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01zfan · 7 days

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paint you | l. at

swimmer!anton x art student!reader | 7.6k words

this fic has a little bit of everything good lord…set in uni, childhood friends to strangers to lovers, pining…very much a slice of life i think…i hope everything isn’t too scattered or hectic

contains: semi public sex, no protection (DON’T BE LIKE THEM)

you didn’t say a word as you watched the movers take all your belongings into your new home. you were like that now, completely silent as your form of rebellion. you had moved far away from everything you knew to come here. your mom was happy, talking about new beginnings and more adventures. you only thought about your going away card and bouquet of flowers you smothered to death on your way here.

you crouched in the driveway, drawing in the dirt with your stick as your mother called to you. you were no longer the sweet child that would come anytime their name was called. you only focused on the dirt and long lines you drew, imagining it was your path back home. you didn’t look up until a shadow was casted over you, and you saw someone foot over the line you drew in the dirt.

you looked up slowly, squinting as you took in the sun above the person looking down at you.

“my mom said i have to come say hi to you.” the boy said quietly.

you looked over to your mom, chatting with a lady while the movers continued to do all the work. you ignored the boy, looking back down at the path back home you etched into the earth.

“you don’t talk?” the boy asked.

you ignored him. you only continued to draw your lines, making your way to his foot. he took a small step backwards, letting you complete your line.

“i don’t like to talk either.” he said.

he crouched beside you silently and grabbed a stick. it was smaller than yours but still did the same. he started drawing shapes in the sand next to your lines and winding circles. you looked to him again, to see that he was focused on playing in the dirt the same way you were. you scooted over in the grass, leaving a space open for the boy to come next to you. he caught on immediately, moving from in front of you to be by your side. you two played in the dirt, pushing around the earth to mold it into shapes and lines. your mother’s got along, not noticing their kids getting their clothes dirty until it was too late.

“anton!”

both you and the boy snapped your heads to the voice of anton’s mother. seeing anton respond immediately to his name being called made you do the same. both of you got up from the dirt to walk to your mother’s and both of you were scolded the same, hearing a speech about how expensive clothes were. both of your mother’s were smiling the whole time, seeing their two antisocial and quiet kids get along.

from then on, it was history. you stuck close to anton, trailing behind him in school, quiet and stealthy like a ghost to everyone but him. anton was understanding, becoming your representative anytime someone threw a glance over his shoulder to eye you, like they were confused if you were real or not. each time he would smile and pull you beside him, introducing you as his bestfriend.

you and anton remained close. he was with you when you started speaking for yourself, no longer needing him to be your voice. you were with eachother all throughout school, spending more time with him than you did your family.

the amount of time you spent together through swim and school made him know you better than anyone else. you were by eachothers side through the transition from kids to teens and the growing pains of puberty. you even made it through the trials and tribulations of being friends in highschool, surviving through the countless dating rumors that seemed to arise every week. none of it mattered, anton was there for you and you were there for him. you guys challenged eachothers personal records in swimming and were neck and neck in class. sometimes you were convinced he was the mirror image of you, your platonic soulmate. that’s what comes with the territory of being with someone for nearly twelve hours a day—you end up knowing them better than anyone else.

so it was unfortunate, after all the time you spent together as kids it was college that did you two in. you blamed it on the fact that you and anton both chose different paths in college. he stayed with swimming while you went to the arts. it called to you, the ability to make something with your hands. you never regretted your decision, but you did find yourself thinking about anton often. sometimes your mom would call and ask about him, and you would be forced to pretend like you had actually spoken to him and not just regurgitating rumors you heard on campus. the only truth you told your mom in relation to anton was that you passed by him on the way to class. that’s all you seemed to do, only seeing him in snatches as he walked around campus.

each time you saw anton, something about him was different. he had somehow grown more, and his dedication to swim contoured his muscles and made him broad. he was visibly bigger than all of his friends, your eyes drawn to him each time he came in your vicinity. each time he waved back to you, the two of you reduced to sharing pleasantries while walking in opposite directions. sometimes it felt like it would’ve hurt less to be completely ignored, but you knew that wasn’t anton’s style. within his friend group he was the social butterfly, once he was able to get past his introverted nature he became the glue of his group, bringing all of them together and planning the gatherings. anton was such a social butterfly to the point that everyone seemed to know him, and before you knew it your friend groups began mingling and overlapping.

you were afraid you were going to regress back to the shy girl you were as a child when anton came to you at a gathering. you had practiced this moment, him approaching you and asked what you were up to now. you had your hobbies written down on your hand and your new interests saved to your phone. you had made a playlist of the songs you liked now and a folder filled with art from your class. you wanted to desperately show anton you had grown up too, that you used your hands to hold a brush instead of slicing through water and you smelled like oil paint now instead of chlorine.

“how’ve you been?” anton asked.

he held a barely touched drink in his hand and you had a solo cup filled with soda in yours—neither of you were really fans of drinking.

“i’m good.” when anton nodded you looked around the living room of your mutual friend. everyone was mingling, engaged in conversation except for you too. “i read now.” you said abruptly.

anton smiled, tilting his head at your new hobby.

“what have you been reading?” anton asked.

“oedipus rex.” your grip on the red cup almost bent the plastic around your fingers when anton looked you in your eyes. when you held his eyes for too long you instinctually looked down at your feet, focusing on a crack in the floorboard. “it’s for class, but i like it alot.” you said to the floor.

“hey.” anton reached his hand towards you, making you pull your eyes back up to him. his eyes were warm, his smile lines made you smile too. “that’s cool, really.” anton assured you.

you suddenly felt comfortable, the imaginary tension dissipated like the smoke clouds around you two. you put your hands on your hips ironically and shrugged your shoulders.

“you know, it’s nothing.” anton laughed a little at your reaction, copying your little pose. “i read shakespeare during the weekends.” you joke.

“something light?” anton jokes back.

“you get it.” you say.

for the rest of the night, you and anton caught up. you talked about everything that happened between the last time you saw eachother, laughing at funny stories and eyes going wide when something scandalous was said. no time passed at all between the two of you, you went back to your old routine like it was second nature. you talked in every part of the house, sitting on your friends bed while talking about class then standing in the kitchen when you mentioned life at home. you guys stood by the restroom talking about life and next steps, and ended on the couch while the night was winding down.

even though you didn’t have a single thing to drink that night, you felt dizzy staring at anton. he had his arm on the back of the couch, head leaning against his closed fist as he listened to you so intently. you felt yourself forgetting some words, looking to him to fill in what you were forgetting. you saw his smile grow big as you talked his ear off about art—once he got you started you couldn’t stop. you related your major to swimming, how you get in the zone the same way you used to before starting relays. talking with anton about swim made you realize how much you missed it. you missed the camaraderie with your teammates, how it felt like they were the only ones who understood what it was like to be so dedicated to the water. you ended the conversation on a somber note, but anton looked wistfully at his hands as he recalled his own memories.

“i miss being in swim with you, but i’m happy you’re doing what makes you happy.” anton says.

he puts his hand on your knee and you quickly put your hand on top, enjoying that you have an excuse to touch him. his hand is soft like it always was.

“i appreciate it.” you don’t let go of anton’s hand, squeezing it slightly. “you should come to my class sometime. sometimes we get extra credit on assignments if we bring in live models.” you say.

“you want me to slut myself out so you can get an A for the semester?” anton asks.

you scratch the nape of your neck to hide embarrassment. you recover well, looking at anton jokingly.

“isn’t that what friends do?” you ask.

anton throws his head back to laugh. his hand on your leg squeezes your knee, causing you to move too. both of you laugh for a moment, but you can feel your face heating at the thought of anton posing for your class.

“maybe your next solo assignment.” anton looks forward at the party. a couple flirts in front of you guys on the shag rug, holding a joint to the others lips as they breathe it in. “i don’t know if i can do that in front of your whole class.” anton says, looking back to you.

you turn to look at the couple now, face feeling even hotter at the thought of anton posing just for you. you can’t stop your mind racing. suddenly you are inspired, the dynamic poses you see anton in flashes through your mind as you try to speak. you wondered if anton would be able to stay still as long as you needed him to, if he could keep his lips parted the perfect amount for hours on end. the ideas couldn’t stop flowing—you had to slightly shake your head to refocus.

“it wouldn’t be nude. i’ve seen it all before amyways.” you say casually.

when anton laughs shyly you turn back to him. he has a smirk on his lips, and you can feel your hands get restless. you want to paint his lips and his perfect teeth that show when he smirks. you think that if you were to paint it and show it to anton he would understand why you suddenly feel sheepish looking at him.

“first of all, you haven’t seen it all, you’ve seen my top half. second of all, i’m not that flimsy prepubescent kid anymore. i’m a man.” anton says, posing to show off his muscles.

you have to nod and smile to act like nothing is a big deal. you reach forward and poke his flexed arms for comedic effect. before you can say anything, the host of the party tells everyone it’s time to leave. the lights cut on and anton’s blushing face is revealed to you. when your eyes go wide he draws his hand away from your leg, hiding it behind a stretch.

“before i pose for you though, i’d like to actually see you again.” anton gets up from the couch, and holds out his hand to help you up. you grab it and stand right in front of him, looking at his broad chest. anton’s hands to to your shoulders, and you look up to him. “not just by chance at a gathering but like actually planning something out.” he says.

you nod your head. you find your hands to be restless again, the only way to get them to be still is to stuff them into the small pockets of your jeans.

“you have my number.” you say back.

“anton, let’s go.” you look and see anton’s friends beckon to him from the entryway.

“were you drinking? you’re our DD.” another friend said.

“it’s literally kombucha.” anton shakes his head, and you can see the nonalcoholic text on the label. he faces you as he walks backwards to his friends, pulling out his phone. “i’ll text you.” he says.

anton turned back to his friends before you could say okay. when you walk out with your friends a few minutes later you felt the buzzing in your back pocket, and you open your screen to read the message.

let’s hang out tomorrow

this is anton btw

ever since that night, you started seeing anton everyday. whether it was a quick stop to eachothers dorms in between classes or eating together you were with him everyday. in a weeks time anton gave you the spare key to his dorm, emphasizing that you could crash there whenever you’d like. you had no sense of self preservation and neither did anton—both of you went all in, spending so much time together you started getting the urge to swim again.

although you spent time together like when you were in highschool, there was a different feeling to it. there was a line you two silently set in the dirt when you got to highschool. you two came to the agreement then that friends didn’t hold hands, they sat on opposite sides of the couch, and had crushes on other people. it was upsetting, both of you mourned the loss of innocence and degree of closeness brought by skinship. but you guys were becoming adults, it was time to draw a line in the dirt the same way you did when you were children. sometimes you thought about the line, how it might’ve been the thing that drove you two apart. you two were on opposite sides, heading off in different directions.

but time is a flat circle and you two went around the world to meet at the same line. this time, it was the division in his couch, the line down the middle that separated the two cushions the both of you sat on. a romantic movie played on the television in anton’s dorm, one about two people finding their way back to eachother. you scooted closer to the division in the couch and anton did too, still watching at the movie.

that’s how it was at first, you two getting so close to the line until your thighs touched, but nothing more. you felt the cold sweats all over you body and heat across your cheeks and neck as your mind wandered to all the possibilities. his hand went to your knee first, the same way it did at the gathering. everything was different, the implication of being alone and him touching you made goosebumps spread across your skin. heat came from anton in waves, and you could smell chlorine and his body wash when he settled deeper into the couch, moving his body slightly towards you.

“i really like this movie.” anton said.

you nodded your head, feeling anton squeeze your knee. you tried mimicking him, relaxing further into the couch until you could lean against his body. when your head rested on his shoulder he visibly relaxed, lowering his body more to give you more space. his hand moved from your knee to your thigh, squeezing and rubbing what he could reach. you felt hot all over, trying not to read too much into how anton was holding you.

anton was the one that crossed the line first. he stepped over the line in the dirt when he picked up your legs and moved them over his, coming completely into your space. a tiny sound left your mouth, you were excited, feeling static electricity across your body and inside your mind. you could only put your hands over anton’s as you got used to his touch.

nothing happened that night, nothing seemed to happen when you guys would spend time together. it was grueling and agonizingly slow how you two were working up to being in eachothers space again. anton would hold you in the privacy of his room timidly, touches light as a feather like he was worried you’d flinch away. you were worried you were enjoying it too much, the way he’d look at you sweetly and hesitate when bringing the back of your hand to his lips. anton grabbed your hand while walking you back to your building, fingers lacing with yours casually as he talked about his schedule for tomorrow. the both of you could only speak absentmindedly and nod, too focused on how your hands fit together like puzzle pieces.

even though you didn’t spend as much time with anton as you did when you were in swim, he still took up an unhealthy amount of your mind. the slow and delicate pace you two moved at burned across your skin, leaving your brain frayed at the edges. it was the worst when you were painting. you’d be focused on an object in front of you for a study and your mind would drift to anton. your fingers and your strokes would turn into half assed portraits of the boy you were getting close to again. it became an obsession, you were hiding your unfinished work of anton in the studio space, scared he’d find it if you put it in your room.

just when it got to be too much, it was like the art gods were smiling down on you. your class got assignments to do a human anatomy study. you wrote down your name to rent the studio space to accommodate anton’s schedule that you now had memorized. when leaving class you texted anton, telling him about your upcoming project.

are you going to draw me like one of your french girls?

i’ll try my best.

you didn’t even have to ask anton to be your model. he agreed on the spot, only asking for the time, place, and how many clothes he needed to bring. he showed up to the studio shortly after his class, wearing a matching gray sweatsuit. anton had a duffle slung over his shoulder, and he held on tightly to the strap as he navigated his way around the studio space. he was unbelivably careful, almost tiptoeing around the half done sculptures that littered the floor. droplets from anton’s hair fell on the ground as he walked—he came straight from swim practice, not wasting the time to go back home.

you both hesitated before going in for a hug, making it an awkward embrace. you both knew the implications, and the tension made hairs on the back of your neck raise. anton patted your back twice, pulling away and asking about your day. his voice was sweet and nonchalant, but the blush appearing across anton’s cheeks told you he was nervous. you were the same, refusing to make eye contact as you stared at the zipper on anton’s tracksuit.

his hands rested at his sides when you were done exchanging pleasantries, trying to figure out what was next. you cleared your throat and motioned towards the block in the center of the studio surrounded by a circle of easels.

