Overboard (Marco the Phoenix x Reader)

From The Sky

You don't remember falling asleep.

There's a stillness at first... an odd... weightless calm. A strange kind of peace as wind brushes against your face like a whisper, cool and constant, tugging gently at your clothes.

You're floating... or maybe flying... or maybe...

Your eyes blink open slowly, stung by the light.

The sky is wide and blue above you, impossibly endless, streaked with lazy clouds. You squint against the sun, trying to make sense of it, your thoughts sluggish and tangled.

Then it hits you.

You're not floating... You're falling!

Instantly, panic slams into your chest as your senses snap into focus. The wind isn't gentle anymore, but roaring past your ears, pulling at your limbs like it wants to tear you apart and you flail, trying to twist your body, to see. To understand.

You look down.

A vast, glittering ocean stretches beneath you. Endless. Deep. Unforgiving.

Your breath catches in your throat and you open your mouth to scream, but the sound never comes. The sea rushes up to meet you like a fist. And then... Impact.

The world goes white as you hit the water.

A violent, crushing cold slams into your body. It wraps around you like chains, stealing the air from your lungs before you can even scream. But you try anyway.

A desperate, instinctive sound bubbles out of your throat, but all that rushes in is salt water. It burns going down, stinging your nose, your throat, your chest. Then, panic claws at your insides and you thrash, coughing and choking, your limbs flailing in every direction.

Where's up?

Everything is spinning. The surface... where is the surface?

Your arms cut through the water blindly. Your legs kick, heavy and slow, your clothes dragging you down like anchors. Still, you fight them. You fight the pull even though your chest screams for air and your vision flickers at the edges.

Move. Just move. Don't stop.

Then, suddenly, light. There's a shimmer above and you push toward it, muscles burning, and just when your lungs are ready to give out you finally break the surface.

Immediately, air crashes into you like a second impact. You gasp, coughing violently, sucking in oxygen like it's the only thing keeping your soul tethered to your body. You float there, just barely, limbs trembling, waves rocking you as you try to figure out what the hell just happened.

You suck in another deep breath, the air ragged in your throat, your chest still tight from the salt water you swallowed. But then something shifts.

A shadow falls over you, blotting out the sun.

You blink through the sting in your eyes, struggling to focus. The glint of sunlight off polished wood. The creak of rigging. A towering hull rising above you like a fortress.

A ship. No. A giant ship.

Your head tips back so far it nearly unhinges your neck. It towers over you like a floating fortress, casting a shadow across the water. The hull alone could be a cliffside, and above it, lined up along the railing, are people.

Dozens of them.

They stare down in eerie silence, frozen in mid-motion. Shirtless or half-dressed, all of them are sun-darkened and scarred from battle or sea. Some wear bandanas. One has a pipe in his mouth, forgotten. Another's wide grin falters into a confused grimace like he doesn't quite believe what he's seeing.