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silence-burns · 3 months

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The Death of Me //part 3

Fandom: Aquaman

Summary: (very small spoilers for the movie) Finding Orm on your doorstep was not something you expected. Having him move in was even worse. But the effect he still had on every part of your life would be the death of you.

“Try not to drown. It would be awkward.”

Orm watched you disappear into the bathroom, angry or embarrassed to the point of momentarily forgetting about your exhaustion. It was such a relief after spending hours watching your feverish, unresponsive body. He couldn’t help but smile.

He wasn't used to sitting idle, which led him to start cleaning up the house during those few hours and familiarizing himself with the rooms. Orm was now a free man, left to live his life however he wanted. And yet, when Arthur came to him with a certain proposition, he didn't even think before agreeing.

What he's said before was true—Orm did feel indebted to you for everything you'd done over the years. But it wasn't the main reason he dropped everything and allowed Arthur to bring him to the sea house.

Orm used the opportunity of having you out of bed (if it could even be called that) to clean it up and take off the bed sheets. A surprising amount of human medicine rolled out from various crevices of crumpled blankets, which he put on the table to carefully read about later. Human ingenuity managed to surprise him every now and then, and instructions printed on every surface possible were something he appreciated.

He heard the water run in the shower, which was a good sign. So far, no screams, shouts or sounds of a body hitting the floor broke the peaceful evening. Orm wouldn't mind it staying that way.

It took him a few moments to figure out the way human bed sheets were supposed to be used. Everything felt new to him, but he took pride in every step. There was a certain novelty to doing things wrong and not having a whole nation watching.

The lock opened with a mechanical click. You stood in the doorway, looking pale and wet, resembling a wet rat Orm had once seen in a canal. The loose shirt you put on had a lot of soaked spots.

“I can't take it off.”

Orm moved his eyes away from the shirt clinging to your body. “Pardon?”

Your lips formed a thin, anxious line. “The old bandage. Even after I soaked it, I can't take parts of it off.”

Orm knew he'd sooner grow old and turn to dust than hear from you words such as ‘Please, could you help me? I can't do this on my own.’ In any other person, such a trait would endlessly annoy him.

“Let me have a try.” It was a perfectly diplomatic answer that made you walk back into the bathroom.

You leaned over the sink with your back to him and pulled the shirt up. From up close, Orm realized that some of the wet patches on the shirt came from blood. Removing even part of the bandages resulted in aggravating the wounds again, and pulling on the ones that were stuck hard only made it worse.

For a moment, Orm beheld the scale of the task. “What happened to you again?”

“A building.”

It looked as if you were dragged through a few of them. Repeatedly.

“...must've been a big one.”

“Your brother has a talent of making the worst possible choices.”

“Hard to argue with that.”

His heart hurt when he started pulling on the scabbed wounds that had dried with pieces of bandage and dressing inside the wound. He was no medic, but he'd been in enough duels and fights not to overlook unhealed injuries. With lips pressed thin, he tried to be as gentle as possible, but his work was difficult.

He was impressed you didn't flinch or curse. Orm only heard quiet hisses from you and noticed your heavy breathing.

“I'm sorry it's taking so long,” he broke the silence after a while, thinking it would distract you enough. “I wish we had some of the Atlantean medicine that could speed this up.”

“I actually might still have some in the cabinet to your left from that time we fought those necros. Your healers gave me a lot, but I don't remember which is which.”

Orm froze. “And you're only telling me this now?”

“In my defense, I didn't even remember about it until you asked.”

Orm dropped the paper towels he used to wipe the blood off your back into the sink. He found a crumpled bag with a few small, familiar jars. Some of the medicine had already dried out, but the one he was searching for remained intact.

“It's a good thing you didn't throw them out. This one is a special salve; it breaks the bond between dried out wounds and cleans them.”

Orm layered it thickly, working fast and trying his best to focus only on your injuries. Your skin was hot under his fingers and smelled vaguely of soap.

“I tried to soak them under the shower, but it didn't really help.”

“There was not enough water.”

You frowned and raised your head a little to look at Orm in the mirror. He seemed to be engrossed in cleaning the scabs and fabric off. Even though the pain subsided significantly, something still bothered you.

“...I'm pretty sure there was a decent amount of water in the water that I used.”