“just pose there however you’d like.” you pointed to the sheet neatly folded on top of the block. “there’s a sheet to cover yourself up with.” you said.

you walked past the block, weaving through a row of easels until you made it to yours. you focused on your name carved into the wood as anton rolled his shoulders to try and relieve tension. he slid his duffle down his arm first, and you had to stare at the blank canvas in front of you to stop yourself from stealing glances at anton’s body. his curly hair peaked out above the canvas, moving slightly as he got undressed. you focused on the curls when you hear anton but when you heard anton unzip his jacket you went to playing with the charcoal utensils. you had to duck your head when you heard anton’s jacket fall to the ground and him messing with the drawstring on his pants. you count the little paint splotches on the ground over and over again when you see the gray sweats pool at anton’s feet. you watch his feet as he steps out and makes his way towards the block. you hear him bump into an easel, how slow his steps are. you almost pinch your skin when you hear the fabric of the sheet move, hoping that the self inflicted pain will give you something else to focus on.

you refuse to look up until you hear anton’s voice in front of you.

“can you help me?” anton asks.

you realize it was a mistake inviting anton when you finally get the courage to look past the easel and at him. instantly you are bothered, watching anton sit on the block while looking at you hopelessly. anton’s stares right through you as you slowly walk over towards him, causing your palms to feel sweaty. you wipe them on your jeans a million times before you stand in front of anton. from up here you can see overheard lights in the studio reflect in his large brown eyes as he looks up to you.

you make minor adjustments to the sheet that wraps around anton’s body, trying not to focus on his smooth skin that’s exposed or the peak of toned muscle you see. you make the mistake of looking at anton’s abdomen as you move his legs to a more comfortable position. his stomach is chiseled, intense workouts carved anton’s body out of stone. no matter where you touch him he is so soft and so solid underneath your fingertips. you focus on anton’s shoulder, but you can feel him staring directly at your face. you move a piece of hair from anton’s face and travel down. you look at his nose before you can look at him in the eyes.

“looks good now.” you say.

before you can turn away anton’s hands go to your waist. he keeps them there, fingers splayed out but he applies no pressure.

“what looks good?” anton asks.

you shrug quickly, trying not to shiver underneath anton’s look. he presses his fingers into your hips a little harder, and his thumb messes with the bottom of your shirt before slipping under. your hands go to his shoulders as he pulls you closer.

anton’s expression is almost pained when he leans his head back, blinking quickly before he opens them fully. his brown eyes almost look glossy when he focuses back on you. you see your reflection in anton’s eyes he pulls you in a little closer. your hands creep from anton’s shoulders to the nape of his neck. you let one of your hands splay across the back of anton’s neck, rubbing the pads of your fingers against his scalp. he leans his head into your hand with a sigh and a smile on his face. he brings your other hand that rests on his shoulder to his lips, looking directly at you when he kisses your hand.

he doesn’t stop at your knuckles. he works his way up slowly, moving his hand to graze over each kiss. you let him kiss you gently, and you let him pull you down until you’re face to face with him. anton stops at your tricep, his shaking hands still pressed to his trail of kisses.

“anton.” you say.

you close your eyes and lean in when anton looks back at you. for a moment you’re floating in space, heading towards the unknown. the thought of rejection flashes across your mind before you feel anton’s reciprocating, soft and gentle against your lips.

you press into him gently, your hand fully goes into his curly head of hair to finger the ends and twirl them around your finger. anton’s hands hold your arms first, gripping them slightly as he brings you in place. when it’s not enough anton slides off the block he was sitting on, the thin sheet that was covering his naked body falls with him. more of anton is exposed to you but you don’t shy away, you place your hands on his skin and press into his solid frame. anton pulls you down to the ground with him, not breaking the kiss as you become more desperate. you two almost bump into the easels surrounding you, but neither of you can be bothered.

you cross the line of his lips to push your tongue into his mouth, and anton tilts his head so he can do the same. you guys find a rhythm, lips languidly moving in sync while your tongues press against eachother.

“i rented out this space for the next hour.” even when anton pulls away from you while you keep a hand locked in his curly hair. “just us.” you say breathlessly.

anton hums and nods his head, pulling you closer by a hand wrapped around your waist. your back bows against his hold, giving anton space to drag his hands up your sides to grip your clothed chest. your shirt creases underneath anton’s hand, and you whimper when he presses his plush lips to your exposed collarbone.

“just us?” anton asks against your skin.

you nod your head vigorously when anton looks up at you from your chest, and you straighten your posture to try and bring your body closer to his. anton smiles, the creases in his eyes almost covered by the curls that cascade down the frame of his face. he presses his forehead to yours and the two of you look down between your two bodies. anton focuses on you two fitting together like puzzle pieces while you focus on his dick resting against his stomach. his tip is red and angry, the beading pre-cum making a patch of anton’s abdomen sticky.

anton pulls you onto his bare lap, his dick resting heavy against his stomach. his hands map your body, so desperate and unaware of his own strength that he overstretches the fabric of your shirt and causes you to move at his will. his hands mess with your jeans, pulling you closer by your belt loops. he rearranges himself on the sheet he used to cover himself as the charcoal staining your hands rubs off on his chest.

both of you are still, letting the weight of the situation sink in. your hand pressed against anton’s chest while the other grips his shoulder for stability. his hand on your chest, and the other on the small of your back as he splays his hand across the expanse. you look at your charcoal stained hand resting on anton’s chest. his heart thuds against your palm, mirroring the hammering in your own ribcage. your quickened heart rates effects everything, the way your breathing has turned into short huffs, the way your eyes flicker across anton’s face. the only thing that remains slow and steady is your hand as you drag it down anton’s chest. you make it past his heart, keeping eye contact as you trail down his stomach. when anton’s eyes close you let your hand finally wrap around his length, twitching and hard in your hand.

anton sighs in relief, taking one hand off of you to prop himself up as he leans back. the other hand on your body doesn’t calm down. even with his eyes closed anton finds the bottom of your shirt, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat when you start pumping his dick. anton’s grabs at any part of your body he can get a viable grip on. he kneads the flesh on your stomach before reaching up and holding your chest over your bra.

when he opens his eyes again anton brings his other hand to you to lift your shirt over your head. you’re forced to take your hand off his dick to discard your shirt, but when it’s thrown somewhere in the studio you go right back to him. you don’t pay the sound of and easel moving or the sound of paintbrushes clattering any mind—you’re focused on something else.

anton pauses only for a second, placing a kiss on your chest before he grabs a handful of you again. you go back to him, grabbing his dick in your hands. the slow pace you were going at previously was abandoned, you have waited too long to tease. the angle is awkward, almost uncomfortable—but the way anton’s eyes close and his mouth slightly opens in ecstasy drives your hand to go faster. anton’s precum makes your hand glide easily. the wet sound of you jerking anton off is subtle and quiet, almost as quiet as the whimpers that slip from anton’s mouth. you open your mouth too, mirroring the way anton whimpers pitifully when you tighten your hand around him.

anton lifts his hips and lifts you too, bringing both of you off the ground momentarily so he can fuck your hand. you look down at anton, how his body flexes to fuck himself and how his face is contorted in pure pleasure. you use your free hand to run over anton’s stomach, admiring the chiseled beauty in front of you. you can feel his abs ripple underneath his taut skin as you press your hand deeper into him.

“you look like a painting.” you murmur.

when you start pulsing your fist around his twitching dick anton puts his hand over yours. he brings you both back to the present.

“i won’t last long.” he says sheepishly.

you can see anton’s face already becoming flushed, the blush adorning his face in splotches. anton pulls your hand away from his dick, placing your wet hand on his chest instead. you both start feeling eachother again, letting your hands feel everything in the calm of heavy breathing and occasional sighs. anton brings you in close, nudging your ear with his nose as he lets out a shaky breath.

“how do you want it?” he whispers into your ear.

“we have to be quick.” you say just as quiet.

anton nods, sliding you off his lap onto the sheet. he moves his body fast, resting on his haunches as he works the button of your jeans. the fact that you two are running low on time looms over your heads, and the thrill of getting caught makes you two desperate. anton’s dick is rigid in the air, twitching upwards when he imagines someone walking in on the two of you.

you work your bra off your body, unclasping it quickly as anton pulls your pants down your legs. when he gets the denim down to your mid thigh he stops to abruptly lean over and kiss your exposed chest. it’s quick, a small peck right on your erect nipple. you wish you had more time with anton in this cramped studio, so you could whimper and while asking him to do it again. but you didn’t have time, and you were getting uncomfortable in your panties so you let anton pull your pants off the rest of the way.

anton pulls you in for a kiss, moving to stand on his knees and you do the same. he brings you in by an arm wrapped behind your back. you put your hands on his broad chest, letting his teeth clash against yours before pulling away.

“we have to be quick.” anton says.

he warns the two of you, but he still takes his time looking down at you and brushing hair behind your ear. being quick is lost on him as he caresses your cheek. he almost asks you how you’ve been before you pull away from him, turning around to get on your hands and knees.

“we have to be quick.” you echo.

anton laughs, looking at the position you got into so quickly. he doesn’t have anymore time to waste, he’s been doing that for the past fifteen years. so anton slots himself between your legs, letting his hard dick rest against your ass as he gets comfortable.

”i don’t have any condoms.” anton says.

he looks at your dick rest against your ass, twitching each time you move.

“i’m on birth control.” you wiggle your hips, scooting backwards to get closer to anton. “i’m not seeing anyone.” you add.

“me neither.” anton says immediately.

you nod, moving your hand back to grab anton’s dick. he guides himself into your hand, and shuffles forward until his tip prods your entrance. he can see a translucent pearl of precum mix with your slick. anton grabs his dick where you held it previously, running his tip up and down your folds. he sees you sigh and shiver, pressing your hands flat to the ground to mentally prepare yourself.

“the door is locked right?” anton asks.

both of you look towards the small classroom door. it’s halfway across the room, but you can vividly remember turning the metal bolt. it was ironic how much you hated distractions in the studio but here you were on your hands and knees, the most distracted you’ve ever been in your entire life.

“it’s locked and no one comes here during the weekends.” you let out a sigh when you feel anton come closer to you. “it’s like if we were in the locker rooms on a saturday night.” you say.

anton visibly relaxes behind you, finding comfort in the fact that you remembered saturday night competitions. everyone cleared out of immediately when the swim meets were over, everyone desperately trying to enjoy the start of their weekend. by the time the meets were done there wasn’t a soul around, not even the cleaning staff. so it was truly just you and anton here, completely engrossed in eachother. he leans over to press a kiss to your shoulder blades before moving a hand to your ass. he spreads you out, wanting a clear view of you spread out. anton sighs, wishing he had the time to press gentle kisses to your bottom half. anton tells himself silently that you have no idea how well he’d eat you out, how he’d take his time and not stop until you begged him to. but time was of the essence and anton was getting impatient—he rubbed a hand down your back while he lined himself up.

“are you ready?” anton asks sweetly.

you nod against the sheet underneath you. anton looks past your ass to smile at you. you’re so pretty with your lips pouted in anticipation anad your cheeks smushed from pressing into the sheet.

“yes.” you answer.

anton nods, and stays in the same position so he can see your face when he slides in. your eyes close instantly and your lips part, anton does the same as he watches you. he’s bewitched, locked in on how he’s making you feel. you suck him in more and more, and when anton bottom’s out he sees you bite down on your finger to stop yourself from moaning. he pulls all the way out before sliding back in, just as slow.

anton looks around at the easels surrounding your bodies, and the platform anton was posing on not even five minutes ago. he almost feels bad, he feels like he’s tainted the space you’ve created for yourself. he remembers when you used to be so shy you couldn’t look at someone in the eye, but now you gave presentations to seasoned artists about something as personal as art. he was proud of you, he thinks he loves you as he looks around and sees the art you’re working on. anton swears he sees a drawing pinned to the wall, an unfinished bust where the curls and side profile is unmistakable. anton looks down at your face, where you have tears prickling your vision and your teeth dig into your bottom lip.

when anton notices you staring at him he sees your hand reach back for him. anton sees your other hand gripping the sheets, and how you slide forward each time his hips kiss yours. before he knows it anton reaches forward to grab both of your arms, causing your knees to move forward as you sit on the back of your legs.

when anton grabs your arms at your sides, he pulls you back to him. you grab onto his biceps, the only stability you have in your position. you can hear anton grunt as he thrusts forward, using his hold on your body to bring you back. each time he thrusts his hips forward he exerts his strength, nearly knocking the breath out of you each time.

the sound of your skin slapping against his fills the room, and you can hear paintbrushes on the easels shake. your teeth digging into your bottom lip is the only thing stopping you from crying out anton’s name.

anton looks up from where he fucks you for behind, focusing on your nails that dig into his arm. he hisses from the pain, already feeling sensitive all over his body.

