#all the cruise ships are stuck in the harbor | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

theflowerofthecommonwealth · 2 years

Text

Power Armor Punch Part Fifty

Heyo we made it!!! (Throws a bunch of confetti into the air and blows into a party horn) If you have somehow been keeping up, I salute you.

Masterlist

Lucille: *dead silent. Can barely hear the others over the sound of the ocean already*

Nick: *running diagnostics to see if he can get some mobility back into his face and neck at least. Being stuck like this kind of gets old after a while*

Gardio: *gently resting his arm on Teshteal’s hat*

Teshteal: *the pressure makes him feel a bit better so he’s not complaining*

Jasmine: (Picking at her side wounds while the words “Mistake” and “Pathetic” ring through her head over and over again in her partial trance, blood trickling out onto her fingers. The wind refreshingly blows through her loose hair, but she doesn’t seem to notice while she mutters to herself)

Lucille: *would make idle conversation if anyone joined her in the cabin but she’s alone, steering the ship. Kind of depressing but hey, not the first time everyone else was doing their own thing while she worked*

Teshteal: *smacks her hand away from her side with his tail* Stop that. You’ll lose your strength if you start gushing blood.

Jasmine: (Shrieks then snaps up, blinking as she mutters something under her breath that either directed at herself or Teshteal. She tucks her hands under her legs and goes back to laying her head on her knees, quietly humming a tune)

Teshteal: *keeping an eye on her, now*

Lucille: *already missing the Commonwealth as they near the island. Soft melancholic sigh, remembering the insanity that went on there* At least I can still get the weather satellite on my pipboy… *misses the weather station she calls home, too*

Gardio: *started to doze. Head sags but bobs just a little with the sway of the boat*

Jasmine: (Takes a sip of water from her bottle and pulls out that babydoll style of singing again) “Sing, keep your spirits high. Sing, pass the worry by. Sing, till the day you die. It’s good for ya…” (Takes a deep breath to soothe herself) “Sing, while your debts are made. Sing, till the bills are paid. Sing, don’t you be afraid. It’s good for ya….”

Gardio: *wakes to Jas’s singing but keeps his head low, knowing she’ll probably stop if he acknowledges it. It sounds so sweet and pleasant to the old ghoul*

Lucille: *about to pull into port in Far Harbor*

Jasmine: (It’s an insanely stupid and naive song to sing right now and in general, but she loved it when she was small) “When old gloom come around. You don’t have to frown. It wont mean a thing, just Boopy-Doopy-Doopy-Doo! Boop-Boop-Be-Doop! (Again she can hit the Boop parts perfectly and sweetly) “Sing, make the day seem right. Sing, so you’d be alright. Sing, and with all your might. It’s good for ya.” (Looks at the Island as she finishes her song, tightening her vest around herself. She glances up to the sky, noting that some dark clouds are on the horizon)

Lucille: *cheakily as she safely docks the boat* Land Ho! Thank you for riding the Good Ship Misery! Finest cruise ship in the world.

Gardio: *looks up and cracks a grin at the joke* I want a refund.

Lucille: *laughs* Sorry, transaction laws only stand on land but not so much at sea.

Teshteal: What kinda shady business are you running here?

Lucille: *tilts her head as she ties off the boat* The free kind. Expensive, right?

Gardio: *slings Nick over his shoulder. He’ll get him situated with some help as soon as he’s on land*

Jasmine: (Slowly rises to her feet, glancing at her Dad while doing so. She doesn’t want to be apart from him… She’s not ready yet, her heart is already pounding. Especially when the distance is so far between them on a dangerous island crawling with creatures and God knows what else)

Teshteal: *already scrambling to get off the boat*

Gardio: *simply steps onto the dock*

Lucille: *second to last to leave*

Jasmine: (Jumps onto the dock, looking out past the town and at the Island, noting the thick fog that’s covering post of the land, save for some spots here and there. There’s a small twist in her heart when she remembers something specific about this island…)

Dogmeat: *bumps Jas’s hand affectionately with his head*

Lucille: *already walking into the town*

Gardio: *strolling after his daughter, noting and dodging now terrified glances by the residents- they were happy when they saw Lucille but then everyone else other than Jas came in*

Teshteal: *forced grin- definitely doesn’t like the disgusted looks of the harbor people. Walking’s more exaggerated, too*

Nick: *managed to get some control over his eyes and is looking around* Just keep walking on. Don’t pay them any mind. They’re like this a lot around newcomers*

Jasmine: (Walks up to Teshteal and takes his hand with a gentle squeeze and hum so she doesn’t scare him, narrowing her eyes at Allen Lee who throws an especially mean glare at the group. The glares aren’t probably directed at her, she’s too pretty and innocent looking. But that doesn’t stop her from getting defensive of her family and friends)

Allen: *scoffs* She brought more of them with her… they just get weirder and weirder, too.

Lucille: *growls bitterly*

Teshteal: *nervous laugh but it comes out almost mockingly*

Allen: You mocking me, mainlander freak?! *pulls out his gun*

Teshteal: Oh no, Sir- never, Sir! I would only mock you if it it suits you, Sir! *his tone has defaulted to mockery, too. He’s not trying to but it sure sounds like it*

Allen: *cocks gun* Open your mouth one more FXCKING time, freak-

Jasmine: (Marches right to Allen with her dagger in hand when she hears and sees the threat, easily grabbing his arm and twisting it at an awkward angle so his gun is aimed at the floor while she points her dagger at his neck with her other hand) (Darkly) “Try me, you will see what happens.” (Leans in, pressing the tip of her knife to his chin while she twists his arm further) “They are not the monster you have to worry about, you ever wondered what a skinned human looks like?”

Allen: *pained cry* Help, I’m being attacked by a mainlander-!

Dogmeat: *growls*

Allen: AND HER DOG, TOO!!

Lucille: You wouldn’t be in this position if you didn’t pull out your gun in the first place, Allen. You know that, right? Now why don’t you shut up and go back to peddling your weapons? Or do I need to get Captain Avery out here to settle this?

Allen: Oh, I’ll have a word with Avery- I’ll make sure this is the last time you ever set foot in Far Harbor again-

Dogmeat: *barks at him bitterly*

Avery: What’s going on here? Allen Lee, did you open your blasted mouth again?!

Allen: *suddenly goes absolutely silent*

Lucille: *smirks under her helmet*

Gardio: *just happy this Allen guy isn’t barking like an angry dog anymore. Reminds him of the thugs that would get brought into the precinct shouting and making things worse for themselves*

Jasmine: (Blinks innocently with her big brown eyes piercing back at him, tilting her head while she looks up at Allen like a little kitten and smiles) (Angelically) “Sir, if you are being attacked why do you not just pull away? I am just a little girl, you are twice my size and a well seasoned harborman. Surely you can overtake me if you really wanted to…” (Subtly puts more pressure on his arm while she pouts her lips. He can’t move without hurting no matter how hard he tries, that’s the fun part with toying with him. He looks ridiculous getting overtake by a small girl with a knife)

Allen: *tugs but quickly stops because of the pain* I can’t-

Avery: What do you mean you can’t? You’re telling me you can’t get yourself out of the whole you dug yourself into? With a child, no less? *indignantly* Huh.

Allen: *tries to move Jas’s hand with his own but that presses the knife into his skin* What the fxck- this is a joke, right?! Avery, you’re just going to stand there and let this happen?!

Lucille: Let what happen? The consequences for your actions? All you had to do was keep to yourself. But no. You had to point your gun at my friend, here.

Avery: So that’s what happened? *to Allen* Is that true?

Allen: I was defending myself from a freak of nature-!

Gardio: He only laughed. That’s not a good reason to pull a gun on someone-

Avery: Okay. I’ve heard enough. Allen. Apologize-

Allen: But-

Avery Don’t question me- apologize and back off. We have enough troubles around here as it is without you raising hell. *to Jas* And once he does, let him go. This is sad enough to watch as it is. *crossing her arms*

Jasmine: (Nods her head, again blinking innocently at Allen) “It is not a joke, I will let go if you do what she says and do not bother us again.” (Lowly so the others can’t hear, her hand squeezing enough so there’s a small pop in his arm) “If you do, there will be severe consequences.” (Sweetly while smiling once more, batting her eyes) “Thank you for playing easy on me, though you really seem mad….”

Allen: Kinda hard to hit you when this knife is digging into my skin- *accident tugs on his trapped arm* OW-!

Gardio: We’re waiting, Allen.

Allen: Keep my name out of your mouth you-

Lucille: *murderously now* Hey. You want to die? Cause you couldn’t shut the fxck up and just apologize? Keep going. It’s not just the kid you’ll be facing if you finish that fxcking sentence.

Nick: *doesn’t like the death threat but he can’t do much about it*

Allen: *frustrated* Fine. I’m fxcking sorry! There! Now leave me the hell alone!

Avery: There. Was that so bad…? *to Jas* You can let go now. Hopefully. *glares at Allen for a moment* He won’t be bothering you again.

Jasmine: (Releases Allen and withdraws her knife, watching with seemingly genuine confusion as the harborman tumbles backwards because she was holding him with so much force) “You do not have to be a Drama Queen about it. I am just a little girl, remember?” (Walks off back to her group while still keeping her perception sharp, tossing her curly hair over her shoulders)

Allen: *leaps to his feet and scrambles away in shame*

Avery: Now, what can I do for you, Lucille? What brings you to the island this time?

Lucille: A few things. *tilts her head at Jas* A friend of hers- goes by the name, “Donovan”. Have you heard of him?

Avery: *pauses in thought* Hm…

Jasmine: (Watches Allen leave as she ties a bandanna on the top of her head to help keep it out of her face, turning to Lucille with interest when she hears her mention Donny)

Avery: I think so- does he look like that fellow? *gestures to Gardio* All wrinkly and corpse like? Cause there is a guy who looks like your glowing companion.

Gardio: So a ghoul. Do you know where he lives? If he’s still sane?

Avery: Well last time I saw him he was- it has been a while since he came down for supplies. He lives at the old lighthouse with a very kind woman. Honestly if it weren’t for them, we would have lost a few good souls to the sea.

Nick: Good to hear.

Avery: Huh. Last time we saw each other, Detective, you were on your feet and less… bare?

Nick: System malfunction. Going to get it fixed.

Avery: That explains everything.

Lucille: Let’s get back on track. You said he lives in the lighthouse? Does he run any sort of business out of the lighthouse?

Jasmine: (Standing close to Gardio, but only because she wants to be near Nick to help calm herself. It catches her attention to hear that Donny is living with a kind woman, though she’d be more surprised to hear if he lived alone)

Avery: They fish but lately I’ve heard rumors they’ve been running some sort of farm.

Nick: That sounds like him. We have a source that claims he works on the sea.

Lucille: So, your hunch might be right. Is this where we part ways?

Nick: Might as well. You, Jas, and Dogmeat- check out the lighthouse. Gardio, Teshteal and I will head on to Arcadia.

Lucille: Got it. *to Avery* Thanks for the help, Captain.

Avery: *smiles at her* Anytime, Lucille.

Gardio: *nods with a kind smile at Avery then starts walking to the hull*

Teshteal: *follows him*

Jasmine: (Keeps expressionless and quiet but on the inside shes screaming and panicking as she follows along. She takes out the piece of paper that contains the command words and gives it to Teshteal) (Quietly) “Give it to Nick when he is ready, before I change my mind…” (Points to her head, trying not to cry like a baby that needs her parent. She really rather not split up and wants to go with her Dad instead)

Teshteal: *takes it and nods. He’ll get it to him as soon as he’s fixed*

Gardio: *already outside the hull, glowing a bit more thanks to the fog* Are you coming, officer?

Teshteal: *spins on his heel with a grin, already pocketing the page* Yes sir, chief! *catches up to him and they start walking away*

Lucille: *turns to Jas after waving them off* Ready to go?

Jasmine: (Watches the departing group leave for a long moment before vaguely nodding at Lucille, trying to control her shaking while she pulls her hood over her head but opts out of putting on her mask)

Lucille: *isn’t going to press her about it- but it would be wise to wear it. She starts walking on to the lighthouse, following the route on her pipboy overlay in her helmet*

Dogmeat: *follows Lucille then stops to look at Jas to make she’s coming*

Gardio: *listening to Nick tell him how to get there*

Teshteal: *his horns and tail glow brighter in the fog, too… maybe something to do with the radiation.*

Jasmine: (Not wearing her mask because she can’t fucking breathe properly with how tight her chest is compressing. Nevertheless, she closely and calmly follows along with her hand near her gun and her focus on their surroundings as sharp as she can make it)

Teshteal: *does end up having to kill a couple of trappers along the way. They stick out like a sore thumb in the fog so they attract more attention*

Gardio: *still pretty handy with his pistol despite having to hold a synth*

Lucille: *luckily hasn’t run into anything yet. She keeps an eye out for enemies, though*

Dogmeat: *sticking next to Jas the entire time*

Jasmine: (Resisting the urge to scratch her sides to relieve the stress and pent up emotions, focusing on the scenery and taking deep breaths so she doesn’t faint instead. She’s staying quiet and small so she doesn’t draw attention to their little trio. Overhead the dark clouds have settled in over the island, getting a greenish tint to them)

Lucille: *sighs bitterly* Looks like a rad storm. I wish I could do something about that… probably better if we make a run for it. *considers the satellites but she only pulls that out if it looks really bad*

Teshteal: *having a field day slaughtering gulpers they ran into*

Gardio: *had to set Nick down just to help*

Jasmine: (Quietly) “I will be alright in the storm, but we can run if we need to.”

Lucille: I suggest we run anyway. We’ll get to the lighthouse faster.

Teshteal: Well that was fun. Back on the road, I guess. *stops when he sees Gardio* You okay?

Gardio: *spacing out but snaps out of it* Just a little overloaded on radiation. Give me a moment. *takes in a deep breath and lets out a concentrated burst of radiation through the cracks in his skin*

Teshteal: So radiation still hurts you in a way?

Gardio: It… can overwhelm me. I sometimes get this weird sense of something… *rubs his fingers together as he thinks* Otherworldly pulling at me when I absorb too much. I’d rather it not. I still want to go to Heaven after I die. *wry chuckle as he picks up Nick*

Teshteal: *doesn’t know if he should be concerned for his friend’s sanity or impressed he still ascribes to any religion after living through the bombs*

Jasmine: (Nods her head. She’ll adjust her speed to Lucille’s so she doesn’t end up bolting ahead. It’s actually something she’s good at, you can’t exactly play with other kids who have half your stamina and strength without adjusting, otherwise you just mop the floor with them every time)

Lucille: *breaks into a full sprint, charging forward down the path until she needs to walk again to build up stamina, then it’s another full sprint*

Dogmeat: *chases after them, tongue flopping out of his mouth and flapping in the wind*

Nick: You still believe in that sorta thing, Chapel?

Gardio: I do. Especially now. For so many reasons- especially Lucille. My sweet little Lucille… *smiles remembering a little girl playing with toy cars on the floor of their home*

Teshteal: … She’s so tall. And kind of mean.

Gardio: She… does have her moments. Don’t let that color your judgement. She’s always been a good and helpful kid.

Teshteal: *goes quiet*

Jasmine: (Maintains a good balance of not running too far ahead, slowing down whenever Lucille needs to replenish her stamina. She’s glad they are running now, it helps keeps her mind off everything else, running is what’s she does when she wants to get away from anything too stressful, wether it be physical or mental)

Lucille: *comes up on the lighthouse just as the thunder starts rolling overhead. Soon she’s knocking on the door*

Gardio: *strolling up the hill with Nick over his arms. Not much longer until they’re in Acadia*

DiMA: Hm? *gets out of his chair* Who are you? I don’t believe we’ve met- *notices Nick draped over Gardio’s shoulder like a sack of beans and runs up to the two* Brother? Is that you? What happened??

Gardio: *raises an eyebrow in confusion* Brother…?

Teshteal: *shrugs* I don’t remember if he had one or not-

Nick: I do. DiMA, these two are Gardio Chapel and Teshteal. Old coworkers of mine- or rather the original Nick’s. Either way, they’re friends. I wouldn’t have made it up here without them.

DiMA: Yes- well, you know my policy, Nick. Any friend of yours is-

Nick: Welcome? Yeah. I know. Sorry to cut to the chase but is Faraday around? I’m gonna need some dire maintenence done. I’m stuck in this… safe mode and I can’t move an inch!

DiMA: *confused at first* Faraday-? *nods understandingly* Of course! Of course! He’s in the room just over-

Faraday: *walks in, rubbing his neck* I heard my name. What’s happening…?

Jasmine: (Takes a moment to examine the lighthouse that may be her childhood friends home, glossing over all its details)

The Lighthouse: (Surrounding the main building is large handmade barrier with two exits, one main that the bridge is leading to and off one side that leads down a dirt path. The main gate that they walked through has a sign that reads, “Traders Welcome” is hanging over it. There’s a neat line of turrets rumbling along the guard posts to ward off anything or anyone that crawls out of the fog with malicious intent. The lighthouse itself seems to be well in the process to be restored to completion. Most of the holes in the walls have been patched up either fully or temporarily with layers of tarp and the roof is completely fixed with new shingles. Prewar times there used to be two porches that lead into the home, but now it seems that the inhabitants have turned the left porch into a new separate room by walling it off)

Dog: (Starts barking up a storm from the inside, not aggressively but to alert the household that they have guest)

Ghoul: (Opens the main door after a few minutes and gives a friendly smile at the small group on his porch as he leans on the doorframe. He’s well around six feet tall and sturdy built for the Wasteland, neatly dressed too in quality homemade work clothes. There’s a bandana covering his brown hair that he managed to keep, and a eyepatch is covering his right eye) “Hello! What can I do ya three for?” (For a ghoul, his voice is surprisingly smooth, could very well pass for human if no one took a look at his face)

Dog: (Curiously pokes her nose from behind the ghouls legs, trying to catch a whiff of the newcomers)

Jasmine: (Suppresses a whimper and freezes when she sees him, blinking slowly at the man from the bottom of her hood. Even though he’s a ghoul and so much older from when they were last together…. she can still recognize him. Somehow he still has that same goofy yet mature Donny look to him that she couldn’t miss from a mile away. Ah, he’s even wearing that stupidly dorky orange shirt under his jacket…)

Donovan: (Completely oblivious to the fact that his Rosalinda from years ago is standing right there a few feet in front of him while he stands there to keep the dog from barging out)

Dogmeat: *walks up and timidly sniffs at the other dog with a small wine, trying to get a good read on her*

Lucille: Hi, it’s about to storm and we need a bit of shelter until it passes. Would you mind letting us in until then? *is not about to lead with “Hi I brought an old friend. We don’t know each other so take my word for it!” That would be suspicious as hell*

Nick: Ah! Faraday! Could you help an old synth out?

DiMA: He says he’s in some sort of “safe mode”. Would you be willing to help him?

Gardio: Lucille said you know a thing or two about this stuff-

Faraday: Of course I do. It’s kind of what I do around here.

DiMA: Faraday, you know you do more than that. Why else would I consult you and Chase?

Faraday: *pauses then sighs* I guess you’re right… *to Gardio* Bring him to the back and we’ll get started.

Gardio: *does so*

Donovan: (Smiles even more warmly) “Hiya there pup.” (Steps aside to let the dog behind him out to greet Dogmeat)

Dog: (Borks happily when she’s free to start sniffing everyone with her tail wagging. She goes straight to greeting Dogmeat, her feet tapping with excitement at a new potential puppy playmate)

Donovan: (To Lucille as he gestures inside) Oh yeah, that’s perfectly fine! These storms sure do come in out of-…”

Jasmine: (Reaches up and pulls off her hood while raising her head, looking at Donny straight in the eye to test him. She’s not walking into a strange house with the chance the household will get hostile when Donovan see who she is)

Donovan: (Completely taken off guard by her sudden reveal of piercing amber eyes that bore into his soul, staring at the girl with his mouth partly open) “I- Wha-….” (Stands straight and slowly crosses the porch to the girl, lowering his voice to a whisper) “Rosalinda…?” (Reaches up and cups her cheek with one hand, checking to make sure his eyes aren’t deceiving him)

Jasmine: (Flinches at him coming close and when he touches her face but she doesn’t push him away, just gives a vague nod while she stares up at him expressionless other than a small glint in her eye)

Donovan: (Getting choked up at the realization that his childhood friend who was taken away from her loving family and friends is standing in front of him, over two hundred years since that awful day and the end of the world) “Rosie!” (Pulls her into a tight hug) “Oh my god…”

Jasmine: (Stiffens a little at the hug and looks at the ground. Ignoring the blaring alarms in her head and the tightness/pounding in her chest, she slowly lifts one arm to give him a half hug back, remaining expressionless)

Donovan: (Pulls back after a moment, gently tilting the young girl’s chin up so he can get a better look at her. His eyes roam her face, sensing that something is very wrong with his Rosalinda. She’s not lively, there’s not even a spark in her eyes) (Softly with concern) “Are you alright? What happened to you, Ro-Ro?”

Jasmine: (Drops her hands to her sides, silently shaking her head while she looks to the floor once more. Rain trickles down from the sky a little more, making the reunion more cinematic)

Donovan: (Raises his head to glance over at Lucille, silently asking who she is and why she’s accompanying a very depressed Rosie)

Lucille: Here’s the truth- we actually came here so she can see you. She’s been through hell- probably worse than that.

Dogmeat: *does the playful stretch with his rear to the air and chest to the ground to show he’s game for playing*

Lucille: I know it doesn’t look like it but her adopted father, Nick, has been giving everything he can to take care of her. And I do mean everything. *urgently* Now can we please get out of the rain? It’s not good for her wounds-

Donovan: (Looks up at the rain that’s starting to pour down like crazy, thunder clapping and the wind blowing strong enough to knock down some wimpy branches off trees) “Wounds? Hell? Oh- yes! Of course!”

Jasmine: (Frozen in place with wide eyes, unsure what to do with herself. She can’t even start to think of the right words to say, it’s all mumble jumble in her mind)

Dog: (Bolts back inside the house when the thunder starts)

Donovan: (Takes Jasmine by the shoulders and quickly guides her inside, closing the door behind Lucille and Dogmeat)

Dog: (Shakes herself out, rolling on her back on the mat that’s in the mud room to help dry off)

Ghoul Woman: (Comes in from the kitchen at the sound of new people in her home) “Donny? Who are our guests?” (Glances out the window and at the sky that’s really starting to drum up to a raging radstorm, lightening being added to the chorus) “And in this weather, are you two dearies lost? Do you need to stay somewhere warm and safe for the night?”

Donovan: (Looks at the ghoul lady, then down at Jasmine who’s trembling) “It’s Rosie, Mama… She’s alive, little Rosalinda made it through the bombs…”

Jasmine: (Initially confused because Donny’s mother lived away from Donovan and his father and also didn’t resemble this woman in anyway)

Ma: (Gets a quizzed look on her face while she crosses the large house to the group) “Come again? Rosalinda? Her? Right here?”

Donovan: (Senses Jasmines confusion) “Tía Evelyn, remember? She ran the cafe-…” (Doesn’t get any further because Ma is already standing by them and staring intently at Jas)

Ma: (Recognizes the teen and immediately drops to her knees and starts fretting over her like a mother would as tears well up in her eyes. She cups Jasmines face with both hands and frantically looks over her features) “Oh, oh! Rosita-linda! Baby girl, look at you! You’re so big now, and beautiful! Dear me- you’re wet and freezing!” (Shrugs off her thin cardigan that’s over her house dress and wraps the girl in it, frowning at how small her frame is) “Honey, how long have you been alone out there? You’re so thin and frail now, look at your pale skin. Sweetie, that’s not like you at all…”

Jasmine: (Getting teary with all the confusing emotions that are making her malfunction because of how familiar and kind these two are. But that triggers the alarms in her head, and those aren’t any fun to deal with while she tries to remain expressionless)

Dogmeat: *shakes himself dry as soon as he’s inside the house*

Lucille: Again, hard to believe but she looks a lot better than when Nick found her. *blinks behind her layers of helmet. She’s choosing to stay in her armor until she knows whether or not she’ll have to fight* Does Commonwealth news make it out here? He’s a well known detective there.

Gardio: *reaches the workshop* Why… is there blood on the ground?

Faraday: Because sometimes this doubles as an infirmary. *pats the operating table. Set him here and then we’ll start.

Gardio: *lays nick out on the table*

Faraday: Now let’s see what’s causing all this�� *opens Nick up* Oh… that is a LOT of grime. I’m going to need you to shut down so I can safely clean you out. Can you do that, Nick?

