From here, it appeared to be an uninhabited paradise surrounded on all sides by an endless blue-green ocean. It wasn’t until the plane got closer that signs of civilized life appeared. Boats carving white waves, dotted around a labyrinth of over-water walkways connecting thatch-roof villas, all built around white-sand beaches surrounding hundreds of lush green islands.

CoCo felt a pang of emotion, reminiscing to the younger version of herself who could never have dreamed of arriving to such a sight on a private luxury jet.

Despite being close to landing, the crew was relaxed and unhurried, requesting only that they fasten their seatbelts before a few waves of turbulence hit. Chadwick kept a reassuring hand on CoCo’s thigh right up until the moment the wheels bumped the ground, and a loud rush of air slowed them gradually on the tiny runway seemingly in the middle of the nowhere.

A giddy CoCo could hardly keep still in the short taxi towards the terminal. Her focus was everywhere at once, downloading every detail into her brain where she could relive it on some bleak day in the future. Not too far in the distance, giant palms grazed a perfect cerulean sky, meeting the ocean at the horizon. Seabirds circled over a small area populated with short buildings painted in bright colors.

All her restless energy made her bound upwards the moment they were free of their seatbelts. She couldn’t wait to feel the sun and heat on her body, hear the calls of birds and the crash of waves on the beach.

As soon as the door was open and the stairs unfurled, Chadwick grinned watching his excited wife tug him along, her beautiful features lit up from within.

To the crew, they said their thanks and waved their farewells. Waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs, leaning next to a golf cart, was a pretty young woman with deep brown skin, her attractive face gleaming with a broad smile as she squinted towards them, a hand above her brow to shade her eyes from the powerful sun.

“Mr and Mrs Boseman,” she greeted in perfect English, lowering her hand to shake each of theirs in turn. “I hope you enjoyed your flight. My name is Niha, I’ll be taking you to your resort. Please follow me.”

Their luggage was swiftly moved from the plane into the cart, followed by the pair of excited, if exhausted travelers, Chadwick occupying the back so that his wife could be up front.

He tapped her arm and she turned to his outstretched hand, offering her sunglasses from her purse in the back seat. As she took them, she paused to admire his physical beauty, enhanced by the tropical surroundings. She took a mental snapshot of his cheekbones lifted in an easy smile, his relaxed posture against a background of turquoise waters and palm trees.

In the course of making small talk with Niha, they learned it was about an hour to their private villa by boat. Niha explained she was their private butler over the next four days, and would ferry them wherever they wanted to go. CoCo missed almost every word said after “private villa.” She turned around in the cart, beaming at Chadwick who lifted his sunglasses momentarily to wink at her.

Niha transitioned them from golf cart to boat like a pro, smoothly bringing its motor to life and taking them into shallow, lagoon-like waters while CoCo leaned into Chadwick’s arms on the back loveseat, with Niha at the front, oblivious to Chadwick’s hand groping the tops of CoCo’s thighs.

The sound of the motor drowned out her low moan at his sensual, slow kiss that began at her ear and eased down her graceful neck. He sensed that she was half-occupied by her concern Niha would see them, and took her skin in a gentle bite.

“She’s not watching T, relax.”

His hand burrowed between her thighs, forcing her to lean back and spread them slightly to accommodate. Even after his words, he felt her muscles resisting, wanting to clamp her legs closed to hide the view of his wandering touch.

He eased off of probing her, returning his warm palm to circle her leg and nudged her neck with his nose, his rebuke coming in warm honey tones,

“Tasha baby, I have so much to teach you still.”

The tingling in her body made her go blank. All she could respond with was, “Oh?”

“Mmmmm,” his growl went through her whole body, the sound making her think and imagine unholy things. “For the next few days, I’ll fuck you when I want, where I want. Even right here in this boat. Got that?” His bossy tone made her inadvertently shiver and a smile came to her lips. “Yes, Daddy.” She bit her lip, “even though it’s my birthday.” “Huh? What was that?” He teased, gripping her hips and tickling.

CoCo’s laughter pealed out, as she tried wrestling out of his grasp and at the sound, Niha turned to acknowledge them with an amused smile.

“Almost there, Mr and Mrs Boseman.”

CoCo had completely missed their approach towards another island, this one much smaller and nearly uninhabited but for a long, wooden walkway that led to a majestic resort house built over the water on stilts, its design both modern and bohemian.

“Is this a…”

“Private island?” Chadwick answered.

“And a…”

“Private villa? Yes.”

“I love you Aaron,” CoCo’s arms fell around Chadwick’s neck and he laughed into the top of her head.

“Happy Birthday, baby.”

Their boat nudged the white-sand beach, and Chadwick and CoCo hugged each other as Niha tied a thick rope to the dock.

“Follow me please.”

The two dragged luggage behind them, bumpily rolling along the wooden slats of the walkway that Niha navigated with ease towards the structure out on the water. CoCo felt the freeing isolation of being only one of three human beings in this tiny, spectacular corner of the world. No strangers, no annoying families of tourists. Just them.

In her calming voice with the gentle hint of an accent, Niha gave a tour guide-esque description of their surroundings, while also explaining where they could go for restaurants, snorkeling, more beaches or even shopping. CoCo was zoning out while Chadwick mostly carried on the conversation, but her ears perked up at a cryptic question he asked in a quiet tone.

“And everything’s good to go for tonight?”

Niha nodded and waved her arm behind her, towards the beach. “Yes, you’ll be just out here… and please don’t forget you can request food be brought to you at any time. I’ll show you the menu once we get inside.”

CoCo narrowed her eyes but the conversation continued without her, moving on as Niha described what sounded like the world’s most incredible room service. By the time they finished talking, they were standing at the front of the strangest and most beautiful house CoCo had ever seen.

It seemed unnecessary to lock the door considering how open the villa was to the elements, but Niha unlocked it nonetheless and handed the key, along with another from her pocket to Chadwick while CoCo vibrated with excitement to get inside.

“Alright, alright,” Chadwick quipped, steadying her jittery body with a hand and giving her a teasing wink and smile when she growled in frustration at being held back from entering.

“Which one of you wants to go first?” Niha’s eyes glittered looking between the two. “I think she does.” He slid his hand down CoCo’s back to give her a butt a squeeze. “Well, go on, birthday girl.”

With a girlish clap of giddiness, CoCo charged past them inside.

What she found took her breath away.

If she could have imagined into existence the most romantic place to spend four days with her husband in the tropics, this would have exceeded it. Light wood and white repeated throughout each room, the perfect natural complement to the blue-green color palette of the ocean and sky. The open bedroom and bathroom were both huge and opened out to a back deck with plenty of lounging options next to an infinity pool. CoCo was already envisioning the pair of them floating in it, watching the sky change at sunset on the endless horizon, side by side.

Chadwick’s body joined hers as she stood staring out over the water, while he simply enjoyed taking in the emotion on his wife’s face.

There was a small throat-clearing from behind them and they turned to Niha, who clasped her hands and smiled at their attention.

“I have a few things to let you know about, and then I will be out of your way.”