“feels good?” anton asks.

his voice is still sweet and airy as he talks to you. and you let a moan slip from your lips to let him know, and he sighs in response. the two of you can barely form sentences, becoming twitching messes as anton continues fucking you from behind. all communication turns to high-pitched whines and tightening grips from your hands. eventually it’s not enough, you let go of anton’s biceps to clench your fists to relieve the tension. he pulls your body back each time he thrusts forward, causing your body to jolt and the easels around you shake. you hear paintbrushes clatter against the linoleum floors far off in your mind, it barely registers when anton moans about how good you feel.

anton lets go of your hands and you plant them on the sheet. you can feel him behind you, his hand pressing into your stomach as he brings his sweaty chest to your back. anton continues to fuck you, a handful of your stomach in anton’s hands helps him drive your body backwards to meet his hips.

anton lets a whimper slip from his lips as he presses his cheek into your shoulder blades. his thrusts turns to ruts, and his free hand starts gripping your ass. you start acting on your own needs, purposely clamping your walls around anton’s dick so you can feel every inch of him inside of you. you start pathetically pushing your hips backwards, trying to do some of the work.

anton brings his face forward, hitting deep inside of you as his body superimposes over yours. you can feel puffs of hot air fan your ear as anton presses his face into the side of yours.

“you feel so good.” anton whimpers into your sticky skin.

“your dick is perfect.” you whine.

“you’re so perfect.” anton moans when you clamp around him again. “you have no idea.” he says.

you can feel anton’s smile against the shell of your ear as he continues to desperately rut into you. his smile falls when your walls squeeze around him sporadically. you can hear the moans he tried to silence, how they recklessly slip past his lips. he’s loud, unmistakably loud. you think about the rare chance there’s someone on the other side, pressing their ear to the door as they try to make out the sounds they hear over the music.

anton realizes he’s being too loud, he moves his mouth to the crook of your neck so your skin can muffle his sounds. you can feel the vibration of anton’s voice against your neck, and his teeth pressing into your clammy skin to calm himself. hearing anton causes you to spasm around him more. you’re slowly losing control of your body, the same way you lose control when painting. you let the feeling wash over the same way your ideas do, following the strokes of your brush and the sound of anton’s whimpers becoming more desperate. his hand goes from your ass to your chest, kneading your breasts roughly as he pants into your neck.

“i’m close.” you whisper.

you say it only for anton and for yourself, squeezing your eyes shut. you see anton pass by your eyes in a blur, all the times he’s looked like a painting you wanted to keep locked away in your sketchbook. the fleeting touches and palpitations in your heart seared to the back of your eyelids. just before the coil in your stomach snaps, anton pulls away from your body.

“i need to see you.” anton says earnestly.

you’re on your back in seconds, laying on the white sheets anton used to cover himself. you can’t look away from anton’s wet eyes or his mussed curly hair. his chest is pressed up against yours in an instant when he pulls your legs to bring you closer to his hips. he kisses your forehead quickly, slowing down before kissing your lips then each cheek. you wish you could’ve kissed him back, but your brain was still foggy from being on the brink of an orgasm. only one thing is on your mind as you look at anton with big teary eyes.

“put it back in.” you nearly cry. “please.”

anton grabs his length, gliding it down your folds until he finds your hole. he doesn’t waste time sliding in, fully pushing inside of you. anton has to go to the crook of your neck to moan out his frustrations, feeling his hot pants bounce off your skin.

“i love you.”

anton says it into the sweaty skin of your neck. if he had any self control he would’ve saved it for a better time, like a romantic dinner date or a trip back to your hometown. but anton can’t help it, he’s driven by needing you as close to him as possible. he tells himself he’ll confess to you properly again, when you both have time.

before you can tell anton you feel the same way, the words are taken from your throat as picks a brutal pace. you can only nod your head and pull your legs closer to your chest to help him hit deeper. you can feel anton everywhere, and you can see his curls bounce above your head as the ends become heavy from sweat. you can only pout, feeling your own eyes become teary from all the emotions.

“anton.” you whimper his name pitifully. anton puts one of your legs over his shoulder to free your hand so he can hold it.

“i know.” anton coos. he moans at the new angle and squeezes your hand tighter. “i know.”

when anton presses his lips to yours, you walls spasm around his dick again. this time anton doesn’t stop, driving his hips into yours while his name falls from your lips a million times. anton uses it as motivation, using the last bit of self control he has left to fuck you through your orgasm. when your legs become weak and anton’s name turns into incoherent babbles, he goes back into your neck.

“where can i?” he huffs.

you let your hands press into his shoulder blades, bringing his sweaty chest to yours.

“anywhere” you clench around anton, feeling yourself getting week. “don’t make a mess.” you mumble.

“fuck.”

anton can’t hold on any longer, especially when your lips attach to his neck sucking harshly. he twitches inside of you and he goes as deep as he can one more time before stilling inside of you. your back arches from the ground when you feel him cum inside of you, hot and sticky in spurts. each time anton twitches inside of you his whole body shudders, and he lets out a sigh you think he’s been holding in for years. his grip of your hand never loosened, still white-knuckled as he presses your hand into the sheet. you let your leg wrap around anton to keep his waist in place and it’s your turn to coo at him now.

you two stay like that, sweaty chests heaving as anton stays inside of you. neither of you want to pull away, and you feel a pang in your chest when you can feel anton’s cum seep out of you. he pulls out, whole body shuddering as he slides out of you.

anton taps your bent knee affectionately, and you nod your head as you try to breathe normally again. anton looks around the studio before pushing off your knee.

you see him meander around the studio for a second before wlaking to the paint stained sink. anton turns on the water and washes his hands before pulling out more paper towels than necessary.

he comes back to your body on the floor, wiping away the cum that seeped out of you and drying your sweaty face with another paper towel. you can only smile as anton cleans you up, and when he’s done he grabs your face in both of his hands and presses a fat kiss to your lips. both of you smile when he pulls away, and you run your hand through his curly hair.

“how much time do you have left?” anton asks.

#requestz #01zfan: anton #anton smut #riize smut

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syrma-sensei · 1 year

Text

→ Rugrats, Pool, and Grilling Techniques.

pairing: soldier boy x wife!reader.

rating: smut, fluff.

warning: domestic soldier boy, dangerously smitten ben (oocish), established relationship, daddy ben, breeding kink, dirty talk, daddy kink, non-canon complied.

word count: 2k

summary: soldier boy is surprisingly an amazing family man.

tagging: @zepskies

→ masterlist | ao3

“Ready. Go!”

As soon as your husband's whistle blows into the air, a loud splash follows when Jamie and Maggie hopped into the pool. Inheriting their father's super stamina and endurance, the two swim swiftly and with the agility of dolphins, while your husband's voice encourages them both. However, out of your twins, Maggie is the faster swimmer, whereas Jamie is quicker on land.

Bathing in the sun beam, you lay on the sunlounger next to Ben's, watching the trio having fun together in the pool. You plan on joining them in a bit, but you let them play on their supe level before you hop in, because after all, you're just a human. For the time being, you're sufficed with your feet dipped in the water at the rim of the pool.

“Haha, that's my girl!” Ben's face beams with a wide smile when Maggie, as expected, beat her twin to the other side of the pool.

“Cheater!” Jamie yells at his sister whom sticks her tongue out at him.

“No, you're just slow, Jay,” She retorts haughtily, a trait she caught from her dad.

He rolls his eyes, “See you on land, sis, 'coz you'll be dragging your ass behind me there,”

Ben bursts out laughing but he stops when you throw him a berating glare with a chiding tilt of your head. Your husband clears his throat.

“Oh, woah, manners young man,” Ben scolds, “You better watch that mouth, you don't speak to ladies like that.”

“Like she's one!” Jamie grouses, propelling his hands into the water, “She took on three children at school the other day.”

“Because they're bullies, and they had it coming!” Maggie replies heatedly.

Once again, a proud grin stretches Ben's lips from ear to ear. You shake your head hopelessly at him.

Maggie swims towards her father, saying, “Bullies are bad, aren't they, Papa?”

“That's right,” Ben agrees, stroking a strand of Maggie's hair away from her face, “You go kick their asses, kiddo.”

“He said it!” Jamie gasps.

“For the love of God, Ben, watch your language in front of the kids!”

He ignores you, “Our daughter, my daughter here is going to be a badass chick.” A grin is plastered on his mouth before his kisses her cheek.

Maggie giggles at her father, “What does badass mean, Papa? Is my butt bad?”

Ben hurls his head back with a laugh, “No, cupcake, your butt ain't bad. It means you're cool as f—hell.” He glances at you momentarily, then he corrects again, “As heck, cool as heck.”

Jamie swims towards his sister, slyness contorts his face, in that moment, you're in stupor at the way it resembles Ben's visage.

“Cool or not, Dad's not gonna allow you to go out with boys,” Jamie says, “Are you, Dad?”

One would expect Maggie's eyes to widen, to look horrified, and her to look at her father urgently, silently begging him to deny what James just said. But the little one swims to her father and wraps her tiny arms around his neck. “I don't need boys, Jay.” She replies with sass, “I'm daddy's little princess, right, Papa?”

While you swoon at Maggie, you smile amusedly as Ben grows a bit perplexed at the sudden affectionate admission from Margret. So, you decide you rescue your husband by climbing down into pool.

“Of course, sweetheart,” You say, swimming towards the three, “Daddy's always gonna be here for you,”

Maggie tilts her head and kisses her father's temple. Ben's grin falters; you can read the uneasiness written on his face.

“Love you, Papa,” she whispers.

“Love you too, princess,”

Maggie's giggles warble around, and Jamie rolls his eyes again.

The four of you play together in the pool, swimming and tossing the ball, after you've divided into two teams; you and Jamie against Ben and Maggi.

During the game, you pick up on the lethargy of his moves. He's not being himself at the moment, for normally, his competitive spirit would more eager to win, even if it were a mere game. You frown a bit when you hurl the ball to the other side of the pool only for Maggie to catch it with dexterity. She throws it back with her supe strength to your side, but Jamie baulks it with his supe speed.

“Close enough, sis, but you're being sloppy,” He teases.

“You wish!”

Jamie flings the ball to the other side again, and Ben blocks it with one large hand.

“Uh oh.” You hear Jamie whisper when he sees his father's smirk. Ben draws his hand backwards then darts it in Jamie's direction. It dashes through a blurry, white flash before it bashes into the water by you, the bolt makes your hair sway.

“Nicely-done, dad!” Jamie cheers.

“Hey, what side are on, Jay?!” You frown, grousing.

Your son only shrugs, “But it was awesome!”

“Ah, cut the kid some slack, would ya?” Ben makes an amused sound, raising his hands in a gesture, “Not my fault I'm the favourite parent here.”

“We' shall see about that, Mr. Gilman, we shall see.” You squint, lips puckering up in a playful curl.

The game ends with a draw; James and Margret aren't so crazy about the result. And they start to squabble about it when you decide to call it a day in the pool and climb out of it.

After having a quick shower, and wearing fresh clothes, the four of you embark on preparing lunch. You and Maggie are to prepare the table, and Jamie is to help his father with the grilling labour.

While Ben teaches Jamie the grilling technics (which you originally taught Ben, because the man didn't know to cook shit when you first met) you chopped the vegetables that Maggie rinsed for you into the salad bowl. The meat odorous smell tickles your nostrils and makes your mouths water.

When the plates are laid out and the meal is ready, the four of you encircle the table, and enjoy what you made together with the spirit of your extraordinary family.

•••

In the evening, you take another shower, but more thoroughly this time. You don't want the smell of barbecued meat and the reek of coal to stick to your body when you go to bed.

You step out the bathroom with a fluffy towel wrapped around your body after thirty minutes. You find Ben sitting at the foot of the bed, his brown hair is still drenched from his shower. He's wearing a grey shirt, and a matching grey sweatpants, with a towel on his head.

His gaze instantly softens when his green eyes land on your figure, a tender smile visiting his lips. You smile back at him, taking the spot next to him on the bed.

“Today was great,” You say, your hands on his strong arm, massaging his muscle, “Thank you, Ben.” Again, he freezes when you reach out to kiss his temple.

Ben nods, the he draws his head back to gaze at you, his large hand cupping your cheek. “No, thank you, baby, for giving me all of this.”

You tilt your head, chewing your lower lip, “Well, you're most welcome, Daddy.”

You see something wicked swirl in the green of his eyes, and the sly smirk on his lips makes your heart skip.

“I was thinking...” Ben scratches his beard with a drawl, eyes predating your body, “The twins are seven now.” He reaches out a hand to tip your chin up, his lips are dangerously close to yours, “What do you think of a third one? Fuck, third and fourth and fifth too.” He thumbs your lower lip gently, “I want to make children with you as much as possible. I want our place to be full of those rugrats.”

A fierce blush rises up to your neck as his breath fans your face, and the flesh between your legs twang in delight. You like it when he talks like that.

Your answer comes as a crushing kiss, and a moan from your throat. Ben's hands trail down to your sides and he lifts you up to his lap. One of his hands roams down your back and loosens the towel, and you're gorgeously naked for him.

“Atta girl,” He praises, “Ready to take what I want to give her.”

He kneads your breasts just right, pinching and caressing where you like, and his lips leaving open-mouthed kisses on your neck. You moan his name, and you feel his cock beneath you coming gradually to life.

You grind your bare cunt on his nourishing cock, and his hand grasps your hair to pull your head. “Behave,” he warns with a chuckle, “Fucking eager, aren't we?”

“Ben, please,” You roll your hips again, your arousal is already glistening on his crotch, “Give it to me, fuck me please, please, please, Daddy, make me carry your babies, please make me your breeding slut.”