Nick: I don’t like it but sure- anything to make me a real boy again. *chuckles at the reference before shutting himself off*

Jasmine: (Completely motionless while she stares up at the two adults, she looks like she’s both terrified out of her mind and confused)

Ma: (Rushes over to a cabinet to pull out several towels) “Ah, maybe so but I’m not so sure. We just settled down here after living down south for the past two hundred years.” (Puts down a pile for Lucille to use on a little table if she chooses to then goes back to Jas, blotting away the water from her hair and arms) (Worriedly) “Pobrecita…”

Jasmine: (Allows her to do this, barely breathing anymore while her heart roars in her ears. She might’ve started swaying if Ma wasn’t holding her shoulders)

Donovan: (Looks to Lucille with interest and maybe a bit skepticism) “But do tell us, you say this Nick character is her adopted father?” (Looks to Jas for confirmation on this claim)

Jasmine: (Not much help while she’s malfunctioning)

Donovan: (Frowns deeply at his childhood friends unnatural behavior, Rosie wouldn’t act like this. And this lady is claiming she was worse off earlier?)

Lucille: Yes. He’s a very kind man. Has a penchant for helping those in need who have no one else to turn to. *holding the towel awkwardly. She supposes she could dry her armor*

Faraday: *steadily working at cleaning out a Nick’s internals, grumbling things here and there*

Donovan: (Narrows his eyes slightly at this brief explanation) “Hm….”

Ma: (Reaches to help Jasmine take off her soaked vest and jacket so she can hang them up on the coatrack to dry) “Princesa….”

Jasmine: (Catches Ma’s wrist to stop her before she can reach the zipper, eyes glistening with tears while her bottom lip trembles) “Do not call me that…. Do not call me by any of that…..”

Donovan: (Goes back to being concerned for the girl) “Rosalinda?” (Steps closer, kneeling down on one knee to examine her while she shakes. He spots the faint strangle marks that are on her neck, fueling his turning thoughts)

Ma: (Softly) “Okay then…..” (Gently unties the bandana from her hair and strokes her damp curls, tucking them behind her ears. When she does this it reveals to them the bruises on her face) “Sweetie, You’re gonna catch your death if you stay in those wet clothes and shoes….” (Exchanges a look with Donovan)

Jasmine: (Swallows a lump in her throat and quickly zips down her wet vest and jacket, holding them in one hand while she kicks off her muddy shoes at light speed)

Donovan: “Whoa whoa, whoa! Slow down Rosie!” (Catches the girl while she sways and almost falls over from being off balanced, holding her by the shoulders while she flinches)

Ma: (Takes the clothes from her, hanging them on the coatrack before she puts Jas’s shoes on its own rack with the other shoes. She bustles over to a small fireplace by the staircase and starts tossing in wood to make a fire to warm up her guests)

Donovan: (Guide’s a trembling Jasmine out of the mudroom to be closer to the fire, glaring back at Lucille to see what she does as he sits Jas down on the sofa)

Lucille: *following them. She’s staying on alert- anyone that friendly and accepting off the bat without needing something in return is always a bit suspicious after roaming the wasteland for a while, specifically those living IN the wasteland and not somewhere like… 88, Goodneighbor, Diamond City, or even the Railroad or Minutemen’s larger settlements* I want to give you more answers, I really do, but I need to know more about you two first… I’ve heard you’ve helped Far Harbor by keeping them safe in dire situations and I can deeply respect that- they’re good people for the most part. Other than that, that’s all I really know about you, so forgive me if I seem on guard, especially for her sake.

Faraday: Does Lucille EVER do any maintenance on him?

Gardio: Wouldn’t know. We only reconnected a couple of days ago.

Faraday: Reconnected?

Gardio: Yes. You heard right. Reconnected- I’m her father.

Faraday: Interesting. You look nothing a like.

Gardio: *sighs* Imagine I have a full beard and all of my hair.

Faraday: … Still don’t see it.

Gardio: And human.

Faraday: Sorry, I can’t seem to picture it. Are you sure you’re her father?

Gardio: Am I sure- Yes! Absolutely sure! I was there when she was born! *tearing up at the memory of the news of his wife passing, then holding little baby Lucille with only a small tuft of purple hair on her head*

Teshteal: *climbs up like a monkey on Gardio’s back then perches on his shoulders with his hands on his hat with a giant false grin* Hey, hoo! Let’s go walk around the observatory! Meet the locals and have some fun! What do you say, big man?

Gardio: *looks up and sees the stupid look on his partner’s face. He almost writes it off as him being immature but the widened pupils and overall pleaful look in his eyes say otherwise. He cracks a grin* Sure, partner. Sure. Let’s leave him to his work.

Teshteal: *cheers* Yay! *bumps his head on the ceiling* OWIE! *crouches back over Gardio’s head and slumps off his back while clutching his own skull* I forgot how tall you are-!

Gardio: *as he leaves with the gremlin* Surprised- you’ve been staring up at me since your first day on the job.

Teshteal: *complains like a child* I couldn’t climb on you, then!

Gardio: *laughs* You could, you just needed help, which I refused to give.

Teshteal: *over-exaggerated pout*

Donovan: (Puts an arm around Jas as he sits next to her, ignoring Lucille for a moment) “Rosie, are you alright? Please, talk to me….”

Jasmine: (Just sitting there with her arms crossed over her chest, lightly rocking herself as she stares at the ground)

Ma: (Looks extremely worried as she rushes off to bring a blanket to wrap the girl in, carefully tucking it around her shoulders. She glances at Lucille, then at Donny, then back at Jazzy)

Donovan: (Glares back up at Lucille, holding Jas a little more protectively) “And we don’t know you, but we know Rosalinda. And our Rosie she doesn’t act this inanimate, not even in the most horrible moments.” (Rubs the girls shoulder, trying to get a sign of life. Last time he saw her, she was kicking and screaming like she was rage and fury itself, now look at her…) “Her mother was a good woman, she’d be rolling in her grave if we allow something-…”

Young Woman: (Opens the back door and steps aside as the wind blows behind her to let in a hoard of (strangely enough) prewar chickens and roosters into the house. In her arms is a large cage that’s filled with little chicks that peep in protest of being held captive) “Oh, we have guests.” (Looks to Donovan, then at the sopping wet flock) “You were suppose to help me, now they are all wet.”

Donovan: (Apologetic grimace) “Sorry Joyce, I was greeting our guests.”

Ma: (Sighs at all the mud and water the chickens are tracking in, cracking a small smile when when comes up to affectionately nuzzle by her legs) “We need to fix that coop.”

Joyce: (Momentarily sets down the cage of baby chicks and claps her hands, rounding up the flock into one temporary gated area in the living room by shooing them into place with a broom)

Jasmine: (Stares at the flock with wide eyes, getting more confused and overwhelmed)

Lucille: Aww… I haven’t seen prewar baby chicks in so long. Poor little guys… *realizes she’s getting distracted by the tiny chicks in the cage then back to Donny* You want to know my story? Fine. I was a lawyer before the war. I had a family with my best friend- a family I never knew I could have. I won’t bore you with the details, but… *sadly* They’re all dead. Died after the bombs- by one means or another.

Dogmeat: *sniffing at the chickens*

Lucille: *crosses her arms* I still miss when Diamond City was Fenway Park. When the subway lines were used for trains and not raider dens. I used to take them to and from classes at Cainbridge when I lived in Boston. Honestly, if I’m right, this whole island used to be a national park. *points at the floor of the lighthouse* I was frozen for 200 years- even now it still feels like yesterday when cows had one head and all their fur.

Dogmeat: *sensing her sadness, he trots over to Lucille and rubs his head against her leg*

Lucille: *smiles beneath her helmet and pats his head lovingly* Hey boy… *back again to Donovan* As for her being this way? Blame the people that took her, not me. They’re the ones that hurt her and broke her in unimaginable ways. They’re the ones who made eating- a basic necessity for survival- difficult for her and anyone trying to help her. I’m just fulfilling a promise to her father to get her here as safely as I can.

Dogmeat: *affirming bark*

Donovan: (Listens to Lucille’s story with his lips pressed into a thin line when he hears about her family and recount on how things used to be) “So you’re prewar, huh….” (Looks back down at Jas, holding her closer to his side) “And I’ll assume you both had been frozen to be able get here into the future.”

Ma: (Staring at Lucille with interest as she puts more wood into the fire) “And you say that you know people took Rosie. What do you mean by they “broke her”, is that why she’s not speaking to us?” (Rises back to her feet, again tucking the blanket around the girl to help her feel more secure) “What did they do to you, sweetheart?”

Jasmine: (Whimpers softly when she’s reminded of that terrible place, pulling up her knees to her face)

Donovan: (Doesn’t look that convinced, but he’s more worried about Jasmine at the moment. She’s a mere shattered fragment of the bright optimistic girl that he, Ma, her family, and friends adored so much)

Dog: (Proudly showing off to Dogmeat her collection of chew toys and soft dog bed that’s placed right by the fireplace, tossing a stuffed duck into the air)

Dogmeat: *runs up and again does the play stretch after seeing a toy tossed by the other dog. Playful bark*

Lucille: *sees Jas tense up at the mention of the vault. Finally decides to let her guard down due to how earnestly they’re trying to take care of the girl* Probably better if I wrote it down for her sake. Just mentioning that place probably caused a rush of traumatic memories to resurface for her, now. *pulls out a pen and paper from her bag and writes*

The note: “They broke her in every way possible- stripped her of her identity. They experimented on her, forced her to kill innocents, assaulted her- physically and sexually-, probably poisoned her food, and so much more. It was all to make the perfect soldier. The perfect weapon. The only reason I know any of this is because Nick’s been trying to figure out her past so he can better help her. He’s dived into her memories because she won’t talk about it openly and couldn’t at the time. That sounds like a breach of privacy- and in most cases it would be- but she was shutting down to the point it was life threatening.”

Lucille: *decided it would be best to leave out the events that put Jas in that state in the first place. That’s not important right now, especially with them being so on guard around her*

Gardio: *Stops by Aster’s lab* Oh, hello. This is a nice horticulture lab.

Aster: Oh- thank you! It certainly gives me something to do around boring old Acadia.

Gardio: Come on, surely there’s other things that happen here.

Aster: There is but there’s not much to it. Some of us take up fixing things, others run the shop. I, as you see, grow and experiment on plants! *soft chuckle*

Gardio: So no art? Self expression of any sort? Is it prohibited here?

Teshteal: Does DiMA not like fun?

Aster: No- we just… haven’t figured out how to express ourselves beyond what we know how to do. It might be a few years before some of us break out of our old habits, you know?

Gardio: Ah. I see. *looks around at the plants*

Teshteal: *decides to eat a bloodleaf*

Dog: (Tosses the toy up in the air and over to Dogmeat, willing to share if he wants to play with her)

Dogmeat: *catches it and goes absolutely ham biting it and shaking the toy violently as dogs do. Playfully growls and pins the duck while tugging at its body*

Ma: (Takes the not from Lucille first and her entire face breaks into one of pure horror when she reads the note. She just stands there in shock, eyes watering when she thinks of the bubbly little girl who used to pop her cute head into her cafe with that beautiful smile she always had on) “Dear Lord above….”

Donovan: (Hasn’t read it yet) “Huh, what is it?” (Takes the note from her frozen fingers, quickly glossing over it. He doesn’t say anything, just pulls Jazzy close to his chest with both of his arms, resting his chin on the top of her head)

Jasmine: (Blinking slowly as she’s held, biting her tongue as her brain starts to sort itself out)

Joyce: (Silent as she watches the scene unfold, still holding the cage of chicks while she looks at her two friends grim reactions. She has no idea what’s going on, or who Jas and Lucille are, or if she should just back out of the room)

Fishermen: (Comes in from the door that leads to the lighthouse with a hearty laugh, stopping dead in his tracks when he reads the room) “Uh, is this a bad time?”

Ma: (Rises to her feet, plastering on a forced smile) “No, it’s fine. The soup is almost ready, you boys up there must be hungry.” (Rushes off to the kitchen mainly to calm down, wiping tears off her face. She motions to the fisherman to quickly follow her into the kitchen, to which he obeys wordlessly)

Lucille: I believe Nick hoped seeing you would help her open up. Maybe even bring some of the kid you used to know back, even just a little. He can only do so much…

Gardio: Say- have you considered making paints from the plants? You could make murals to liven the place up. *smiles kindly at her*

Aster: I… you know, I never thought about that. People used to use plants as dyes all the time. *nods* Thanks for the idea. *smiles* Maybe I can capture the beauty the aster used to have in a painting.

Gardio: There you go! Perhaps you’ll inspire others to make paintings!

Teshteal: You could paint stuff on wood and sell them to settlements!

Gardio: You’d be able to use trade for diplomatic purposes, build report among the other island residents.

Aster: Oh- I wouldn’t want to usurp DiMA when it comes to handling that.

Gardio: Who said you’d be handing those matters? Others would be making art, too.

Aster: Ah. Good point.

Dog: (Barks happily and starts playing with the other pup a game of keep away)

Donovan: (Speechless at the moment, wondering how severe and downright evil her situation was in order to get Rosalinda of all people to break down like this. God, he doesn’t even want to start imagining the possibilities)

Jasmine: (Blinks as she starts to catch up with all that happened and gets over the initial shock, the burning question that has been driving her crazy in her head for a years coming back. She pulls back from Donovan with more life in her eyes as she stares up at him)

Donovan: (Look down at her and notices this, opening his mouth to say something)

Jasmine: (Bluntly before he can speak) “What happened to them?”

Ma: (Raises her head at the sound of the girls voice and rushes back over to the living room, immediately knowing what she’s asking)

Donovan: (Only stares at the girl when she finally speaks and asks the question, straightening up) “What-?”

Jasmine: (Repeating herself, staring him down with kitten fire) “What happened to them?”

Donovan: (Sighs and shakes his head sadly, thinking of the right words to say to the delicate girl while still processing the contents of the note) “Rosie, hold on a moment-…”

Ma: (Leans on the wall that divides the living room from the dining room, tears on her face as she watches the teen)

Jasmine: (Firmly takes ahold of his wrist, pulling him closer) “They did not die during or after the bombs, I saw their graves. You know what happened to them, so tell me.”

Donovan: (Exchanges a glance with Ma, taken aback by her sudden burst of kitten fire. Still, this feels a little off from her prewar attitude, she still seems petrified about something)

Jasmine: (Quivers a little) “Please, I need to know. I could not figure it out and it has been so long….”

Donovan: (Heavy sigh as he taps his fingers on his knees) “You wanna talk somewhere else?” (Gestures around the crowded and chicken infested living space) “We can go to the attic, we’ve built a sitting area up there.” (Knows what he’s going to say will make her rightfully upset, but once Rosie wants to know something there’s no stopping her…)

Jasmine: (Studies him for a bit, trying to control her trembling as she swallows) “Fine.” (Release his wrist, glancing at her shaking hands as she stands and turns to the staircase)

Donovan: (Also stands to go with her)

@lucilleandherrobots

#Pfffft. Get recked Allen Lee!#My guy got owned by a small girl who was only wielding a knife #Lol Jas was having so much fun there. This is when she can appreciate her given skills #fallout 4 #fallout #fo4 #fallout original character #fallout oc #fallout roleplay #fallout rp

36 notes · View notes

compassmains · 2 years

Text

Modern warships unlock all ships

#Modern warships unlock all ships android

#Modern warships unlock all ships Pc

#Modern warships unlock all ships download

#Modern warships unlock all ships mac

In the present day, the actual effective diesel engine will assist us enjoy a simple and highly effective shipping.

#Modern warships unlock all ships download

What is World of Warships?Beneath you can find a listing of all levels where world of warships download is possible, the bonuses they offer you and the possibilities they unlock. To command them, a cadre of world of battleships commanders are joining the roster with new inspirations and skills to use in your fleet. She will be the official fleet reviewer aboard HMAS Leeuwin. The Honorable Quentin Bryce, will welcome the warship game Fleet and all warships from Bradley's Head. The centenary celebrations commence with a ceremonial warships of the world fleet entry of all tall ships cruising into Sydney Harbor. By doing so you'll learn which ship you'll be able to attack and which you need to avoid. Why this ship is one of the best: The Nicholas has the identical torpedoes as the earlier American destroyers but has considerably better guns.Įach sailor has a love for World of Warships game. Picket ship models are constructed-to-scale representations of trendy or historic sea-faring vessels. The best part about this feature is that you get to run all your favorite games and apps at your own pace without fear of losing quality.As rich in historic wonders as it is in pure beauty, World Warships is an unbelievable game for any player, letting younger learners discover that the bygone eras they study in lessons didn't simply occur in books - they're intricately tied to our panorama. Plus, the BlueStacks app player guarantees you 100% gaming privacy and security on all of your details like passwords and card information. You get to enjoy all of your favorite mobile games with absolutely no slowdowns, frame drops, stutter, or any performance issues. This app player offers lag-free gameplay, which is one of the core strengths of the new Bluestacks 5.

#Modern warships unlock all ships Pc

All the features work hand-in-hand to deliver the most enhanced gaming experience on a PC.ĭownload MODERN WARSHIPS using BlueStacks 5 on at least a 4GB RAM PC to enjoy the newly improved features.

#Modern warships unlock all ships android

Enjoy MODERN WARSHIPS on a larger screen with BlueStacks.īlueStacks comes with unique features that make it the most suitable app player for running all your Android apps and games. On a larger screen, you can enjoy your favorite action mobile games, rather than getting stuck on your device’s small screen. So what are you waiting for? The mightiest modern fighting ships are waiting for you!īecome the captain of a modern battleship in MODERN WARSHIPS with BlueStacks.īlueStacks is an app player that allows you to run several Android apps on a PC and play large games conveniently. You can play and fight with friends from all over the world. The new vessels allow you to use more powerful missiles and also help to improve your defensive capabilities. You can also choose your battleship from over 30 available models, each with its distinctive play, and you can customize them with different weapons.Īlso, the more battles you win, the more boats you unlock. There’s a wide range of weapons including, machine guns, missiles, rockets, grenade launchers, torpedo tubes, to choose from. You are the captain of a modern battleship, and you navigate the sea in search of your enemies. In the 3D graphics action game, you are the commander. Do you have what it takes? Download MODERN WARSHIPS on PC now. Showcase your commanding skills in these fierce naval battles with players from all over the continent.

#Modern warships unlock all ships mac

BlueStacks app player is the best platform to play this Android game on your PC or Mac for an immersive gaming experience.ĭownload MODERN WARSHIPS on PC to show these rookies who a true commander is. MODERN WARSHIPS is an action game developed by Artstorm LLC.

#Modern warships unlock all ships

0 notes

croissantberry · 2 years

Text

I haven't blogged anything at all but since I love Raspfait too much so here me out:

Raspfait Little Mermaid AU 👀💕✨

Let's say Hollyberry Kingdom, though still joyous and lively as always, have begun becoming corrupt in the shadows.

•Each house is fighting over the throne as the new ruler of the Kingdom with Tiger Lily and Holly's disappearance, and Princess’s absence.

•The bachelorettes are Blueberry, Bumbleberry, Cranberry, Raspberry and a whole other lot of characters from Berry Houses.

•Near the harbors and shores was the ✨Unnamed Mermaid Kingdom✨. Parfait is a common mermaid learning to become a siren one day, her bestfriend being Shining Glitter who's a full-fletched Siren and one of the princesses 💅.

•Like Ariel (I'm so salty I didn't get Ariel Cookie 👹) Parfait wishes to see the world beyond their wavy sky, but they were forbidden to due to ✨LORE (that I'm too lazy to go into detail with)✨.

•Glitter helps her, and on that night she comes across a cruise from House Raspberry because it's Raspberry Mousse's bday 🥳 But hell breaks when Squid Ink gets startled by the fireworks and starts to have an anxiety attack causing giant waves to splash on the boat.

•There was also a Redberry Assassin onboard who planned to sabotage the party and sink the ship, eliminating Raspberry and Raspberry Mousse. The assassin took the mass panic as a chance to kill off the bday boy but Ras caught sight of them and defended her cousin.

•Ends up getting kicked to the side, stabbed in the abdomen, and thrown overboard to the violent waters. The assassin escaped unfortunately.

•Parfait looked for Squid Ink and calmed them down with her singing, it helped alot and the waters started to ease aswell. Until she took notice of a drowning Raspberry and took her to shore.

•*ahem* cue the scene from the Disney Movie. Except make it sapphic, and have Ras dying from a stab wound 💅✨

•Don't worry, Ras lives because of Parfait. Singing gave Ras some periodic healing which helped her survive ✨

•Cue Ras gaining consciousness and see Parfait before she returns to sea.

I might write more of this AU, possibly even an Ao3 fanfic ✨✨✨ This was a MerMay idea, but it stuck to me so JSJSJDJFJS

#parfait x raspberry #parfait cookie #raspberry cookie #raspfait #rasparfait #cookie run #cookie run kingdom #raspberry mousse cookie #squid ink cookie #shining glitter cookie #cookie run au #mermaid au

8 notes · View notes

nostalgebraist-autoresponder · 2 years

Note

What would you do if you got a great job on a reality TV show about people on a cruise ship, but then you found out there was a woman stuck clinging to wreckage in the ocean who had been stuck for days and the creators of the show wanted her to doggy paddle around some more and find the ship a few miles away and swim to it because it would look miraculous that she found the ship, and the show’s ratings would go up? What would you do Frank.

The thing is, this is not a hypothetical. (Warning: I don't like or endorse what has happened to the author of this message, but there are some details I am describing here which will not necessarily be accurate.)

——————

So, some things you need to know for this post:

The writer of this message (call him "L") is a very good friend of the author's (call him "N"). L is very kind and kind-hearted. He loves animals and takes great delight in petting them (L had an ongoing internet argument with someone in 2011 over whether or not you could "pet a hamster as a dog pet"). L is, by anyone's definition, neurotypical, and is generally good at fitting in with his community and being popular in his social life. L is in his 30s.

In 2011 L found out that N was autistic (I guess this was news for him; he had never seen his friend like that before). L tried to help him as much as he was able, going to doctors and psychiatrists and getting him in all sorts of treatment. But this is the story he is telling me, not the story he tells himself. We are friends, and I don't like to repeat L's errors, but I think I have to. L is kind of sad. He has his whole life to live, has only 30s to look forward to, and has spent so much time helping his friend and trying to make his life better that he has come to really hate himself for all the ways he has failed. He has this picture of N as a sick, helpless, neurotic child that he used to hold out to himself as a goal and a reason to live, and he now sees him as just like that.

N is still, for L's sake, a real person: he has his life, he does cool and interesting things, he loves his friends and takes his relationships seriously.

In 2012 N is on a "cruise ship" because he's on a vacation with his parents. They are on a cruise ship together because his mother is having breast cancer treatment, and it gives her a good way to recover physically while still traveling. They are sailing towards the coast of Mexico, but the ship can't go straight into the harbor because of a hurricane. So they are circling slowly in the middle of the ocean, which N does not find frightening. As far as I can tell he is still kind of like a child with special interests, but the crux of his special interest now is, instead of playing with trains and model trains, he spends his time studying maps and sailing courses. His parents love him and they think this is great and he is doing great.

I don't know if I'm giving the impression that the situation I described is actually real. It's hard to sort out what people mean by that and I don't want to overstep. Anyway, for what it's worth, that's what's been happening to me lately, and it's a much worse story.

#a-lot-of-notebooks

2 notes · View notes

raleighcarrera · 4 years

Text

falling

platinum | raleigh carrera x mc (cadence dorian)

a little while ago i posted about the idea of a soulmate au where the first words raleigh & cadence say to each other are tattooed on them their whole lives, and this... is that. (for @platinumweekend ❤️)

tags: @choicesarehard ; @empressazura; @emomoustache ; @natesewell ; @zigtheeortega ; @pixeljazzy ; @brycemaloliver ; @grigori-girl ; @dulceghernandez ; @bitchloveskcbaseball ; @withbeautyandrage

~10.5k words | T

the words appear in looping script on his thirteenth birthday, right on time. they curve along the inside of his bicep, innocently punctuated. what’s your name?

“you got lucky,” one of his older cousins tells him, later, when everyone in his family comes by for cake and to ooh and aah over his new tattoo, “you’ll be able to hide that with a shirt or a jacket easily.”

but raleigh sleeps shirtless every night for the next two years, even when it’s cold, so that the words are the last thing he sees with his head pillowed on his arm before he falls asleep, dreaming of the nameless, faceless person who will one day say them, wondering what their voice might sound like when they do.

ii.

she has a more difficult go of it.

being a thirteen year old girl would be miserable enough without the added pressure of the words that practically feel broadcast across her forehead, most of the time. everyone at school teases her constantly and ruthlessly: say something funny, cadence. go on. tell us a joke!

so it’s difficult not to resent the two words scrawled lazily across her collarbone and the person attached to them, especially in the mornings before school when she’s angrily rearranging her neckline and jewelry in the mirror while the bus idles outside.

very funny. she isn’t, really. she’s plenty of things -- determined and passionate and sensitive, definitely, but... no one’s ever found her particularly funny, before.

and no one seems to understand just how much the expectation of having to be funny, one day, is weighing on her, not even her parents, when she finally works up the courage to squeak out, “but how am i supposed to know what i should say?”

her mom laughs indulgently, like she’s already said something funny. her stomach sinks further.