She beckoned they follow her around as she gave a quick rundown on all of gadgets, including the sliding glass panes that she warned should be closed in the event of a storm. There were none forecasted, but rain storms could be sudden and torrential. CoCo implicitly trusted the local’s advice.

Finally, after reminding them how to reach her, she warmly shook both of their hands and left, the closing of the door behind her creating an immediate shift in mood as nothing but the sound of the ocean and their own breathing enveloped them.

CoCo turned on her ankle, gripped both of Chadwick’s forearms and asked in her most boisterous voice,

“So when can we go shopping?”

Humoring her, he slid his hands up her arms, his long fingers covering her shoulders. “Yeah? You want me to call back Niha so we can go?”

“You know I don’t want to,” CoCo pouted at having her joke spoiled.

“Oh no? Well then… what do you want baby?”

His hands captured her neck, the pad of his thumb pushing her chin up to bring her seductive eyes to his.

“Well, husband,” CoCo paused to lift the hem of her dress up and over her shoulders, baring her toned body and dropping the garment dramatically at their side. “I’m in an island paradise and I want to be fucked like I’m in a filthy spring break porno. You comin?”

CoCo smoothly turned on her heel and swayed her hips with exaggerated purpose on her walk towards the bed, before Chadwick intercepted her, lifting her up in the air and burying his face in her chest as he carried her.

“Oh no no no no. The bed? When there’s all these other places to fuck?” She cackled as she was carried through the air over Chadwick’s shoulder, as his hands felt up her ass and spanked it before carefully lowering her onto a round sunbed adjacent to the infinity pool, so close a person could roll off of it and splash in the water.

A canopy above provided shade from the hot sun, and the neatly arranged pillows in colorful squares and rectangles were quickly disturbed by CoCo, who was encouraged to lean back and get comfortable while Chadwick quickly undressed.

Thinking he was about to join her, she was surprised when he disappeared with a splash and then emerged, dripping wet with dark intent in his eyes.

His wet hands grabbed each of her ankles and yanked, sending a few pillows tumbling and bringing her closer to his body, half submerged in the water, at just the right height for what she suspected he was about to do.

CoCo’s breath hitched as her thighs were held open, her husband between them, dropping her a devious wink before bending to land a hot, wet, lingering kiss on her pussy.

She fought the urge to close her eyes. The sight of him slowly devouring her, the peek of his tongue darting in and out of his mouth while behind him, a perfect ocean and dreamy sky was too delicious to miss. His hands roamed her tummy and thighs while he moaned in enjoyment, adding to the wet sounds of his lips and tongue exploring her.

His pace was slow and thorough, a luxury time didn’t usually grant him while they were at home.

“I almost forgot how good you are at this baby – Ooooh, fuck,” she moaned at his two fingers filling her to the knuckles, as his hardworking mouth took a break so he could peer up at her.

“How many times you think you can come today?” Chadwick asked with a glint in his eyes that made her muscles tighten around his fingers in an involuntary response.

“Sounds like a challenge,” she raised her eyebrow, a small smile spreading.

His lips turned up in his cheeky, secretive way, responding not with words but by kissing her clit before withdrawing his soaked fingers, only for them to disappear in his mouth one at a time, slowly, putting on an effortlessly sexy show.

CoCo gasped as his grip suddenly bound her to his mouth again, locking her in place to receive his firm, darting tongue tasting her in all of her favorite ways. A few well practiced moves had her easily crying out into the open air for mercy, and he doubled his efforts, tracing circles around her while ignoring her scrabbling nails on his forearms.

Far from the hushed quiet that was necessary in their marital bed, CoCo was free to let her pleasure be known to the heavens on this deserted island, and to Chadwick’s delight, her sounds climbed in pitch until she was nearly screaming with release. In the height of orgasm, she grinded her hips around and Chadwick moved with her, matching her intensity with his own until she had nothing left.

After a few moments of measured breathing laying limply on her back, CoCo propped herself up on her elbows and immediately laughed at the sight of one of the sunbed pillows floating around in the pool.

“Whoops,” she made a face, realizing she must have tossed it in a moment of passion.

Chadwick followed her gaze and when the bobbing decorative cushion floated closer to him, he collected it in his hand and flung the soaked pillow up towards CoCo who instinctively made an X with her arms to fend it off, catching a cool spray of water instead while it plopped next to her.

“Wakanda Forever to you too,” he quipped and with a short, dry laugh, CoCo kicked her foot out in his direction but missed him.

She was still shaking off the water droplets while Chadwick crawled out of the pool, his skin glistening. Sensing she was about to get a cold, wet body on top of her, CoCo tried crawling away but Chadwick was too fast. Soon she, and the fabric covering the sunbed were damp with pool water.

Far from annoyed, CoCo smiled up at him, welcoming the feel of his damp skin on her overheated body and wrapped her arms around his neck. His erection trapped between them was the one place on his body stirring with heat, giving away the desire still burning.

He rolled off and reached behind her for something.

“Lift your hips up for me, girl.”

CoCo obediently did so, and seconds later felt the cool, waterlogged pillow slide between her ass and the sunbed.

“Now, relax.” He splayed one hand on her torso, gently pushing her back while her hips remained heightened. Her eyes devoured the sight of him on his knees between her legs, one hand stroking himself while the other grazed over her breasts and tummy, lustily considering the meal in front of him.

She felt their bodies join from the spreading nudge inside her folds, all the way into the deepest part of her. They both moaned as her raised hips made small, sensual circles into his crotch, grinding him deep and she marveled that they’d never used a pillow before. The angle, and the refreshing cool wetness under her body was divine.

Just as before, Chadwick proved he was in no hurry. He met her body again and again with slow thrusts, making her breasts roll gently, giving each other time to enjoy the sight of one another’s bodies fucking in the tropical sun with a perfect blue background of sea and sky.

As much as she could, CoCo let her body relax, her limbs putty in Chadwick’s hands. She wasn’t normally one to let him do all of the work, but for the moment, he didn’t seem to mind. His body was mesmerizing as his hips rolled, his stomach clenching. The water had long since evaporated from his skin in the hot sun. Her fingers grazed his arms, worshipping every vein and muscle, while her eyes went to his to find him completely immersed in the act of enjoying her.

They fucked lazily and slowly, their intermingled moans carrying out to the vast sea. She didn’t ever want it to end. They were so familiar with each other’s nonverbal cues that an entire conversation passed between their bodies, a unique language known only to them. Chadwick knowing when she needed a firm hand or a soft touch, when she needed him to go hard, or to slow down, just so she could enjoy the feel of her lover, husband, best friend, the father of her children, buried deep inside her.

When she was ready for more, CoCo yanked the pillow out from under her and Chadwick lowered himself down, knowing exactly what she wanted. He shivered at the feel of her nails digging in his ass, and jerked his hips forward hard, drawing a long moan from her. They locked eyes and began the familiar motions of chasing one another’s release. Now, it was a race. His hard work in the hot sun showed in the beads of sweat gathering and dripping down his neck, his back shiny and glistening with his rhythmic movements.