You can hear his breath hitch before he sears your lips shut with his, hands resting on your buttocks, his blunt nails digging on the flesh of your crack while you cup his bearded cheek.

Ben hoists you up sharply and flips you, splaying your body wide on the bed beneath him. Quick as the supe he is, he takes off his clothes and graces you with his naked glory. He grabs one of your legs and pulls you down impatiently. You giggle playfully.

“Oh, baby, you have no idea,” He cups your mound with a possessive hand, his thumb flicking your clit “How much I want to fucking breed this slutty cunt full,”

You spread your legs further for more friction, “Please, Daddy, please, I want your cum, I need your seed.”

“Fuck, baby,” He grumbles, “Needy, little whore...” Your toes curl at the word, more arousal oozing out if your cunny.

His hands grip your thighs, while lining up to your pussy. You yelp and laugh sporadically at the vigour of his thrust. His hands reach out to yours on either side of your head. Your fingers entangle as he paces up his moves.

Your back arches, and words spilling incoherently out of your mouth as he fucks your brains dumb. You hear him swear and spit in the most vulgar language you've ever heard, and it makes you squeeze him more.

You like that dirty tongue of his, how it makes you feel a flagrant whore yet an unstoppable queen.

“Ben, Ben, I'm so close!” You cry, closing your eyes shut.

“Come to me, baby,” He says, bringing his thumb to your clit.

You hang your arms on his strong back as you feel it coming. Your nails graze his flesh when your orgasm sweep over your being. Your inner drawers clamps down on his cock in a tight hug.

Ben growls in your ear, animalistic and primitive, as he twitches sharply inside of you, painting your insides white.

You take your time to calm down. Breathing gradually placating to normal before he rolls on his back beside you. You snuggle up to his chest, and he holds you close with his arm. You feel his seed leaking into your thighs, and your cunt still throbbing through the throes of your orgasm.

You close your eyes and relish in the moment in silence.

“You're a good dad, Ben.” You say after several minutes, looking up at him.

He gazes down at you, hand playing with your hair, “I try not to be like my old man.”

You smile, “I know you do, and you're nothing like him. The kids adore you.”

His Adam's apple bobs up and down, sneering, “Well, that's good to hear. Not to be a fucking disappointment in someone's eye.”

You peck his lips, pride flourishing within your chest; it took you ages to convince Ben that opening up and expressing his feelings to someone he trusts doesn't equal being a sniveling pussy.

He might be the greatest supe, the hero of heroes, an asshole to some and a god to others. But to you, Ben is just Ben, a doting husband, and a perfect father. And you'd stand against the world for him.

Kissing his forehead you say, “You never were one to me, Ben.”

#soldier boy imagine #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy x fem reader #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy x oc #soldier boy smut #soldier boy fluff #the boys soldier boy #the boys #the boys season three #the boys season 3 #the boys s3 #the boys smut #the boys imagine

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frogletscribe · 4 months

Text

Continuation from this post where i was musing about Na'vi biodiversity as a species and how environment might affect them, I thought I would draw them out while i took some notes on what I thought might change/be different among Na'vi.

Again these are all just headcanons and excuses for me to draw more ocs lol, but i would love to hear what people think!

Just incase people dont want to attempt to read my handwriting (or if tumblr eat the quality of the pic too much) Im gonna type up my notes below. (Also elaborating on some of the notes some more)

Forest Na'vi*

Default for sake of comparisons* - Yellow eyes most common - 'Tiger' stripes - Brighter blue skin tones - Average height around 9-10ft - Thin tail with tuft of 'fluff' at the very end - Longer pointed ears - Generally thin toned build for climbing trees

Reef Na'vi

- Blue and green eyes most common - Wave-like stripes - Softer teal skin tones - Average height slightly taller, around 9-10.5ft - Smaller/shorter ears - Nictitating membranes (3rd eyelid for better sight while swimming) - Fins on arms and Legs for swimming - Broader 'swimmers' shoulders - Paddle tail

Cliff Na'vi

- Yellow eyes most common - Slightly wavier stripes - Teal/Aqua blue skin tones - Average height around 9-10ft - Smaller fins and Paddle tail (Similar to Reef Na'vi) - Happy medium between Forest and Reef for both ease of swimming and climbing cliffs

Plains Na'vi

- Yellow eyes most common - Spotted 'cheetah' pattern rather than stripes - Darker blue skin tones - Average slightly shorter height, around 7.5-9.5ft - 'Tear marks' allow for protection from the sun - Longer tails with more gradual fluff at the end

Mountain Na'vi

- Blue eyes most common - Spotted 'snow leopard' pattern rather than stripes - Blue-Grey skin tones - Much taller than average, around 10-14ft - Small rounded ears, better in the cold - Generally larger builds, able to put on more fat in order to keep warm in cold climates -Clawed hands and feet for better grip while climbing - Larger fluffy tail

River Na'vi

- Blue and green eyes most common - 'Rippled' stripes - Deep Teal skin tones - Average height around 9-12ft - Broader shoulders from swimming, similar to Reef - Fins on arms and Legs for swimming - Thicker Crocodilian tail - Hard 'plates' on tail and fins - Nictitating membranes (3rd eyelid for better sight while swimming) - Webbing between fingers and toes?

#atwow #avatar way of water #avatar the way of water #james cameron avatar #atwow fanart #na'vi #na'vi oc #na'vi biodiversity #atwow headcanons #froglet rambles #froglet doodles

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cheriladycl01 · 2 months

Text

Our European Yacht Holiday - Kimi Raikkonen x SpanishOlympicDiver! Reader

Plot: It's summer and Kimi finally is in his off season and you've just competed in the summer Olympics getting a gold medal, what better way to prepare for the next by going around Europe on holiday!

Credit to kimimraikkonen7 for the GIF

"Okay, are you doing this with me yes or no?" you ask Kimi whose to your left. You were currently on your husbands private yacht, in the off season of Formula one, you'd decided to sail round Europe. Right now you were currently in the seas of the coast of Monaco.

It was you, Kimi, Sebastian Vettel his wife Hannah and their three kids who you and Kimi were god parents too.

"No!" he exclaims looking over the edge of the boat. You shake your head with a laugh.

"Come on, your such a wuss!" you exclaim looking towards him. You were both currently at the roof of the boat. You'd been diving off all afternoon, practicing of course and Kimi had come up saying he wanted to jump off too.

"I am not!" he tells you.

"Come on, you drove cars at 200mph and now your saying you cant dive off the boat with me?" you ask him, you pull on your swimsuit strap to make sure it was fully up over you shoulder.

"It's so high, and it's really really deep here!" he says looking around. In actuality it wasn't that deep, you'd swam here many times and you'd also gone scuba diving and free diving as part of training to keep fit.

"Okay, well I'm going to jump!" you scream before diving into the deep water. You hold your breath just as your body goes into the water hands first soon followed by your head. The rush you felt from your body when you went diving was the whole reason you got into it in the first place.

It's the reason why most athletes love their job, that adrenaline you get when performing.

You resurface padding around by the edge of the boat.

"Y/N! Y/N! I want to jump in!" one of Seb's children says coming up to you. You smile and swim up to them.

"Yeah, is your dad okay with it?" you ask clinging onto the rope that dangled of the back of the boat while you were docked up.

"Daddy, can I jump in with Y/N?" they shout back to Seb whose laying on the upper deck on one of the sofa's with Hanna.

"Have you got your arm bands on?" he asks leaning over the edge, you wave up to him and he nods knowing you'd keep them safe.

"Yeah!"

"Then you can, but you listen to Y/N at all times okay?" he says before laying back down.

"You know, i want to be just like you!" he says, smiling at you. You grin back and wait for him to jump in but he looks a little scared.

"I'll catch you, you trust me right?" you ask and look at the little boy above you. He nods and gulps down the anxiety, he walks back a little before running and jumping into the water right into your arms.

You were an exceptionally strong swimmer due to all the diving you do so holding the little boy up while treading water was no issue.

"Did that look cool?" he asks in delight rubbing the salty water out of his eyes.

"The coolest! I'll teach you how to dive soon!" you grin, and you both swim about a little bit more. You show him how to snorkel using the little mask Hanna had brought and how he had to keep his head at a certain angle so that no water got in the tube. Eventually you hauled him up onto the back of the boat before climbing back on yourself.

Your husband was stood there holding a towel out for you knowing it was slightly cooler now the sun was setting. He placed a light kiss on the top of your head, waiting for Sebastian and Hanna to leave with their son up to the top deck.

"You are really good with kids, we should think about having one!" he says to you suddenly making your head turn to him.

"Yeah?" you ask with a little smirk on your face.

"I think you'd be able to teach them so much!" he smiles genuinely pulling you into a hug and another kiss.

"Come on, we better doc the boat, I'm starving!" you say, giving him once last kiss before running off and hoping down the stairs to shower and change into a nice evening dress.

Later that night, you all went out for a meal in one of Monaco's finest, and being such a small city you bumped into some of the other drivers who couldn't help but ask how you were.

You were sad to see Seb, Hanna and the kids leave but now you and Kimi could sail away to Greece, the next destination for your little holiday away.

y/user

Liked by kimimatiasraikkonen and others

y/user: Sailing across Europe, getting ready for Paris 2024 with the best people ever! <3

Tagged: kimimatiasraikkonen sebastianvettel hannaprater

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kimimatiasraikkonen: Are you proud i jumped in the end?

-> y/user: yes it took lots of convincing though! <3

-> landoswife: no because we need the story behind this

-> vettelredbullera: no for real, was she trying to get him to dive?

Your Instagram Story Caption:

He wouldn’t dive from the boat with me :(

Taglist:

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#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 #formula one #formula one fanfiction #kimi raikkonen x you #kimi raikkonen #kimi raikkonen x reader #kimi raikkonen imagine #kimi raikkonen one shot #kimi räikkönen x reader

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dragonskulls · 5 months

Text

Based on the variety among sea animals I decided to make some regional variations of the coast strikers (note that these are variations only, not entirely new quivers or clades). The dragons shown here would be the most “defined” archetype of each variety, showcasing most or all traits characteristic of said kind. They all share certain base features, like rudder shaped tails, gills, harpoon tongues, echolocation, double rows of teeth, and flat tail spines that can be detached and thrown. However, some traits change or are more common in each variety:

Deep water

Make up about 5% of the population, and inhabit the smaller communities in deeper ocean. The main activities here are algae and mollusk farming, as well as resource collection from the sea floor, both of which require a more long term stay –despite the dangers of sea serpents and other such beasts–. Slightly smaller than their cousins, they’re better equipped for the depths rather than for flying: shorter wings, webbed talons, very broad tails, and gills being more oxygen efficient, although their dart spines are usually less in quantity and shorter compared to inland dragons. Extra flippers and more fin tissue between spines is common, as well as larger eyes to take in more light. Their most notable trait, is that of translucence. Most commonly, it’s usually just wings and torsos that are see through, but different dragons showcase different levels of said trait, some being completely translucent in rare cases (of course, trading better camouflage for less armor). Coloration typically goes from dark colors similar to coastal strikers, black, red, or sometimes pale colors (the latter present usually in the populations living in the deepest available settlements). Rarely, some slight bioluminescence is present in transparent sections of the body.

Coastal

The representatives of the Roaring Coast quiver, being around 80% of their numbers. Sleek, tall but well muscled, they inhabit the sea side cliffs on the coast and some settlements in shallower waters. Extremely long and narrow wings are perfect for soaring for hours out at sea, with webbed back talons and a flattened tail making them adept swimmers. Their blade shaped spines are plenty and deadly when thrown, and offer some protection to their necks and backs. Fin tissue in between the spines is few or non existent. An odd ability most present in this variety, is the one of spitting ink. Manifesting itself as dark splotches in the throat, this ink is dense and quickly expanding underwater, and very sticky and thick on land, making it useful at deterring predators or confusing prey. Countershading is the standard regarding coloration, with light colors underneath and darker ones on top, the latter usually ranging from black, gray to washed out shades of blueish or purple hues which shine with more vivid highlights under the sun. Most common patterns are stripes or flecks. A perfect balance between the sea and land.

Inland

The remainder of the coast striker population, they live in the rivers and lakes on the edges of the Roaring Coast territory, further inland but still relatively close to the ocean. Shorter but more stout than coastal strikers, with medium length wings, broad whiskered snouts and narrower tails. Their spines are closer to the average AshWing, being more needle shaped rather than a flat blade. Their colors are similar to those of pebbles and gravel (more earthy tones) and messy patterns of spots, blotches, stripes and rosettes. Fin tissue is more similar to that of fish, making itself present more than in the coast variety but less than those of deep waters, as well as having some slight webbing in all talons. Some notable features are some splashes of brighter colors, and semi retractable barbs in limbs and backs –like those of catfish– which can sometimes inject painful venom. These last two traits are similar to the ones present in swamp lurkers; this could be the result of convergent evolution or cross breeding between clades, given the relative proximity of their territories

On a final note, characteristics mentioned here aren’t exclusive to each variety: there could be a coastal striker with slight translucence and barbs, a deep water striker with whiskers and ink, or an inland striker with full talon webbing and jet black scales. These are increasingly likely if one parent has said traits. Additionally, many times these varieties and traits are not so starkly differentiated as are the ones show here, usually being a mild mix between some

#wof #wings of fire #ashwing #wof fanflight #art #all of the ramblings and info is under the cut teehe #also some differences i didnt really explain but you can see them (like the shape of the horns or spikes or claws etc.)#im having funnnn this is so fun #also clade is the word i think i'll be using when talking about the dragons so i dont have to say quiver each time #like. quiver is the society and clade is the type of dragon lol #if theres typos im exploding. and i forgot to draw the earsssss #ALSO each of these designs are now owned by friends lol (ily guys you know who you are)

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alwritey-aphrodite · 5 months

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pookie first of all: CONGRATS ON 1K OMG!!! SO PROUD OF YOU🫶🫶

also: loving all the arranged marriage fics they’re all soso good I’m so happy and grateful ❤️

anywayss, I have a new idea!!