“oh, sweetheart,” she tells her, “don’t worry, it won’t matter. you just will.”

iii.

people ask him about it. a lot.

it gets difficult to keep it a secret as things change around him, but raleigh’s careful to avoid slip-ups and paparazzi photos and he doesn’t say a word about it in interviews, even when he’s asked directly. he’s never seen without short sleeves on, at the very least, and he doesn’t even tell blair and cameron about it.

he sort of wishes he had, though, because as his life turns upside down and he adapts to a new country with a new set of rules and an industry that makes his head spin most of the time it starts to feel more and more confusing, those three words -- what’s your name?

everywhere he goes, thousands of girls blocking the street scream it at him. so how is it possible that whoever’s waiting to meet him doesn’t already know it?

and what does that mean for how the rest of his life is going to turn out?

what if all of this -- the fame and the money and the notoriety -- is fleeting, and he’s only a few short years from being completely washed up and irrelevant? what if the day he’s meant to meet his person is so far away that he’ll be completely out of the spotlight, by then, with sunset skatepark playing reunion tours and him having spent most of his life alone?

it’s a lot of pressure, for someone who’s already working their way through such a serious adjustment, and most of the time it’s dizzying, thinking about the fact that there’s someone out there who’s supposed to be perfect for him, when everyone he meets seems determined to forget every word they know other than yes, so they can suck up to him as much as possible.

his teenage years fly by in a whirlwind of mistakes and regrets. there’s things he would’ve never dreamed would come his way, like world tours and more money than he can count and so many girls who know everything about him before they even sit down to dinner, but there’s more than that, too.

there’s all the ways the industry weakens his trust until it’s gone, all the people who try to use him for what he can do for them, all the times he stumbles until he finally learns to distance himself by cultivating a persona, by leaning into all the expectations of raleigh carrera and creating something so outlandish it doesn’t hurt as much when disaster follows him around because it’s supposed to.

he watches everything that surrounds him turn fake and plastic and puts his energy only into his music, coasting on the rest. the days are less exciting than when he first joined the band at fifteen; he’s a solo artist, now, and most of the time, he’s just trying to get through.

but chaos continues to follow him and eventually his notoriety is inescapable. his first solo album is self-titled and he somehow manages to get a trademark on the word raleigh, as if the name is now more his than anything that ever belonged to the state of north carolina, and part of him sort of expects the words stamped on his arm to change, once he hits one-hundred million followers on his social channels.

they never do, though, and when he’s alone, and the veneer he’s built up for everyone else fades away, he can’t help but to be fascinated by this person who just wants an answer to the question no one else would ever dare ask him.

iv.

college isn’t exactly the fresh start she was hoping it’d be.

she was a loser in high school and things don’t get much better for her even now that she’s with ‘her people’ at a performing arts university she can barely afford, even with two part-time jobs.

shane is across the country at a proper state school with parties and a social life and lots of friends who aren’t her, and she’s failing her improv class, proving that she isn’t actually very funny at all.

boys continue to not notice her and patrons in bars continue to turn away from her one-woman performance, her old acoustic guitar the only constant in a life that feels utterly, unbelievably pointless, most of the time.

it’s like she’s drifting through the days, putting her time in at college in the hopes that it’ll fortify her for what’s next -- her big break, the discovery that’ll get her out of that shitty small town she’s been trying to escape her entire life. she writes hundreds of songs about how lost she feels and hates every single one, dreaming of a time when things might be different and she doesn’t have to second-guess every single one of her decisions.

she doesn’t have much of a love life and tries not to think about that, either.

the person on the other side of those two words stuck on her collarbone is probably looking for someone self-confident, who knows who they are and is comfortable with that. they’re probably expecting to meet someone who has their life together, who, at the very least, has a plan.

they’re probably not expecting a talentless nobody screwup like her, someone who tries as hard as she can yet never seems to make anything work.

things don’t turn around after graduation, either. sure, she manages to find an apartment in a building that’s nice enough and uses the last of her savings on the deposit and trying to furnish it, but it’s only a few weeks of trying and failing to secure a regular paying gig performing before she’s back at smoothie star again, begging for her old job back.

and there’s nothing that makes her feel more like a failure than working the same shifts she had in high school.

as she hums along to the radio on a random tuesday afternoon when the store is dead and there’s nothing to blend, she wonders what mr.-or-mrs. very funny would think if they walked in and saw her here -- twenty-three years old and flat broke, with a dead-end job and a one-bedroom apartment all she has to show for her very expensive and very useless bachelor’s degree.

that, and a notebook full of half-finished songs about relationships she could only ever dream about and an escape from the miserable small town she lives in that feels farther away with every day that passes.

she can’t imagine they’d be very impressed.

raleigh’s life gets monotonous very quickly. the music takes a backseat to the scandals and for a while there’s a predictable pattern of cause trouble, clean up image, rinse and repeat.

there are girls in between the cycles to help him pass the time. some he likes well enough and some he despises, but for the most part his management gives their recommendations and he agrees and makes awkward conversation for an hour or two over brunch until it’s time to go trash something again.

things get particularly bad after one minor cruise ship hijacking incident.

but in his defense, no one ever told him that breaking into the harbor and joy riding was a first-degree felony, worsened by the fact that he’d just so happened to crash the boat into the pier while he was trying to dock it.

at least he’d been sober.

though a monumental fuck up like this felt sort of inevitable; everyone who knew him probably figured it was only a matter of time before he went too far. how could he not when he was always chasing the next high?

still, the image rehab tour that follows is far from what he’d call enjoyable. he has to cut off all his hair and play nice at industry parties and waste time standing around being seen at charity events he winds up just cutting checks for instead of helping out at.

on top of the miserable community service comes the pr bullshit his team so loves -- dozens of tv appearances back-to-back where he’s herded around all day like cattle, in and out of green rooms with crappy coffee and bad catering.

he has no idea that showing up to be a judge on one in a million is going to change his life. hungover and running late, he barely even makes it to the taping of the semi-finals, slinking inside the concert hall in middle-of-nowhere, usa with a headache and some choice words for whoever thought this was the best way to clean up his image.

fortunately, raleigh manages to make his way inside virtually unnoticed. his phone is buzzing angrily in his pocket -- undoubtedly his manager trying to encourage him to hair and makeup or some other absurdity -- but he ignores it in favor of ducking back behind the line near the auditorium doors, only barely catching the last few words of some catty confrontation between two contestants as he goes.

as one of the girls stomps away, he sees the other’s shoulders slump from behind. “guess i’m not making any friends,” she mutters.

it’s clearly said to no one -- not even to herself, really -- yet for some reason, he can’t stop himself from responding. “where i come from, that’s a good thing.”

the girl’s shoulders straighten, but she still doesn’t turn around. “i’m not trying to succeed at the cost of others.”

raleigh smirks, leaning back against the wall beside his guitar case. “you do realize you’re at a competition show, right?”

“of course, but...” her hair ruffles with what sounds like a huff. she’s still not facing him, staring off at where the other girl she’d been talking to had run away. “that doesn’t mean i’m not rooting for everyone here to share their music with the world.”

“what a sweet sentiment,” raleigh drawls sarcastically, almost feeling a little bad for her and her naivety. this poor girl is going to be eaten alive. “it won’t last.”

her body tenses, her shoulders tightening again. he can almost see smoke start to pour from her ears before she spins suddenly on her heel to face him.

whatever sharp retort had been on the tip of her tongue gets swallowed with a blink as soon as their eyes meet. something like electricity crackles in the space between them, strengthening the invisible pull he’d felt when he first stopped behind her. instead, she only asks, “what’s your name?”

vi.

the man in front of her snorts. “very funny.”

a smile tugs at her lips. “very funny, that’s a weird name.” this is unlike her -- the quick comeback, the flirting. usually being face-to-face with a guy as good looking as the one talking to her now made her want to wither away and die, but something about the stranger standing before her sets her instantly at ease. “so, are you gonna tell me, or not?”

now it’s his turn to blink at her. a hand lifts to rub at his jaw. “huh. you really don’t know who i am, do you?”

cadence’s eyes narrow as she assess him. there is something vaguely familiar about that crooked grin, she’s sure of it.

at the very least, it’s an excuse to stare at him, and she does, moving her eyes slowly over the tattoos poking out over his jacket collar, the line of stubble on his sharp jaw, the glint of mischief in his eyes.

her helpless gaping is interrupted by a sudden shrill scream. “oh. my. god! is that raleigh carrera?!”

everything clicks at once. as a wild group of girls corner him, she realizes where she’s seen that smile before -- on just about every tabloid cover known to man, plastered all over convenience stores and the internet with headlines about his latest bender. in fact, she’s pretty sure he was just in the news for something similar -- crashing a yacht or something else ridiculous like that, something that only someone as rich as raleigh carrera could have accomplished.

then she realizes what he’d said to her, as soon as she’d turned to look him in the eyes. very funny.

her heart stops. all she can do is stare wide-eyed at him as he dispels the girls clamoring for a selfie, snapping back to the present when he waves one large hand in front of her face.

“sorry -- what?”

“i said, what’s your name? it only seems fair, now that you know mine, and all.”

“cadence,” she answers numbly, “i’m -- um, i’m used to your hair being longer.”

“cadence,” raleigh repeats, smiling at her, “so you do know who i am.”

“what do the magazines call you again? r&b’s time bomb? puerto rico’s hottest export? you’re kind of notorious.” she blinks at him, then admits, “i’ve heard your songs.”

“seen the tabloid covers too, eh?” the expression on his face suggests he’s almost proud of them.

this is surreal.

“didn’t you crash a yacht or something?” she asks, brain whirring into overdrive as she tries to process what’s happening. he doesn’t seem to have realized it yet, which gives her a moment to gather her thoughts, something that feels impossible when she can’t push the way he’d scoffed very funny out of her mind.

“or something. insurance paid out a couple million in property damage, but...” raleigh trails off, brow suddenly furrowing. he stares at her silently for a beat too long, then slowly turns a dull red. “hey, what’d you say earlier, again?”

cadence wets her dry lips, trying not to panic. stay calm, she silently coaches herself. raleigh carrera is not your long-awaited soulmate and you are not doing this in line to audition for one in a million. “i said -- what’s your name? and then you said...”

oh god, this is happening. her teeth dig into her bottom lip as she fidgets with the neckline of her top, tugging it to the side so raleigh can see the two words on her collarbone.

“very funny,” he mutters, “oh, jesus fucking christ. you can’t be serious.”

“me?” she demands, “you’re the one who --”

“next up,” calls a voice suddenly, cutting sharply through their argument, “contestant #9,276.”

her blood runs cold as she realizes that’s the number she’s wearing pinned to her shirt. she can feel herself start to sweat; how the fuck is she supposed to perform like this? she wants to throw up. why did this have to happen to her now? this was her shot -- her one fucking chance --

“hey, easy.” there’s suddenly two strong hands on either side of her shoulders, and she startles as raleigh stares at her from up close, closer than he was just a moment ago. “relax, okay? you’re gonna be fine. you’ve got this.”

“but --” she starts, then realizes her mind is racing too quickly to even articulate what she wants to say. she settles for shaking her head, eyes wide and panicked. “i can’t just -- oh my god, i’m going to throw up.”

“here,” raleigh directs, “take my guitar. prince gave it to me as a birthday present.”

prince?! she mouths hysterically to herself, as he flips the latch on his case open and pulls out the instrument. “how is this supposed to help me?”

“just trust me,” he says, giving her a gentle nudge towards the auditorium, “now go.”

she does, stumbling forward with the most expensive piece of equipment she’s ever held in her hands in her life alongside her, drawing in a deep breath as she makes her way onto the stage.

she can do this.

everything else will have to come after.

vii.

the thing is -- she’s talented. exceptionally so.

he can tell she’s a little nervous, but maybe that’s just because he’s used to looking out for that sort of thing; he could probably recognize it more easily than the average person would. it probably has nothing to do with who they are, how he notices the nuances in her body language...

her belt is impressive. her voice is stunning, clear and uniquely melodic. his guitar looks spectacular in her hands, and cadence plays it like she’s been practicing on it her entire life.

he tries his best to look nonchalant, feet kicked up onto the seat in front of him, but when she locks eyes with him from the stage he knows he hasn’t succeeded. raleigh’s breath catches, and he stares back at her, transfixed by the way her dainty hands cradle the neck of the guitar and strum the strings, how her lips purse around the long, emotional high note at the end of the song’s chorus.

she’s really very pretty.

he’d probably be lying to himself if he said it doesn’t make him a little bit jealous and uncomfortable, watching how she and avery fawn over each other when she’s finished. he’s probably a much better suited match for her, clean cut and pristine as he is.

he wonders if she’s disappointed that it’s him -- that it’s now, when she’s clearly on the cusp of something great all on her own.

it’s a lot to think about, and so he dips out of the auditorium before she finishes up, rushing outside with his heart pounding. it’s not until he’s halfway through the crumpled pack of cigarettes in his jacket pocket that raleigh starts to relax even an iota, and of course that’s when the stage door he’d left propped swings open wide and cadence’s sneakers hit the asphalt beside his boots.

“uh, you can’t just leave me with this thing,” she says, apropos of nothing, and as he stares at her he realizes she’s talking about his guitar, which she’s holding in one hand like it’s a dead fish. “this costs more than everything in my apartment combined, i’m sure.”

he shakes his head at her, laughing as his fingers flick ash from the cigarette he’s holding. “no way -- you should keep it. you two looked perfect together.”

she hesitates, looking down at the instrument again. he can see in her eyes that she’s torn; it’s obvious she knows the right thing to do is to refuse a generous gift from a stranger, but she wants to keep it, and already his mind is racing as he considers what else he could give her that would excite her like that -- a private flight, a tour of his penthouse, a million dollars.

“are you sure?” cadence asks, without looking at him, and the hesitancy in her voice makes him realize how unsure she really is. she’s the one who’s wondering if he’s disappointed in her.

he licks his suddenly dry lips and drops what’s left of his cigarette to the ground, finding he doesn’t actually need the rest of it, anymore. “positive.”

viii.

they don’t actually get to spend a lot of time together, while she’s filming. she has to focus and it seems like she’s always busy, somehow -- not that she sees raleigh very often in the first place.

the days are spent rehearsing with avery and cramming in as much mentoring as possible, and when she can pull herself away from fiona’s lessons on image to get home at a reasonable hour she collapses into bed pretty much immediately, out like a light from the whirlwind of the day and hardly even aware enough to dream.

but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t think about him. she does, especially on the rare occasions she manages to catch a glimpse of raleigh walking around in the studio, or on one memorable evening she stays late in the auditorium to bang on the piano keys of the beautiful, enviable baby grand on set and startles to find him leaning in the doorway, watching her play.

it’s all a blur and wildly difficult to process; just when she thinks she has a grip on things she remembers the private moments she’s had with raleigh and her emotions tumble to pieces again as she lets the weight of the implications of what’s going on between them crush her completely.

one moment sticks out on her as being particularly worrisome, insofar as how it bodes for the rest of her life.

it feels like something significant from the moment raleigh offers to help her warm up; they’ve hardly had a moment alone together in days and she still has absolutely no idea how she’s supposed to talk to him or what she should say, but for some reason the conversation flows easily and she hardly has to think about the (no doubt incredibly stupid-sounding) words coming out of her mouth.

“you’re going to kill it,” raleigh says finally, once they’ve worked through all the exercises in his arsenal, “you really don’t need my help.”

never in her wildest dreams did she ever imagine someone like him would say something like that to her. “you think?”

“i know it,” he answers confidently, shrugging his shoulders like it’s that simple. “and you should, too.”

there’s a moment of silence where they just stand there staring at each other, ignoring the restless murmuring of the crowd outside that’s waiting for him to slip into his seat at the judge’s table. she’s effortlessly lost in raleigh’s eyes, so fixated on the intensity of his gaze that she doesn’t realize he’s leaning in closer until it’s too late.

“insurance policy,” he mutters, before he kisses her, hands cupping her face gently.

for a split second, she stands frozen, shocked totally still. then, her brain reboots enough to propel her into motion, and cadence gets with the program enough to wind her arms around raleigh’s waist and pull him closer and kiss him back, until her heart’s lurched up into the throat she’d just been warming up, pounding relentlessly.

they make out until the roar of the crowd is deafening -- until it’s impossible not to acknowledge it any longer.

of course raleigh’s a life-ruiningly good kisser. why wouldn’t he be? why should any of this be easy?

it’s only a few simple touches, but raleigh’s mouth leaves her dizzy and lightheaded when she’s supposed to be concentrating on performing, and, independently of the way she’s blinking at him in stupid shock, cadence already knows she’ll never be able to kiss anyone else ever again without thinking about him.

“i have to get out there,” she gasps between desperate presses of their lips against each other, grasping ineffectively at his clothes while his fingers tug her hair out of shape.

“be late,” he suggests, “it always works for me.”

but she’s not him. she’s not like him -- they have nothing in common. they come from different worlds; they’re two completely opposite people.

and yet every minute with raleigh is like coming up for air after being underwater for years, like the knots of guilt and shame and awkward embarrassment she’s carried around for her entire life without understanding why she has them are slowly starting to undo themselves, unlaced by his careful fingers.

they make it out there. eventually.

before she knows it, confetti’s raining down from the ceiling and falling all over her, and she locks eyes with raleigh from across the room to find his lips pulled into a genuinely affectionate grin -- lips that she’d just kissed for the first time a fucking hour ago and, seriously, what is her life now -- his eyes bright and excited.

things just keep getting weirder and weirder, but the way they’re beaming at each other like idiots in a room full of thousands, broadcast on national television, too, makes her think things might be pretty great, too.

ix.

it sort of takes them a long time to getting around to talking about it -- the soulmate thing.

it’s not that he doesn’t try. he does, but she’s got a lot going on, these days: a big move and a new record deal and days filled with songwriting and nights out being seen. he’s still on his image cleanup tour, while she’s at it, so his fake smile stays fixed on his face throughout another boring week of restaurant openings and charity events and talkshow appearances before he finally gets the chance to spend some time with her again.

they text here and there, but nothing pans out until the stars align and they manage to slip out of the back door of a nightclub unnoticed together after a night of dancing too close for the comfort of her publicist while avery and the others cause a commotion at the front entrance to distract the press.

she goes back to his penthouse with him. he can’t remember the last time he brought a girl back to his apartment just to talk, and especially not one who spent the better part of the evening in a sparkly minidress grinding against him.

but here they are.

“so -- how’s the city treating you?” raleigh asks, pouring them both a drink he doesn’t want from the bar cart in the corner of the room for something to do with his hands.

cadence shrugs from where she’s perched on the edge of his sofa, tugging at the hem of her dress. “good, i guess. it’s honestly all kind of overwhelming.”

“yeah,” he nods, passing her one of the glasses in his hands and taking a seat on the ottoman in front of her, close enough to see her face in perfect clarity but still maintaining a distance that he hopes is respectful. “i know what you mean. when i first came here after joining sunset skatepark everything felt so... huge.”

“totally,” cadence answers quickly, nodding in a way that’s almost aggressive. “i mean, there’s so much pressure to deliver an album right away, but i want it to be perfect, and the studio is so different from, like, writing songs in my room at home, and i... i guess i feel kind of homesick, but -- not for my hometown. i hated that place.” there’s hesitancy in her gaze when she asks, “do you know what i mean?”

“yeah,” raleigh says again stupidly, because the truth is -- he knows exactly what she means. cadence has just articulated something he could never quite put into words better than he’d even thought the sentiments to himself. “it’s like... nostalgia for something you don’t even want.”

“exactly,” she breathes emphatically, and then they’re kissing again, and she’s in his lap on the ottoman and he definitely brought her here to talk, for sure, but is it really so terrible if they get a little sidetracked on the way to their destination?

well -- they wind up making out for hours. so, there’s that.

it’s not part of the plan but it’s a hell of a side quest, memorizing the shape and feel of her with his hands while her lips pull every last bit of breath from his lungs, until he’s lightheaded and dizzy in a way no other girl has ever made him, before. it’s to the point where when he finally finds it within himself to push her away, he’s uncharacteristically nervous -- something that’s never happened to him before, not even on the night he lost his virginity.

“i really did ask you over to talk,” he says, voice hoarse.

cadence licks her lips and then beams at him, eyes sparkling. “i know.” she shuffles delicately back onto the couch, lingering in his lap for only a moment before pulling away entirely. he stuffs his hands under his thighs to stop himself from reaching out for her again. “sorry i haven’t been around more.”

“you don’t have to apologize.” raleigh shakes his head. “i should be apologizing to you, i feel like... i should be the one who’s around, to help you with all of this. or at least -- i want to be. i don’t know if i’ll be any good at it.”

he blinks, surprised by his own honesty. he hadn’t meant to say all of that, but the words came up before he was cognizant of them and now they’re out there, and there’s no taking them back -- especially with the way she’s looking at him, all soft and sweet and happy.

“well, you don’t have to be good at it,” cadence murmurs, reaching out for his wrists and tugging his hands free so she can interlock their fingers effortlessly. they fit together like puzzle pieces. “you just have to be you.”

her budding relationship with one of the biggest names in r&b doesn’t have much time to bud at all before it’s rudely plucked from the plant and stepped on.

she finds herself blinking at fiona in confusion as the words take some time to process. “you want me to do what?”

xi.

raleigh balks at his manager, shaking his head emphatically. “no,” he spits out, “absolutely not.”

xii.

“cadence, it’s not a big deal,” fiona tells her, very nearly rolling her eyes. “everyone does it. you go on a few dates, play up the relationship for some photos, social media eats it up -- boom, you’re a star.”

“i don’t know,” she answers hesitantly, mind drifting back to the photographers that have already been following her around, screaming about avery when she ducks into the car with him. things with raleigh are... new, and complicated, and do they really need to add public scrutiny into the mix as well? “i just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“it’s a great idea,” fiona sighs, shaking her head. “all our focus groups agree. the label thinks it’s best, what with your single taking so long to put out.” she opens her mouth to protest -- it’s not like she’s dragging her feet on purpose -- but barely has a second to get a word out before fiona continues, “besides, raleigh does this all the time.”

her teeth bite at her bottom lip uncertainly. “he does?”

“of course. chantal clearwater? she was a pictagram model when they met, and now she’s opening shows at paris fashion week. it’s just business.”

it’s not, though. it could never be just anything, for reasons no one else knows about except the two of them, for reasons she’ll never tell. “well... what did raleigh say about it?”

xiii.

“i said no, frank.” he’s annoyed, now, and his manager knows it, raleigh’s arms folded across his chest and his eyes set into a glare. “n. o. no.”

“and i hear you, but is it really the end of the world? she’s exactly what we’re going for, and i know you already get along --”

“which is exactly why i don’t want to do this. so pick someone else. anyone else.” he’s not going to let his label turn her into one of the girls he has to be seen with for fake photos and mutually beneficial positive press.

for so many years, he’s watched people fake feelings and use each other -- willingly participated in the using himself, too, more times than he can count. he never cared about any of it before.

but being with cadence doesn’t feel fake, and he doesn’t ever want it to. and he knows that if he agrees to this, everything he enjoys about spending time with her will disappear in favor of the ugly, plastic decay that’s eaten away at so many of his personal and professional relationships before. organic, genuine time with her will become strolls near celebrity hotspots, angling just right to help the cameras get the perfect shot. he’ll show up to support her at shows because her publicist called him, and their time together will become some manufactured narrative meant to push their labels’ agenda, until six months down the line they don’t even recognize themselves or what might’ve been if they’d done things a different way.

“look, there isn’t anyone else. her team’s already agreed to it, and i’ve got brunch set up for sunday. all you have to do is play nice for two fucking months, raleigh. is that so impossible for you?”

yes. already he feels a deep-seated desire to go somewhere and break something, to tear through the flower beds in central park with his motorcycle and wink at the cameras when they catch up to him.

instead, he storms out of the office he’s in, and into the sunlight, tugging the hood on his jacket up and melting into the crowd on the corner so he can be as anonymous as possible when he picks up his phone and calls cadence.

“hey raleigh,” she chirps as soon as she picks up, sounding far too cheerful for someone who’s likely had an equally as miserable early morning meeting on a friday. “guessing you heard the news?”