She was close. He could almost predict the exact second she would come for him and when she did, he allowed himself a small smile of pride before re-focusing on reaching his own peak. He unloaded hard and suddenly, quaking under CoCo’s fingers massaging his ass, while she was still riding her own wave. It was rare they finished together, causing them both to beam at each other in the final beats and pulses of their pleasure.

Chadwick spared her his overheated body, immediately falling to her side and they both felt an urgent need to cool down.

Having the same thought, Chadwick was first to get into the pool in a lazy side roll off the sunbed that had CoCo laughing at his sudden but graceful exit. He made a loud sound of delight that had her eagerly racing around the side for her turn to cool off.

The shallow water only came up to her waist and was cool enough to feel refreshing without submerging herself.

After a few minutes of wading around, CoCo yawned and rubbed her suddenly heavy eyes. The bright sun wasn’t enough to trick her body out of jet lag. She’d been running on adrenaline so far and Chadwick had just fucked it all out of her.

“Tired baby?”

She nodded down at him, wading a few feet away, watching her.

“Can I talk you into a nap?”

“You don’t need to talk me into it,” CoCo half-heartedly laughed, feeling wearier by the second.

His nude body climbed out and pattered away from the pool, leaving wet footprints on the light wood floor. He disappeared and re-emerged from the bathroom with two white folded towels.

Smiling, CoCo held out her hands and accepted the fluffy towel that he handed her with a wink. As she dried her legs, Chadwick put into practice Niha’s instructions on how to close the glass panes and blinds to seal off their bedroom from daylight.

The blinds brought a blessed dimness and cooler temperature that would give them a chance to sleep. It was all CoCo could do to stay upright. With the rest of their strength, they piled into bed, not even bothering with the covers or getting close enough to cuddle, and CoCo was snoring seconds after her head hit the pillow.

The sounds of torrential, tropical, heavy rain tapping rhythmically on the glass, along with Chadwick’s regular steady snoring, greeted CoCo as her eyes slowly opened.

She had been sleep-snuggling one of the feather pillows and jerked away from it with a jolt, discovering she’d been drooling. Something she only did when she was knocked out cold.

As the clutches of sleep released her, CoCo heard faraway rolling thunder and marveled at how quickly the storm must have come on.

Without her phone to verify, it could have been any time of day. She could have been asleep for an hour or ten. Disoriented, she started to sit up to go fetch her phone from her purse and as she did, Chadwick’s soft snoring stopped.

Seconds later, he rolled over and, noticing the rain, whispered, “Oh fuck.”

“Crazy storm.” CoCo agreed.

“Shit, what time is it?” He started to sit up.

“I was just about to go find my phone to check.”

The next few moments saw two jet lagged adults fumbling around in a tired stupor, partially in the dark for their phones. CoCo was the first to locate her purse, and grumbled in frustration having to enter the wifi password to get her phone to sync to the right time zone, while Chadwick did the same.

Of course, the second she was connected, her phone lit up with all of the missed calls and messages, reminding her of her real life, duties and responsibilities to her family and friends back home.

“Fuuuuuck.” She swore, exhausted by the sheer volume of notifications covering her apps in a sea of little red bubbles.

She was so absorbed with her phone that she didn’t notice Chadwick had left the room until he reappeared beside her, having just ended a call with someone.

“So… I had a little surprise for you, but with the rain, we’ll have to reschedule.”

CoCo glanced up, her sly smile highlighted by the white-blue glow from her phone screen. “Oh, was this the mysterious plan I overheard you and Niha talking about earlier?”

“You little rat,” he grinned.

“Dinner on the beach?” Chadwick’s face fell. “How did you know?”

CoCo turned her phone screen-side down and stood, closing the distance between them with a few strides. Still naked, they both shivered at the skin-on-skin contact when she pressed up against him, Chadwick looking down at her from his height.

“Just a hunch,” she whispered.

The loud booms of thunder outside, along with the soothing rain from all directions heightened the electric charge that suddenly passed between them.

His fingertips stroked languidly down over her arms, leaving her skin to tighten with goosebumps. He picked up on all of her telltale signs. Her hard nipples pebbling against him. Her shortened breath, coming a little faster. Even the exaggerated heartbeat in her chest. Suddenly CoCo was airborne, held in the steady, sure arms of Chadwick whose focus had quickly moved on from the failed birthday dinner that wasn’t meant to be.

There were other ways to celebrate.

_____________

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#Chadwick Boseman #chadwick boseman fan fiction #chad x coco #chadwick boseman imagine #chadwick boseman x reader #chadwick boseman x you

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diziar · 6 years ago

Text

One.

Soooooo who remembers my fic called Six? (If you havent read it, go read t first as this follows on directly from the end of it). Well just after I have written that I mentioned about maybe one day writing a second part, and as it’s Warriors Week over on the Discord, here we are. I promise one day I will write a fic that isnt angst, but today is not that day

Six.

Wind was gone. Dead. Warriors knew that no matter how much he prayed and wished to whatever Goddess or Goddesses that were out there, he wasn't coming back. No fairies were around. No great fairy fountain was hidden away somewhere nearby. Not even some sort of magic could fix this.

Wind was gone.

It had been hard. He had closed the poor boy's eyes whilst they had still sat on the floor - the blood and mud still under his legs, seeping into his clothing - and he had wiped his face free from any smeared blood tracks and tears in an attempt to at least make him look a bit peaceful in rest, in contrast to the angry and savage red wound across his entire stomach. At least it was no longer bleeding and he was no longer suffering.

With a little bit of assistance he had managed to stand still holding the body of his brother - or the closest thing he had ever had to one - and although his legs felt like they would give out any second, he would never forgive himself if he dropped Wind. His blood stained, blue scarf stayed over his form, moved around slightly so it had covered Wind completely, both face and body, and he had allowed Legend and Time to lead the way to somewhere nearby to camp for the night.

Even if there was a chance of Wild and Twilight coming back.

They couldn't stay at the Yiga Camp.

The fire had been set up in complete silence by Hyrule and Time, everyone had else just sat and watched. Numb: that was all Warriors could feel. A heavy and sluggish numbness running through his brain, through every limb. He had carried Wind to where they had finally decided upon setting up camp for the night, and now he could hardly even lift an arm to run his hand through his hair.

He wanted to cry, he could feel all the distraught emotions in his chest and behind his eyes, but by something twisted he couldn't. The tears wouldn't fall. The shaking wouldn't stop. His chest would never stop aching.

He couldn't sleep, in fact none of them could, but unlike him they all at least seemed to at least be trying. Everyone was exhausted, both mentally and physically, and shock was very much still running through everyone's system. Wind was gone, and Wild and Twilight were still missing.

Nine was now just Six.

Wind's body lay off to the side, just away from the rest of them so that they didn't have to look at him. It was a horrible thing really, but now that it was hours later none of them could bare to look at him. Now that he was so pale, so cold, so obviously lifeless with every blush now gone from his body. Any bruises the boy had stood out so obviously against the paled tanned skin.

No longer was he covered by Warriors scarf, but instead his blanket, which is some way mocked them all by making it seem like he was just asleep. They all knew otherwise.