-either a new girl reader, and sejanus is immediately infatuated w her

-orr more of a peacekeeper!sejanus with a district/covey reader bc it’s literally stuck in my head so badly rn😭

thank you so much, congrats again🫶🫶

ps: wish me luck on midterms this week, I’m dying🙏

AHHH THANK YOU SO SO MUCH 🥰🥰🥰 im sorry this took so long, but im sure you did amazing on your midterms <3 also, peacekeeper!Sejanus and covey!reader mean the world to me (as does matchmaker Lucy Gray hehe)

The Covey are a flashy people, performers to their very soul and the most lively bunch you’ve ever seen. With a love of bright colors and music, it’s hard for any of you to fly under the radar when compared to the rest of the citizens of District Twelve, the people who will never claim you as their own but are happy to dance to your songs and send your cousin to fight to the death.

You, however, aren’t built for the stage. Your voice is better suited to singing lullabies than it is to performing on stage, and even the thought of that many eyes on you makes you feel like you’re on the verge of throwing up. Still, you contribute where you can, helping your cousins write their songs and being a willing audience when they need to test out something new, and you still work, sewing new clothes and patching up the old.

Lucy Gray is something of a momma bird, despite the fact that she’s only a handful of weeks older than you, and she’d rather see you set up and happy before running off with Coriolanus. Luckily for you, he has a friend who, in your opinion, is much kinder and cuter than his blonde counterpart. You’d tell him that, if only your tongue didn’t tie up in knots every time you made eye contact.

Walking towards the lake, Sejanus is sure to push any low-hanging branches out of the way for you, holding out his hand to help you over loose rocks and tangles of roots. The two of you talk the entire way there, almost oblivious to the people surrounding you and the feeling of Lucy Gray staring at you. If you turned around, you’re almost certain you’d catch her grinning.

When you finally make it to the dock, you try not to stare as Sejanus pulls off his shirt, turning away to pull off your own clothes, completely unaware of the way he blushes as he turns back towards the water, for reasons unrelated to the beating sun. No matter how obvious Sejanus makes his affection, it seems impossible to you that somebody like him could love you, and even just friendship seems a little unbelievable sometimes.

The two of you wait for your younger cousins to go splashing into the water, certain that if you had jumped in first, you would have gotten pummeled with water and flying limbs. Launching yourself into the water, you resurface with a giggle as you watch Lucy Gray leap into the lake with Coriolanus hot on her heels. Sejanus is treading water next to you, and the two of you share a smile as you watch Lucy Gray out of the corner of your eye.

“They’re something else, aren’t they?” You wish you were as trusting as Lucy Gray, able to just accept affection like you deserved it, but you’re too busy daydreaming to realize that Sejanus is looking at you like you’re something to be admired.

After about twenty minutes of Maude Ivory’s splashing, you grow tired and heave yourself onto the dock, drying off in the sunshine and dangling your feet into the water. Sejanus sits next to you, claiming that he’s never been the strongest swimmer and he’d rather sit with you on mostly-solid ground, but from the way Lucy Gray winks at you, you’re almost certain it’s just an excuse to sit next to you.

The rest of the afternoon is spent lying side by side with Sejanus in the sun, talking about whatever comes to mind and kicking at your younger cousins whenever they decide to try and tug you back into the water. It’s all sunshine and giggles, and there’s a strange feeling forming in your chest, right in the center of your ribs, a feeling that grows whenever Sejanus looks over at you, eyes half-closed from the sun but still full of a sort of adoration that’s completely foreign to you.

These are always your favorite days, your favorite moments, little pockets of sun dappled peace for you to hold close to your heart and revisit whenever you’re feeling down. The way Sejanus looks at you, smiles at you, laughs at your jokes, places a gentle hand on the bottom of your back to guide you over rough terrain, catapults today to the top of your heart, a precious little jewel to hold onto.

In those moments, replaying the day over in your head with a dreamy smile on your face, you don’t have to worry about saying the wrong thing or reading too much into the way Sejanus seems to orbit you like you’re the sun, you just get to smile at the memory of the way his eyes crinkle with the intensity of his joy and the ghost of his warm palm on your back. And, no one can scold you for replaying these moments over and over, even though you’re much too nervous to ever say anything to Sejanus about the way your breath catches and your heart constricts whenever you see him.

Tagging my beloved @beybaldes because it feels illegal not to at this point

#sejanus plinth #sejanus plinth x reader #sejanus plinth x you #sejanus plinth fanfiction #sejanus x reader #sejanus x you #the ballad of songbirds and snakes fanfiction #the ballad of songbirds and snakes

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notafunkiller · 1 year

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golden getaway

Summary: Director Bucky and actress reader take some time off and go on vacation, but instead of focusing on the sights, they choose to enjoy each other.

Pairing: director!Bucky Barnes x actress!reader

Warnings: 18+, age gap (r is 24, Bucky is 36), established relationship, teasing (verbal - especially about age: calling him old man and daddy), dirty talk, pet names, fingering, nipples play, clit play, quick sex, no condom (but they are both clean and the reader is on birth control), no mention of y/n

Word Count: 2.4K

story masterlist

Bucky Barnes masterlist

A/N: This vacation happens in July, so a few months have passed since the first chapter (the premiere was in February).

An extra thank you to @marvelouslizzie and @lavenderhaze967 for the endless support.

Please, do not repost or translate without my permission!

This vacation is a first in many ways for you. You've never been to Italy with your boyfriend before (or anywhere outside the country without your family), especially not on a yacht. And you certainly have never enjoyed the sun and sea like this. You're more of a mountain person, truth be told, but the breeze is so nice, and Bucky always makes sure you're fine: helping you with the sunscreen and getting you back on the deck safely since you're not the best swimmer. And the sight? Absolutely breathtaking, just like the man that almost never leaves your side.

You didn't expect him to be so spontaneous when you first got together, knowing how organized and focused he is when it comes to his job. You saw this when you worked together, but he surprised you with this trip and many other things during the last few months.

“I can’t believe you,” you say when you feel the pat on your ass, despite not being taken aback by his gesture. He never keeps his hands to himself when you’re around. He loves to hold your hand or touch your waist, ass, boobs, or face. Whatever and whenever he can. And even though you’d have thought it would suffocate you before you two got together, it’s actually very enjoyable. Because you also have space, so you’re not suffocating each other at all.

“I missed you.” You feel the words on your skin as Bucky starts kissing you below your ear, making you shiver.

“I was gone for two minutes, you’re a baby.” To make a short call.

His hands find your waist immediately, and his metal arm feels so good on your skin. You can’t help but close your eyes. It’s cold and comforting at the same time. You’ve never been the type of person who enjoys being out in the sun or tanning, but it’s not bad with him. Bucky makes many things and experiences overall better for you.

“I’m your baby.”

When you feel him prepping small kisses on your shoulder now, you try not to moan. Instead, you let out a fake gagging sound, before complaining. “Ugh, since when are you so clingy? Is it because of your age?”

“Age?” He repeats the word unsure with that low and raspy voice that you love.

But before you can tease him further, you feel his fingers stroking your tummy, and you start screaming with laughter. “Stop, stop. It’s too much.”

You’re almost in tears when he finally puts an end to the tickling torture, turning you around with his hands.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty when you laugh.” You smile when you feel his lips touch your forehead. “My pretty baby.” Then your nose. “My pretty doll.” And finally, the corner of your mouth, giving you the perfect opportunity to kiss him.

He opens his mouth instantly when he feels your hands wrapping around his neck, and your tongues touch. He still tastes like the chocolate ice cream you had a bit ago, and you enjoy it so much.

Breathless, you pull away but don't move, analyzing his face. He is freshly shaved, so you can't see the whites in his beard anymore. Which means you can't use them to tease him. But you can find something else, you smile as you bring your fingers to his chin, stroking.

“Did you think shaving makes you look younger, Mr. Barnes?” You bite your lip not to snort at his expression. You know how affected he is every time you call him that.

The funny thing is that it actually makes him look younger, but he doesn't need that. You love his beard, his wrinkles, and his style. “I should let you know that it doesn't change the fact you're still an old man, who is dating a girl more than a decade younger. Scandalous!”

“Old man…” He whispers to himself before squeezing your ass cheeks twice. “I guess my girl likes that.”

It’s hard to keep still when he touches you like this, but you do your best, moving your hand from his chin to his chest, then to his metal arm. “Hmmm, maybe you should remind your girl all the perks dating an older man has.”

Bucky raises his eyebrows, surprised by your change of tone and the obvious meaning of the words. He knows how dirty your mouth can get in bed, but he didn’t expect this, especially now. Good thing his hard-on shows you how he really feels about it when you let your eyes lower on his -now tight- shorts.

“How?”

You don’t answer, instead, you turn around after giving him a sly smile and slowly make your way inside. You know he’s gonna follow you, so you don’t even look back. And in less than thirty seconds -you counted- he’s in front of you, stroking his chin lazily.

“What?”

“I asked a question you deliberately chose not to answer so I could come here, so you tell me.”

You nod your head and without thinking twice, you bring his metal hand right over your covered pussy. “Is what I want clear enough for you now, old man?” And cherry on top, you bring both of your hands to your breasts to show off your hard nipples through your fingers.

He simply moans, incapable of saying anything in return for a while as he keeps staring. And staring. And staring. He wants to lick and bite your boobs so much, but it’s clear you want something else.

“Are you trying to kill me?” He asks softly as he slips his hand under your bikini. You gasp at the feeling and have to grab him to support yourself when he parts your lips and slides his index finger inside you. Finally!

“Bucky,” you whisper against his shoulder as he starts moving slowly.

“So wet for me. What a little horny girl I have.”

You close your eyes, pressing yourself even more against him. “Faster, baby.”

He nods against your hair and does what you say, but also adds another finger, scissoring them inside you before you can even realize what’s going on. And it’s like you’re on fire all of a sudden. Because it feels so fucking good! Just like your breasts feel against his chest… absolutely heavenly.

“My wet little doll.”

“Mm…” You can barely hear him through the ringing in your ears. His fingers feel amazing even with this pace, but you really need that orgasm faster, so you cry into his shoulder. You don’t know if he can even distinguish what you say, but he gets the point, adding a third finger while bringing his flesh hand right to your clit.

“James, holy shit.” Your legs feel weak and your sight gets blurry as he slides his fingers faster while circling your clit. The contrast between the coldness and warmth of his hands… and the wet sounds, plus his whimpers drive you crazy. So crazy that you come without warning, biting into his shoulder pretty hard as you feel the pleasure getting even more intense. He hisses in pain, but also bliss because he actually enjoys it when you get so feral.

It takes you a few seconds to finally be able to pull away from Bucky. You watch him with your eyes semi-open as he brings his hands, one at a time, to his mouth and licks all the wetness, and comes without looking away from you.

You groan. “I need to call you old man often if I get this.”

But he doesn’t like this based on his frown. “Doll, you don’t need to call me old man to get this. Do I not make you come enough?”

You snort. Not enough? You’ve never thought you can come so hard and so many times before you got together. You didn’t go past three orgasms when you masturbated, not even with your favorite vibrator. So it’s a little funny he thinks this is not enough, but you ignore it. “Daddy then?”

He chokes. “What?”

“Should I call you daddy?” You expect him to laugh or frown, but he’s pretty speechless. And when your eyes stop on his shorts again, you gasp. He’s even more aroused… “Oh my god, James, you’re so hard.”

“It’s not my fault,” he says immediately, and you don’t remember the last time you saw him so red and flustered. By a word you said. “You make everything, even that, sound hot.”

“I don’t blame you, daddy.” You smile at him, grabbing his metal hand. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of, now come with me.”

You don't drag him to the bedroom as he expects. The coach is just as fine at the moment, no need for something else. Especially when you want him so badly.

You let go of his hand just to try and take off your bathing suit. You could just pull the bikini aside, but he loves your breasts and you prefer skin-to-skin contact. You love feeling him.

“Baby?” He asks when he hears you cursing the knot he made under your breath. The bottoms were so easy to take off, but you can't manage to undo your top at all.

“Can you help me, please?” You ask when your arms start to feel numb. He smirks as he unties and takes off your bikini top in seconds, using only one hand. You shiver when you feel him placing a light kiss on your shoulder before returning in front of you.

“All done, doll.”

You roll your eyes at his smug expression. He can do better things with that mouth.

But you don’t say anything, only staring at his face, then down at his trunks, so he immediately gets the idea. You smile when you see his shorts on the floor, then point to the couch behind you. “Good boy, now sit there.”

“Why?” He plays dumb because he knows how much you enjoy it.

“Because I want to make myself come with your cock. Is this what you wanted to hear?” You fight the shyness you usually feel to say these words out loud. You’re well aware he loves it when you speak like this and how crazy it drives him. “That I want to use you to get myself off and if you’re good, I would let you come inside me?” You can’t stop your cheeks from getting red, though, but he doesn’t make any remark regarding that. Instead, he lifts his eyes from your breasts to your face and nods, following your order quickly.

The moment he spreads his legs, you bite your lip. You feel physically unable to look away from his hard-on as you climb his thighs, one leg after another. You’re so wet you can’t believe it… If you sat on him all the way down, he’d probably get just as wet.