“Not enough, apparently.”

“In what other terms may I present to you thousands of years of Atlantean technology development that went into producing this salve? Its effects are greatly enhanced.”

“Did you just say my water is too dry??”

“Ah, right. I forgot you're the water experts. Should I start calling you professor?”

Orm tightened the bandage as he caught your eyes in the mirror.

“You can call me whatever you want, as long as it keeps you alive.”

A shiver ran down your spine, and you were sure that despite the bruises and bandages, Orm could clearly see what his words did to you. You cleared your throat, breaking eye contact first.

“I'm sure you think you sound cool, but you might've overlooked the possibility of me abusing such power easily and with a smile on my face, Salve Master.”

Orm chuckled. His fingers lingered around your waist. “You'll be the death of me. But as I've said—whatever keeps you going.”

And then he suddenly turned you around and lifted you over his shoulder. Too stunned to fight back, you found yourself carried out of the bathroom.

#orm marius #orm marius x reader #orm x reader #orm x you #orm marius x you #aquaman imagine #the death of me #aquaman orm #aquaman #Aquaman orm marius #aquaman orm marius x reader

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silence-burns · 3 months

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The Death of Me //part 2

Fandom: Aquaman

Summary: (very small spoilers for the movie) Finding Orm on your doorstep was not something you expected. Having him move in was even worse. But the effect he still had on every part of your life would be the death of you.

Even though you learned early on the world was an unjust and cruel place, it still managed to surprise you occasionally. The last bits of hope clung to your cloudy mind, snatched away from you once you pried your eyes open to see your nightmare incarnate sitting by the kitchen table.

The fever knocked you out for a few blissful hours; earlier events fading into a half-remembered dream. But there was no denying the truth once you noticed the suspiciously clean counters and sudden lack of accumulated trash laying around. And, worst of all, your new roommate.

Or caregiver. Or pain in the ass. Or man that made your heart twitch in a way signaling either a crush or a heart attack. Who cared about semantics?

Orm Marius, former Ocean Master and currently just some guy, sat in the middle of the kitchen, making his way through a book. The seaside house was home to many books, although you doubted the original owner ever had the time to browse through them.

A small mercy had been granted to you and Orm didn't notice you had woken up. You couldn't help but observe him. Even though he was no stranger to you, and quite recently you'd helped break him out of prison and even somehow saved the world together, you still felt mesmerized by the way he moved and looked.

Even now, the dying evening light entering through the window painted the room in deep shadows, and softened the planes of Orm's face. He had positioned himself close to the window to read in the dimming light. It allowed you to see the softened curve of his shoulders and the way he tilted his head, studying the book just as carefully as you studied him.

“Glad to see you're doing better,” Orm said, without moving.

You jumped a little, making your injuries flare up in a wave of pain. A startled whine escaped your lips when your body reminded you how sore it actually was.

Orm put the book down and stepped over to the couch. Before you managed to say anything, he pressed his hand to your forehead. Whatever words rose in your throat, scattered.

“You're still burning,” Orm muttered with concern and furrowed brows. “Are you sure your medicine is working?”

“...it just needs some time.”

Your voice came out weaker than you expected. You felt fuzzy, and the room around you was definitely moving a little.

Orm was not convinced, and disappeared from your line of sight for a while.

Your fever was probably on the rise again, which was to be expected. For the past few days you'd been in and out of it, drowning in sweat and fighting off the urge to scratch underneath your bandages.

You kicked off the thin blanket, hoping Orm wouldn't touch you again. You were dreadfully aware of how wet Orm's hand must've come off and of the old sweat stench surrounding you. In your defense, you didn't expect any visitors, so for the past few days you focused on passively surviving rather than dragging your corpse to the shower once a day.

You heard Orm's steps before he entered your vision. “Man, just leave me alone. I'm seriously fine on my own—”

A wet towel slapped onto your face, splashing cold water around. What a simple, yet effective way of both shutting you up and providing relief. You'd be impressed if it didn't piss you off so much.

You dragged it off your eyes and came face to face with Orm, suddenly crouching way too close to your liking. He looked at you intensely and then raised an eyebrow.

“If you want me gone, then you should be perfectly capable of throwing me out. You didn't have any trouble last time we sparred.”

“That would be so rude of me. It would crush your ego.”