Wind was never a still sleeper.

Never would he lie on his back and not move around constantly, eventually flipping himself over onto his stomach.

He wasn't asleep.

For that second time that day Warriors watched as another light slowly started to die out, though unlike last time, this one flickered and held onto the life.

It was something he would never be able to forget. Deep green eyes, filled with such fear and hurt, wet with unshed tears, fading as Wind tried to lift his arm up to reach for him.

His strangled attempt at saying the nickname he had given to Warriors, as both a nod to where Warriors had come from but also Wind's pirating ways. Had it been to say an apology, or in attempt to make Warriors feel better? He'd never know now.

Weak and shallow gasps that attempted to take in a full breath but kept failing and dying out with a pained wince.

The warm and heavy scent of blood being the only thing Warriors could smell. It soaked Wind's skin, his face, hair, and torso. It stained Legend's hands, Wind's tunic, and Warriors’ scarf. It spread and marked everything it touched, making the harsh realisation only more brutal.

He watched the fire, unable to tear his gaze from it, eyelids drooping heavily shut more and more progressively as time passed. Fingers stayed clenched in the material on his scarf that draped over his lap.

He had wanted to clean it, to get the blood out of his beloved blue scarf, but exhaustion wouldn't let him move.

His eyes fell once again, the low red and orange light being replaced by a dark and suffocating black which welcomes him into sleep as it finally takes over his drained body.

Waking up from a sleep that he wasn't fully rested from was something Warriors was used to in one way or another. Every muscle screamed out to him in pain before he could even register that he was actually awake. Heavy fog clouded his brain and dulled every sense.

In a weak attempt and using every effort he could muster in his dazed state, Warriors moved his arms slowly underneath him and pushed on the ground to try and get himself up.

Aching limbs protested in moving, something that finally registered in his brain after he had exhausted himself further in his endeavour. He managed to turn his head slightly, his cheek now laying flat against the cold and dewy grass-

No. A sense of touch had finally come back to him, and it wasn’t the grass of the field wet from the morning dew he felt but something else.

Hot and dry sand, scratching and irritating his skin as he moved his head back and forth, small granules rubbing in an unpleasant and unexpected way.

Why…

Why was he lying on sand?

No longer did the tall trees of the forest edge cool him from the morning sun, in fact nothing did now.

He could feel the blazing hot sun beating down on him, and underneath all the layers of his fabric, chainmail, and armour he was was roasting. Perhaps if he was more dressed for the weather he'd be able to cope, but as he currently lay face down in the sand unable to move or shade himself it was just another pain to add on the list.

The faint morning breeze was cool as it blew through his hair and over his skin. It was gentle and kind, and not unpleasant.

Another sense finally cleared, and he could hearing the waves lapping at the shore nearby. The seagulls crying and wings flapping overhead, a loud oink rumbling low, people talking and a child laughing, and finally the sound of footsteps approaching closer as they ran along the loose sand.

Along with that came his sense of smell. No longer did the scent of blood, heavy and metallic, filled his nose but instead that of fresh air. It was easy to breathe in and completely clear, it helped wash away the last remaining aches from deep within him. The salt from the ocean and brush of the waves against the sand help wash away the last horrifying memories he could recall...

Wind.

Warriors hadn't yet tried to open his eyes, the darkness still being the only thing he could see, but all too suddenly did that get replaced by a bright light behind his eyelids. He squinted his eyes tighter shut, wincing slightly as he did then slowly beginning to open then again, rapidly blinking and squinting as he did so.

Vibrant yellow sand and blue water immediately filled his sight, both so bright and almost like that of a painting. It all seemed far too perfect and lush to be real. Once again he tried lifting himself up, his arms no longer protesting so much.

Green grass and trees, wooden houses, and sheer rock grey cliff faces covered the small island, and the footsteps that he had heard approaching had now stopped. It took him a few moments to tear himself away from the peaceful scenery, and he looked to his right to see a young girl.

Tanned skin and bright blonde hair. Deep green eyes and a light blue sundress.

Immediately he began feeling sick. Panicked. After being dazed for so long and slowly having his senses coming back to him, focusing on feelings and sight again, had he forgotten what had happened.

Not just that, but where were the others?

Warriors scrambled to stand up, the end of his blue scarf flowing out behind him in the breeze and no longer was it stained, nor were his clothes.

“I'm glad you're not dead, or wounded for that fact. You were lying out here for so long Granny was beginning to worry, so she asked me to come see if you were okay.”

He recognised this place, recognised this girl, but how he couldn't recall. His mind was a mess. Wind was dead. He had died in his arms! But now… there was no trace of that ever happening.

A shaky hand pushed itself through his hair as he tried to make at least some sense of what had happened. How he had gotten here? Here being…

Outset Island.

Wind had shown him a pictograph of the place before, told him about his sister and even shown Warriors a picto of her and a group of people all standing in front of a pirate ship. That was missing from the scene but the rest of the Island and this girl…

Aryll.

This was Wind's home.

“If you're not feeling too good, Granny said I could take you back to ours.”

This time Warriors manages to take it what she had said, instead of just listening to the words but not taking any of it like he had last time. He gave Aryll charming smile, at least the best one he could muster up currently, and knelt down to be level with her.

“My name is L- Warriors, you can call me Warriors. May I ask what yours is?” He needed to be sure. Nothing was making sense and he needed answers.

He needed answers so he could try and make a plan.

“Aryll! My name is Aryll, and I have a big brother who's away right now but Granny is at home so we should go see her. We don't want to keep her waiting.”

Warriors watched as she ran easily across the sand back inland, stopped, turned back to him and pointed towards a house on the right. With a deep breath and by moving one foot in front of the other, he followed her off of the beach, along a small path and then to the lone wooden house on the right side of the island.

Aryll had already run inside, holding the door for him as he made his way in, giving her a brief nod of thanks before she had gone off again. The inside of the house was simple, with stone floor and wooden furniture, but it felt like a true home.

From the small ornaments that sat on the window frame or the chest of drawers, to the pictos hanging on the walls.

It was a home full of love and warmth.

He turned the corner and there sat in a wooden rocking chair was to only he could assume was “Granny” that Aryll had spoke of.

And if Aryll was Wind's brother.

And this was her grandmother.

Once again Warriors felt sick. No longer did the calming waves remove any footsteps in the sand, but they instead washed up those feelings of despair and anguish.

“You'll have to excuse me dear, my old bones aren't quite what they used to be so getting up is a bit of trouble… Are you okay?” Her voice was so gentle and smooth.

Warriors could feel his heart break as his chest began to ache.

He gave her a faint nod as he stepped towards her, her hand extended out for him to take.

“I'm-” How could he say anything to her… he didn't deserve her kindness, her trust, not after what he had allowed to happen.

“Oh, such a strong handshake. You remind me so much of my grandson with that blond hair and green clothing of yours.” With her other hand she pointed to a chair next to hers for him to take.

“You have a grandson? I wouldn't have ever thought you to be of that age.” He joked, taking a seat and still holding onto her hand.

Honestly, he didn't want to let go.

He had already let go once.