“Want you to use me,” he barely whispers, bringing his dick to your entrance while gripping your right hip with his metal hand. You tilt your head back instinctively and begin to lower yourself on his cock. Little by little.

“Bucky.”

His fingers are on your breast all of a sudden, deliberately avoiding your nipple as he fondles it. You moan, a little sweaty and needy, enjoying every touch, but he makes no sound. And you know he is holding back on purpose. To challenge you.

And you never back off from a challenge. Especially an easy one like this because you know what to do.

Taking more of him inside you steals a whimper out of him instantly. Not a moan, but it still gives you immense satisfaction. You basically won with no effort, and he knows it. He probably wanted it this way.

“Fuck me, baby.” You hear his voice right above your ear. It’s so raspy and low. “Take what you want, I’m here for you.”

You know this isn’t gonna last long, and you don’t need it to because you’re so wet and close already. And so is he. You’ve been teasing each other all morning.

When you start moving faster, you find yourself using his shoulders as support. And it’s perfect! The thrusts are better like this since you can use more strength, and he helps a lot.

You're breathless when his metal fingers find their way to your clit, repeatedly circling and pinching it just the way you always like it. “James…” You can’t even continue because you're suddenly hit by a wave of pleasure. Then another. Then another.

He has to start thrusting back since you're so lost in your orgasm you can barely move at all, your head falling into the crook of his neck. But just for a couple of seconds since your moans and the feel of you push him over the edge quickly.

“B-baby,” he groans, still touching your clit, but you can’t bring yourself to tell him to stop. You’re not very sensitive, and he’s in his own universe right now.

“You fill me up so good, bubba.” You manage to say between deep breaths, encouraging him to keep coming.

When he finishes, his hands drop on your ass, squeezing it gently. “Fuck, baby. This was amazing.”

You nod a little sleepy against his chest and leave a kiss right there. “Ihm, it was. Maybe I should change your name.”

You don’t need to look at him to know he’s frowning, confused. “What?”

“You know… since you don’t like old man that much, maybe I should have you as my daddy.”

“Doll.” You snort at the tone he uses and raise your head to look at him while he wraps his arms around your waist.

“I meant on my phone, silly.”

His mouth opens. “You have me as ‘old man’ on your phone?!”

You bite your lip not to laugh and decide to peck his cheek. “Can you bring me some water, daddy?” You emphasize the last word just to tease him. His expressions are too funny, how can you not?

“Doll, I swear-”

You burst into giggles. “See? Totally an old man… can’t sense a joke.”

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thetempleofthemasaigoddess · 2 months

Text

Let me breathe for you (part one)

Merman!Shanks x reader. This is part one of two.

*****

Walks along the waterfront have always had the power to soothe you, distract your thoughts from any worry or reason for sadness, and put you in a better frame of mind; it is, fortunately, an activity you can indulge in every time you want, since you were born in a coastal town, and your house is just a few minutes away from a quiet, secluded beach you visit regularly.

Today is one of those occasions. You don’t feel particularly sad or preoccupied, but you have just finished sewing a dress -an important project that had kept you busy for weeks, and that the client who had commissioned it had paid quite a sum for- and you decided that a nice walk was in order, to stretch your legs and enjoy some time outside rather than in your tiny workshop at home.

A gentle wind plays with your hair as you fill your lungs with the salty air -a smell that you have always found comforting, for some reason you cannot explain- and walk leisurely along the shoreline, the orderly line of your footsteps on the moist sand following you. The laces of your sandals hang from your fingers; for years you had left your shoes next to a large rock, since it is more pleasant to feel the warm sand under your feet, but after a pair were stolen, no doubt by some kids who had nothing better to do than to play stupid planks, you decided it was safer to carry them with you. Today the sun is shining for the first time after a week of almost constant rain; you lift your eyes to the reassuringly cloud-free sky above your head and smile, aware that soon the coming of winter will force you to cut your walks short and for this reason determined to enjoy your outing today.

The beach is almost a mile away from the busiest part of the town, and the roar of the waves crashing on the shore is the only sound reaching your ears; the beach is empty around you, as you imagined it would be since you have very seldom encountered other people during your walks over the years, and while you’re usually a pretty social person, and enjoy spending time with your older sister and your friends, you equally appreciate moments like this… when, excused from having to make small talk or listen to the discourses of whoever is next to you, you are free to focus on your thoughts, reflect, mentally prepare for the tasks for the day… and dream, even. Dream things you almost feel guilty for, and that you often quickly chide yourself for…

Today is one of those days. You stop in your tracks to pick up a seashell to add to your collection -it is of a pretty red colour. One day, you reflect, you should use shells as decorations for a dress, in the place of beads or frills; you could start a new trend, and gather supplies to use in your workshop during your walks- and then look in the direction the small creature that once inhabited it must have come from. The blue immensity in front of you is breath-taking as usual, even now that only gentle waves break its still surface; you are a more than able swimmer, who fortunately never risked drowning or other accidents, and you know that the sea is a source of food and livelihood for many of the town’s citizens, but no matter how much you enjoy the quiet, private hours you spend on the beach, there are moments you can’t help hating, even resenting it, like you would do with a man who had disrespected you or a friend who had broken your trust. It is absurd -the sea is after all not a person, it doesn’t have thoughts and emotions and cannot be held responsible for its actions the way all men and women of age are- and you have often reprimanded yourself for that useless bitterness, but you can’t help it. The sea has stolen someone you once loved away from you, and you’ll never forget it -or him- for that.

So many years have passed, and you still remember the pain breaking your heart as you observed his ship disappearing over the horizon, pushed along by deceptively gentle waves, as one of your hands held your sister’s and the other waved, even though you knew he couldn’t see you anymore. You don’t remember whether you hugged him before he left, kissed him, told him how much you loved and would miss him; you probably did, because you always did, every time he left, and you sincerely hope you hadn’t forgotten that time, the last you ever could…

It is a good thing the beach is empty, because you have always hated to be seen as you cry, even though it is just a few tears you can -and do- quickly dry with your fingers. You sigh, reminding yourself this walk was supposed to be a reward for your hard work, and that today is in any case too nice a day to waste it with regret and sad memories; you will find a few more shells, you decide trying to distract yourself, for your little nephews at home to play with, and as you return home you will stop at the tea room and treat yourself to a warm drink. Yes, that would be an excellent way to conclude your day…

You are already feeling a bit better as you start on the way back, when suddenly something in the distance catches your eye, something peculiar and unexpected enough it compels you to quicken your pace to reach it. At first you could think it is a piece of wood, pushed on the beach by the tide and covered by algae and other aquatic waste, or the body of an unfortunate animal, victim of an accident or the cruelty of men; but there are no bright red algae, as far as you know, and dogs and cats don’t have long, glabrous limbs, stretched forward as if in a desperate request for help…

It is a man, you realise, the scene in front of your wide open eyes unexpected but too clear to be misunderstood, a soaking wet, completely still man, lying on his belly with the lower half of his body still immersed in water, as if his strength failed before he could fully pull himself ashore. He is naked, for what you can see, probably the victim of a shipwreck, even though more than a month must have passed since the last serious storm, or another accident at sea, who has been able to reach the island’s shores swimming desperately to save himself… or perhaps it is the tide that has pushed his body there, after stealing his breath and life?

There is only one way to know, and you waste no time in covering the short distance that separates you from the man as quickly as you can, before falling to your knees by his side. You observe him for a moment as you leave your bag and sandals on the sand next to you, your eyes lingering on the bright red of his water-soaked hair before noticing that the man is missing an arm - not because of whatever misfortune led him to your shores, you decide, since he is not bleeding and even your untrained eye can see his is an old wound. This poor man must be unable to swim; he must have drowned, you realise, after having fallen, or been pushed, from whatever vessel he was sailing on…

Realising you should check whether he is actually dead or you can still do something to help him, before wasting time speculating, you hurry to shake him by the shoulder, gently at first and then more forcefully. “Sir, are you alright? Can you hear me?” you ask; you can’t be fully sure he speaks your language, but he will answer in any case, won’t he? “Please… please don’t be dead…”

No answer whatsoever, not even a movement or a grimace of pain; you feel your heart in your throat as you pass his arm around your shoulders and gently push him on his back to check his heartbeat, which allows you to give a good look at who you still consider the victim of a tragic, but relatively normal, shipwreck. The man doesn’t look much older than you, andis almost certainly not a native of the island; he has hair of a beautiful, flame-bright red, the agile but strong body of a man used to physical effort… and a large, nasty wound on his left side, a span under his armpit.

You observe it carefully, deeply shaken but able to keep the horror at bay as you try to figure out if there is still something you can do to help this man. You have never seen anything like this wound; it looks like he was bitten, by something very large, which is not particularly surprising given the fact the man was in the water; but even if he were attacked by a shark or another predator, how could he survive, since his impairment makes it impossible for him to swim? Was he attacked before he fell, or jumped, in the water?

You don’t need any knowledge of medicine (which you completely lack, unless being the sister in law of a capable nurse counts for something) to decide whether a person is alive or dead, so you quickly press your ear against the man’s torso, and sigh relieved in hearing his heartbeat, just a little fainter than it would be normal. He is just unconscious, and, you decide, you will try once more to revive him before going to ask for help in any case; you will find someone strong enough to carry him, and soon the man will be well-cared for at the town’s clinic. “Sir, can you hear me? Please, wake up…”

Finally, he does answer - even if not properly in words. “Aahh…” he moans, clearly in pain; with an evident effort, the man finally opens his eyes, brown irises meeting yours.

“Hello.” you greet him, but judging from his reaction you may as well have threatened his life, because the man, startled, suddenly panics; he cries something unintelligible and waves his arm, clearly trying to keep you away. Instinctively you grab his wrist, trying to hold him still to avoid worsening his wound. “Calm down!”

“No, no…! Let me go…”

He does speak your language, you are relieved to learn. “It’s alright, sir. I am a friend; I don’t want to hurt you, but please, you need to calm down, you are wounded…”

And then something appears, moves, in your peripheral vision, and you, in turn, freeze.

You had paid no mind to the man’s lower half, still submerged, focused as you were on his wound and on making sure he could still be helped, but now, as he struggled, you have seen something pop out of the water for a moment… something that looked nothing like a leg, or a foot.

Incredulous -you must be mistaken, that’s the only logical explanation, and after all you barely saw it, for half a second and not very clearly- you force yourself to look back at the man, tense and worried, who clearly wishes he could escape and put an end to your acquaintance. “You are safe.” you try to reassure him, letting his arm go and opening your own hands to prove you are unarmed “I don’t want to hurt you, but you are wounded…”

The man lowers his gaze to the nasty gash at his side and blinks, as if he hadn’t realised he had been wounded until now - or surprised he’s still alive. He looks back at you, still tense as he tries to ascertain whether you are worthy of trust or pose a danger to him, and suddenly stumbles, too weak even to prop himself up on one elbow. “You need to leave.” he tells you, more desperate than forceful… a plea, not an order “And tell no one you have seen me. Please, I am fine…”

“You couldn’t be less fine if you tried!” you exclaim, exasperated; why is he refusing your help, given the clear state of distress he is in? Doesn’t he realise that if left to his own devices he could die before the end of the day? “You are wounded, I can’t leave you…”

And then the man faints again, his head hitting the sand. Frustrated, you sigh and decide that the first thing to do, before leaving to look for help, is pulling him out of the water, hoping he’s not too heavy for you; this unfortunate, stubborn man is already soaking wet, the last thing you want is for him to catch pneumonia. So you lift yourself up and, circling his shoulders with your arm once more, you prepare to drag him towards the beach… and a moment later you are forced to stop, but not out of tiredness.

You were right.

The stranger who stumbled on your favourite beach, God only knows how, is a normal man from the waist up, but further down… he isn’t, at all.

He is a fish. He has a tail - a long, strong tail covered in blue-green scales, shiny under the late afternoon sun, a single limb roughly as wide as the legs of a man of his size pressed together; his caudal fin, split in the middle, is of a paler blue, the same colour as the gentle waves in front of you, semi-transparent.

You know what he is, of course; you had never seen one, you had never imagined you ever would, given those like him are supposed to be the stuff of the legends sailors tell and artists reproduce on maritime paintings, but you still remember the stories your mother told you and your sister when you were younger, and that you still believed in your innocence to be true; stories of a mysterious, dangerous and still playful kin, whose songs could unleash storms and who lived in great cities in the depth of the sea…

“A mermaid.” you whisper, breathless; you don’t even notice you are speaking out loud, so stunned you are “He is a mermaid.”

You feel the urge to touch him - which would be improper, probably, but would confirm what part of you still can’t come to terms with, even though he is right there, unconscious but clearly alive and real, and suddenly you have so many questions. Where does he come from? Who, or what, attacked him? Is he the last of his kind or, more likely, he is part of a more or less numerous species, whose existence is unknown to yours? How come he speaks your language?

What you know for sure, for some difficult to explain reason, is that you need to hide him; this man needs help, and you are the only one who can protect him, taking care of his wound and making sure no one learns of his presence. You have no reason to feel protective of him, but you do, and while you can’t very well carry him home and ask your sister and brother in law to keep him there hidden, you don’t want the town’s sailors to sell him to the highest bidder, or to cut him in pieces to create some miraculous potions, since according to some legends an elixir made with a mermaid’s blood or flesh can cure any illness or even make a person immortal.

(Children’s tales, of course. Or are they?)