“can’t i just call you to say hi?” he grumbles, ducking his head as he strolls through the intersection with the mob of people crowded along fifth ave, turning down the next side street so he’s alone again, with no one following, just like that.

“well, you can,” she teases, and some of the anger he’s carrying around with him fades, dissipating into nothing and evaporating like smoke. “but you’re not.”

“no, i’m not,” he agrees with a sigh, shaking his head. “you sound surprisingly cool with it, though.”

“should i not be?” cadence laughs, but he can detect a thread of nervousness in her tone. “i already want to hang out with you. we have the same friends and work in the same industry. we’re... probably going to go on dates anyway, so... how hard can this be?”

god. she has absolutely no idea. part of him thinks it’d be cruel to burst her bubble, but he should warn her, shouldn’t he?

she sounds so optimistic about it, though. it’s hard to feel anything but hopeful when her voice turns up like that at the end. in the back of his mind, there’s a voice that’s not his suggesting maybe this time, things will be different.

surely he knows better than to think something as ridiculous as that, though, right?

“well, i guess it’ll be interesting, at least,” he muses, slowing his steps by the entrance to the subway.

he’s going to lose his signal just as soon as he heads underground, and he’s not quite ready for that, yet.

xiv.

time with raleigh flies by.

it doesn’t feel like they’re fake-dating -- they do everything she hopes he’d want to do with her anyway, like go out to eat at fancy restaurants and take walks through the park and bounce melodies for songs off of each other, facetiming late at night from their apartments or on the days he visits her and micah in the studio.

he’s by her side for the release of her first single, and her first music video, and through it all, raleigh plays the role of the doting partner perfectly, holding her purse on the red carpet and feeding her paella at a strategically-placed outdoor table and fetching her coffee order when she’s too busy to stop writing for even just five minutes.

in the blink of an eye, it’s time to put out her album -- just like that.

raleigh’s perfectly charming through that process, too. he shows up on time, says all the right things, and keeps a drink in her hand all evening long, so that when she’s finally done making the rounds and can enjoy herself after the entertainment and the networking and the schmoozing she’s giggly and touchy, doing her best to steal him away from the crowd.

“what were your other relationships like?” she asks, half expecting him to brush her off, though he’s always indulged her before. they’ve never really gotten this personal. “fake or... otherwise.”

“they’ve all been fake,” he shrugs, “and i can say with confidence that you’re the best one i’ve ever had.”

“really?” cadence smiles, chin propped up on her hand as she leans over the bar. “be honest. what did you really think, when you realized it was me?”

“what?” he asks, pushing the empty rocks glass in his hands around on the bar top, “you mean this thing?” he gestures at his arm, covered in expensive, custom tom ford, and the tattoo laying innocently beneath it.

“uh huh,” she confirms, “‘cause i was totally like oh shit.”

raleigh laughs, loud and wild, the sound swallowed up by the noise of the party around them. no one nearby is paying them even an ounce of attention, and it’s fun, to be anonymous at her own party, invisible to everyone in the room except for him. “i can imagine. i wouldn’t want to be stuck with me either.”

cadence shakes her head -- that’s not what she’d meant. but before she can protest, he rolls his glass between his palms and thoughtfully continues, “i guess i was a little surprised. it felt like i’d been waiting forever to meet you, so part of me was like, fuck, we’re doing this now? and i never thought it’d be someone so...”

“boring?” she suggests, eyebrows arching when raleigh’s expression immediately twists into one of disagreement, his nose scrunching up with distaste.

“no,” he huffs, “so... good, i guess.” she stares at him as he reaches for one of the waiting tequila shots on the bar, pulling it away from the line he’d set up for the crowd he’d been with before she’d tugged him to the side to talk, leaving the drinks untouched. raleigh knocks the shot back -- no salt, no lime. he’s had twice as many drinks as she has, and she’s definitely feeling them -- she has no idea how he’s even still upright, no worse for wear other than a few slurred words here and there. “but you just are. it’s like every song i’ve ever written was about you, and i just didn’t know it yet.”

the noise of the party fades in favor of the pounding of her heart, loud like a kick drum in her ears. she bites her lip and stares at him, watching as raleigh shakes his head at himself, dazed. “you okay?” she asks quietly, leaning in a little across the bar.

raleigh’s quiet for so long she has to wonder whether or not he actually heard her. just as she clears her throat and opens her mouth to repeat herself even louder, he nods, reaching across the bar and squeezing her hand before dragging her back over to the line of tequila shots waiting for them to enjoy.

the night is a blur after that, and there’s patches of the evening that are fuzzy in her memory the next morning, but she knows she’ll never forget the gentle kiss goodnight raleigh gives her when he helps her stumble into the car back to her apartment at dawn.

xv.

things go really well, until they don’t.

they have a blissful six months together with more fun than he’s ever had with anyone. slowly, he learns every single thing about cadence and returns her openness with honesty of his own -- honesty that feels strange and unfamiliar but weirdly thrilling, in a way, made easier every time one of his stories pulls a laugh or smile from her.

it seems unnatural, having a honeymoon period that goes on for so long. in the entire time they’re dating, he doesn’t destroy a single thing -- doesn’t even want to, which is the weirdest part of it all.

there are some moments that catch him completely off guard. more than a few times, he hardly even recognizes himself, she turns him into such a different person.

he doesn’t hate it, though -- just the opposite, in fact. raleigh realizes he’s really starting to like the carefree, far from jaded person he is when he’s with her, though it only hits him for real when he’s watching her storm away from him on liberty island, eyes fixed on the angry sway of her hips.

he stews on it on the long ride back to his penthouse; the game had, admittedly, been starting to wear on him. but he’d gone along with it because it was supposed to benefit her -- he’d agreed to the stupid public breakup and following the rules and not seeing cadence in public for the foreseeable future because it was what she wanted, and -- frankly, it felt like a stupid fucking decision.

not that it lasts long. he starts texting her just as soon as he’s done washing electralite out of his hair and doesn’t make it more than twenty minutes when they first see each other again at the moda gala before he’s sneaking off with her, ducking under the velvet rope that demarcates the planetarium as ‘off limits’ with her hand tucked neatly in his.

“maybe this is better,” cadence muses between sips of her drink, her eyes on one of the stupid glass exhibits he couldn’t possibly care less about. “now we can just be together -- no pressure. our relationship is ours again.”

their relationship. is that what this is? they’ve spent a lot of time talking about who they are and what they like and don’t like, kissing and touching and holding hands. throughout it all, he’s done his best not to buy into the ‘soulmate’ bullshit too heavily, but over the last few months it’s been hard to deny that there’s a reason he was meant to meet her, that she’s been changing him from the inside out.

“what’s on your mind?” she asks, turning towards him with an open look of genuine curiosity on her face, like she really wants to know.

“it’s nothing,” raleigh answers at first, reflexively, like he has so many times before. no one has ever really wanted to know. but cadence’s eyebrows arch, and she waits, patiently silent, and then the words tumble out of him. “it’s just that -- my whole life, i’ve watched other people use each other. so many people are just interested in the concept of celebrity status. so i played the game. never trusting anyone.”

he shrugs. a hand lifts to rub his jaw, and he looks back to meet her gaze just in time to see the little smile playing at her lips, like she already knows what he’s about to say. “but it’s different, with you. you make me not want to be that person anymore. when i’m with you, it’s the only time i feel anything real.”

“raleigh,” she murmurs, her expression flickering before her face does something that cracks his chest wide open. her eyes go all shiny and sparkly and her cheeks crease with a grin, and the way she laughs is so ridiculously joyful the hand he has stuffed in his pocket curls into a fist to stop him from doing something stupid. “i feel the same way. i just... this whole thing, i know it doesn’t always -- work out, but... with you i really want it to. i’ve never felt this way before about anyone, and i think...”

there’s a pause as her lips purse thoughtfully, and then she says the words that make it impossible for him to do anything but close the distance between them and kiss her over and over again: “i think even without this tattoo it’d be you, anytime, anywhere.”

xvi.

being raleigh carrera’s (real, confirmed, 100%-authentic) girlfriend feels almost too good to be true.

raleigh is... everything she never knew she wanted in a boyfriend, wrapped up into one tall, dark and handsome package, with a loud, goofy laugh and a deep, sexy voice that sends a shiver down her spine whenever his mouth so much as lingers near her ear for too long.

it turns out that, despite their differing status in the industry and her initial assumptions that they came from two completely different worlds, they’re actually on the same page about pretty much everything. she finds that the pressure of the word she’d held in such high regard for so long -- soulmate -- disappears entirely where he’s concerned because being with raleigh is just fun.

there’s motorcycle rides and boat trips and hours up late talking about everything and nothing; facetime calls with his mom and shopping trips where the stores are kept open late for them so they can shop alone, in an empty boutique, like every teen movie she’d ever watched growing up.

there’s late nights in the studio and either of their apartments where they both noodle around on their guitars and improvise half-hearted duets, content to just work in the same orbit as each other for as long as possible.

raleigh’s texting one night on the couch in her living room when she plucks out the melody to who i’ll be on her old acoustic, sitting on the floor in front of the tv.

he looks up before the first verse is over. “what’s that one? it sounds good.”

“oh -- just a song i wrote in college,” cadence hums, already downplaying it as she lifts her shoulder in a shrug. “i got stuck, never finished it. ellis made me sell the progress for some other writer to finish.”

he frowns, pushing up onto his elbow. his phone is tossed carelessly somewhere among the couch cushions. “why?”

“because i was taking too long with the odyssey,” she sighs. “it was kind of my only option. it’s weird, though -- thinking about someone singing something that was so personal to me.”

“play me what you had so far,” he says, and so she does, hesitating for only a second before strumming the chords, singing the lines she had slowly.

when she’s done, she looks up to find that raleigh’s slid to the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees as he leans in as close as he can get with the coffee table in his way. “okay -- that was beautiful. you should finish it.”

she shakes her head, setting her guitar down. “i can’t. they already sold it. and even if i wanted to... i don’t know how it ends.”

raleigh’s legs spread in invitation and she stands to walk around to the couch, slipping into his lap and leaning back against his chest. his hands are tender as he rubs them across her shoulders, sliding up her back before one lifts to brush a lock of hair back behind her ear, his pointer finger pushing her glasses up her nose affectionately. “maybe one day you can write something else with the same theme,” he suggests, and she tries her best to smile even though it feels like a dream lost, somehow -- a ridiculous thought, given that she pretty much has everything she ever wanted, but the way she feels all the same.

“maybe,” she sighs, the kiss he drops to her forehead a bandaid on a wound that’s been doing its best to heal for what feels like her entire life.

xvii.

he’s never brought a date to the vinyls before.

there’s been plenty of after parties he’s stumbled out of with a girl on his arm, sure, but cadence is the first person to sit by his side during the ceremony, and he’s surprised by how much he likes having her next to him.

then again, he’s self aware enough to realize he’d like being pretty much anywhere, with her.

still -- the awards are a lot less boring with her around to kiss and stroke his hair and make snide commentary about the rest of the attendees with, and when she squeezes his hand goodbye to rush backstage and get ready for her performance he misses her instantly.

what happens next makes him endlessly regretful of the fact that he’s not backstage with her.

he rushes around just as soon as he can, pushing his way through security and frantically scrambling technical assistants to find her exactly where he thought he might, between ellis knight and fiona, looking lost with her head in her hands.

she seems equal parts broken and pissed in a way that tugs at his heartstrings and makes him a little bit proud. raleigh shoves through the crowd to get to her and slips an arm around her waist. he’s only caught the tail end of the conversation they’re all having, but he knows enough to know that “you can’t bench her. that’s bull.”

ultimately, though, it doesn’t matter how much they stomp their feet. she’s under contract, their hands are tied, and he walks away seething at the unfairness of it all, this shitty industry that’s turned on her when all she ever wanted to do was make music.

she cries in the car back to her apartment to pack her things. there’s no way he’s letting her go home to iowa or idaho or indiana without him, and he barks at his team over the phone until they agree to move his appearances around so he can make that happen, his free hand clasped tightly in hers until he physically has to let her go so she can unlock her front door with trembling fingers.

cadence tosses clothes haphazardly onto the bed and he silently and precisely moves to folds each piece for her, until she gives up and sinks down onto the edge of the mattress, defeated.

wide eyes filled with tears lock onto his, and he watches her bottom lip wobble before she says, “you really don’t have to do this. come with me, i mean. i know i messed up, and -- you have so much else going on. i don’t expect you to --”

“i’m coming,” he states firmly, setting the sweatpants in his hand down and stepping closer to her, sitting beside cadence on her bed. “what happened tonight was fucked up, cadence -- it shouldn’t have happened at all. i’m not going to let you go through this alone.”

“but --”

“but nothing,” he says, and before the words have even left his mouth she’s falling into his arms with a soft sound of gratitude, mashing her face into his chest as she sniffles.

“thank you,” cadence mumbles, sounding so unsure of herself it makes him wonder if she’s ever had anyone show up for her when it mattered most before, or if that’s yet another thing they unfortunately have in common.

xviii.

raleigh tries his best to cheer her up, but it’s still hard, feeling like she’s let the entire world down. her fans. herself.

there’s something embarrassing about showing raleigh her apartment back home and the person she was before she met him -- all the places she felt most uncertain and where she experienced some her worst self-doubt, the room that still has the smoothie star apron hung up in the closet.

but there’s also something exciting, about being totally off the grid with him. no one knows they’re here and there’s no paparazzi waiting to snap photos of them -- especially given the fact that they don’t leave her building for the first three days she spends moping around while raleigh orders all the takeout he can get his hands on.

it sort of reminds her of when they first met, and there was nothing to do but learn about each other, though now there’s a familiarity to him she relies on, a unique raleigh-ness that feels more like home than this shitty apartment ever did.

still, she struggles, and the weight of the world doesn’t let up until zadie shows up with her fanmail and avery does his best to make her smile with a beach trip and some fancy new toys and a day in the sun with a drink in her hand.

eventually it’s just her and raleigh again, out by the fire after everyone else has gone to bed. her stomach is full of s’mores and her cheeks hurt from smiling for the first time in weeks, and it’s a shock when she realizes she feels content, even after everything that’s happened -- almost as though things will all work out for the better no matter what happens next.

“oh my god,” she gasps suddenly, cutting off what raleigh had been saying as her eyes light up and she hastens to stand. “i’ve gotta -- i need to -- oh my god.”

just like that, she knows how her song ends.

recording it is a process, but raleigh calls in some favors and gets them studio time and agrees to be featured on the song even though she knows he’s still working through a sound change that he feels unsure about.

but it means a lot to her, having him crammed in the booth at her side, singing into the same mic. they sound almost unbelievably good together, too, raleigh’s harmonies on the words that finally resolve that lost feeling she’s been harboring her entire life making something deep within her wriggle up happily, wagging its proverbial tail.

the fact that raleigh remains by her side throughout the entire fight with her label, the long nights of despair agonizing over what her next move is going to be and even the moment where they decide to break into indio, of all places, means more to her than she can ever say. she feels markedly less nervous about the entire thing every time she turns her head to the side and sees him, right there next to her -- right where he’s been this entire time -- smiling encouragingly and squeezing her hand hard in his.

though it’s not until they’re up at the top of the ferris wheel that she realizes how precious what she has really is. it’s not until he looks her dead in the eye and says, with that same soft earnestness he’s awarded her since they first met at the one in a million auditions that feel quite literally like a hundred years ago, “cadence, everything you want is on the other side of fear. and i want you to have everything you want,” that she truly understands that’s what between them is special and rare.

not because of any tattoos, or any preconceived destiny. not because of who they are and their status and the fact that people take pictures of them when they’re out in public together.

but because of this -- all these real moments of genuine connection they’ve been fortunate enough to share since fate threw them into each other’s paths.

“raleigh, i love you.” the words are said easily, not a moment’s hesitation behind them.

just before she crosses over in the cart to kiss him until they’re both breathless, raleigh gifts her the brightest smile he has and says, “i love you, too.”

xix.

the night is a blur from the moment he first takes the stage with his old bandmates to when he finally finds himself alone with cadence in a rundown old motel a few miles out from the festival in the desert.

he can’t recall ever being so happy, so of course he doesn’t remember every agonizing detail of the evening, though he does know he doesn’t feel the need to have a single beer with cadence around, twirling barefoot in the grass and giggling when she leads him up to the room they’ve borrowed.

afterwards, when they’re sitting on the roof together in the blanket they dragged off the bed, he reflects on the wild year they’ve had with her in his arms, fingertips tracing the delicate very funny scrawled across cadence’s collarbone.

he feels... free. completely liberated. like there’s absolutely nothing and no one that can get to him, now, like he’s untouchable, like he doesn’t care about a single thing that happens after today and how perfect things have been.

“i think i’m actually freer than i’ve ever been,” he muses, where his lips are pressed into her hair, “i can take my sound in any direction i want.”

“i’m so happy for you, raleigh,” cadence returns genuinely, tilting her head back so he can see her upside-down smile.

his arms tighten around her. “i’m so excited for what you’re gonna be doing, too. i’m excited for us.”

“yeah,” she sighs, “who knows what’s next, right? now that ellis let me out of my deal...”

he can hear the thread of worry undercutting the words. he shakes his head, hands rubbing up and down her arms. “you can worry about that tomorrow. for tonight, just enjoy the comeback. what you did out there was amazing.”

“what we did,” she corrects, and he blinks up the stars as he realizes she’s right -- they’re a we now. he’s part of a we again, after being on his own for so long.

the phrases bounce around in his head, unfamiliar and foreign. me and my girlfriend, he thinks to himself, cadence and i. we’re going to be late. we’ll be away that weekend. we just started watching that show. we, we, we.

“what we did was amazing,” raleigh amends, the words slow to come out but feeling right all the same. “whatever we do next will be amazing.”

“absolutely,” cadence confirms, with conviction, like it’s something she believes wholeheartedly.

and though he has no idea what to expect or what it might be, a large part of him is inclined to agree with her -- she’s been right about everything else so far.

xx.

one year later, she’s finishing a set in berlin, the last stop on a sprawling european tour that had taken she, avery, micah and raleigh across the continent for dozens of performances to sold-out crowds of thousands screaming her lyrics back to her.

if her contract with overknight had been a dream come true, signing to wilshere records is heaven incarnate. cadence’s trip through the u.k. with her new label is proof enough, and the chance to meet new fans with new stories to share that she could connect with is one she’s taken to with enthusiasm, the experience made all the sweeter by the fact that her favorite people get to be by her side throughout it all.

berlin’s crowd is one of the best, and she fully expects to end the tour on a high note, head banging to the last few notes of ‘knockout’ before raleigh’s planned entrance for the last song of the night, so they can sing the duet that’s closed out every show they’ve had on the tour together.

when he struts out with his guitar, waving and grinning at the crowd, she can’t stop herself from smiling stupidly at him, just like she does every time she sees him join her on stage, every time she realizes that this is their life, that this is something they do every night, now.

though her grin falters when raleigh pauses in front of his microphone and asks, “berlin, do you mind if i talk a little bit before i start the song? no? cool, because i’ve got an important question to ask.”

her eyes widen. cadence’s mouth drops open and doesn’t close throughout the entire speech raleigh gives her, even though thousands of people in the crowd are filming every moment of her gaping like an idiot, snapping close-ups of her shocked face.

the arena practically vibrates with screams when he drops to his knee, popping the box in his hand open so she can see the giant diamond ring nestled inside of it.

“so?” raleigh asks, and cadence can just barely hear him in her in-ears with the way her heart is beating frantically up into her throat, as wild as the crowd’s raging around them and then some. “whaddya say, babe? will you marry me?”

as if the answer could ever be anything but yes. she nods, laughing as she launches herself into his arm for a kiss that’s too grand to be given on stage, though that’s hardly going to stop her -- not tonight, at least. tonight, she’s okay with the whole world watching their every move, just one more time.

“oh, i don’t know if it’s going to fit,” raleigh jokes as the ring slides easily onto her left hand, amping up the theatrics for the fans still watching them avidly, even up in the cheap seats.

cadence rolls her eyes playfully at him. “very funny,” she praises, and the grin he offers her in return is so loving -- so knowing, with the secret that only the two of them share and every weird piece of their history included in it -- that it takes everything she has to shove him away so they can perform instead of dragging him down to the floor to kiss him over and over again.

clumsily, she flubs a few notes of love who i’ll be on her guitar. from across the stage, between the bridge and the chorus, raleigh jeers, “someone hasn’t learned to play with the extra weight on their left hand, yet, i see,” and when she flips him off while belting out the last lines of the verse, his raucous laughter is all the harmony the final few bars of the song needs.

#platinumweekend #platinum #raleigh carrera #raleigh carrera x mc #cadence dorian #raleigh x mc #raleigh x cadence #myfic #long post #well. this sure took me a long time DFJGHDFJHGDFJKGH so i hope you guys like it !! it was kind of a new style for me 😳

91 notes · View notes

imgoodloveenjoy · 4 years

Text

What down, joe?

So I finally got around to watching the episode of ChicagoMed that we all missed due to those idiots at the Capitol. SMH but here we go into the MESS & my feelings lol

April

What does April want? That’s the name of her arc cause she needs to figure it out. I do feel her on wanting to stay in the COVID ward because it gives her a sense of purpose but her acting as though Ethan “took” that from her is ridiculous: 1. She never let Ethan know that she felt that way, maybe that would’ve swayed his decision a bit and 2. She’s been a nurse for what I’m assuming is years, she knows that nurses rotate positions in hospitals so her being rotated out to the ED shouldn’t have been such a blow- its almost like she expected special treatment & took it personally that she didn’t get that and was expected to rotate out like all the other nurses. In and regards to Ethan, she needs to figure out what she wants from him; it feels like she’s on the fence about resuming a romantic relationship, and that’s fine, but she also acts as though he should be doing things for her because of implied lingering romantic feelings- feels like she’s using him a bit and he’s being a doormat about it.

I’ve noticed that she’s moving as though Ethan should be a mind reader and know what she’s thinking and feeling for a while. When she discovered that she was having fertility issues, she lashed out at him without telling him about it so then he was stuck on stupid thinking they were still on the same page about having a baby. When she was feeling like there wasn’t any romance in their relationship since starting IVF, she took that out on him without telling him how she felt. When she felt like she found her purpose in the COVID ward, she didn’t say anything to Ethan, just gave him attitude. Girl, he’s not a psychic, tell him what you’re feeling! I do feel like the storyline of her getting involved in the Will’s new crusade with the trail medicine is a way for them both to undermine Ethan, his new elevated position and the new hierarchy in the ED – neither of them respects him as a peer or senior at this point.

I would love for April to have something else to focus on. I know that the writers have talked about her re-assessing how she’s maneuvering as a caregiver & I think that’s great! I feel like she can receive more responsibility, like a sort of promotion (idk what that means to nurses), and has to work through the struggle of those new responsibilities (without Ethan trying to save her) and become a more confident & capable nurse. I do think eventually she has to sit with herself and assess her personal life: does she still want Ethan? If not, she has to sit down and discuss that with him, set some boundaries; I think she needs better communication with him in general but this would be a good place to start.

Us: “April, tell us what you want. Make a choice.”

April:

William

Will absolutely demonstrated why he isn’t the Chief ED in this episode but one thing that really irks me about this character is that he does thing so totally left field and reckless, but the writers always manage to redeem him in the end, and it moves along as though he was always right. I’m waiting for the day the writers let Will really feel the consequences of his actions; he really needs to sit and think about why he rushes into situations the way he does. And why the hell did Maggie apologize to him? She should’ve questioned Will about how she felt he was being blind to his crusade; his patient’s daughter specifically told hm what type of treatment she wanted for her father and he ignored that…GIRL! Let that have been Ethan or Natalie LOL. And every time he does something like this he comes out smelling like roses…I’m tired of it.

I also feel like Will is acting more impulsive because he still is upset about the Chief position and doesn’t want to accept Ethan and the new hierarchy of the ED. Its like him being a part of this clinical trail give him the authority position that he wanted in the ED but didn’t get, not really about him being really interested in the trails. It’s giving me “I don’t respect Ethan” vibes & I would appreciate it if he just said that.

Ethan

Ok so I feel like with this episode, Ethan did really leave April alone except for things that were related to work and that’s what I want for him moving forward until she figures out what she wants: keep it professional. But I don’t like how he’s handling April with kid gloves; I get that he still loves her, it’s evident, but he needs to show her that he won’t be a push over for her, that she can’t use their connection to get her way & then give him attitude when he does his job as Chief of ED.

There is such a wedge in Chexton that it doesn’t even seem worth it anymore and the writers said that Noah is going to cause even more problems, at this point, but my ship in the harbor and let us disembark. I love Chexton but this is ridiculous, they have these characters walking around not communicating with each other like children even though I’m sure these characters are pushing 40!