She gave him a small chuckle, the wrinkles in her face moving, and shook her grey haired head. “Oh you, you're far too kind, but yes I do have a grandson. He's off exploring the seas and being a hero all on his own. It's been some time since I last saw him but I know he'll be home soon. He promised me he'd come back.”

Warriors choked on the words in his throat, the feeling around his heart and lungs tightening like vines and making it hard to breathe.

‘How am I supposed to tell her?’

He gave her hand a small squeeze, his head drooping as he looked down once again to the blue material that had pooled on his lap. It was clean.

“Can you tell me more about him, please? He seems like a good kid.”

Granny gently placed her other hand on top of his, giving it a small pat as she glanced out to the sea outside her window.

“His name is Link, and he's such a bright boy. Always smiling and laughing, and he's oh so expressive! He does everything he can for those he loves and cares for, and I'm glad that my daughter's son grew up to be such a brave boy.”

Wet.

Warriors could feel wet on his face, warm and heavy as the tears finally began to fall. His shoulders shook softly as he silently sobbed.

All the unshed tears from the night before finally came to the surface and it wrecked him. To hear Wind's grandmother speak of him just like he had spoken so fondly of her, so proud and hopeful…

It broke him.

The image of Wind's dying body once again filled his mind, his quivering lip as he spoke and shaky arm and he moved.

The image of Wind's lifeless body once again filled his mind, still cradled in his arms and hidden under the blanket.

“He sounds like such a good kid.” He finally managed out, his voice wavering as he tried not to become obvious that he was crying.

She squeezed his hands again and made a small humming sound in agreement.

“He is. Always looking out for others, putting them and their safety before his own. I know him well, but even when he was scared he went out and did so much for the sake of another person.”

Whilst it may have been a beautiful day outside with gentle blue and warm waves lapping at the golden sands, with the shining sun above them and pleasant warm breeze allowing for everyone to enjoy the weather, inside of Warriors head there was a storm.

A vicious and dark storm causing the deep blue waves to grow heavy and violent dragging him beneath into the icy depths. There was no warm sun or gentle breezes, just darkness and heavy winds knocking him all around as he tried to stay above water.

“I'm so sorry.” The words fell from his mouth before he even realised what he had said. She just shook her head again, turned back to him and sighed.

“Oh my dear boy, whatever do you have to apologise for? Worry not if you think you've made me miss him more by talking about him, that isn't the case. If it's something else, then whatever it is I can assure you that it wasn't your fault. Now, would you like some soup?” Slowly she began to get up from her chair, both her and the wood creaking with the movement. He nodded, watching once again as his scarf changed colour from a pale blue into a deeper one from his fallen tears.

She passed him a bowl, and when he looked up to her, she gave him a knowing smile.

Wind - no, Link - was dead.

Twilight and Wild were still gone

And Warriors was alone on Outset Island eating the very soup that Wind once talked so highly about.

One.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe au #linkeduniverse au

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jojo-lity · 6 years ago

Note

Can I get some merman/siren Gio with a surfer S/o?? (scenario or hc, which ever is easiest tbh)

fascinating idea!! i blame the number of words below on 2 things: hype for part 5, and a childhood obsession with the little mermaid. enjoy?

ao3 link

Painfully bright colours lurched back and forth, refusing to stay in a single place long enough to make any sense. For the unfortunate individual laid out in the hollow base of a seaside cliff, even raising a hand was an impossible abstract, let alone remembering how they had gotten there.

Had they been in a state to differentiate between the two, they might have picked a voice from the swirling landscape. As it was, all they could do was breathe, and even that took some effort.

Even before the idea of passing out occurred to them, they accepted it. Unconsciousness was quiet, even, and above all, painless. The only thing it wasn’t was permanent. The next time their eyes opened, they could see, and move, but an awful pain that they had been oblivious to was clawing at their chest and throat.

“Wh…. where…” That was as far as they got before doubling over, a stream of water forcing itself from their mouth. All they could do was let it happen, spitting and coughing once it was over. “Ugh…”

“I’m sorry, that didn’t look pleasant… but I’m glad you’re alive.” The gentle voice came from below, where a boy looked up at him with concern. Though only his head, shoulders, and arms were visible, he seemed made for the water, sharp and streamlined in a way that let him float effortlessly. Even his eyes were the colour of the sea, shimmering at the dimmest hints of light. “I thought it might have been too late.”

“I’m fine.” They waved a hand. “But where am I?” No matter how far they looked, they couldn’t find a single sign of the beach. It was starting to come back to them- the search for the perfect wave, paddling further and further out while insisting it was perfectly safe. Afterwards, it was a blur, but the sharp taste of salt and the low rumble right behind them were enough of a clue. An accident, that could have happened to anyone, but could have easily killed them if they hadn’t been found.

“It’s not too far. It was just the nearest safe place I could think of.” He reached out with one hand, almost patting their shoulder. “Just one question… can you keep a secret?”

“Huh? Sure, no problem. I won’t tell anyone about this place.” They shrugged.

“No, no. Not that. A bigger secret.”

“I… guess?” It wasn’t as if they knew him, but something about him seemed trustworthy. Agreeing with him was easy, and when he smiled, the warmth inside them felt like a good decision.

“Good. Then I can bring you back myself.” He leaned forward a little, and a delicate, curling fin broke the surface behind him. It was followed by another, directly attached to the base of the first, and where the two met, rows of shining scales spanned the unbroken length of his lower body. They cut off neatly at the waist, joining an upper half that was human with a lower half that was decidedly not. And yet he was a complete picture, as natural and perfectly shaped as the sun itself.

At their shocked silence, his tail dropped a little, and his smile faded. “Or I could leave, if that’s what you prefer. Fishing boats pass by here every day, one of them will pick you up.”

“No, no.” Despite the pain, they reached with both arms, seemingly trying to prevent him from leaving even if they couldn’t actually manage to get anywhere near him. “I was just surprised.” Surprised that someone so beautiful had any right to exist, but they couldn’t say that. Though they had never witnessed a merman with their own eyes, spending all their free time on the beach meant hearing plenty of stories, ranging from the obviously fabricated to the surprisingly convincing. Sometimes they were cruel and vicious, but usually kind, or at least not actively hostile. Even when they caught a few glimpses of sharp teeth in his returned smile, it was hard to feel like there was anything to fear.

“Then get on.” He tapped at his back, where skin met scales. “Don’t worry, it won’t hurt. I’m pretty strong.”

With some help, they carefully slid themself off the rocks, sitting on his back as lightly as they possibly could. “Is this right?” They couldn’t shake the fear of hurting him, no matter how much he insisted it wouldn’t happen.

“Hmm, this would be better.” If he noticed their sharp, quickly cut-off stammering when he grabbed their hands, he didn’t take it as a sign of protest, pulling them forward to securely meet across his neck. “I wouldn’t want you to fall off.” With a flick of his tail, he turned back to the wider sea, skimming through the waves with all the grace and confidence of someone who owned them.