Fortunately you are just a few steps away from a small grotto, at the very end of the beach, its entrance covered by bushes; it is hard to find it unless one knows where to look, which makes it the perfect hiding spot for your new friend. Aware that the quicker you get him away from the beach, the safer he will be, you pass his arm around your shoulders and begin dragging him towards the grotto, the short distance nonetheless requiring several minutes of intense work, the mermaid’s body way too heavy for you. In the end, breathless and aching for the effort, you help him lie down on the ground, the domed ceiling above your heads, and observe your new ward, still unbelieving but suddenly preoccupied for his future. Everybody knows most sea creatures cannot survive long on land; what if your desire to keep him hidden ends up further weakening this already debilitated man, or even killing him? Perhaps, besides taking care of his wound, you should keep his body wet, or at least his tail…

Moan.

You cup his face with your hand. “Can you hear me?” you ask, spontaneously dropping the sir and assuming a more informal tone, as if the two of you had known each other for years; as if you were friends “You’re wounded, but now you’re safe, it’s going to be alright.”

“Hmm…”

“Can you open your eyes?”

He struggles for a while, and in the end brown irises meet yours once more. “What… what happened to me?” he murmurs, still clearly dazed; he speaks your language fluently, even though his accent is different from any you have ever heard.

“I found you on the beach, unconscious; you have been bitten… by something.” you explain, and the mermaid again spends a few seconds contemplating the wound on his side, that must hurt terribly; judging by his expression, he understands the gravity of his situation all too well, as well as the fact he’s lucky to be alive “It’s going to be alright. I’ll go find someone…”

“No.”

“What do you mean, no? You are wounded. If we don’t take care of it, you could die.”

Your new friend shakes his head stubbornly. As he looks at you he seems… not exactly afraid, but somehow reticent; he doesn’t know whether he can trust you, even though he has realised he does need your help and he will probably not survive on his own “No one… no human can see me. No one can know I’m here.”

“But I know. I have seen you.”

“And you’re already one person too many. Please, you need to go; I’ll… manage.”

You softly point out that, wounded and clearly debilitated as he is, he simply can’t manage, especially if someone from the nearby town sees him or whatever bit him is still waiting in the water to finish the job. His wound could get infected, but if you go call your brother in law, a capable nurse who will surely understand the need to keep the identity of his patient secret…

And then, as you are still trying to convince him, you both hear the voices of men arguing, and then a dog barking; they’re still far away, perhaps midway along the beach, but quickly approaching. The mermaid’s sun-kissed skin seems to pale all at once; you hear him swear under his breath. “They found me…”

“Who?” you inquire.

“Fishermen; from your town, perhaps, I don’t know. They saw me swim towards the shore, and they followed me. I thought I had lost them, but I was wrong…”

The men’s voices grow clearer by the moment; you hear one of them ask his friends where has that blasted creature gone. They might not notice the grotto, but if they do they’ll find the mermaid in less than a minute, and you doubt you’ll be able to defend him.

You have only a moment to reflect on what to do; fortunately, it is more than enough. “I’ll take care of them.” you announce as you stand, your skirt and legs covered in sand.

“... what?”

“You just stay here and don’t make a sound.” you order, and your new friend, still uncertain -and how could he feel otherwise, poor soul? Completely alone, his life in danger, forced to rely on the help of a person he has no reason to trust- has the good sense to obey.

You quickly leave the grotto, retrieve the bag and shoes you had abandoned on the sand and put as good a distance as you can from the hiding spot of your new friend; you can feel your heart pounding, but at the same time you are perfectly calm, clear-headed and ready to do whatever you can to help him. A few seconds later, a group of five men, armed with knives and nets, runs into you; one of them is holding a large dog, barking madly, by his collar.

“Hello, gentlemen.” you greet them in your most innocent tone; you have quickly picked up a few shells, in case you are asked what you are doing on the beach, but the men don’t seem to care about your favourite past-times.

“You’ve seen a fish-man?” the one at the head of the small group brusquely asks you.

“Excuse me?”

“A man with a fish-tail! Have you seen him, girl?”

You decide to risk it. “Oh, yes!” you exclaim, trying to remember everything you learnt during the acting classes you attended when you were eleven - all three of them “I think I did, actually! Near the promontory.”

The place you have mentioned to make the men leave is quite far from the beach - so far, in fact, that they pause, unsure if their prey could have actually swum all the way over there in the short time since they last saw him. “Are you really sure?” the dog’s handler asks, raising his voice to make himself heard over the excited barking; you wonder whether the animal, a tracker dog, can smell your new friend’s scent.

“I am, sir. His tail was green and blue, and I saw him swimming just under the promontory as I walked here. I think he was wounded.”

Confirming the existence of the mermaid, when the men had perhaps only barely seen him and could therefore be convinced they had made a blunder and to abandon their search, is perhaps risky, but the details you added convince them of the veracity of your story.

“Let’s go get him, boys!” the group leader exclaims “I bet we can sell him for a million berries and even more!”

They depart in a run, the dog still barking, without even looking at you. You wait for them to have disappeared, shove the seashells in your bag, and return to the grotto, where the mermaid is waiting for you. “Everything is fine; they left.” you inform him as you kneel by his side once more.

“Are you sure?”

“I told them I saw you, but now they are looking for you in a place a mile away. I hope I did the right thing.”

For the first time, the mermaid seems to relax -marginally, given he’s still in danger, but that’s already something; he smiles at you, openly grateful. “That was good thinking. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

You can’t stop looking at him, by now aware you are not dreaming and he actually is a mermaid, but still unable to fully come to terms with the simple truth of his existence. The creature in front of you is the stuff of legends, or of children's stories, but you can see him, and touch him, and talk to him. He is real, and that changes the meaning of the world as you know it…

“Maybe I should… pour some water on you?” you ask in the end, realising you have been openly staring for a while, something that being in his place you would find discourteous.

“Whatever for?”

“Maybe… I don’t know. Fish die if left out of the water for too long, I thought… since you’re half-fish… it could be the same for you mermaids.”

The man’s eyebrow arches, even though he seems more amused than offended; the bright red of his hair has lost no shine, even in the relative darkness of the grotto, where the sun rays don’t reach. “You think I am a mermaid?”

You look down to his fish-tail. “... yes? I mean, at least this is how I was taught mermaids look, human from the waist up and…”

“Yes, yes. But I am a male, don’t you see?”

“Of course I do. You’re a… male mermaid.”

Your new friend grins. “We prefer merman.” he explains “Or merpeople, when you want to talk about our whole kin. And it’s very kind of you, but we can remain on dry land for a while before it starts sapping our strength. On the other hand… I should probably get back in the water. It’s not safe for me to be here.”

“But you are wounded.” you point out again, feeling more than a little foolish because of course he knows that already; you wish you could ask him what exactly bit him, because if his kind exists then maybe marine monsters do as well, but you feel it’s more important to keep him safe “And you didn’t even have the strength to open your eyes when I found you. You are still too weak to return to the open sea.”

He looks at you; as you expected, your brief conversation seems to have exhausted him already, but the gaze of his brown eyes is lucid, and intense; eyes you can’t help feeling captivated by. “You’re a doctor?”

“No.” you admit “But anyone could see your wound needs to be taken care of. I… I could do it, if you want, and if you don’t want me to call for someone else. I have seen my brother in law sew up many wounds, and I am a seamstress, I’m quite good with a needle and thread.”

The aforementioned tools of the trade are in your bag, since you often visit your clients at home and it’s easier to carry them with you wherever you go; the mermaid - the merman looks at you, as if testing your resolve, and sighs as he lays down on the ground once more, too weak to even keep himself leaning on his elbow. “I guess the fault is mine; I should have been more careful.” he admits “Are you sure you can do it?”

“It will hurt.” you warn him; you’re avoiding his question and you both know it “But if I don’t suture the wound it’ll get infected, and for all I know your people could be ten times more resistant to illness and injury than mine, but…”

“... it would be dangerous in any case; I know. Very well.” the merman decides, his hand raised in a gesture of impotence; but then he smiles at you, and that is reassurance enough “I’m in your hands.”

The merman tells you that, unlike what usually happens with humans, you can use salt water to clean his wound, which you do, quickly pacing back and forth between the grotto and the shore, since you don’t have a bottle or a basin you can use and you are forced to carry as much water as you can in your cupped hands. Then, it is finally time for you to get to work; fortunately your sewing kit has just what you need, a needle of the right size, that you clean carefully, and more than enough black thread to suture any wound. The merman lies on his good side in front of you, as he observes you preparing for an undertaking you are suddenly unsure you can measure up to. You are an excellent seamstress, and while there is clearly a large difference between sewing fabric, no matter how costly, and a person’s skin, you had witnessed your brother in law at work, with his and the patient’s permission, often enough to know what to do. If only your hands would stop shaking…

“It’s alright.” the merman promises softly; he must have perceived how tense you are, but he looks as calm and relaxed as if the one preparing to tend to him were the best surgeon of the four seas “You’ll do great, I’m sure.”

You smile weakly, kneeling in front of him; your sister must be wondering where you are, perhaps even whether something has happened to you, but even though you would never want to worry her, at the moment you are too focused on him to care about anything else. “I just… don’t want to hurt you more than you already are.”

“Those like me are hardier than we look; I’ll be fine. Just imagine I am a frill you are sewing on a dress.”

The thought makes you laugh; you should probably wonder how a creature who has no legs, and therefore has no way to learn about human society and customs, knows what a frill is, but again, the determination to help him has eclipsed any other consideration. A deep breath, a quick prayer… and you get to work. Your patient remains perfectly still as you sew the two halves of the wound together, betraying no trace of pain or discomfort; you can feel his brown eyes on you, his skin cool but tender under your hands.

A whole day passes in ten minutes; in the end you breathe out, and observing the results of your efforts you must admit you did a good job. Will it be enough? Unless there is a well-equipped hospital at the bottom of the sea, and since your new friend refuses to have a professional see him, you can’t help being still worried for him. What if your stitches don’t hold, and his wound bleeds again, becoming infected? What if whatever is responsible for that wound attacks him again…?

“You did a great job.” your patient says, cautiously examining the stitches with his fingers “Really, I think any nurse or doctor would approve. You should be proud of yourself.”

His genuine gratitude makes a smile bloom on your lips. “I’m just glad I could help.”

“And help you did. Thank you…?”

He looks at you questioningly as he slowly turns on his back, his long tail folded on one side, and it takes you a minute to catch his meaning. “Oh! I’m (name), (full name).”

“That’s a lovely name. I wish I could tell you mine, since you probably saved my life, but I can’t, and I’d rather not lie to you.”

You would be curious to know the reason for his reticence, not to mention what kind of names merpeople give their children, but you decide not to ask. “Do you need to eat?” you inquire instead.

“I’m sorry?”

“Well… you must feel very weak, given what happened and the blood you must have lost, so I thought… I have no food with me, or water, but I can go home and take some, if you want. It wouldn’t take long.”

He looks at you, amusement and a touch of disbelief dancing in his eyes; he has a lovely smile, you can’t help noticing. “You are a wonder, you know?” he asks, shaking his head “You didn’t know my kin existed, right?”

“I had no idea! I might have to pinch myself to make sure I am not dreaming.”

“As I expected. You must have… a hundred questions to ask me, and instead you’re worrying I might be hungry.”

“Well, I worked so hard to make sure you don’t die of your wound, the last thing I want is for you to starve.” you point out “Also, since you apparently can’t even tell me your name, I doubt you could tell me… I don’t know, how many of your people exist in the world, how you reproduce or if it’s true that the song of a mermaid can enchant sailors and cause storms.”

Your new friend smiles, admitting that he’d rather not talk too much about his people. “I know it’s unfair; you saved my life, you would deserve to ask as many questions as you want, but we have all sworn to keep our existence secret from humans, I guess you can understand why.”

You think about the bear you have seen exhibited at the fair last year, kept in a cage so small it could barely move, starved to keep him compliant, and in the end killed after the owner had offered a modest sum to any man brave enough to fight him barehanded, and the old wives’ tales, who some people still rely on today, that swear that just a few drops of mermaid’s blood can make a person immortal.

“Of course; no one must know you actually exist, otherwise you’d be hunted.” you admit; unfortunately your new friend has been seen by the fishermen you diverted to the promontory, but you are confident no one will believe their stories, ascribing them to the traditional tall tales told by sea-men or the sight of a normal, large fish “I… I won’t tell anyone I have met you; not even my dearest friends or my family. You have my word.”

“Thank you, (name); I think… no, I know I can trust you.”

An unexpected warmth fills you at those words; you know he has no choice in the matter, since all he can do is hope you won’t share his secret with anyone, but knowing he has faith in you actually… makes you happy; proud, even, that you have earned his respect.

For a minute you both remain silent, simply staring at each other, the merman apparently as curious about you as you are about him, since he’s the one who starts asking questions, even though he’s clearly tired. “Do you visit this beach often?”

“I do; it’s my special place, especially when I want to be alone to think.”

“Well, you’re not alone today.”

“I am not.” you agree, and for a moment you’re about to ask him to return, because the beach, quiet and isolated, could become your meeting place, once in a while, and while you had never asked anyone to accompany you there, not even your sister, you wouldn’t mind sharing it with him: a man coming from the sea and a woman born on land, meeting on a place that is a threshold between their worlds. It would be nice; it would be splendid, but of course, you realise with a sigh, you can’t ask your new friend to risk being captured again.

“What happened to your arm?” you ask back, and his eyebrow arches once more, even though the merman is still smiling.

“I thought we had just agreed that I can't answer your questions.”

“But this concerns you, not your kin; and I couldn’t use this information to hunt you down or prove the fact merpeople exist, even if I wanted to.”

“True.” your new friend admits; he grins, as if genuinely pleased he does have something to share with you. “I lost my arm a few months back; it was bitten off by… well, an animal.”