“As if you ever bothered being polite.”

“I am the nicest person that has ever graced this Earth.”

“You look like a corpse on its way to the afterlife. Unless your state improves, I'm not leaving. The only choice you have is finally dying or getting better and kicking me out. And since I'd rather see the outcome of option number two, I think we have to start with these bandages.”

“They’re in place.”

“The wounds need to be cleaned and dressed again. I can smell that from back here.”

With a hiss through clenched teeth, you dragged yourself into a sitting position, as far away from Orm as was possible on the couch.

“...look who's impolite now.”

Orm moved closer to you with a darkened expression. It made you shiver and put one bare foot on his chest in the only defense you could muster. He wrapped his fingers around your ankle, but didn't move any closer.

“It's not about politeness or pride,” he explained slowly, not taking his eyes off you. “I want you to feel better, regardless of what it takes.”

The way your cheeks heated had very little to do with the fever. In a kinder world, Orm wouldn't have noticed it.

But in this one, he was too observant to miss something like that. His lips curled in the faintest of smiles just as his hand moved further up your leg, slowly dragging his fingers over your scorching skin. Your heart was in your throat and wanted out.

You slapped the wet towel onto his arm and freed your leg.

“Such profound words for someone so annoying.”

“Whatever gets you moving. These wounds really do need cleaning, and I will not back down from that one.”

“I can do it myself.”

“If you could, you would've done it days ago—when it was actually due. That's enough waiting, take them off.”

You thought back to how far your injuries went under your shirt. It provided you with a surprisingly effective burst of motivation to heave yourself off the couch and onto semi-steady legs.

You wobbled off in the general direction of the bathroom, wishing for your torment to finally end.

“Please do avoid any further injuries,” Orm called after you, watching your unsteady search for clean clothes and a towel. There was painful stiffness to your joints, but you were extremely motivated to overcome it.

“I promise to graciously call for your aid right before I break my neck on these marvelous tiles.”

There was not much dignity left in you, but you did your best to protect it by switching the bathroom lock rather than slamming the door.

You could've sworn you heard Orm chuckle.

#orm marius #orm marius x reader #orm x reader #orm x you #aquaman imagine #aquaman orm #Aquaman orm marius #the death of me #orm marius x you

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silence-burns · 3 months

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The Death of Me //part 1

Fandom: Aquaman

Summary: (very small spoilers for the movie) Finding Orm on your doorstep was not something you expected. Having him move in was even worse. But the effect he still had on every part of your life would be the death of you.

The sun was blinding, but unfortunately, not enough to make the man standing before you disappear.

“You're in surprisingly good shape for a dead person,” you said.

“And you look terrible for someone supposedly alive,” said Orm.

You shrugged and immediately regretted it. The tight bandages keeping your shoulder in place worked as a poor reminder it was out of commission for the next few weeks.

“How I've missed that princely charm. Piss me off some more and, half-dead or not, I'm gonna kick your ass back into that desert I got it from. It might be the last thing I do, but if I become a ghost, I'll brag about it for eternity.”

Your mood soured further with every minute you remained conscious. Surprises and resurrections, you could deal with, but your ability to be polite left long ago. There were a lot of impolite and certainly unprincely words bubbling in your chest, but they all disappeared when the most magical, impossible, and straight-out-of-fairy-tales thing happened.

Orm, of his own volition, smiled.

The sun was still doing its best to blind your already red and swollen eyes—it failed yet again. You examined the strange occurrence, with the furrowed brows and all the small wrinkles and tiny folds in the skin that usually accompanied a person’s smile looking perfectly normal on his face. It was a genuine smile. You could only blink at him for a moment

“I thought scowling was the only expression you had. Like a factory setting, you know.”

“I'm glad to hear you are as sharp as ever, despite your current shortcomings.”

“Excuse you, I'm in great shape.”

The man in front of you politely didn't argue. It was rather clear from his expression that he had some serious doubts about not only the state of your body, but also about your mental capacity of acknowledging said state, but he made the wise choice of keeping these thoughts to himself.

Wise was your middle name; therefore, you allowed the silence to confirm your words. At the same time, you shifted more of your weight against the doorframe, hoping your grimace came across as menacing rather than painful. Your leg needed a bit of rest, nothing serious. It totally wasn’t almost crushed to pieces a few weeks ago.