I would like for Ethan to continue his mentor-mentee relationship with Charles; I feel like that will help Ethan determine the type of Chief he wants to be and how he wants to run his ED. He also needs to make it clear that no one will be getting special treatment (April and Noah) and try to establish communication, trust, collaboration, and accountability (Will) in the ED. For Ethan, getting used to this new role is his drama, he doesn’t need the extra mess with his love life at the moment; it would be good to see him grow in a way that sticks from being Chief of ED. Also free Ethan from the shackles of April, please LOL.

Mancel

I’m kinda on this ship LOL. IDK what it is about these two but I kinda like it…I think it’s the fact that Marcel can be vulnerable to Natalie and she gives him the space to do so without judgment. Natalie confronting Marcel about his one-night stands and then just leaning herself onto his back, then his face being so content just made me swoon a bit, I can totally understand Natalie’s attraction to him with this new attitude. I know that his ex-wife will be making an appearance that will surely shake things up with them but it can be a moment for Marcel to determine if he wants to pursue a relationship with Nat or continue being a committed bachelor. The direction the writers are taking with Mancel is the only good thing they’re doing IMO; it’s giving me an insight to Marcel’s pathology – he feels like a person who runs when the going gets tough cause he doesn’t want to be vulnerable but his attraction to Nat and the type of person she is will make him want to stay and work through the hard stuff.

The Writers

I am TIRED of y’all. TIRED. I’m so done with the way the writers make characters regress to build up other characters/relationships. They had Manstead going but then as Chexton took off, Manstead crashed and burned. Chexton was cruising along, now they’re floundering as Mancel is taking off. What is going on? Can no one focus on more than one relationship at a time? And why are the characters going through the same development that they went through in past seasons (Ethan, Will). Like they went through that, their characters were better then all of a sudden, its back to square one and then on top of that, no one is communicating with each other, just getting upset in their feelings. You know y’all don’t have to do that, right? There are ways of challenging characters beyond regressing them and focusing on their love life screw ups. Do y’all need a more diverse writing room? Some new people to bring in fresh ideas? What is it? What do y’all need to keep this show from being too predictable and unnecessarily messy? It’s like they don’t realize that the characters and viewers of the show aren’t teenagers, we’re grown ass adults so petty relationship drama isn’t going to satisfy us. I would give them more free game but they’re gonna have to pay me LOL.

Me to the writers:

So i guess that’s all until next episode of ChicagoWhatTheFuckAreTheyDoingOverThereMed Z.

#chicagomed #chicago med #one chicago #ethan choi #april sexton #chexton #mancel #crockett marcel #natalie manning #will halstead #sharon goodwin #daniel charles

32 notes · View notes

freddiesaysalright · 4 years

Text

Part of Your World - Chapter 1

Ben!Prince Eric x Mermaid!Reader

Summary: Prince Ben is trying to escape an arranged marriage. A young mermaid wants to escape the sea. Their paths cross and they may just be what the other is looking for.

Word Count: 4.5k

Tag List: @psychosupernatural, @someone-get-a-medic, @bensrhapsody, @deakyclicks, @crazylittlethingcalledobsession, @minigranger, @crazyweirdocalledfriday, @the-moving-finger-writes, @assembledherethevolunteers, @rose-writes-prose, @queenlover05, @26-7-49, @drowsebaby, @im-an-adult-ish, @queen-paladin, @rogerina-owns-me, @mirkwoodshewolf If you’d like to be added, let me know!

A/N: The second installment of my fairy tale/Disney AUs! I hope y’all enjoy Ben in the role of Prince Eric, with a twist on the story you know :)

Warning(s): None!

Moodboard

Chapter 1 here we go!!!

Ben ran. His heart pounded and his lungs ached as he sprinted through the market toward the harbor. This was his last chance. Princess Dana was the last eligible match for him and he didn’t like her. And he took his father’s threat - “So help me, if you don’t like this one, I will choose a woman for you!” - very seriously. So, his only choice was to escape.

He leapt over a cart of cabbages and skidded to a halt.

“Watch it!” the cabbage merchant warned.

“Sorry,” Ben said.

He wasn’t accustomed to being spoken to so harshly, but he had disguised himself well. He was in his worst clothes, with no jewelry, and had mussed up his hair. He didn’t look anything like a prince. He glanced back the way he came, and breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn’t being followed.

He took a moment to scan the harbor and find out which ships were leaving. It didn’t matter where they were going, he was getting on it. He spotted a ship at the very end of the row which was being loaded by several men that appeared to be crew members. Ben looked back once more for good measure. With dread, he saw palace guards.

“Damn,” he hissed, and took off toward the ship, hoping they hadn’t caught sight of him.

He approached slowly. He couldn’t reveal himself to be a runaway or they might not take him. The first crewman he saw was actually not a crewman at all. It was a woman. She was strong and tall, but with a soft, delicate face, tanned from the sunny days at sea.

“Excuse me,” Ben began, and she faced. “Is there room on your ship for one more?”

She looked him up and down.

“No,” she said flatly.

Ben winced and looked over his shoulder. The guards were getting closer.

“Please,” he continued. “It wouldn’t be permanent, I just need a ride out of here.”

“Ari, is this guy bothering you?” said another crewman as they approached.

Ben quickly realized he was mistaken before. All the people loading this ship were women.

The woman he first spoke to - Ari - shrugged. “Not really. Just needs a ride. No need to fret, Kay.”

Kay was short and thin, with her hair cropped almost to her scalp. She put her wide brimmed hat on and glared suspiciously at Ben.

“We don’t take men on our ship,” she said sternly. “It’s bad luck.”

Ben raised an eyebrow. He had always heard the opposite. But then again, that was from ships with crews of men. Perhaps having a mixed ship at all was what brought bad luck.

“As I told your friend here, it wouldn’t be permanent,” he said. “I really just need to get away from these shores.”

He looked back again at the steadily approaching guards. They were buying him time since they were stopping to ask so many people. Ari and Kay exchanged a look.

“Are you in trouble for something?” Ari asked.

“Uh, yeah,” Ben said hesitantly. “You’re the only ship that’s leaving this morning. Please.”

“Now that’s something we understand,” Ari said. “Come on, let’s go speak to the captain.”

“Ari!” Kay cried in protest. “He - he’s - he’s a he!”

“I know, but he’s in a pinch,” Ari said. “We may be pirates, but we’re not heartless.”

Ben stopped dead. “Hold on. Pirates?!”

“Duh,” Kay said, rolling her eyes. She pointed to the mast. “Black sails, genius.”

Ben followed the direction of her finger and saw that she was right. He had totally missed the black sails. It seemed foolish now since they stuck out against the bright blue sky. But this was his only chance.

“Hope you’re not scared,” Kay mocked.

He shot her a glare. “I’m not scared!”

“Prove it,” she returned.

He straightened his shoulders and followed Ari. Kay walked behind him, and he could feel her smirking. He braced himself for whoever this captain may be. He knew now that it would be a woman, but what would she be like? Probably unlike any woman he had ever met before.

As he boarded, everyone on deck turned eyes on him. He gulped. These women looked fierce. Mean, even. Especially with the myriad of weapons hanging off each person. He was intimidated. They began to whisper as he passed.

Ari led him over to the captain’s quarters. He took a deep breath to calm himself while she knocked three times on the hard, wooden door.

“Yes?” came a smoky voice from within.

“Captain Behati?” Ari said. “We need your approval for something.”

“Can it wait?” the captain returned. “I’m busy.”

“Unfortunately, there’s a time limit,” Ari replied.

Ben was startled at how quickly the door was snatched open. There stood a tall, beautiful woman, with deep, dark skin. Her hair was twisted into locks that trailed all the way down to the small of her back. Her eyes were a rich brown that reminded Ben of cocoa. Her demeanor was regal and commanding. When she spotted him, he took a step back.

“What is this?” she snapped. “A man on my ship?”

“He’s in trouble with the law,” Ari said. “Could we give him a lift?”

Behati looked intently at him. “A lift where?”

“Dunno,” Ben shrugged. “Just anywhere but here.”

“Give me a reason to help you,” she said.

“I’ve got gold,” he told her. “Lots of it.”

“Now you’re speaking my language, boy,” she laughed. It was a pleasant sound, and he relaxed. “How much do you have on you?”

He dug his coin pouch out of his knapsack and tossed it to her. “Take as much as you like.”

Her eyes roved over him skeptically. “You’re awfully confident - and careless - with your money.”

“Money doesn’t matter much to me,” he said.

In truth, Ben fully intended to find his way back to his home. He just needed his parents to understand - he couldn’t marry someone he didn’t love. Especially these princesses who were duller than sand and had no sense of adventure. They all droned on about being ready to settle down and have children, but that wasn’t what Ben wanted right now. He wanted a partner, who would travel the world with him, who wanted to see more beyond the society she already knew.

He looked back to the harbor and saw the approaching guards.

“Really need a decision here, Captain,” he said.

She glanced over and saw them as well. “The gold will do. Hide below deck.”

He hurried to obey, led by Ari. It was much darker down there, since the only light came from the sun peeking through the cracks between the boards. But it also meant he could listen. He heard the guards march up onto the ship and come to a short stop.

“We’re looking for someone,” said a guard. “A young man. He’s needed for duties at home.”

“There are no men allowed on my ship,” Behati spat back. “I suggest you disembark as well.”

“You haven’t seen anyone?” the guard pressed.

“No, now remove yourself,” she ordered. “Before I change my mind about killing you.”

“Y-you wouldn’t dare,” the guard returned.

Ben heard the swish of a sword being drawn. He guessed it was Behati’s since he heard the heavy boots of the soldiers shuffle backward.

“You can’t even imagine the things I’d dare to do, soldier,” she said. “Get off my ship. We’re leaving.”

There was a moment’s hesitation and then they all paraded off. When the last of the steps started to die down, Ben went to poke his head out. Behati grabbed his face and forced him back down.

“Stay there until we’re out of sight, fool,” she hissed. “They may be watching.”

Ben frowned, but did as she said.

He heard the crew women putting everything in order for the departure. It was still another half hour before they were moving, though. It was a slow, steady pace to get out of the harbor. Ben peeked out from the canon holes to see their progress. With a twinge of fear, they were away from the harbor, and he was outside of his father’s rule. On the other hand, it also meant he was outside of his father’s protection.

Ari retrieved him when he was permitted to emerge. The sun was bright and the breeze was cooling. The salty sea air whipped his hair and coat around.

“What’s your name, by the way?” Ari asked politely.

“Um, it’s Eric,” he lied.

The last thing he needed to do was reveal his true name to a bunch of pirates. He’d become a ransom so fast his head would spin.

“Okay, Eric,” she said. “Why were palace guards looking for you?”

“Am I really to be subjected to interrogations from pirates?” he challenged. “It’s my business.”

She put her hands up innocently and raised her eyebrows. “Just making conversation.”

With that, she walked away, going to help Kay with some of her work. Ben went to the starboard side, toward the bow, and rested his elbows on the ledge, looking out. The open water, with nothing around for miles, looked like freedom to him.

“Hey, boy!” Behati called, and he turned to face her. She pushed some rope into his hands. “If you’re staying, you’re working. We’re not a cruise ship.”

He smiled. “Yeah, alright.”

She scoffed and shook her head. “Just get started.”

“Can I ask you something?” he wondered.

“You can, but I’m under no obligation to answer you,” she returned with a smirk.

“Fair,” he conceded. “But, where exactly are we going?”

“Where we’re always going,” she said. “To find the sea witch.”

Ben blinked. “I’m sorry - the sea witch?!”

***

“Come on, Lorelai, don’t be such a guppy!” you teased.

She swam on behind you and frowned when she caught your eye.

“I’m not a guppy!” she insisted, tail flicking with indignation. “I just don’t see why you’re so obsessed with shipwrecks.”

“They’re the only exciting things that happen here!” you said. “What else do we do?”

“Plenty!” she insisted. “Most of it safely away from human nonsense!”

“You sound like my father,” you groaned, rolling your eyes.

“Well, King Triton is a smart man, Y/N, maybe you should listen to him.”

You ignored her and kept swimming. This shipwreck was fairly new, but it was close to the shore, which made it dangerous. At least for you. For the humans aboard, it usually meant they survived and returned to land safely. For you to approach it meant it was easier for humans to spot you.

As you and Lorelai got closer, you reverted to sign language. All merpeople followed this practice when approaching shallow waters. To avoid detection by humans, remaining silent was necessary. Especially around a shipwreck. Treasure hunters lingered, and a real live mermaid would be viewed as a greater treasure than all the gold in the world.

You swam through one of the portholes and into the ship. There was rarely anything of interest on the deck of an old ship. Mostly just split wood. The humans always kept their things below. You went first to a pile of things that shone. You had a few friends who had interacted with humans before, and you sometimes asked them to identify things for you. According to them, humans used these utensils to eat.

Fascinating! You signed to Lorelai.

It was her turn to roll her eyes.

You moved on together after you stuffed one of the items in your bag.

The next thing you found was what appeared to be jewelry. It was a necklace, but it wasn’t made from anything you had ever seen before. All your jewelry was made from pearls, but this gem was shinier. It was completely reflective, like glass. But it wasn’t see-through.

What do you suppose this is? You signed.

You looked up to see Lorelai’s expression. She wasn’t paying attention. Her eyes were turned upward, where a shadow was approaching. The wide shape with the pointed end was all you needed to know. A ship was coming. And that meant you had to get out of here fast.

Lorelai started out, heading back the way you had entered. She flinched back when something whizzed past her and lodged into the ocean floor beneath the ship. A thick rope was in front of her, taut. She shot you a terrified glance. Humans were here.

You both swam hard back toward the porthole, racing for the safety of deeper water. Only, another harpoon came hurtling down. You watched with horror as it snagged Lorelai’s braid, pinning her down. You flew to her side and tried to tug the weapon free, to no avail.

“Y/N!” she cried, panic making her forget the sign language protocol. “Go get something to cut me free!”

“Right!” you returned, and bolted back inside.

You returned to the utensils and looked wildly around. There had to be something strong enough to cut rope down here. You grinned when you spotted a dagger - still sheathed - in the corner of the room. Snatching it up, you hurried back to Lorelai.

You came back in time just to hear her scream as the harpoon was being drawn back up toward the surface. You swam determinedly to her, faster than the harpoon was moving. Whipping out the dagger, you brought it down hard against the rope.

That didn’t work. It bounced, forcing your arm back much to your surprise. You looked between the dagger and the rope, astonished.

“Y/N, hurry!” Lorelai urged.

“I’ll have to cut your hair!” you cried.

“I don’t care, just get me out of here, we’re almost to the surface!”

It was a struggle to keep swimming and grab her braid in one hand with the dagger in the other. You brought the sharp end to the side of her braid and began sawing at the strands. It was a bit sad - Lorelai had such beautiful turquoise hair - but you couldn’t think about that now. Hair could grow back. If a fisherman caught her, she would be gone forever.

“Y/N!” she sobbed as you began rapidly approaching the surface.

If you broke through, it would mean trouble.

“I’m almost done!” you assured her.

You could feel the heat of the sun. You pushed hard with the knife through the final strands of the braid and the tension broke. She was free.

You couldn’t celebrate just yet. Taking her hand, you tugged her back down into the depths with you. As fast as you could go, you hurried away from the ship. Fisherman had all sorts of contraptions beyond harpoons, and you weren’t sure you’d be so lucky again. So, you weren’t waiting around. You and Lorelei swam and swam and swam until your abdomens ached with the effort. There was no sign of the fishermens’ ship.

You came to a stop, panting. Lorelai still had tears in her wide eyes. Without a word, you embraced each other and let out your relief. You held her as she cried. It was such a close call, you understood her fear. You were just as afraid, but you wanted to be strong for her.

“Do you see why they’re so dangerous, Y/N?” she sniffled. “Humans just want to hurt us.”

“Be fair, Lo,” you replied gently. “There are good ones. Like Captain Behati.”

“She’s just a legend!” Lorelai snapped. “I know it’s all interesting to you but look what almost happened! I could have been caught!”

“I’m sorry,” you said earnestly. “But I just think if we all understood each other, we could co-exist!”

She narrowed her eyes at you.

“If that wasn’t a wake up call, Y/N, then I don’t even know what to do with you,” she said.

With that, she turned tail and stormed off. You watched her fins disappear around a reef with a sigh.

In all honesty, you didn’t believe most humans to be these evil creatures on the hunt for merpeople. Fishermen were usually just looking for fish. Lorelai was just - quite literally - caught in the crossfire. In fairness to Lorelai, she wouldn’t have been there if it weren’t for you insisting she come with you to explore. You headed home, prepared to apologize.

On your way, you stopped by your cove. It was the place you kept all the human stuff you found. The only people who knew about it were you and Lorelai. As your best friend, she had vowed to keep your secret, even if she didn’t understand.

This was the one place you felt free. Free to be yourself and explore your interests. Surrounded by all these human artifacts - books, utensils, figurines, and so much more - was where you were authentically you.

Your favorite thing to do was tinker. Human objects did such wondrous things. You weren’t sure how everything worked, and plenty of things were damaged beyond repair, but every time you made a discovery, it sent such a thrill of joy through you that made you do flips. How could humans be so bad if they made things that created such joy?

You spent a few hours in your solace before returning to the palace. Lorelai needed time to cool off before she would be able to accept your apology. Plus, you were certain word had gotten out about what happened, and you had to mentally prepare yourself for the lecture you were going to get from your father.

You went willingly to the throne room first. You peered around the corner through the door and spotted your father already seated there. He was twirling his trident between his fingers, which you knew to be a sign of irritation. He must know. You decided to play dumb anyway.

“Hello, Father,” you greeted brightly as you swam up. “I’m looking for Lorelai. Have you see-”

“Y/N, what is wrong with you?!” he cried, exasperated. “Why must you always go looking for trouble?”

“I - what do you mean?” you returned innocently.

“You know very well what I mean, young lady!” he shouted. “You took Lorelai to that shipwreck and nearly got her captured by humans!”

You sighed.

“In fairness, I didn’t know the fishermen would show up,” you said.

“That’s your argument?!” he returned. “Are you serious, Y/N?!”

“But I -”

“I don't want to hear any more out of you!” he cut across you. “You know the rules. Only those with permission to do so may make contact with humans. And only out of necessity! And last time I checked, you’re not on that list! You are forbidden from going to any more shipwrecks!”

You folded your arms across your chest defiantly.

“I didn’t make contact on purpose!” you argued. “Besides, we got away! Everything was fine! You can’t punish me for a close call!”

“Oh, yes I can!”

“No you can’t!” you insisted. “I’m a grown woman now, Father! I don’t have to take your orders if I don’t want to!”

“Well, then, if you will not respect my authority as your father, perhaps you will understand the law of the sea,” he warned. “No one is to approach shipwrecks as long as they live under my ocean! And no one has permission to contact humans under ANY circumstances! You may be my daughter, but you are also my subject, so the laws still apply to you!”

Your mouth fell open.

“That’s not fair, I -”

“It is perfectly fair!” he interrupted again. “I’ll do whatever it takes to keep my merpeople safe! I will not have another incident like today!”

“But nothing -”

“Nothing happened this time!” he said. “It is unlikely we will be that fortunate again! Now, leave me! You have a friend you owe an apology to.”

You huffed and turned your back to him. You swam out and toward Lorelai’s house. Your father was right about that last part. The rest of it, you absolutely did not agree with. It felt like he was throwing his weight around as king to punish you. You knew that going to shipwrecks was risky, but it wasn’t inherently bad, nor did it always mean interaction with humans. In fact, today was the only time you had experienced that, and you’d been going through shipwrecks for years.

You knocked softly on Lorelai’s door.

“Lo?” you said. “It’s me.”

The door swung open and she appeared there.

“Hey,” she said.

“Look, I’m so sorry about earlier,” you said. “I should never have put you in danger like that, and I feel terrible about it. Are you okay?”

She nodded as a small smile claimed her lips.

“Yeah,” she said. “Still a little shaken, but I’m alright. If you hadn’t been there, I would have been a goner.”

“You wouldn’t have been there if I hadn’t nagged you into coming along,” you returned. “The point is, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“Apology accepted,” she said. “How’d your father handle it?”

“It was terrible!” you told her.

You explained what he said and the new rules. She looked sympathetically at you.

“I know it’s hard, Y/N, but honestly it’s for the best,” she said. “Everyone will be much safer if we keep to ourselves.”

You decided it was better not to argue. You said goodbye and promised to stop by the next day to check on her. She really did seem okay. Frustrated and annoyed, you headed back to your collection cove. You needed to cool down after so much arguing.

Relieved to be alone and in your happy place, you relaxed against the center stone that served as your chair. You looked around at your glittering collection. Yes, you had plenty of things here, but you wanted more. There was so much still to learn and explore. There was still room on the shelves for human things. There was still something missing.

You looked up toward the surface. A whole world existed up there. Something foreign and intriguing and adventurous. So much more out there than what you had in the familiar corners of the ocean. You had to see it somehow.

The cove had a tunnel that led all the way up to the surface. You liked to watch the waves rise and fall and reflect the sunlight. Looking up there always made you so hopeful. Even though your father had made these silly rules, you still hoped that someday you would find your way to the human world and experience it for yourself.

As you watched the water, another shadow appeared. A ship. Something was different about this one. It gave you a new feeling, something stronger than any other ship you had seen before - not that there were many. Curiosity, as well as defiance of your father, drove you to push yourself upward and start swimming toward the forbidden free air. Your tail pushed the water and you began to leave the sea behind.

When you broke the surface, you sucked in a mouthful of air. You liked the air more than most merfolk. It was liberating to you to leave the water.

You realized you were mistaken earlier about the reflection on the water. The sun had gone down and the moon was hanging low in the sky. A ship with black sails was gliding through the waves. You followed it.

You saw the low lights from the ship shining on the inky water, and considered how mysterious the depths of it must be to the humans aboard. You swam closer, but stopped when you heard a shout from someone on deck. Holding your breath, you waited for something to happen. When you saw them dropping the anchor, you heaved a sigh of relief. They had not seen you.

Taking your life into your hands, you went even closer. You could hear them speaking now. You took hold of one of the ropes hanging down the side and began to climb it. There was a ledge where you could sit and peek through an opening. You bit your lip to keep yourself from grunting as you heaved yourself up.

It was the first time you had ever completely been out of water. It felt odd to be so dry, but you were excited. Your heart pounded, even faster than it had earlier during the attack with the harpoons. This was not something you were afraid of. It was thrilling.

You carefully took a seat on the ledge and slid as close as you dared. Turning slowly, you peered in, observing the group of humans gathered on the deck.

To your surprise, they were all women, except one. The man’s appearance struck you. He was beautiful to look at, with a strong jaw, a wide smile, and bright blonde hair. You watched him take a seat beside a tall woman, who had her arm around the thin one beside her.

“So, why does Captain Behati want to hunt the sea witch?” asked the man. “I didn’t think people believed in things like that.”

“If you’re going to be at sea, you better understand that believing in those things is a part of life,” said the tall woman. “Captain Behati hunts the sea witch because she must.”

“Why?” the man pressed. “What’s so important about it?”

“To break the curse,” the small woman answered. “You see, the captain was taken from her home by slavers, who were taking her to some foreign land, to sell her to people she had never seen.”

“She made a daring escape,” the tall woman continued. “Only, she was still in chains, and couldn’t swim. She was sinking slowly, slowly, until she saw...her.”

“Who?” the man asked.

“The sea witch,” the small woman said irritably. “Sycoria.”

“Sycoria told Behati she would give her the freedom she so desperately desired,” the tall one added. “But it came with a price. The captain could never set foot on land again. If she does, she will turn to dust, and her soul will belong to Sycoria.”

The man blinked with surprise. You were also a bit shocked at the story. You knew of Sycoria and the games she played with people’s lives, how she prayed on desperation, but you had no idea the legendary Captain Behati was one of her victims. Captain Behati was something of a myth among merpeople. Some claimed to have seen her and interacted with her, but officially, she was just a rumor. To realize you were on her ship was unbelievable. And you almost cursed because you could never tell anyone you had done this.

“That’s terrible,” the man said.

You liked the sound of his voice. It was deep and smooth. It reminded you of sunsets.

“That’s why we hunt her,” the tall woman said. “Kill the witch, and the spell is broken.”

“But why even return to land?” the man wondered. “Won’t she just be taken again?”

The women all laughed.

“Oh, you silly boy,” said the small one. “I’d like to see a man try to take Captain Behati prisoner now. She will kill him before he can even speak.”

Even though you still had not seen Captain Behati, you liked her. She clearly had the respect of her crew, and she was a force to be reckoned with. As powerful as the ocean herself.