The view was beautiful, and it was a chance to see it in an entirely new way, but it just couldn’t hold their attention. In the position the merman had moved them into, they were much closer, heads almost bumping together whenever they took a sharp turn. Though his hair was perpetually wet, it cradled their face in silky softness every time.

It was over too soon. The scenery became increasingly familiar, until they approached the beach they had come from. The corner they were gently deposited on was virtually abandoned, but the merman still kept his tail below water, just in case.

“It was nice to meet you.” Without the echo of the cliffside, his voice was much quieter. “The ocean’s a big place. If it’s fate, then maybe we’ll meet again… but probably not.”

“Wait, don’t leave yet.” He hadn’t been in the process of leaving, but he still looked directly up at them, signalling where his attention was. “Can I at least know your name?”

“Of course.” A few droplets fell from his hair when he nodded. “Giorno Giovanna. And you?” Once their names were exchanged, he did start sinking back into the sea, but slowly, savouring one last look at the world above.

It was getting late, and the sun didn’t have long left in the sky, but for a long time afterward, they stood and watched the endlessly rolling waves. “Goodnight, Giorno…” As soon as they said it, a gentle gust of wind seemed to steal it from the air, leaving silence.

—

After Giorno’s insistence that only an accident of fate could bring them back together, they hadn’t really expected to see him the very next day. And yet there he was, seeming to think that they hadn’t noticed him watching from further out. They had hoped to get in a bit more surfing practice throughout the day, especially to make up for yesterday being cut short, but they didn’t hesitate to put the board aside and swim out.

“Hey!” They raised an arm mid-stroke. “You’re still here?”

He was still a little far away to hear, but his mouth opened in a way that suggested a small, surprised cry. Though he didn’t come any closer, he also didn’t move away, allowing them to approach. “Yes, I am. I thought I was going to be busy for a while… but something else seems to have come up.”

“Well, then.” They wondered what else to say. Giorno wasn’t giving away any hints about whether his previous responsibility was a good or bad thing, so they couldn’t congratulate or sympathise with him. “So you have new plans now?”

“You could say that.” He seemed to interrupt himself in the middle of a slow smile. “So how do you do that, with the board? I’ve seen other people doing it, but it doesn’t exactly come naturally.”

“Surfing? It takes some practice, but it’s not too hard once you’ve learned. Here, I’ll go get it and show you…”

Keeping his tail hidden enough to pass as a human swimmer, Giorno could enjoy watching his new friend ride wave after wave to shore. They even showed off a few tricks, making him clap with excitement. They were so talented! Of course, they did eventually get tired, and the two of them spent the rest of the day talking. It was only when darkness fell that they realised how much time had passed.

The pattern continued, day after day, though occasionally one or both of them had somewhere else to be. It got to the point where Giorno must have seen every trick they were capable of three times, but still insisted on seeing them again, happily floating in the shallow bay while watching them.

It had taken some time for them to admit, but they had been charmed by him from the moment they met. And not only was he beautiful, but his quiet exterior concealed an unwavering kindness and love of life. Though his thoughtfulness and restraint were admirable, it did make it almost impossible to tell how he really felt about them. Of course, being his friend was enjoyable enough that it was only a mild frustration.

“Look at this.” One day, when they first caught sight of Giorno, he was apparently so dedicated to showing them something that he practically swam onto shore. Clutched in his hand was a huge pearl, flawless and shining.

“Wow, did you find that?” They leaned down to get a closer look, face dipping quite close to Giorno’s. If that affected him in any way, he didn’t show it.

“You could say that.” Was there a shifty look in his eyes? No, they must have imagined it, and any evidence of it was completely gone by the time he offered the jewel to them. His fingers brushed over their palm when he handed it over, damp and cool but bringing out a warm blush.

“For me?” They brought it to their face to get a closer look, admiring its flawlessness from every angle. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

“Of course.” He had been watching them carefully, but when their eyes met, he looked back down to the water. It wasn’t easy to tell, but it almost seemed like something was troubling him.

If there was, they couldn’t just let him suffer alone. “Is everything okay?” They stayed close to him, trying to meet his eyes.

He sighed, shoulders stiffening. “I haven’t been honest with you. About myself.”

“Huh?” That came as a surprise. Giorno didn’t exactly share much about himself in the first place, what could he have been lying about? Was he not really a merman? If that was the case, he made a convincing enough fake that they could only be impressed. “Hey, you can tell me. I promise I won’t be mad.”

“I don’t know about that.” He smiled, but there was no happiness in his eyes. “But you deserve the truth. I’m not a merman… but I’m not a human either, before you say anything.”

“Then what are you?” No matter what he was, he was Giorno.

“Ah…” He tilted his head. “I guess you would call me a siren, or something like that? Honestly, there’s only one big difference.”

“Your voice.” Growing up the way they did, it would have been almost impossible not to hear the stories. Sirens might have looked just like their more benign cousins, but their singing voices held a powerful charm, capable of luring anyone into death. “Right?” But maybe it was just a rumour, and Giorno was perfectly harmless-

“Yes, that’s right. Oh, wait, one more.” For the first time, he flashed them a full grin, letting them see just how needle-sharp his teeth were. “Our diet’s a little different.” Wide as his smile was, he didn’t seem able to keep it up for long. “I understand if that makes you uncomfortable around me.”

“No, no, not at all!” It was a lot to take in, and maybe it hadn’t fully registered yet, but they felt no fear. If Giorno had really wanted to eat them, he could have done it from the very beginning- they had trusted him the whole time. “So… do you sing very often?”

He shook his head. “Never. People should be free to follow their own path in life.”

“Then…” Slipping the pearl into a pocket, they took a gentle hold of his shoulders to draw him closer. “I want to follow the path that brought me to you.” They had braced themself for a strange taste on his lips, but besides the salt of the sea, nothing felt any different from kissing a human. He was slow to respond, only pulling them to hold against his chest when they were about to break contact.

“Thank you,” he whispered, maintaining the hug despite its awkward position. “I just need you to know one more thing, okay?”

“Anything.”

“Well… if anyone asks about that pearl, you’ve never heard of me, okay?”

“Huh? Giorno, what did you-“ His smile said it all. “Did you steal this from someone?”

“I had no choice. It was the only one that was good enough for you.” He had been sneaking backward for the past few moments, ducking below water when he was deep enough. Before they could yell again, he had vanished into the glittering sea.

#giorno giovanna #scenario #they them pronouns #sfw #halloween requests #merman #siren #golden wind

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ayafoxheart · 6 years ago

Text

The Close of Merchant Marine

An old RP Post that has never made it to Tumblr. This was my concluding RP post at the end of Verad's ( @dubiousduskwight ) Merchant Marine storyline. (Original Post)

Background: 'Ace', is a Limsan Information Broker and Underworld figure, who aided Aya during the Merchant, Marine plot. He's a childhood friend of Aya's during her brief time in Limsa Lominsa as a refugee. (here and here) This post is he and Aya discussing the events of the plot, and their conclusion.

"Ah, good, you made it."

Aya smiled to her old friend, 'Ace' as he's now known. She'd approached him from the right, his good side. The recognizable smile put her at ease.