The smile on Orm’s face, an expression you could get used to seeing, started to shift into a look of concern as he watched your eyes. You looked away, afraid of how much he could see. Before you could react, he picked you up and carried you inside the house.

It was a pretty house, very spacious, just like old rich men tended to enjoy—which might explain why Batman bought it a long time ago as a safehouse far from any prying eyes, and why he allowed you to occasionally use it as such.

Yet, despite all the initial spaciousness, it was rather easy to clutter if the person living inside had a few cracked bones, general lack of energy to move, and never invited anyone around to see the mess.

Orm raised an eyebrow when he noticed a sofa dragged into the kitchen area and the amount of empty, crushed packaging laying around it. You hated how much could be expressed without saying a word.

“Put me down.”

Your words came out weaker than intended. Orm held you in a bridal carry which put immense pressure on your cracked ribs and sent flashes of pain every time you inhaled. But he was so warm and close that your anger sizzled and faded.

With your head on his shoulder, you had the perfect view of his perfect profile and the perfect frown deepening the wrinkles between his brows.

“So, this is how you live now?” was all he said, in a controlled tone.

“I know you're not deaf and heard me the first time. Put me down. Preferably on my beautiful and completely normal kitchen bed, thank you.”

You sighed with relief once he finally listened. Even though the pressure of his arms around you disappeared, somehow you still felt his warmth, as if it seeped into your battered, bruised flesh. You felt your face getting hot and decided against following that train of thought.

Your heart, for a reason you also chose to ignore, skipped a beat when Orm turned on his heel and walked back to the front door. It took him comparatively less time than when you had to drag your ass to open it a few minutes ago.

But rather than walking outside and disappearing from your life again, Orm only closed the door. And then turned the lock too.

“I don’t like where this is going,” you said, in vain hope that all of this was just a bad dream you'd soon wake up from.

“What a shame,” Orm said with no shame whatsoever in his voice.

“Why are you here? I might be a little late with that question, but I'd still love to know the answer.”

Orm took measured steps to the kitchen table, assessing the seat with the least amount of trash surrounding it, and sat down. He sat upright, posture uncompromised in the face of a backless stool, and folded his hands on the table. How he looked royal surrounded by trash and cold leftovers was beyond you.

“As you have witnessed, thanks to Arthur, after that final battle I got a way out of my old life. I enjoyed it for the most part, and even wandered the surface world for a while. And then I heard about your accident and came to settle my debts.”

“You don't have a debt to me.”

“When I was awaiting sentencing for my crimes, you were the one that took care of me. And not so long ago, you helped Artur break me out of that prison. That alone guarantees my utmost respect.”

“Your debt is paid, you owe me nothing.”

“That's not how it works.”

“I don't need a nurse, especially one who isn’t wearing a sexy costume.”

“I'm afraid that part is not negotiable.”

“Wait.” You squinted, doing your best to focus your thoughts despite a rising migraine. “This cottage is in the middle of nowhere, with the nearest town a few hours on foot and only if you already know the way. And the only people that knew I got… a little roughed up, were those in the Justice League. Did Artur give you a ride here because he felt guilty he didn’t stop that building in Venice from falling on me?”

“Every day I am thankful that I don't know the inner workings of my brother’s mind.”

“So he did.”

You let your head fall back onto the makeshift kitchen-bed. It was too much for you.

You grabbed the pills from your secret under-the-pillow stash of meds and swallowed some painkillers.

“I'm going to kill your brother.”

“May you have more luck than I did. Now, do you even own any clean clothes?”

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silence-burns · 3 months

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couldn't wait for the next part agrhhsshhshs i love when someone wrote about orm and i like ur writing 🥺🫶

Awww, thank you!! I'm currently working on part 2, and I hope you will enjoy it to 🫶

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silence-burns · 4 months

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EHEBEBRBE THABK YOU FOR THE ORM IVE BEEN WAITING TO SEE MORE PEOPLE WRITE FOR POOKIE BEAR AUSGGHNDN I LOVED YOUR OTHER SERIES SO MUCH SP I CAN'T WAIT FOR THIS ONE

Awww that's so sweet! Orm is such a cool character, and a pleasure to write 😀 I hope you will enjoy the next parts!

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