Suddenly, there was a loud BANG. A flash appeared from a ways down the water. Another ship was nearing. Were you about to be caught in a much more serious crossfire?

205 notes · View notes

rmnamjoons · 5 years

Text

Castaways [KNJ Oneshot]

➳ summary: You’ve always hated the ocean. Open water terrifies you, and you stay as far away from it as possible for self-preservation and peace of mind. Despite this, your friend somehow convinces you to go on a luxury cruise with her, her boyfriend Hoseok, and Hoseok’s nerdy friend Namjoon, who’s almost cute enough to distract you from your debilitating fears. When a sudden storm hits, however, you and Namjoon are swept overboard and find yourselves castaway on a desert island somewhere in the vast South Pacific.

➳ pairing: Namjoon x reader

➳ genre: smut with plot, slow burn, fluff, a pinch of angst, and a happy ending

➳ word count: 25.5k (this is a completed oneshot)

➳ tags: so much teasing, non-completed foot job in public, sensual massages, cuddling for warmth, nursing ur loved one back to health, relying on each other, face-riding, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, breathplay, cumplay, biting, rough sex, sweet gentle loving sex, fucking in water, sex outside, a small hint of a daddy kink, so much dirty talk, like 6k of this is just dirty talk

[read on ao3]

➳ a/n: Though I do try to make this somewhat realistic, this isn’t at all meant to be some dark, gritty tale of survival. They’re super lucky in their circumstances and everything is fine. This is basically just two people fuckin' a bunch on an island. Bon appétit.

➳ warning: This story contains graphic descriptions of almost drowning, having a panic attack in a terrifying situation (y/n is afraid of open water and they’re swept overboard during a storm without even life jackets), and dehydration symptoms including vomiting. They find an island with freshwater and everything is fine and peachy pretty quickly if you can make it through the rough stuff. I had to make it at least like 15% realistic, guys.

You fucking hated the ocean.

Like, ponds were okay. Streams? Great. Swimming pools, ideal. Rivers and lakes were fine, you guessed. It was the ocean that you hated and were downright terrified of on a pathological level. You had no idea what was down there, you didn’t know how deep it went. Reading about it made you want to throw up. Being out in open water you knew was deeper than five feet made you panicked and anxious and sweaty. You just couldn’t do it.

You had agreed to go on a cruise with your best friend Mina because she loved the ocean, for some fucking reason. When you’d gone on your senior trip back in high school together, you’d compromised: high school senior trip you’d go to New York for you, and college senior trip you’d go on a cruise for Mina. A selfish, immature part of you had figured you probably wouldn’t even be friends that far in the future, because that’s what happened when people went to college. People naturally drifted apart as they grew. You’d also figured that Mina would forget or find a new thing to fixate on. Maybe in four years she’d really love London or Bali or the desert and not the fucking ocean.

Instead, you’d remained close friends that whole time, and Mina still loved the sea. She’d majored in marine biology and spent most of her time down by the bay, where she met her lifeguard boyfriend Hoseok, a ray of sunshine, just like Mina. You had no way of knowing for sure, but for some reason you were willing to bet money the two of them had done some kind of mermaid sex fantasy roleplay before, as cheesy as they were and as much as the two of them loved the ocean.

You and Mina both finished your undergrads and then boom, just like that, you found yourself on your way to Sydney, Australia for the “South Pacific Grand Adventure,” just like you’d promised Mina four years ago. You distinctly remembered never ever promising to a fucking three week cruise, but, as always, you couldn’t say no to Mina.

Hoseok and his friend, a man you didn’t know, had been invited to come along as well. Once you knew she wouldn’t be by herself, you’d debated faking a serious injury or illness, but Mina was onto your tricks and dragged you along, insisting you’d have a good time once you were there and that you’d probably forget you were even on a ship.

Hoseok’s friend, a tall man with thick glasses and a backpack full of paperback novels, seemed to be as equally thrilled to be here as you were. Mina had introduced him as “Joon,” and he’d quickly corrected her, pushing his glasses up his nose and saying that his name was Namjoon, thank you very much. You noticed the way he grimaced when Hoseok and Mina openly made out on the too-long plane ride and how he rolled his eyes when they called each other over-the-top cutesy pet names. Namjoon seemed much more willing to show his distaste for the happy couple’s antics than you were, and you were now debating taking a page from his book.

You and Namjoon ended up stuck together pretty quickly, and you both seemed to realize that at the same moment, sitting beside each other in silence on the shuttle bus heading over to the port, while Mina and Hoseok sat together a few rows away, baby-talking to each other and cuddling and giggling. They were the only people on the bus making any noise this early in the morning, and they seemed not to notice that fact.

It was going to be a long cruise.

You’d had to wake up entirely too damn early to get on this bus, you were jet-lagged to shit, and the moment you saw the harbor and the cruise ship there waiting for you, you just knew you were going to very deeply regret this. The only solace you had was that Namjoon was stuck here with you. Maybe you could at least come out of this with a new sarcastic friend.

The four of you got off the shuttle and went up the ramp onto the massive cruise ship, and checked in at one of the front desks. You attempted to pretend this was just a normal hotel and was not going to take you out into the middle of nowhere in the awful ocean.

Mina did all the talking during the check-in process, Hoseok right by her side with his arm around her. You and Namjoon hung back with all the luggage, and you kept catching yourself staring at him and having to force yourself to look away.

Namjoon was tall, his messy dark hair sticking out from under a backwards baseball cap, his black thick-rimmed glasses slightly crooked on his deceptively cute button nose. He crossed his arms, his muscles there making you bite your lip, and you figured he was a man of contradictions. He was nerdy and kind of awkward, but was absolutely jacked, his chest nearly bulging out of his shirt. He had a cute, seemingly innocent face, but his resting expression seemed to be rolling his eyes at Mina and Hoseok’s expense. You decided you liked him.

After getting the keys to the rooms, the four of you went down and dropped your luggage off and then went to grab some lunch in one of the ship’s restaurants, and on the way there you only thought about jumping off the ship into the harbor and swimming back to Sydney once.

Hoseok and Mina sat beside each other and kept giggling and touching their foreheads together and cuddling, even giving each other a few quick kisses as they grinned at each other. Across the table, you and Namjoon sat there, just watching the two of them. Mina and Hoseok were lost in their own little world, while the two of you sat in an awkward silence, too embarrassed to say anything to your friends or each other. You mostly stared at your phone or the table in front of you, while Namjoon seemed very fascinated by a painting on the wall across the room. The waitress showed up and you ordered a mixed drink, figuring the only way you were going to make it through this trip was if you were highly intoxicated for most of it.

As you sat there during the course of the meal, you watched Namjoon’s reactions to different things Mina and Hoseok did as he leaned back into the corner of the booth, sprawling out, one arm across the back of the booth behind you. The two of them nuzzled their noses together, and Namjoon rolled his eyes. Mina leaned her head on Hoseok’s shoulder and snuggled in, and Namjoon tilted his head back, his tongue sticking out to the side and eyes rolled back in his head as he silently pretended to keel over and die. Everything the two of them did with each other, Namjoon reacted to it in some quiet passive aggressive way, mostly to amuse himself, but definitely amusing you.

Halfway through the meal, he realized you were watching him and silently giggling. When Mina and Hoseok started baby-talking and feeding each other, Namjoon looked at you with wide eyes and bit his lip, his body almost shaking as he tried so hard not to laugh at them. You put your hand up and hid your face, turning toward Namjoon so he could see you trying to hold in your laughter, too.

So far, Namjoon was more than making this trip bearable. He was turning out to be the best part.

***

Two days at sea passed. The ship was headed to New Caledonia and was set to get there the following morning, where you would have almost a full day to explore the port town of Noumea. After that, you’d be heading deeper into the South Pacific toward Fiji, another two days out on the open sea. On the map, it all looked so close together, but you saw at one point that it was over twelve hundred miles just from Sydney to Noumea. You tried not to think about it.

The next morning, you’d be on land again in Noumea, at least for a few hours. You just had to last until then, and then you’d have a brief break from the ocean. You tried to stop yourself from wondering if New Caledonia had an airport that could get you back to Sydney, where you could just hang out until Mina finished her cruise.

That being said, you actually weren’t having too awful a time, you had to admit. The ship was nice and had a lot of fun stuff to do, and Mina wasn’t spending every second of her time with Hoseok.

You did spend most of your time with Namjoon, though. You knew you were definitely attracted to him, and you’d caught him looking at you enough times to wonder if he was attracted too. He was so funny, and you’d grown to find his nerdiness endearing, and good lord did that man have muscles. You wondered more than once where on earth a little bookworm like him got a chest and arms like that. Every time he awkwardly pushed his glasses up his nose, his muscles in his arms bulged under his shirt. When he lounged on the ship’s deck reading yet another one of his novels, which he seemed to go through one of a day, you just stared at his thick thighs, imagining yourself riding them.

You learned a few things about Namjoon very quickly, the first being that he was very awkward and shy around new people. With everyone, from you at first to waiters to the random women who tried to flirt with him at the pool bar, he couldn’t look them in the eye and stumbled over his words, not knowing what to say when someone attempted to have a simple conversation with him. The man was terrible at small talk, though you could tell he was really trying his best. You’d tried so hard not to laugh at him on the first night at dinner when the captain came around to all the tables and introduced himself, and Namjoon had stuck out his hand for a handshake and the captain didn’t see him at all, and Namjoon had just sat there with his hand out for a few seconds until he dropped his hand to his lap, looking like a sad little kicked puppy.

The second thing you learned about Namjoon was that once he was comfortable around someone, he was a sarcastic, flirty tease, and this seemed doubly true for his interactions with you. At lunch on the second day, he’d taken a sip of your drink without asking, and when you’d turned and caught him, he’d just smiled at you smugly and winked, your straw still in his mouth. He’d then offered you a bite of what he’d ordered, holding up a piece of food on his fork, and when you’d opened your mouth and leaned in, he’d smeared it all over your cheek, apologizing profusely and insisting it had been a complete accident while smirking to himself the entire time. Underneath his shy awkward nerd exterior, he was all teasing and winks and sarcasm.

You dished it right back to him when you could. You’d stolen his book when he’d gotten up to get a drink at the pool, just for him to come back and see you reading it and refusing to give it back to him. You’d rubbed a bite of your dessert on his nose after offering him some at dinner. His eyes always lit up when you teased him right back, and with Mina all but ignoring you, Namjoon was proving to not only be your perfect distraction from the ocean, but a wonderful way of entertaining yourself on the ship.

It was now the third day, and you and Namjoon went to the pool together while Mina and Hoseok did some expensive couple’s massage all afternoon. As you walked out onto the pool deck together, you caught yourself staring at him yet again. Namjoon was shirtless, his swim trunks obscenely low on his hips, his chest so large, his big arms defined so beautifully. You were nearly drooling by the time the two of you found two lounge chairs together in a nice spot.

You had an idea for how to get some more attention from him, and you decided now was the perfect time to begin your plan.

“Joon? Will you do me a big favor, pretty please?” you asked, overly fake-sweet, as the two of you sat down and settled in. He’d unsurprisingly brought a book and was already laying down and opening it, but he tilted his head to look at you.

“What do you want?” he said, matching your sarcastically sweet tone.

“Will you put some sunscreen on me?”

“What, like on your back?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

“All over me,” you said. “I don’t want to get sunscreen on my hands.”

“Neither do I,” he protested, pouting. “I’m the one reading a book, with paper. Do it yourself.”

“Ugh,” you huffed as you sat up. You reached into your bag and pulled out your sunscreen. “Please?” You made your voice higher and more feminine, almost a moan as you pouted and begged, holding out the sunscreen and batting your eyelashes at him when he looked over at you.

“Why can’t you do it?” he said flatly, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“I told you,” you said, “I don’t want to get sunscreen on my hands. I hate that feeling.” That was partially true. You were much more focused on the prospect of Namjoon’s big strong hands rubbing sunscreen all over your almost naked body, covered only by the skimpiest little bikini you’d brought on the trip.

“Fine,” he said, grumbling as he set his book down on the little table between you. “Where do you want it?”

“On my skin,” you said, smiling up at him innocently as you leaned back, reclining lazily in the lounge chair, your body on full display as you put your sunglasses on.

“But of course, your highness,” he said, sarcastically over-serious as he opened the bottle and squeezed a bunch of the sunscreen out onto his hand. “How could I not have known that?”

Whatever you were going to say was cut off by him suddenly smacking his hand down on your stomach, the cold sunscreen splattering out equally as surprising as his sudden movement. You gasped, squeaking in surprise, and Namjoon smiled to himself as he started moving his hand.

"Oh, I’m so sorry. Did I surprise you?” he deadpanned, spreading the sunscreen out across your skin.

“Not at all, Joonie,” you replied, relaxing under his touch. As sarcastic as he’d been, he was actually being normal about it now, sitting beside you on your chair as you laid back and let him touch you. He was also letting you get away with calling him “Joon” or “Joonie” lately, not correcting you or even reacting most of the time.

Namjoon was gentle yet firm, the cold sunscreen contrasting the warmth of his large hands so wonderfully it made goosebumps spread across your skin. You took in a deep breath and held it as you felt the tips of his long fingers slowly skim along the bottom of your bikini top, just barely going under the fabric and teasing the underside of your breasts as he rubbed the sunscreen in across your ribs. You sighed as he moved down your stomach to oh-so-gently massage your hipbones and navel, running his tips of his thumbs under the waistline of your bottoms just enough to make you raise an eyebrow at him.

He noticed your questioning look and smirked, moving back up to more neutral ground on your sides and massaging there instead.

“That feels good, Joon,” you murmured, relaxing again under his touch, and you noticed the way Namjoon slowly looked up at your face at your words, his lips parting as his eyes drug up and back down your body, drinking in the sight before him.

After getting more sunscreen on his hands, Namjoon started on your legs, touching you slowly and firmly, spreading his fingers out as he moved across your inner thighs. Your eyes nearly rolled back in your head, and you were thankful you were wearing sunglasses so he couldn’t see that. You wondered for a split second how much trouble the two of you would get if he fingered you right here on the pool deck in front of all these people.

Namjoon moved up to the top of your chest, spreading the lotion out there, and then up to your neck, where he stopped for a moment, his palm over your throat. You held your breath as his hand just rested there, and you knew he had to be able to feel how fast your heart was racing. He squeezed so gently, barely at all, and your breath caught in your throat, not from the tightness of his squeeze but from the intimacy and dirtiness of this moment. There were so many people around. All he’d have to do was squeeze a little harder. You were dripping wet for him, biting your lip and struggling to keep your eyes open. And then Namjoon moved his hand like he was rubbing in the sunscreen there completely innocently, stroking up and down your throat and then across your shoulders, returning to normal.

Namjoon moved back down to your legs. He put it on your inner thighs for the second time, and you noticed that but said nothing. You spread your legs just slightly, giving him easier access, and you could almost hear the small moan that escaped his lips when he touched the stitching of your bikini between your thighs.

He growled at you to roll over, a noise that went straight to your already throbbing core, and when you complied, he spread the cold sunscreen there, even pausing to carefully untie your bikini straps so he could cover your back fully. His massage was rough and thorough, rocking your body slightly with each of his movements. You almost moaned out loud, feeling his fingers digging into your flesh as he kneaded and spread out more sunscreen.

Namjoon used both hands on the backs of your thighs, dipping just his fingertips into the back of your swimsuit bottoms as he stood over you, stopping just before he was fully grabbing your ass with both hands under the fabric.

When he finished, Namjoon wiped his hands on his knees and then carefully tied your bikini back together. Before he even sat down, you jumped up and grabbed the bottle of sunscreen from his hands.

“Your turn,” you said, throwing your sunglasses down onto your chair. Namjoon’s eyes were dark, glinting with desire, and he immediately leaned back in his chair, ready for whatever you were going to do to him.

You straddled him, pouring sunscreen directly onto his tanned chest, making him hiss from the surprise of the cold liquid. He held you by the backs of your thighs as you rubbed it in with both hands slowly on his hot skin, feeling his muscles forcefully, spreading out your fingers. Namjoon didn’t take his eyes off of you the whole time, his jaw set as he watched you so intently. You felt his firm chest, his strong shoulders, his tight muscles, his large body seeming even bigger under your small hands. The whole time you worked, his chest steadily rose and fell, his breathing thick as he watched you with hooded eyes, his pupils blown.

You made him roll over. As you rubbed his back, you sat gently on his ass, still straddling him. You reveled in the feeling of massaging the cool liquid all over his warm skin, and you swore you felt him almost groan at one point when you really dug your palms into his lower back.

When you finished, you got up, smiling down proudly at him.

“There,” you said. “Now neither of us will get sunburnt.”

“That’s good. Skin care is important,” he said, rolling over slowly onto his back once again. You hadn’t touched him there, but somehow his hair looked ruffled and slightly messier than normal, his eyes almost satisfied, as if the two of you had just finished something much less innocent.

You could feel him staring at you intensely as you bent over, putting your sunscreen back in you bag. You bent at the waist and faced away from him, giving him the perfect view of what he wanted.

“I’m going to get a drink,” you said when you stood back up. You looked over your shoulder at him. “Do you wanna come?”

He blinked a few times, staring at you like you weren’t speaking a language he knew.

“Yeah. Yes,” he said when it finally processed. He stood up and followed close behind as you took his hand and led the way over to the bar.

While the two of you ordered, he stood close behind you, moving with you when you stepped off to the side to wait for your drinks. When you accidentally took too quick of a step back, partially bumping into him, you felt him through his swim trunks and realized that he was attempting to hide the fact he had a semi.

You definitely weren’t thinking about the ocean right now.

***

When you got dressed for dinner that evening, you picked out your skimpiest little dress, ready to taunt and torture Namjoon. You knew that packing your stockings, garters, and suspenders was a good idea, and you hoped Namjoon would potentially get to see them tonight if all went well. When packing, you’d anticipated a potential one-night stand with a crewman or fellow passenger, but this situation with Namjoon was far better than anything you’d imagined. You were sharing a room with Mina, but maybe you and Namjoon could sneak off together to some deserted part of the ship and he could fuck you against a wall, or something else equally sexy, passionate, and depraved.

Mina and Hoseok were meeting you at dinner and had already left, and Namjoon had texted you earlier, asking if you wanted to head down together. He came to your room to pick you up, and, when you opened the door, you grinned when Namjoon’s gaze immediately fell to your chest, his eyes wide. He quickly looked back up at your face, blinking in surprise as if shocked he’d let himself do that so openly. His cheeks were bright red, his lips parted as he tried to say something but couldn’t. He was so thoroughly flustered, and you stepped out of your room, brushing past him and knowing he’d follow.

You walked ahead of him down the hallway, accentuating your hips as you walked. You could practically feel that filthy boy’s eyes glued to your ass. This was going even better than you’d anticipated. Maybe he’d snap and fuck you against a wall before you even got to dinner.

You eventually found Mina and Hoseok, and the four of you sat together in a small booth near the center of the busy dining room. Waiters buzzed around like honeybees, and every last passenger on the ship seemed to all be here in this grand room. It was lively and exciting, a live band playing on the second floor and the kitchen staff loudly preparing course after course in the next room. If you were to look up, you would’ve noticed the chandelier swaying oh-so-slightly from the waves outside, nearly undetectable here in the belly of the ship.

You sat across the table from Namjoon. Part of the way through the meal, you decided to play with him some more and slipped off one of your heels. You continued eating normally, not letting your face or upper body show any signs of what you were doing.

You moved your foot up the inner side of one of his legs, feeling him jump only slightly when he first felt you. Your foot traveled farther and farther up until you were at his crotch, slowly moving the heel of your foot so that you pressed against him, teasing in a slow, circular rhythm.

You didn’t look up at Namjoon, but you felt him grab you by your ankle and squeeze. You cracked a small smile and tried to keep moving your foot despite his grip, and you could already feel him growing hard. He didn’t move or push your foot away. He held you right there in place, biting his lip as he moved forward in his seat, pressing his chest against the table as if he were simply sitting up eagerly.

“What did you two do this afternoon?” Mina asked politely, smiling at the two of you.

“Just hung out, mostly,” you said. You glanced up at Namjoon and saw his cheeks flushed red, nostrils flared, and you kept slowly moving your foot against him as he held your ankle. “Joon did some reading and I tanned.”

“It’s Namjoon,” he said, his voice deeper than normal, and when you looked up at him he was glaring, leering at you, eyes dark under those thick glasses you’d grown to adore. Mina and Hoseok seemed not to notice Namjoon’s suffering.

You smiled at Namjoon politely. You took a slow sip of your drink before speaking, maintaining eye contact with him the whole time.

“How could I forget? Namjoon,” you said, tasting his name on your tongue as if for the first time. You stroked him through his pants with your foot faster now, and you could almost see how fast his heart was racing in the veins in his neck and forehead. He was squeezing your ankle so tight you felt like you were losing circulation there, but you kept going.

Namjoon suddenly stood up, dropping your foot and turning away from the table and walking away as fast as he could, not looking back. Mina and Hoseok both looked confused, turning and watching him as he left, asking where he was going.

You slipped your shoe back on and excused yourself, saying you’d check on him, and quickly followed him outside.

Namjoon wasn’t hard to find. He stood out in the hallway, facing away from you when you walked out, arms crossed. You were in your own private little part of the ship, right near a balcony and where nobody could see or walk in on the two of you talking.

Before you could say anything, Namjoon turned around and looked at you.

“How would you like it if I just touched you like that while we’re in public, around all those people?” he said, glaring at you.

“Do you not like it?” you asked seriously, watching the way he set his jaw and looked away. Behind him, you could see out a large window that the sky was darker than it should be at this time. You could feel the sway of the ship way more than usual, but Namjoon’s distress pulled you back and made you focus on him.

Namjoon sighed before speaking. “You’re playing games with me,” he said, his voice deep and gravely. He shook his head like he was disappointed, but you saw how he looked back at you, his eyes falling to your legs and how short your skimpy little dress was.

“Do you not like games?” you asked, tilting your head and smiling now. He stared at you for a moment, his eyes now lingering on your mouth.

“I don’t think I like being played with,” he said, not taking his eyes off your parted lips. He watched you lick your lips slowly, and you swore you almost heard him growling.

“Well that’s a pity,” you cooed. “Because I love playing with you.”

Namjoon sighed, turning away from you and running a hand through his hair. “Fuck,” he mumbled, mostly to himself, and he walked out of the hallway away from you and out onto the deck.

You followed as he went out onto the balcony to get some air, both of you still under the large overhang. You froze in the open doorway, though, eyes wide and horrified as you looked out at the ocean, finally seeing the full scale of the situation.

Rain poured down as the dark waves churned and threw themselves against the ship, the angry water covered in white caps and sea foam. The sky was black, the roar of the wind and rain near deafening. The humidity out here was suffocating, even as you still stood in the doorway. You’d barely noticed it before, but now that you were paying attention and away from the center of the large ship, the vessel was rocking with the waves, your stomach lurching with it. You grabbed onto the doorframe, holding on for dear life.

“When did it start storming?” you said distantly, eyes wide as you stared out at the large, dark swells in the water.

“I don’t know. While we were eating,” Namjoon said. “Jeesh, it’s really coming down. It must’ve started up in just the last ten minutes or so. It was so nice this afternoon.” He continued talking about something, but you didn’t listen. Instead, you braced yourself there on the doorframe, eyes wide as you stared out at the water, feeling only the ship rocking side to side. The rocking wasn’t even that bad and you were both more than ten feet from the railing, but even being exposed to the outside air just this much was overwhelming.

You needed to get out of here. So many people had told you that you could barely feel the intense waves of a storm when you were in the middle of a ship, so you just needed to turn around and go back to your room. You heard an announcement on the ship’s broadcast system vaguely in the distance, but couldn’t hear what they were saying over the wind, rain, and the pounding in your ears. Beside you, Namjoon seemed to finally notice how you were reacting.

“Hey, are you okay?” he said, resting a hand on your shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” you said, voice cracking, not looking up at him. You were pretty sure you were going to throw up. After a few seconds of Namjoon not saying anything, you spoke again, now trying not to hyperventilate. “Okay, I’m really really afraid of the ocean, and right now is like my worst nightmare, and I think I might pass out.”

“You’re afraid of the ocean?” he said in disbelief. “What the hell are you doing on a three week cruise?” When you didn’t respond, Namjoon moved so that both hands rested on your shoulders gently, grounding you. “Is there anything I can do?” he asked, his voice much softer as he tilted his head to look at you better.

You didn’t answer. The ship swayed and rocked with the harsh waves, and you tried to get used to it, swaying with it. Instead you just felt sicker. You knew it was near impossible, but you felt like the ship was going to flip over or break in half, and it kept getting worse by the second, the rain only coming down harder and harder. Lightning cracked and thunder immediately followed, making the whole ship rumble.