For him, the hooded woman was still a welcome sight. Though, ostensibly, she obscured herself behind a cloak, she had a manner of revealing nearly everything else in her effort to avoid recognition. The short skirt, the thigh-high, sharply heeled boots that emphasized shapely legs. The open bodice that invited and tempted, rather than deflected attention. For those who knew her it was impossible to not recognize her - and maybe that was the point.

"Of course," she answered with a breathy softness. The Ishgardian accent upon her tongue still struck him with strangeness. When they had been friends in childhood it was an altogether different accent that graced her voice. It still took some getting used to.

"I couldn't disappoint an old friend could I?"

He let out an amused breath of his own, a smile curling upon the good half of his face despite his best efforts to restrain his emotion. "I didn't imagine you would."

She stepped up to the railing, stopping beside him before turning her eyes toward the inky blackness of the sea. Gentle swells lapped against the pillars of white stone that stood firm against the battering sea.

She casually dipped slender fingers fingers into her open bodice. Nowhere could provide surer keeping for a valuable gift: out she drew a small, thin rectangular tin several ilms across and in one smooth gesture offered it to him.

He furrowed his brow, his one good eye focused on the unexpected, though familiar item as she held it his way. "Go on." She added, a pleased smirk drawing across her carmined lips.

With a moment’s more hesitation he reached for the proffered gift, handling it for examination. It took a moment, but the smile of recognition that he offered was exactly what she'd hoped to see.

"Well, this is certainly a fine 'thank you', isn't it?" He grinned admiringly, clicking the tin open with his fingers. Deft fingers he drew out the paper-wrapped cylinder and quickly flicked it below his nostrils, breathing in deeply the fragrance of the smokeweed.

"The finest available. And your favorite - if I am right." She tossed her hair, and turned her brilliant grin out to sea as if to obscure her self-satisfaction.

"The Emperor himself has no finer smoke." Purred the Miqo'te with delight. With the cigarette squeezed between two fingers he offered the smoke back to Aya, "I'll share, you know."

She demurred with a gentle rise of her hand, "I have my own vices, mon ami. This one's for you."

He laughed, sliding the tin into a coat pocket before fishing out his auto-lighter. "Where'd you get ‘em?" He asked, with his lips pressed together.

"Escrow and Sons. I thought to save them for just such an occasion." Her grin, still directed out to the sea, grew ever brighter.

"Mighty fine, mighty fine." He replied with some admiration, before lighting the smoke and drawing in. "One hell of a 'thank you'," he repeated himself with immense gratification.

She chuckled lightly, keeping her enigmatic gaze upon the sea. She had a way of projecting contemplation - an expression that belied the shallow and careless persona she normally adopted.

He took in another breath, letting it out with a sigh of fulfillment.

"What do you think?" She finally asked in a soft tone.

"Think?" He eschewed, glancing her way before lowering himself down, elbows resting on the railing against which they stood. "Think about what?"

"All of this." She answered softly, he had known exactly what she meant, but her lack of specificity still irked him. "All that's happened these past few weeks. Everything since Leeds."

He nodded, idly flicking the ashes off the end of the precious cigarette -- the amber glow disappearing into the brine below. "Ah. That."

There was a pause while he enjoyed a few more draws upon the cigarette. No sound intruded upon them except the lulling sea and the muted preparations of a Maelstrom vessel docked nearby.

"Not much." He finally answered, lips wrapped around the smoke. "Not much at all, I think. The entire thing could have been scripted."

"Scripted?" She turned her gaze toward him. His good eye met hers as he offered an almost imperceptible nod. "Aye. You know pirates: short-sighted, only after their next share of loot, and hatin' to let anyone else tell ‘em what to do. They don’t like authority, never have. The Maelstrom's only pirates in better uniforms." He pulled the smoke away from his lips, turning his eyes out toward the readying ship.

"Those mutineers are no different than the rest, really. Don't like being told what to do, and filled with nostalgia for sea’s full of pillage."

"Nostalgia?" She asked with a hint of confusion - though she'd recognized the sentiment in her very first contact with the Gloam-bound privateers, she'd never heard it upon another's lips.

"Aye. They remember how they thought it was when they were young. Or have been told." He waved his free hand out toward the ocean, "Before all of this. When the sea seemed free, at least to them who didn't know better."

He grimaced, a bit, "O' course it was ne'er like that. They just don't know any better. Thought they could ha'e it all again. That they could find somewhere they'd never have to listen to anyone else’s orders again."

She nodded, "I suppose you're right... They'd rather face their problems their own way. On one hand, they want to escape those who feel they can tell them what to do, on the other hand they're running from responsibilities to anyone other than themselves. They're just looking for a place to call their own, to live life as they wish. But that's never as easy as it sounds."

He offered her a side-long glance, "O' course, you know, 'venturers are the same as pirates, right? They tend to chase a different booty, that's all. They also don't see the day after tomorrow, and can't stand it when someone tell's 'em what they've got to do."

She listened. She knew better than to disagree.

"So, you put all these sorts together. Pirates seekin' booty or freedom. Adventure's all the same. And a’ hungry Empire with its own to gain. And what do you get?" He gestured with his hand, "Lots o' mates tellin' each other how they got to do it. And naught of 'em listenin'. The strongest and cleverest win, at least temporarily. And 'ere we are again. Its the Limsan way, ever been so." He nodded with some satisfaction. "Like one of those show-plays I hear you did, aye?"

He turned that good eye back upon her as she listened, "So you don't think it could have gone any other way?"

"Oh, it could have gone many ways. But it'd only have been a difference o' degrees. Nothin's really changed. All a bunch of noise and ruckus makin' for no end. Maybe it'd have been worse to have a Garlean island out there, but it'd be a problem for the Maelstrom more than us."

"About the Maelstrom, what about all the trouble they had? The riots, the court martials and all? You don't think any of that's going to matter?" She asked, eyes fixed on the preparing ship.

"Well. The Maelstrom: they were just a bunch of pirates. They're still just a bunch of pirates. All that's different is they're smarter than they used to be: they decide things by figurin' out who'd win the fight, rather than actually killin' each other. Saves a lot of wasted effort and ships and makes the Admiral look like a genius."

He waved his hand, "And, yeah, tension with the Foreign Levy, right? But here's the thing: they never really did trust the Foreign Levy. Always a thorn in their side, just a necessary thorn. I don't think that's changin'. They're willin' to shame one of their own to keep the Levy happy, but that's about as far as they'll go."

"What about Captain Hellfist and the other Privateers?"

"I don't know, really. She's just another dead pirate. I mean, what do you want? You tell someone pirate's get into trouble, and the Syndicate's wicked, and they're already gonna know exactly what you mean. One kill’s the other and how's this been any different?" He let out a dark laugh, "Hell, if the Captain had known what was going to happen she'd probably have done the same damn thing. Pirates are proud like that. And as long as the Maelstrom can keep them in line, nothin' changes. So far, so good. Probably all the better for Limsa, in the end. We've got more than enough problems as is."

"How did you know about the Syndicate’s involvement?" She asked with surprise.