“A shark?”

“They are larger and more dangerous than any shark, and of anything you could imagine; but they live in the depth of the oceans, which means they pose no danger to humans. That day a child I know had ventured in their territory, and I went after him. You can imagine the rest.”

“Oh, God… that’s horrible.” you murmur, not knowing what else to say “That was… incredibly brave of you.”

“Well, I couldn’t let Luf… the child be eaten, could I? And I don’t need both arms to swim like you do, so it wasn’t much of a sacrifice in the end.”

He smiles, as if losing a limb actually wasn’t something to regret, since it was to save an innocent. “Do you have a family of your own?”

“Do you?”

“I asked you first.”

“And I asked you second.” you answer; you’re having fun, and you know it’s the same for him “The answer is no. I live with my sister’s family, her husband and children.”

“And you never think about leaving?” he asks again, and you tense for a moment, because that is the sort of question your sister often asks you, even though in a slightly different sense from the one you know the merman intends.

And the answer is no; you’ll never leave, because you have been the one left behind, and you don’t care if your sister would be fine with it and even happy for you, you won’t make the same choice he made…

“Find a house of my own, you mean? I could, one day, but until my nephews are a little older I want to remain where I am and help my sister and brother in law with them, since they both work out of the house, unlike me.” you explain. Another possibility would be for you to get married and go live with your spouse, but since no one has ever asked for your hand, or even just attracted your attention enough to make you consider taking the plunge, for the moment at least you’re happy as you are “What about you?”

Your new friend tries to convince you he has seven wives and thirteen husbands before admitting he is unmarried and has no children, even though he loves the child he sacrificed his arm for like a son.

By the time he has shared this information, the merman is fighting to keep his eyes open, the exhaustion clear on his face and in his voice. “You should rest for a while.” you suggest; the ground inside the grotto is not the most comfortable of beddings and you have nothing to fashion a pillow for him, but he does need to regain his strength “I can find some wood and light a fire if you want; and I’ll stay watch outside, of course.”

This time he arches both eyebrows. “You have nothing better to do?”

“Than to make sure no one sees you, and warn you in case those fishermen return? No, I don’t think so.” you retort, and then, as he prepares to protest: “It’s alright; I have no urgent work matters to attend to, and my sister won’t need me until dinnertime. Please, be reasonable; the beach is little frequented, but we can’t exclude the possibility someone sees you.”

You said we, without really thinking about it; it came to you spontaneously, as if it were normal - as if you and the merman were used to acting as an united front, sticking together in times of danger. You don’t notice; he does, and doesn’t complain, but smiles gratefully at you and two minutes later he’s already sleeping heavily, his arm bent under his bright red hair, the green-blue scales of his tail catching the faint light of the sun.

The beach remains completely empty for the next two hours, as the warm afternoon gently declines towards the evening. You wonder whether the fishermen are still searching for their prey at the promontory, or if they plan to return to the area they saw the merman in tomorrow; in that case you should come back as well, you reason as you sit on a large rock not far from the grotto, eyes and ears ready to perceive any sign of an intrusion, and make sure your new friend is safe. You don’t even care about the many appointments you have programmed for the day, not to mention you’ll have to tell your sister you cannot take care of your nephews while she’s at work; this is more important. Protecting him… this is more important than anything you could imagine.

You still can’t believe it. A merman, a creature you considered the stuff of legends and children stories, and he’s there, living and breathing, all things considered much more human than you would have imagined him to be, with his easy smile and open gratitude. If his wound heals as it should, he should be fine; strictly speaking his well-being doesn’t concern you, and trying to defend him from anyone who could find and try and take him away could put you in danger as well, but you don’t care: you want to see him return to the sea, safe and sound, and from then on, even though you doubt you’ll ever see him again, any time you visit the beach you’ll look at the blue expanse of the sea and think back to today, and hope he hasn’t forgotten you…

Two hours after the beginning of your patrol shift, you hear him call your name softly from the grotto; the merman is awake, and smiles at you as he rubs his eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even realise I was going to fall asleep.”

“Well, you did need to rest.” you point out as you sit on the ground “And fortunately you have chosen the least visited beach of the region, because no one came. Listen, I could… go home to take some food, and tell my sister I’ll sleep at a friend’s place, and then come back…”

“Out of the question.”

“The decision is mine, not yours. I can also take an ointment out of my brother in law’s cabinet, something to make sure your wound doesn’t get infected…”

“(name)…”

A moment later, a large, callous but gentle hand has taken yours to bring it to the merman’s face; he kisses the back, something that for your people has gone out of fashion at least a century ago and that has the power to make you blush furiously, and lose the power of speech. There is nothing lascivious, or even just romantic, in that gesture, but the gratitude it expresses is intense enough to move you.

“I hope your friends and family know how kind and generous you are.” your new friend murmurs; he’s still smiling, his messy red hair brushing against your hand “Thank you, (name); I really don’t know what would have become of me if you hadn’t found me. I will never forget you.”

“And I will never forget meeting you, that’s for sure. But I need to stay…”

“No, you don’t; do you really think those fishermen would return at night? I’ll be fine, and you have to go home to your family. There’s no need for you to spend a night in the open.”

You negotiate for a while, and in the end you accept to leave, promising you will be back tomorrow morning as early as you can, bringing the ointment and something to eat for him. “Err… what do you eat, exactly?” you ask, wondering which one of his two halves determine the sort of food he can ingest. On the other hand, a merman can’t very well hunt for game in the woods or farm cattle to produce milk and cheese…

“I’d really like a whale steak, thank you.”

“Sorry, market day is on tuesday.” you answer, feigning regret, and a moment later you are both giggling.

“Some bread and water will be more than fine. Now go, (name), I don’t want your family to worry.” he urges you, and you prepare to leave, retrieving your things and making sure to leave no trace of your passage in the grotto.

“Please, take care of yourself.” you tell him; there is probably no more obvious thing you could say, but you can’t help it “I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

He simply winks in return, looking at you until you disappear out of his shelter, and you have to force yourself to walk, every step more difficult than the last, your determination to go on rather than turning back and spend the night at the grotto, whatever your new friend may think about it, quickly dissipating.

Leaving him is hard. Painful, even, as if you were letting go of something precious; and despite the relative security of the place you have left him at, part of you fears that is exactly what you are doing.

If your sister notices there is something weird in you that night -specifically, that she and her husband need to repeat every single word they tell you because you are clearly not paying attention, and you’re so distracted you have put sugar instead of salt in the soup, ruining the dinner for the entire family- she apparently decides not to mention it. But on the next morning, when she sees you head towards the house door at the crack of dawn -you have tried to be as quiet as you could, but having two young children seems to have somehow sharpened her hearing- she takes your hand in hers and asks where you are going.

“I’m sorry, I can’t tell you.” you answer, holding your bag protectively against you, heavy with food for your friend you have taken from the pantry: a water bottle, a whole loaf of still soft bread and two apples. You also hope your brother in law won’t check his supplies cabinet soon, because he would find his stash of bandages and ointment have drastically decreased “You don’t need to worry, I’m not in danger or anything; but there is something I need to do.”

“Can you at least tell me how long you will be gone?”

“I don’t know.” you admit; if the merman’s wound hasn’t gotten infected there is not much more you can do for him, and the sooner he returns to the sea the safer he will be, but you still hope you can… spend some time together, talk, like you did yesterday. You won’t ask about his people, if there is an even slight chance that could put him in danger, but at the same time there is so much you want to know… about him “Please, don’t ask; I’ll be safe, I promise.”

She looks at you, trusting but still worried for your sake, wrapped in a shawl she inherited from your mother; this is why, perhaps, you are suddenly reminded of her as your sister looks at you. Then, suddenly, she smiles, and “(name), are you going to meet a man?” she asks.

“... what?”

“You are! I should have known. You were clearly distracted last night, and I heard you sing to yourself as you washed the dishes, which is something you only do when you are happy. Have you met recently? Or is it someone you already knew?”

“No, I… it’s not what you think.” you try to explain, suddenly embarrassed for some unfathomable reason; the truth is you are going to meet a man, strictly speaking, but no matter how much you trust your sister, you can’t tell her about him “It’s not… that sort of situation.”

She gently reassures you she doesn’t mean to judge you or to pry, and then mentions that in the afternoon she will accompany the children to visit a family friend, and her husband will be at work. “You can… invite your friend over, if you want. I’m so sorry you don’t have more time for yourself, since you help us so much with the children, perhaps it’s our fault if there is no one important in your life…

“There is someone important in my life; you, and your family.” you quickly point out, not wanting her to feel guilty for a situation you have embraced willingly. Mostly. “You know I love taking care of the children, and I like my life as it is now. Listen… I have to go now; you really don’t need to worry, so please don’t try and stop me.”

Still unsure, your sister nonetheless respects your wishes, and a moment later you are meeting the rising sun as you run down the still empty streets of the town, your heart heavy with dread and excitement both.

When you finally reach your destination your heart is ready to burst, even though the long, hard run is only partially responsible; as you expected -and hoped- the place seems deserted as usual, but you still walk from one side of the beach to the other, making sure the men you were able to mislead yesterday did not return to ambush your new friend.

Your fears assuaged, you finally approach the grotto, from where no sound can be heard. “Hi… it’s me, (name).” you call softly as you reach the entrance; you feel… trepidation, a feeling you have had very few occasions to experiment before and that you can’t explain; it reminds you of the emotion you saw on your sister’s face on the day her husband came to the house to officially ask for her hand “I have the food, and something for your wound. How do you…?”

The words die in your throat; and a part of you dies as well, when you find yourself staring at the inside of the grotto, completely empty. For half a moment your heart is seized by terror as you imagined the fishermen, or whoever could have stumbled upon him and realised the large sum of money he could be sold for, who kidnapped your friend taking advantage of the fact he has no way to run - literally; and then you see something on the ground among the rocks, in the exact spot you sat on yesterday to sew up his wound.

A flower - a small but pretty little thing, picked from one of the bushes covering the entrance of the grotto and left there as a tiny, heartfelt gift, and next to it, the briefest of messages left in the dirt, using the writer’s finger as a pen.

Thank you

It doesn’t say good-bye, but the intention is evident. The sea’s roar fills the air, but perhaps you’re the one who is screaming, in your heart at least, the disappointment so intense, unexpected and painful that you are sure you can feel your heart break in a thousand pieces, a figure of speech that has never felt so real. A moment later you run out of the grotto towards the shore, hoping against hope he lingered, despite the danger, that he waited for you to come as he had promised, to say farewell. Despite the sunny sky above it the sea is rough today, high waves rising from the blue expanse and crashing down on the beach. But there is no bright red head peeking through the foam, no hand raised to wave good-bye.

He left. He left without waiting for you, and that is what pains you the most. In all fairness, he never actually said he would wait (and how could you not think about it? Why didn’t you make him promise he would, to be sure you could see him once more at least?) but you can’t help feeling disappointed, even betrayed, like a bride abandoned at the altar. He did ask you for food, and approved when you said you would bring an ointment for his wound; and it’s not like you arrived late, since you had promised to come at dawn and the sun has barely appeared above the horizon behind the sea - a breathtaking scene you still can’t appreciate. Did he simply wake up this morning and decided he felt strong enough to swim, the longing for home making him overlook the fact you would arrive soon expecting to find him there? Or he had decided your first meeting would be the last as well from the start, and left deliberately before you would come?

Whatever the reason behind it, the truth is you have lost him - you’ll never see the merman again, and that grieves you more than you could explain in words, even though you only spent a few hours together and you had always known he would have to return to the sea soon. You had nothing to gain from that unexpected acquaintance, berries least of all, and still you feel as if you had lost something precious, something special that would have made your life richer nonetheless, that you can’t help grieving.

Your legs hurt after the long run from home, so you let yourself fall on a large rock, from where you contemplate the vast blue expanse, under which your new -and lost- friend is now swimming happily, having left the dry world, and you, behind him.

Why did you leave? I wanted to say good-bye at least. If you were actually grateful, if you actually cared, you would have waited for me…

That is what pains you the most, even though you could never admit it, and it makes you feel more foolish than any love-stricken young girl; the fact that judging by his actions at least, and despite the message he left, he didn’t care for you. You spent a sleepless night, thrilled about the prospect of seeing and talking to him again, and he left, for all you know without a care for you and your efforts. You can’t blame him for being anxious to return home, and you’re happy he had recovered from his wound enough to crawl to the shore and swim, but still… he could at least have said good-bye.

But after all, why am I surprised? In the end, everybody leaves. In the end, no one ever stays for me.

You can feel tears filling your eyes, but you angrily order yourself not to shed them and to stop being foolish, because he owed you nothing and you have no objective reason to feel the merman has abandoned you, no matter how your heart says otherwise.

You remain on the beach until you’re sure you’re in control of yourself once more, then you return home, just in time to help your sister prepare breakfast and send the children to school. When she sees you return, disappointment and heartbreak having taken the place of the excitement she had seen on your face an hour before, she assumes the worst.

“What happened?! (name), did… did someone hurt you? Were you…?”

“No, no; I’m fine, just…” you sigh, both unable and unwilling to explain the reason for your distress; unable and unwilling to explain you feel just like when he left, and you had forgotten how terrible a sensation it is “Don’t ask, please; but I’d really like a hug, if you can.”

She can, and you let yourself feel comforted by her solid presence and quiet, tacit acceptance; reassured nothing terrible has happened to you, and having known her share of heartbreak before meeting her husband, your sister holds you in her arms and murmurs she’s sorry and everything will be alright, and obviously she’s right, but it hurts, and you know already no matter how happy and rich a life you will have, you’ll never forget this disappointment.