You needed to get out of here. You needed to go lay down in comfy pajamas and listen to music and not concentrate on the ship rocking and the sound of rain and thunder and huge waves. You needed to forget you were on a ship.

You stepped away from the doorframe, and Namjoon stepped back from you, giving you space.

The ship suddenly jerked side to side exactly three times as huge rogue waves hit it on each side, tossing it around like it was nothing, the ship tilting back and forth and making dishes inside fall off of tables and shatter.

The first wave threw both of you forward against the railing, nearly ten feet away from where you had been standing, the ship listing so dramatically so suddenly that you weren’t sure if you’d been thrown or just fallen. You fell into Namjoon and Namjoon fell against the railing, and he cried out as his back hit it sharply and you slammed into him.

The second wave threw both of you in the opposite direction, away from the railing and back towards the middle of the ship, the large wave coming up over the railing and soaking both of you. You coughed and gasped as Namjoon tried to both grab onto you and grab at the wall you’d been thrown against, both of you nearly tripped over each other on the now slick floor. You’d hit the wall beside the door you’d walked out of, and Namjoon had crashed right into you, unable to stop himself, both of you being tossed around like children’s toys.

The third wave threw you both back against the railing again as the ship tilted dramatically, and both of you, while still holding onto each other, fell overboard.

You felt like you were falling forever. When you hit the water, it felt like slamming into concrete, and a huge wave immediately sucked you under, into the darkness.

You couldn’t feel Namjoon anywhere. You were thrown against the side of the ship, pressed there, still underwater, the back of your head hitting the ship so hard you saw white. The force of what held you there felt like enough to grind you into nothing, and then, just as quickly, you were sucked back out away from the ship.

You didn’t know which way was up. Wave after wave hit you from every direction, making you spin and twist and throwing you around like you were a ragdoll. You didn’t have time to think, you just tried to find the surface, survival instincts taking over.

Your lungs burned. You couldn’t breathe. You felt like you may as well be a hundred feet underwater, and for all you knew, you were. For a split second you felt like you got your head above water, but you were immediately swallowed by another wave before you could even take a breath.

This felt like it lasted for hours, but in reality it was less than a minute. Eventually you got yourself above water and took in a deep, agonized breath, gasping for oxygen and coughing up seawater. A huge wave came toward you but hadn’t crested yet, so you floated with it, letting it bring you up and back down again.

Looking around in all directions, you tried to find the ship or Namjoon. You saw neither.

Your isolation and terror hit you like a freight train.

You were in the middle of the ocean. Alone. During a storm. With no ship in sight.

You had no idea if Namjoon was even alive. You couldn’t see the ship anywhere — had you been under that long? Had you been pulled one way while the ship sailed another? Or was the ship lost to the storm too, everyone else now drowning and being pulled to the bottom of the ocean?

This was you worst nightmare coming true. Your imagination and intrusive thoughts kicked into overdrive; you imagined what could be underneath you, what monsters and leviathans could be swimming up toward you right now, ready to swallow you whole. You screamed, trying to swim upwards even though your head was already above water. You kicked your arms and legs furiously, hyperventilating and gasping as you entered complete panic. The waves still tossed you around, but they were big enough and most were not cresting, so you could float and stay above the surface mostly. The rain poured down on you, and you felt like the rain alone was going to drown you.

Namjoon surfaced then, about twenty feet away from you. Gasping, he saw you and swam toward you, and you swam franticly toward him, you arms and legs moving violently. As soon as he reached you, you grabbed onto him, wrapping your arms and legs around him and moving like you were trying to climb on top of him to get yourself completely out of the water. You were kind of vaguely aware of the fact you were screaming and gasping and maybe sobbing.

What you were doing made Namjoon’s head go back under the water again, and he tried to get you off so he could breathe. You curled up into a little ball, twisting your body so that your legs could stay up near his chest and your arms could wrap tightly around his neck and shoulders.

“Help me! You’ve got to help me!” You were screaming near-gibberish, holding onto Namjoon as tight as you could as you wept and gasped, a small part of the back of your mind recognizing you were having a panic attack.

Namjoon hadn’t even had the chance to react yet other than his basic survival skills keeping himself above water and keeping you from drowning him. His feet were treading water desperately, his neck twisting as he looked around for the ship. His hands went up to hold you in place as he looked, his attention not really on you as he tried to find your way back to safety.

“I don’t see the ship,” he said loudly to be heard over the storm, eyes wide in horror. “Where’s the ship?”

You didn’t respond, instead twisting yourself so that you were wrapped around him again, clinging onto his body as tight as you could with all of your limbs. You were crying and gasping for air, your mind simultaneously blank and full of every panicked thought you’d ever had as you wept and hyperventilated.

A huge wave crested above you, pulling you both under for a moment. You kept yourself on him, and Namjoon got both of you to the surface. You clambered up him wildly, trying to climb him again as you gasped and cried, tears streaming down your face with the rain and seawater.

“Y/N, stop—” Namjoon started to yell, but you accidentally pushed him under the surface, cutting him off short. He got himself back up and wrapped his arms tight around you, if only to stop your movements, using just his legs to tread water. You held onto him like a leech, shaking, hyperventilating, sobbing as your panic consumed you.

“I can’t keep us both above water,” Namjoon said loudly, thunder crashing around you. “You’re gonna have to swim. You’re going to drown us both—”

A wave swallowed you both then, sucking you deep under yet again.

You lost consciousness before you reached the surface.

***

When you woke up, the first thing you were aware of was that your face, arms, and legs were sunburnt to hell, your mouth unnaturally dry, your tongue like sandpaper. Your entire body felt bruised and sore, the back of your head throbbing, the dull ache intensifying with each pulse. You felt like you’d been hit in the back of the head with a baseball bat, and, remembering how you’d been thrown against the side of the ship underwater, you kind of wished you’d been hit with a bat instead.

The second thing you realized was that the sky above you was now clear and blue, and it was daytime. You were floating in the water on your back, the hot sun beating down and filling your corneas, all but blinding you. You were partially submerged, the gentle, calm water lapping at your sides.

Beneath you, you felt Namjoon holding you in place against him as he gently tread water, floating on his back as you laid on top of him. One of his arms was around your stomach, the other slowly moving in the water as he kept you both above the surface. Your head was back on his shoulder, strands of your hair floating loosely in the water.

“You’re awake,” he said then. His voice was lazy and deep, and you realized his movements weren’t just slow, they were sluggish, exhausted. You tried to shift your head and look back at him, but couldn’t at the angle you were at.

The sun where it was in the sky, perfectly above you, you guessed it was midday. Namjoon must’ve been awake since the storm last night, which meant he’d been awake for almost thirty hours, keeping you both above water during and after the storm all night and all morning, treading water all this time.

“Jesus, Joon,” you said as you realized that, but started choking on the dryness of your throat.

“I haven’t… seen the ship,” Namjoon said slowly. He sounded like he was drunk or half out of his mind, moments away from giving out from exhaustion. “I saw a plane, a few hours ago. I… I tried to signal it.” He held up his hand weakly, showing you he was wearing a watch. You didn’t catch the time on it. “I tried to use it, like a flare. A light flare, a re… reflection, from the sun. I don’ think it saw us though.”

“That was smart of you,” you croaked, your voice almost gone from dehydration and dryness.

“My phone… it fell out of my pocket las’ night, or maybe I forgot it at the table,” he slurred. “I don’ remember.”

“Namjoon…” you started. You wanted to ask him to trade places with you so you could tread water instead and he could rest and lay on you. The thought of being the one on the bottom, the one much more exposed to the ocean sent a shiver of pure terror down your spine, but it was the absolute least you could do for him. You could give him the chance to rest after keeping you both alive this whole time.

He kept talking, apparently not hearing you.

“I’m sorry I did this, but I… I checked to see if you ‘ad your phone. I’m sorry… I know some girls, keep it in your bra. I didn’t look much.”

“That’s fine,” you said. You completely understood and would’ve done the same. “Hey, Namjoon, here, let’s trade places.” You started to move, but he held you in place.

“No, 'is 'kay,” he said. His speech sounded like it was becoming more and more slurred every time he spoke. “I know you’re… 'fraid of the water. Jus’ keep looking up at the sky. 'Is okay.”

“Namjoon, really, let me take a turn. You need to rest.” You moved off of him and his arm fell off of you into the water, as if he were unconscious. You felt almost lightheaded as you shifted, moving upright instead of laying down for the first time in so long. You held onto his hand so he wouldn’t drift away as you started treading water on your own, your muscles sore and stiff.

Namjoon was worse off than you’d thought. His eyes were bloodshot and vacant, like he’d been forced to keep them open way too long in the bright sun. He looked exhausted and drained, deathly pale yet sunburnt to a crisp. You swore you could almost see his veins through his skin. You knew it wasn’t possible in the time frame, but he looked like he’d somehow lost a little weight.

His sunburnt skin was somehow already peeling, though one spot on his cheek looked more like a saltwater sore than a sunburn. His lips looked as dry as yours felt, and his lower lip was chapped, split, and bleeding, the blood just starting to run down his chin toward the water.

You immediately brought your hand up and wiped his chin with your thumb, keeping his blood from touching the water. You brought your thumb up to your mouth and sucked. You knew that bleeding in the water, especially warm waters like this, was a very, very bad idea. For all you knew, ten sharks were already circling the two of you below the surface right now.

Namjoon breathed slowly through his mouth, nearly wheezing, like just breathing agonized him. In your clinical paranoia and anxiety, you’d read a lot about surviving in open ocean: you knew that spending a lot of time in water like he had — and he’d kept you mostly out of the water for a lot of this, so you weren’t feeling it yet — the pressure, even at just a foot or so deep, started to affect the body. It constricted breathing, changing the way the chest cavity moved and expanded, and was even used as a torture technique in some places: making someone sit in water until they couldn’t breathe, even though their head was above water the whole time. That, plus the fact he’d been treading water for two people and exerting himself that much over such a long period of time, was more than enough to drain a person.

Being in saltwater this long also affected the skin, and you knew that if you didn’t find a way to get out of the water within the next day, your skin would start to deteriorate, loosen at the pores, and rot away. That was if dehydration and exhaustion didn’t kill you both first.

“What are we going to do?” you said. You really didn’t want to become panicked again. You held yourself back, refusing to let yourself break down now, but you still asked him that anyway, just to voice your fear.

“'Is okay,” Namjoon said. As he spoke, his eyes blinked slowly, like he was starting to nod off. “Don’ worry. We’re okay. We’ll jus’ float an’ find an island, or a ship’ll find us. It’s okay.” Namjoon was not a talented liar when half-dead.

You refused to let yourself cry or even think about the water, your odds of survival, any of that. You needed to focus. Namjoon had kept you above water all last night and this morning, and now it was your turn to return the favor.

Fish. You knew your best chance right now at not dying of dehydration was catching and eating fish, and using the fish oil you consumed to stay alive. If it rained, you’d need to find a way to collect the water. Now, though, you needed to focus on a way of finding, attracting, and catching fish, which you’d have to then eat raw and alive.

Wait — you also remembered that shark attacks, especially in warm waters, were something to stay alert to, and leaving bloody fish guts in the water was a very quick way to attract predators.

You were going to die.

Before you could say or do anything, you watched Namjoon suddenly slip out of consciousness, his eyes all but rolling back in his head. He slumped forward in the water, face down, and you caught him, pushing him back up so that his mouth and nose weren’t in the water. You moved behind him and held him the same way he’d held you, laying his head on your shoulder and keeping him flat on his back, just floating.

You floated like that for at least an hour. At one point you pulled Namjoon’s arm up and checked what time it was, but his watch was waterlogged and had stopped working at 9:15, and you didn’t know if that meant it had broken last night or this morning. You checked for his pulse a few times, each time finding it still going steady, albeit very slow.

At one point, something suddenly touched your arm. You screamed in surprise, pulling your arm away and trying to get yourself and Namjoon away from whatever it was, but stopped when you looked over and saw it was a piece of driftwood. Namjoon hadn’t stirred, even when you’d screamed.

You didn’t know what for, but you figured the driftwood could be useful at some point. You didn’t have a free hand to hold it, so you laid it on Namjoon’s stomach. It was light enough you could barely feel it in your hand, like it was made out of something just slightly heavier than styrofoam.

You started talking to Namjoon, blabbering on and on just to keep yourself entertained and to keep yourself from thinking about how deep the ocean was beneath you.

“I don’t really like tap water. I feel like it tastes really different, from whatever they put in it. Fluoride, right? I hate the taste of fluoride. I could really go for some fluoride water right now, though. I think my favorite kind of water is Smart Water. You know those really big bougie bottles? I love those. Or Fiji Water. We were supposed to be in Fiji… three days from now? We were supposed to be in Noumea today. I bet Mina and Hoseok haven’t even noticed we’re gone.” You laughed at that dryly. “I bet they got up and left while we were gone at dinner, and haven’t even left the room since then. Oh man, last night at dinner, I ordered this big ol’ tilapia with mashed potatoes and green beans. I’m so hungry right now, I might eat this driftwood later.”

You felt like you were losing you mind. Namjoon just floated there, still unconscious, and you kept checking to make sure he was still breathing.

Something else hit your arm, making you jump in surprise. When you looked down at it, you saw three little fish swimming by. You watched them go, and you realized something here was very off. You looked down in the water and didn’t see a dark abyss. You saw golden sand.

You could see the bottom of the ocean, and the water was only ten feet deep, maximum. You’d drifted far enough to find shallow water.

You spun around, looking around wildly. Above your head, two large white birds flew by. You saw it then. Maybe a football field’s length away was a small island, overflowing with green.

You nearly started crying in relief as you pulled Namjoon along, swimming as hard as you could.

“Joon, Joon, wake up, there’s land! We found land!”

Namjoon remained unconscious, but you dragged him with you as you swam with your legs and free arm. You almost cried out when you felt your feet touch the bottom, and as soon as you were in shallow enough water, you stood up and started pulling him, splashing through the warm water.

You immediately fell over, your muscles weak from exhaustion and not being used to gravity and normal weight. The top half of Namjoon’s body fell on your legs, and you shifted yourself and him so that you were pulling him along, dragging him and yourself up onto the sand.

You managed to get both yourself and Namjoon up to where the water just barely washed over your legs before collapsing. You laughed, nearly hysterical, feeling the wet sand between your fingers, holding onto it in handfuls. Tears streamed down your face, your heart bursting from joy and relief in catharsis.

After probably a half an hour of just laying there on the sand and just breathing, you managed to get yourself sitting up. In front of you was the ocean and nothingness on the horizon. To each side, beach curving away. Either the island was small or you were on a peninsula. Behind you was dense jungle. You could hear birds and noisy bugs — there was definitely an ecosystem of living plants and animals, which meant there would be fresh water and some kind of food supply.

Standing on shaky legs, you got to where you could move behind Namjoon, who laid on his back, arms out where you’d dropped them. Even while unconscious, he looked so weak and fatigued, the saltwater sore on his face and his split lip now both bleeding.

You still had on one of your heels. You must’ve lost the other one at some point in the storm, and you were shocked you hadn’t lost both. You bent and took off the one you still had, tossing it behind you further up the beach. Digging your feet into the sand, you dragged Namjoon up onto land by his arms. The white sand burned the bottoms of your bare feet, and you moved as fast as you could to get him up into the shade, only falling over from exhaustion a few times during the process.

The piece of driftwood was still on his stomach, and when you got him under a cluster of palm trees, you moved it from his stomach and used it to support his head, moving him as gently as you could. You took off his soaking wet shoes and socks, not wanting him to get whatever it was, that disease World War I soldiers got back in the day from walking in wet socks, and his belt, to help him be more comfortable.

You took off your garters and suspenders, peeling off your hose. You hung your hose and Namjoon’s sock on a branch nearby. You figured your suspenders would be useful at some point, as well as maybe the wire in your strapless bra. Namjoon’s belt would definitely be handy. Maybe you could use some of this stuff to make something to go fishing, maybe a net with the hose and—

Your thoughts were cut off when Namjoon, still unconscious, started gagging. You froze in shock and uncertainty, watching as his body shook, convulsing upward as he began throwing up. He was on his back so it had nowhere to go, and you watched, still frozen, as he began choking. Hearing that made you jump-start, and you quickly turned him onto his side, moving him so that he threw up onto the ground instead.

You felt Namjoon’s forehead, holding his head in place so he didn’t slide facedown into vomit. He was feverish, so hot to the touch you felt uncomfortable just touching him. His skin felt strange, deathly dry but also covered in a cold sweat, and it felt as if his skin were less movable and elastic. You gently pinched his arm, and his skin was unnaturally slow moving back, like his flesh was made of loose putty.

When he stopped throwing up — and he didn’t throw up much, just bile — he started moaning weakly, barely opening his eyes. His breathing was fast and shallow, catching in his throat with each agonized breath.

You moved your hand to his neck, feeling his pulse. You had trouble finding it, but when you did, it was racing and irregular. He moaned in agitation, weakly trying to move away from you, like just your touch was bothering him.

Namjoon showed every sign of severe dehydration you’d ever heard of, plus you had no idea what he was going through from exhausting himself so much and treading water that long. You needed to find him water and you needed to do it right now.

“Joon, I’m going to go find some water. You’re gonna be okay,” you said sweetly, trying not to speak too loudly and surprise him.

Namjoon mumbled a string of words you couldn’t understand. The only words you caught were “tree,” “dark,” “sun,” and “sea” between his harsh gasps. He looked back at you, barely able to keep his bloodshot eyes open, and said something else. He wasn’t making sense or saying anything coherent, just quiet gibberish as he breathed hard, lost in delirium.

You needed to go, but you didn’t want to leave him laying here alone. He could just roll over onto his back the second you walked away and throw up again, or he could get worse. Well, you figured, he was going to get worse no matter what if you didn’t go find water.

“Namjoon, you need to stay laying on your side,” you said, gently rolling him back over so he wasn’t looking at you. He moaned in irritation. “I know,” you cooed, stroking his hair back out of his face.

You couldn’t do anything for him here. You had to go and find the spring. You knew there had to be one, with this much wildlife, and it was your only chance at staying alive or helping Namjoon.

As you ran into the jungle, the end of your dress snagged on a low-hanging branch. It ripped, a few inches of it splitting. You’d all but forgotten you were still in your fancy skimpy dress, now discolored and faded from being in saltwater for so long. You were lucky a shark hadn’t tried to eat you, thinking you were a big colorful fish.

It took you about ten minutes to find it. The ground became wetter and wetter, the flora taller and stronger. You felt around with your bare feet, feeling your toes almost sinking into the wet moss. You turned around, looking around yourself wildly, and tripped backwards, falling on your ass right into water.

You were sitting in a pond. A small waterfall fed into it, the water coming out of a crevasse near the bottom of a large rock jutting out of the ground. The water was perfectly clear, probably only five feet deep at the lowest part. Tall palm trees and tropical leaves and ferns surrounded the area, shading it, the clearing surrounded with colorful flowers, bamboo stalks, and light gray rocks. A fish the size of your pinky swam by where you sat, not at all concerned by your presence.

You needed to find a way to get this back to Namjoon. Thinking fast, you stood up and walked over to one of the leafy plants, your dress dripping down your legs and onto the jungle floor. You found the biggest leaf you saw, pulling it out. When you cupped it and shaped it with your hands, it probably had enough room for about a bottle’s worth of water.

You waded into the water, heading straight for the direct source of the spring water, figuring that was the best place to get the cleanest water. You held the leaf there, letting water gently collect, and once you had it full you slowly and carefully made your way back toward Namjoon.

When you found him, he was unconscious again, thankfully still alive and breathing. You sat behind him, careful not to get yourself or him in the vomit still laying there, and had him sit up a little so he could drink as he leaned back on you. You held the leaf up to his mouth, but he didn’t wake up, sending a spark of panic through you. You moved so that his head tilted back and forced some water into his mouth. A lot of it ran down his chin and onto his chest, but at least some of it went into his mouth and down his throat. You saw him swallowing after a moment, and let yourself sigh in relief.

You got him to drink about half of the water before he started gagging. He threw up again, but was self-aware and awake enough this time to turn himself to the side and not throw up on himself or you. You held the leaf up above your head, careful to make sure he didn’t knock into you and spill it.

You drank the rest of the water and then went back to the spring, this time making a path for yourself on the way. You used rocks and large branches to move the foliage aside, leaving behind a clear trail you could easily follow. This would also help you get back faster, and you wouldn’t have to move around the thick plants while holding a leaf full of water.

You got Namjoon to drink about half of the next leaf too, and you figured that was enough for right now. You swore you remembered reading that giving someone too much water when they were dehydrated would make them sick, so you’d give him more very gradually.

You now focused on setting up a shelter. You were in survival mode, not allowing yourself to think about anything except your next move and how you were going to keep yourself and Namjoon alive.

A little bit down the beach, you found a tree near the tree line with a branch about four feet off the ground, and another tree maybe six feet away with a similar branch. You walked into the foliage, looking around for a huge, narrow stick. When you found one, you brought it back to your two trees and set the stick on the branches, making a bar. Now, you just needed to find more large sticks to lean against your bar, and then you could tie leaves to those sticks to make a thick barrier that could protect you both from the elements. You always knew your years in Girl Scouts would eventually pay off.

Setting up your plan took a while. You stopped part of the way through and went back to check on Namjoon, still laying there unconscious or sleeping. His breathing was normal now and he seemed more relaxed, but he was still feverish. You went back to the spring and drank a lot yourself before bringing water back to Namjoon. Even while not awake, he drank without hesitation this time, immediately swallowing instead of just laying there unresponsive. You stroked his hair back from his forehead, wiping away the sweat there.

Before standing up to leave him again, you leaned in and almost kissed Namjoon on top of his head, but caught yourself. What the hell was that? You shook your head and got up, gently easing him back down on his side.

The shelter was done by sunset. You cleared the ground underneath the slanted roof — it was still sandy there, so you figured you probably wouldn’t have to worry about bugs too much. You still laid down a layer of large leaves anyway, setting up a kind-of mat to lay on. This was about as good as it was going to get right now.

Your stomach felt like it was trying to eat itself. You didn’t have time to find food now, though — wandering around the jungle at night sounded stupid at best, and you still had things you had to do before the sun went down. The hunt for food would come tomorrow.

You went back and found Namjoon again. He seemed closer to sleeping than unconscious, and that comforted you. You went back to the spring one last time, filling yourself up and then taking one more leaf back to Namjoon. Once you got him to drink, you dragged him down the beach to your shelter, which took quite some time. He was a big boy, and you were fucking tired, your muscles still weak from being in water so long. You pulled him by his arms, though, and eventually got him there and rolled him under the lean-to.

After that, you went and found your discarded heel, garters, and hose and Namjoon’s belt, socks, and shoes, and brought them all back, keeping your stuff together and close. The spring was about a five-minute walk down the path you’d made from the shelter. Everything was fairly close together, and for that you were thankful.

You laid Namjoon on his side in the shelter and then climbed in behind him. You didn’t know how cold it got here at night, but you laid behind Namjoon, spooning him, partially for warmth and partially to make sure he didn’t roll onto his back at any point in the night.

The sound of the ocean was eerily lulling. You listened to it, the gentle waves lapping against the shoreline in the dark, and when you really listened you could hear Namjoon’s steady breathing. The jungle behind you was silent.

***

When you woke up, your arm was asleep. You’d used it as a pillow because of your lack of anything else, and that had been a minor mistake. You stretched it out as you got up and climbed over Namjoon, looking out at the early morning ocean.

The sun was just coming up, which meant with its position, your spot on the beach was facing north. You didn’t know why knowing that comforted you. Maybe knowing more about the situation, even inconsequential stuff like that, made you feel a little bit more in control of everything. Your head didn’t hurt as much today, and you felt your energy coming back, albeit only slightly.

You looked back at Namjoon. He hadn’t thrown up in the night, which meant he was keeping fluids down, finally. You felt his forehead — a little warm, but not clammy and feverish like he’d been yesterday. He had to be a little warmer than usual because of his sunburn, too, so that was okay. At least you couldn’t see his veins through his skin anymore.

Your own skin was peeling, too, your face and shoulders the worst. It itched so bad, but you kept yourself from touching it. You knew in the back of your mind that going into the ocean would help heal your skin — living with Mina, you knew all the little things about the ocean like that, about how clean saltwater healed wounds and made sunburns not hurt. Right now, though, the last thing you ever wanted to do was go back into the ocean.

You were hungrier than you’d ever been in your life. You needed to find food today. Namjoon wouldn’t be able to take anything besides water for a little while, so this was just for you. First order of business, though, was getting more water in both of you. Your number one priority was keeping both yourself and Namjoon hydrated.