He laughed, "You don't give me much credit, do you? Not like its hard to figure out. Just think about the circumstance, its obvious whose interest it was in. That pirate boy S'imba had nothin' to gain by killin’ ‘er, really. And as we seen, he's no ally of the Maelstrom. If anythin' I wager he was on Hellfist's side. I'd have liked to seen the looks on his eyes when they accused 'im of killin' her!"

She focused on him with narrowed eyes. He'd peeled the onion with surprising deftness. She thought about delving further, but instead shifted the question again, "And what about Gloam?" she asked.

"What about it?" He repeated. "Its a pirate haven. There been dozens of them before. The Maelstrom put an end to most, turned 'em into bases for their own operations when they brought the pirates to heel. This one's just a place out of time. And it'll end jes' the same."

"Yeah? How's that?" She asked, unsure of exactly what he meant.

"They'll draw attention. Bringing in even more pirates who don't like bein' told what to do. But, in the end, there's only one way to settle things: the strongest get their way. They'll fight, with each other, with others. Power will shift one way then another. Finally, they'll piss someone off too much, be it Maelstrom or Garlemald, and they'll be snuffed out 'afore anyone even knows what's happenin'."

"You think they're doomed?" She asked; he felt a pang of sympathy in her blue-eyed gaze.

"What can I say? They don't have many options do they? Survive raidin' eastern independents? Even then the Empire will get tired of it eventually. Can't raid Eorzean vessels, can't raid Garlean without invitin' another expedition. The Empire, o'course, learns its lessons well. This time there won't be any question o' the result."

She nodded, letting out a breath, perhaps he was right. "Even if they don't, I wonder what we've really gained in Gloam..."

"Good question. Places like that aren't really as nice as they sound at first. They're only as nice as the strongest gun-arm lets them be. That's the way with pirates, always been. All those idealistic paeans you 'eard were just that. They can't survive in reality. They talk about 'freedom' as if they could find any such thing out there. Squeezed between the Maelstrom and the Empire, with no one but the biggest guns to decide what's right. That's no freedom, not really."

She sighed with sad admission, "I know you're right about that... " She'd never really liked pirates. She could respect many of their desires, their valor, and bravery. But at the end of the day, they were people who survived through pure violence. Violence against each other, and violence to prey upon those weaker than them. Its why she'd chosen not to live among them.

"The damned thing is that they've already forgotten the lessons Limsa Lominsa learned the hard way." He added with the flick of the diminishing cigarette, "The Maelstrom didn't come out of nowhere. Its an adaption to changing times. The old ways are dead for a reason, and there ain't no revivin' 'em. A bunch of besotted pirates can't fight against reality, can't fight and win, at least."

She sighed, hanging her head momentarily. "I know... I'd always wondered what their end game was. I was sure they'd never give up their Garlean protection, where can they go now? It is hopeless isn't it..."

He nodded. Its obvious she'd cared about the cause - or, perhaps, not so much the cause, as those who had fought for it. "That's just the damned thing isn't it. To 'ave any real sense of freedom, they'd have had to give it all up. Lose-lose. Better to die trying, which I guess is what ol' Slaeglac did in the end. Just went better than he'd expected." He bit his good lip for a moment while looking for a way to change her depressed tone, "Still, it was somethin' at least to beat a Garlean squadron. They'll be lickin' their wounds for a while."

"Of course..." She nodded very slightly, lowering her gaze. "The trouble is that it means the Empire won't underestimate the Maelstrom next time."

"O' course," he nodded in agreement. "That's truth, and I'm sure you know what it means." She nodded in agreement before he continued, "We've given away the element of surprise in exchange for respite, for a near-worthless little island. Not perhaps the best play for the Maelstrom"

"Its not worthless to those there, at least..." she countered, thinking of the Osric, Leanne, and others who'd rallied to the cause of those on the island. "And in the end, they did stand up to the Empire."

"Truth again. And in full honesty, it ain't exactly worthless, except when lookin' at it from the Admiral's perspective. Someone out there's makin' a pretty penny off it, no doubt. Its gonna be a growin' concern for some time. And whoever's makin' the pennies is a clever one, I'd wager. He's not puttin' many back into it."

He nodded to himself, "There's your real winner, if you were lookin' for one."

She just watched the sea. "No doubt..." she stated in a distant, soft voice, while her mind wandered to Edda and her father.

"O' course there are other winners. In Limsa, no one's goin' to remember a riot a week later. But, reputations 'ave a way of stickin'. And more than a few 'ave been made and lost 'ere. Slaeglac's name is near legend, can't say how long that will last, but that's a man who won't have to pay for his own rum for a while. Seems there are a few other Officers who've earned themselves promotion too. That Holkstymm, for example. Word is he's gonna found some new Maelstrom judicial branch, or somethin'. I don't know if I care for that, pirates is still pirates in the end."

"And, a few others have lost theirs, I doubt its necessary for me ta mention the names, but they're out there on the streets."

She knew just who he meant. Her thoughts wandered to Anstarra, Yheli, and others. For some it wasn't so much that they'd lose their standing with the Maelstrom, as the Maelstrom had lost its standing with them. Zanzan, Khunbish - and no doubt more who would never look upon their membership in the Levy quite the same way, if they did not resign it completely.

"Those are the sorts of things that stick with us - effect the future in ways no one can know yet. That'll wind up mattering more than Gloam, I'm sure."

She looked at him, curious, if unconvinced.

"And, o' course..." he turned to her, a direct gaze she couldn't help but return, "There are a couple of sailors alive who wouldn't have been otherwise. That's somethin', aye?"

A smile played over her lips, she could see the old friend she remembered - in there somewhere beneath that cynical crust of an exterior.

"It is..." she readily agreed, thankful to think of something more positive.

"Savin' those that didn't have to die. That's something to take home with you and put in your pipe for a good smoke." He turned back to the sea, nodding. "Maybe it'll mean even more someday. Depends what the lads do now, I wager."

"We can hope."

"Aye... if hope's worth having'." He seemed unconvinced, and paused for a moment as he enjoyed the quickly dwindling cigarette.

"That reminds me, there's also a certain Miqo'te privateer that made fool of himself several times over. He and that mate of his, 'Troublemaker', 'Problemsolver', whatever it is." He flicked his eyes toward her with a hint of accusation, as if he knew of her friendship with S'imba and Osric, and her time on the Sultana's Revenge.

She turned her eyes back toward him. "That's somethin' likely to stick for a while too. More bad, than good, for him I'd wager."

"Speakin' o' the 'Revenge'," he started, "I heard a strange rumor. The crew's sayin' they had some sort of blonde goddess aboard out at Gloam." He offered a brief glance her way, as he knocked the ash off his nearly finished smoke. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

She turned to him, lips slightly parted as she avoided a straight answer. He flicked the bud of his cigarette into the briny deep.

"That's what I thought." He stated with a laugh while pushing back from the railing. Turning to walk away he waved an empty hand back to her, "I'd stay far away from Gloam if I were you. There aren't enough real goddesses to go around, as is."

She sighed. That was that then...

#Aya #Aya Foxheart #Writing #rp #merchant marine #ffxiv #balmung

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