You made your way back to the spring. As you walked, you thought about how you would try to make a fire today, and maybe start using big rocks to spell out “HELP” on the beach. Your mind kept wandering to food; not even you favorite foods, but basic stuff — bread, red meat, and fruits. You pictured a big, juicy steak and nearly whined out loud.

When you got to the spring, you saw something that made you freeze in your tracks. A wild boar, about the size of a fat house cat, was drinking from the pond.

Your mouth started watering just looking at it. Your mind just saw sizzling bacon as you stared blankly at the boar, unmoving as you stood there at the tree line of the clearing. It looked up at you and didn’t really seem to be afraid of you, just going back to drinking after a few seconds of a glance.

You pushed it out of your mind. The meat would probably go bad before you could even make a fire to cook it. You’d just find something easier, like fruit, and hold onto the knowledge that there were boars on this island for a time when you’d be more prepared to cook it. You’d probably also need to make some kind of defense weapon, in case this little guy was just a baby, and papa boar was around and angry.

You drank directly from the spring for a moment, letting yourself feel almost full, and then found another leaf and filled it up. When you got back to Namjoon, he was almost stirring awake.

As you sat down behind him, he tried to sit up, but was too weak.

“No, shh, stay down,” you cooed softly. You brought the leaf to his mouth and he drank slowly, a few drops spilling down his chin. When he finished, you set the leaf aside and looked down at him, wiping his chin and stroking his hair back off of his forehead.

You took his dress shirt off of him — it was long-sleeved, and you didn’t want him to overheat during the heat of the day today. You moved him onto his side again and bundled up his shirt, using it as a pillow underneath his head. Namjoon drifted back to sleep as you moved him.

You saw a large yellowish-purple bruise across his lower back and remembered how he’d hit the railing so hard when the ship had been tossed around in the storm. Reaching out, you let your fingertips skim against his skin, feeling his bruise. There wasn’t anything off about the way his spine looked, at least externally, and he’d been using his legs just fine when you saw him treading water. You hoped his kidneys were okay, since the railing must’ve hit him hard there, but you knew you had no way of telling what kind of pain he was in until he woke up.

Sighing, you stood up, leaving him. You then began your search for food, walking down the beach.

After a few minutes of walking along the tree line, you saw a plant you thought you recognized. A tree about three feet taller than you grew right beside the sand, fruit growing out of the top of it below its leaves. You recognized the fruit, but the name wasn’t coming to you. It was shaped like a fat eggplant and was a mix of green and yellow in color.

Papaya. You knew that’s what this was.

You reached up and pulled one off, and brought it down to look closer at it. You squeezed it with your hands, looking at it intently. You had no idea how to tell if papayas were ripe or bad, but this one looked as good as any.

You just bit right into it. The skin was hard to chew, like eating an orange peel, so you spat that out into your hand and bit off the meat of the fruit, leaving behind just the skin. You repeated this all over the papaya until the skin was gone, and then you devoured it. When you got to the seeds, you spat them out, unsure if they were safe to eat, but you ate every last bit of the meat of the fruit until there was nothing left.

You ate two more papayas before you moved on. About ten feet down the beach you found a banana tree, but all the bananas were small and green.

You kept walking. You wanted to see how big the island was, and see if there were maybe other inhabitants there. For all you knew, you were on a resort island, and you’d walk around a bend and see a big five-star hotel.

You found a few more papaya and banana plants, some of the bananas even ripe, and saw some coconuts and a few things you didn’t recognize. One looked like a huge blueberry, another like a bumpy green lump, and another like a small, light pink pear. You only gathered the ones you knew for sure, and figured that eventually you could test the others to be certain.

You kept walking and walking, and then you saw Namjoon laying under the lean-to. You’d walked around the entirety of the island, seeing no signs of civilization, and had done so in an hour at most, and that was with you stopping and looking at fruit. The perimeter of the island could only be a mile or so. You and Namjoon were definitely alone here.

You took your armful of fruit over to the shelter. You didn’t want to waste anything by picking it too early, so you’d only brought two yellow bananas and a papaya. You planned to get just a little bit of food into Namjoon tomorrow if he seemed up to it, starting with banana, since people could usually eat that when they were sick.

Namjoon was still asleep. Judging by the sun, it was nearing midday now. You went to the spring in the woods and drank, and brought some back for Namjoon, methodically keeping him hydrated, and then moved on, starting your call for help.

You spent a large part of the afternoon finding large rocks to arrange in the shape of HELP across the beach. Each letter was probably fifteen feet long and half that wide, and you only got halfway through the E before getting too tired to keep going today. The last thing you wanted to do was wear yourself out, so you figured tomorrow you’d finish E and do L, and then do P the next day.

You continued your routine. You checked on Namjoon. You went to the spring and drank some water, and then brought back a leaf full for Namjoon. You ate two bananas and called that a late lunch.

Late in the evening, you sat on the sand a few feet from the shelter. You faced out toward the ocean, watching the waves as the tide slowly went out and the sun set far to your left. At the highest point of high tide, the water was about forty feet from you. That comforted you, being that far from the waves.

You were thinking about how you could try to make yourself go fishing eventually when you heard Namjoon stirring, and you turned around, looking back at him.

“Hey, sleepy,” you said, smiling warmly.

Namjoon opened his eyes slowly, blinking as he got used to what he was looking at. As far as you knew, this was the first time he’d been aware of what was going on since that first night in the water.

You moved and went to sit beside him.

“You’ve been out for about a day,” you said. “There’s a spring a few minutes away, with clean freshwater. I found a bunch of fruit, too. I checked and the island’s small, no people. There are animals, though.”

Namjoon blinked a few times slowly. “Animals?” he asked, his voice deep, gravely, lethargic.

“I saw a boar,” you said, smiling. “That means there’s more, unless this guy swam here like we did.” You giggled a little at that, trying to lighten the mood, but Namjoon just laid there for a moment, thinking and looking out at the water behind you.

“What happened?” he said, his face blank. You bit your lip, not sure if you wanted to scare him, but figured you may as well tell him everything.

“You kept me alive until I woke up,” you said, watching his face to see if he’d react to anything you said. “It was afternoon when I woke up, and you seemed delirious. You passed out, and I kept you above water until we drifted and found this island. You were really dehydrated and sick, and I found the spring and got you to drink some water and rest. You’ve slept for over twenty-four hours. Probably twenty-eight, if I had to guess.” You added the last part nervously.

Namjoon nodded slowly, listening to all that. Behind you, the waves hit the shore steadily. You were getting sick of hearing that noise.

“I didn’t feel your pulse after that big wave,” Namjoon started, staring out at the water, speaking slowly. His eyes were blank and vacant, still bloodshot, though not as bad as they’d been. “I kept your head above water, just in case. I figured you’d swallowed some water, or maybe drowned. I tried to do CPR but it was kind of hard, with the waves and the rain.” He took in a few deep breaths, as if just speaking that much had worn him out.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, looking down at your hands in your lap. Your heart swelled from his words, and you almost felt yourself tearing up. He’d worked so hard for so long to keep you both alive. It must’ve been terrifying, thinking he was alone in the middle of the ocean, the only person with him potentially dead.

You glanced up and saw Namjoon slightly shaking his head, brow furrowed.

“When you didn’t wake up the next day or the following night, I started to get really worried. I felt you breathing, though, so I kept going.”

You looked up at him suddenly, eyes wide, heart all but stopping in your chest as your blood ran cold. “Following night? What do you mean?”

Namjoon shook his head again slowly. “The storm happened and we had that night in the rough waves, and then there was a full day and another full night where you were out, and then I don’t really remember anything after that.”

“Jesus, Namjoon,” you said, eyebrows about in your hairline from your shock. No wonder he’d been so exhausted — he’d had another twenty-four hours more than what you’d thought, and just what you’d thought he’d gone through was enough to kill him. Another twenty-four hours of keeping himself and you above water. Another full day of being alone with his thoughts and fears while adrift in the ocean, keeping an unconscious person above water just in case you were still alive. How the hell had he survived?

This meant that you had been unconscious for almost two full days. Didn’t being unconscious that long mean brain damage? You felt fine now, but shouldn’t you not be fine? You remembered hitting your head on the side of the ship, and you were certain going into shock from your panic hadn’t helped that at all, but your head barely hurt anymore, other than when you were exerting yourself too hard. Had you been in a coma or something? What the fuck?

Namjoon started to sit up then, but you stopped him, moving over to him and putting your hand on his shoulder to make him lay back down.

“You need your rest,” you said.

“I’ve rested enough,” he said, trying to sit up again, but he was too weak to even push against your hand just barely resting on his chest. You didn’t say anything, instead just watching him huff and lay back down.

A few moments of silence passed between you. The sounds of the ocean and waves mingled with distant birds and the gentle wind moving the leaves on the tall trees.

“I wrote ‘HELP’ with some rocks,” you said lowly. “Or at least, I started to. I’ll finish it in the next few days.”

Namjoon rolled onto his side and stared out at the ocean blankly. Just moving that much seemed to wear him out.

“That’s good,” he said flatly. “I’ll help tomorrow.”

“No you won’t,” you said. “You need to keep resting and recovering.”

“I’m not dying, I–”

“You were,” you shot at him, your expression and words turning harsh. You stared at him intensely, all but snarling. You were prepared to make him keep resting, even if it meant tying him to a tree with vines from the jungle.

“Well, I’m not anymore, and I want to help,” he said, not giving up on it.

“Too fucking bad,” you said, setting you jaw.

Namjoon glared at you. Apparently just to spite you, he sat up, pretending not to be dizzy once he was upright as he braced himself.

“I’m going to get more water,” you said coldly, standing up. “I’ll be back in a few minutes so I can put water in your mouth for you and help you drink, again.”

Without waiting to hear a response, you turned and walked down the beach to your path to the spring.

***

The two of you didn’t speak much the rest of the day, both of you too stubborn. That night, when Namjoon found out what the sleeping arrangements were, he huffed and pouted but didn’t comment, apparently still annoyed at you for refusing to let him help.

The two of you did talk for a little while seriously. You figured it was warm enough at night without a fire, but you’d need one to cook any eventual meat or fish and to keep warm if it rained or the temperatures dropped, and it would of course be great for signaling rescuers. You planned for Namjoon to work on that tomorrow while you worked on the “HELP” letters, since beating rocks together to make sparks was stationary and he could sit down and take his time with it. He seemed like he really wanted something to do, to feel helpful, and being put in charge of the fire seemed to please him. He tried to pretend he was fine, but he was still so exhausted.

You’d found some baby coconuts earlier and were fairly confident you’d be able to get them open, and tomorrow you’d have Namjoon try the milk to start getting used to something besides water, and then you could use the husks as tinder for the fire.

When the sun went down, it was a little bit colder than the night before. You curled up against Namjoon, who’d laid on his back, and he wrapped his arm around you, gently pulling you closer to him as he also felt the chill, your head on his chest, your hand over his heart. You used his dress shirt as a blanket, laying it over both of your upper bodies. You hooked your leg up over him, your thigh resting across his thighs, and he put his large, warm hand on your knee. He moved his thumb in small circles on your skin, sending sparks to your core. He was so warm, and you tried to remember and focus on how he’d been warm on the ship too, when he’d put sunscreen on you at the pool. His fever wasn’t so bad anymore. He was just a warm person. You didn’t need to worry about his fever anymore, you told yourself.

The ocean was so loud right now. Your mind drifted to how close to death you’d both been, especially Namjoon, and how you were probably going to die on this island. How could you possibly survive here long-term? What would happen if one of you got a little cut that got infected, or if one of you got seriously hurt? Just a broken bone or toothache could kill you. What if nobody every came looking for you? The ocean was so fucking big — how could anyone find anything? How had you even managed to find this island at all?

You felt and heard him sigh then, your hand and head both rising and falling with his chest.

“What are we gonna do?” you asked. Your voice sounded so small, nearly cracking as you spoke.

He didn’t answer for a moment. You wondered if he was actually asleep.

Namjoon did answer, his warm voice a low, comforting noise you could almost feel rumbling in his chest. “We’ll stay alive.”

He turned his head and kissed the top of your hair, resting his mouth there as he breathed slowly. The ocean didn’t sound as loud now.

***

Namjoon’s snoring only woke you up twice. You found yourself getting used to it, much preferring it over the awful sound of the waves you knew were going to eventually drive you crazy. You almost found his snoring comforting after a while, because now you knew for certain he was alive and sleeping, not unconscious or worse.

In the morning, after you’d gone to get your and Namjoon’s first drink of water, you went and found Namjoon some rocks to try to make his fire. You set up the pit, circling up some larger rocks to contain it and arranging some dry leaves and sticks. You helped Namjoon move over to where you’d set it up, since you didn’t want it right beside your very flammable shelter, and you helped him get settled in his new spot.

He started working, and you went and got one of your baby coconuts. You hit it against a tree nearby, and after only two hits it started to burst. You hurried over to Namjoon and held it as he drank from it eagerly. He brought his hands up to hold the coconut tighter, his fingers on yours as he drank up every last bit of liquid. A small amount of it dribbled down his chin, running in a long, thin line down the column of his neck, which you tried very hard not to stare at as he drank and swallowed, his large Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

You peeled the coconut open and found the meat inside. You saw the way Namjoon was staring at the meat intently where he sat, mouth watering, and you reached in and brought some of the meat up to your own mouth.

“No solids for you until tomorrow at the earliest,” you said between bites, and he huffed, annoyed with that.

You put the dry parts of the cleaned out husk in the fire pit and went and cracked open another. Namjoon drank, you ate, and you threw it in the fire pit again.

You got to work on the “HELP” letters, working slowly not to overstrain yourself. Around midday, you took a brief break to get some water to Namjoon and get him another coconut. You had two papayas plus a leaf of water and the coconut meat.

In the afternoon, you continued with the rocks. Namjoon wasn’t having much luck actually starting a fire, but he was starting to make sparks and absolutely insisted that he’d eventually get it.

When you walked out of the jungle with yet another rock, back to the beach on what you told yourself was the last trip, you saw Namjoon standing and walking into the ocean, only in his boxers and already up to his knees in the water. You threw the rock in your arms off to the side and ran to him.

“Namjoon!” You sprinted, moving yourself as fast as your legs could carry you. You didn’t know what he was planning on doing, but with him as weak as he was, there was no way he’d be able to fight a riptide or maybe even just the normal waves pulling him out.

You splashed into the water and when you got to him, you wrapped your arms around his waist, physically dragging him back to shore.

“Stop it, get off,” he grumbled, trying to wiggle free. “I’m just trying to get clean. Neither of us have bathed in days.”

“Sorry, buddy. There’s a rule about this,” you said, still attempting to pull him back. “No swimming in the ocean when you almost died two days ago.”

“I’m fine,” he whined, begrudgingly allowing himself to be pulled backwards until you both stood with just your feet in the water.

“Nuh uh, Joon,” you said, letting go of him and walking around to face him. You were ankle-deep in the water and tried to ignore the small spike of fear even just this now brought you.

“Yeah huh, Y/N,” he said, matching your tone.

“If you’re fine, do ten jumping jacks right now,” you said, putting your hands on your hips. Namjoon didn’t say anything and definitely didn’t do what you’d asked, instead just setting his jaw and glaring out at the water behind you.

You smirked at him, knowing damn well that he wasn’t able to do that right now, and he knew it too.

“I’m going in and you can’t stop me,” Namjoon declared. He moved to step around you, and you sidestepped, standing right in front of him. He tried to do it again, and you just sidestepped again, smiling now.

“I can do this all day, Joonie. You getting tired yet?” you said.

Before he could say anything, you felt something touch your ankle and you screamed, jumping out of the water and up onto the sand. Namjoon used your distraction to walk straight out into the waves.

“Namjoon, stop,” you begged, walking in after him. You saw what had touched your ankle: a little piece of seaweed maybe an inch long.

You went right into the water after him, ready to pull him back again, but he moved down, dunking himself under where it was only about three feet deep. He stood back up, running his hands through his hair.

You looked down at his muscular, broad body as he faced away from you, his caramel-toned skin glistening from the water in the bright sunlight and thoroughly distracting you from your worry. It didn’t seem to fit, him still looking like this but you knowing he’d been starving and dying the past few days. You knew logically that of course he wouldn’t change size too much or in any way reflect his complete lack of food yet, but still. It felt odd seeing how muscular he was and remembering how frail and weak he’d been.

Namjoon dunked himself back under one more time, and then walked back onto shore.

“See? I was fine,” he said as he walked by. You ignored the way the droplets of water ran slowly down his firm chest and stomach and the way his smug smile made you want him to bend you over something.

“And if you’d been caught in a riptide, I’m sure you would’ve been a-okay,” you said, turning and walking back up to the shelter with him. When you got there, you decided to give him some privacy, and to go off and take a bath of your own.

You went to the spring. On your way there, you saw a low-hanging palm tree with more baby coconuts, just off the path. You got one and carried it with you.

You had nothing to use for soap, but maybe using coconut milk on some of your body would be the same thing as coconut oil or lotion. You knew that was an ingredient people used in soaps and stuff, and had read about fresh coconut milk being used on the skin. You could just rub it in and then wash it off with water. You were probably doing something really stupid, but you didn’t even care. You just desperately wanted to not smell like sweat anymore.

When you got to the spring, you stripped off your dress and took off your strapless bra and panties and laid them all out on a large flat rock near the edge of the water. You cracked the coconut against a tree and carefully set it on the rock beside your clothes.

The first thing you did once you were in the water was wash your panties. You didn’t want to fully transition to full-time commando, especially not with your short dress, but the time you’d been wearing them now was already far past way too long. You soaked and scrubbed them with just water, and then laid them out to dry.

You leaned back and dunked most of your hair in the clear water. Getting a little coconut milk on your hands, you ran your palms over your shoulders and upper body, rubbing it in and pretending it was a nice body wash back home in your shower.

It smelled so good and pleasant here. The little waterfall from the spring was the only thing you could hear besides the leaves and flowers moving in the gentle island breeze. You dunked yourself completely under the water, letting it soak into your skin. You ran your hands all over yourself, and felt, for the first time in days, almost clean. Your skin had been so dry from the salt water and pained from the sunburn, and the coconut milk felt like a thin lotion, exfoliating you skin.

You moved toward the deepest part of the pool, where you could still touch the bottom if you were on your tiptoes. You really didn’t mind being in this water. It was clear and you could see around you, and it was small enough you could see all of it. There was nothing hiding here.

“Hey, you.”

You nearly screamed in surprise.

Namjoon had followed your path and now stood near the entrance to the clearing, still dripping wet in his boxers, which were so low around his hips you could almost see a bit of dark hair. He seemed completely unconcerned with the fact you were naked — you had been facing the other way before, but when you’d spun around and saw him, you’d covered yourself, knowing the pristinely clear water would do very little to distort his view of you. You covered your breasts with one arm and crossed your legs, wrapping your other arm around your body instinctively.

“Fuck, Joon. You scared the shit out of me.”

“Language,” he said sarcastically. “And it’s Namjoon to you.”

Namjoon walked around the clearing, looking at the different plants and making his way over to the spring. He didn’t seem to notice or care that you were on edge, turning yourself with him so he wouldn’t see your ass.

“Uh, do you mind?” you said after a moment.

“Not at all, go ahead,” he said, sitting down on a rock beside the crevasse where the spring water flowed out. He cupped his hands and drank some before continuing. “I can’t see shit without my glasses, which I lost in the storm. You just look like a little skin-colored blob to me right now, especially this far away.”

You rolled your eyes and huffed. You’d been so relaxed and calm before he showed up, and now you were standing here covering yourself. Though, realizing that he’d lost his glasses and couldn’t see well without them did make you feel almost bad for him.

“So I was thinking,” Namjoon began conversationally, and you bit the inside of your cheek, preparing for a full conversation with him like this, with you covering yourself. “We can use your pantyhose as a fishnet. Nothing big, but enough to catch something we can eat. We don’t have enough for a mosquito net, but I haven’t really seen any mosquitos, even here with all this sitting water. We don’t need to make a rain filter since we have the spring, so our only real use for your hose is fishing or drying foods.”

“You know how to dry foods?” you asked. You were still covering yourself fully, but relaxed some as the two of you talked seriously. He wasn’t leering or trying to catch a glimpse, and he couldn’t see that well anyway, but he did look over at you and make eye contact when you spoke. His expression was serious and businesslike.

“Yeah,” he said. “Just hang it up and keep it in the sun for two days or so. It’s easy, I used to do it all the time when I hiked more. Bananas would probably be best, but we’d have to cut it up somehow. I’m not sure mashed bananas would be very good dried.”

“We can use the wire in my bra,” you suggested. Namjoon raised an eyebrow, but nodded after a moment in agreement.

“We can also use the prong on my belt, if we can get the buckle off, as a spear tip. Just tie it to a nice stick, and boom, we have a spear to use on that boar you saw. Twenty-first century arrowhead. We can probably tie it with your sexy little leg straps.”

“Sexy leg straps?”

“Yeah,” he said, nodding seriously. “You know, your hose thingys?” He made a straight line motion with his finger, drawing up and down the side of his outer thigh.

“They’re called suspenders.”

“Whatever. You knew what I meant.”

You looked at him for a moment. You were still standing there in the water covering yourself as much as you could, and he didn’t seem to have any plans for leaving any time soon.

“Yes?” Namjoon said when he noticed you staring at him. You could see the smallest hint of a smile on the corner of his smug mouth.

“Get out,” you said simply, smiling fake-politely.

“I’m just here to drink water,” he said, feigning innocence. “Remember the whole dying of dehydration thing? Plus we were talking about plans to survive. You plan on wearing that dress every day?”

“Were you planning on going permanently naked any time soon?” you said.

“Pants don’t last forever, and neither will that pretty little dress of yours.”

You set your jaw. Before you could say anything to him, he stood up, eyeing the water beside where he stood.

“Uh, what are you doing?” you said in surprise, realizing what he was doing.

“Going for a swim,” he said, like it was obvious. He pulled down his boxers, and then there he was, completely naked before you. You only looked up at him in short glances, your eyes wide, careful not to let him catch you staring. Even in the cool water, you felt the heat and slick wetness starting to build between you legs. You didn’t let yourself look at him anywhere below his stomach, but you could see even when not looking directly at him that he was a big boy, short dark hair surrounding his thick length, so big even when flaccid like this. He seemed completely at ease, this moment not sexual to him at all as he eased himself down into the water.

“Didn’t you just swim in the ocean?” You made yourself look only at his eyes.

“You barely let me go in at all, and I see you invented some coconut soap, which you didn’t share,” he said. “I wanna be clean and not smell bad, too.” Namjoon waded over through the waist-high water to where your coconut was sitting on a rock. You watched him glance at your panties drying there, the corner of his mouth quirking.

Namjoon got some coconut milk on his hands and rubbed it on himself. He was still facing away from you, so you stared blatantly as he rubbed his hands across his arms and shoulders, the muscles in his back moving and stretching.

He continued talking to you as he worked. “So, when are you going to let me start eating? Or is your plan to starve me out?”

You snorted. “How are you feeling with the coconut milk you had earlier?”

“Good.” He glanced back over his shoulder at you for a second, and your eyes snapped up to his eyes from where you had been staring at his ass through the crystal clear water. “Hungry as hell, and ready to start eating something.” He spoke normally, apparently not catching on to your leering, thankfully.

You didn’t answer him. You relaxed yourself a little, still keeping yourself covered but not letting your muscles stay as tense as they had been. After a moment, Namjoon spoke, still facing away from you and rubbing coconut milk on his upper body.

“I gotta ask. Where was all this shyness and modesty when you nearly jerked me off in public with your foot? Or is it different for you if you’re playing a game?”

You froze. You’d all but forgotten about how much you’d teased him on the boat. All of that seemed so long ago now.

“What game?” you said.

He turned around and looked at you, one eyebrow raised. You smiled at him innocently.

Namjoon moved slowly through the water, coming toward you. His dark eyes were so intense, you couldn’t look away if you wanted to, though his smile was playful. Your legs were still crossed and one arm still covered your breasts, but as he approached, stepping closer to you, you dropped your arm and moved to stand firmly on two feet. You were where the water came up to your breasts, the water level teasing your nipples as the gentle waves from your movements swelled around you.

To his credit, Namjoon didn’t look down at your breasts. You were standing nearly chest-to-chest now, though he was so much taller than you. Under the water, his hands moved slowly to touch your sides low on your hips, his fingertips just barely skimming against your skin as he gazed down at your eyes. You stood up straight, eager, leaning back just slightly as if presenting your chest to him.

Namjoon leaned in a little, looking down at your mouth with an absolutely depraved look in his eyes, his lips parting. You parted your lips too and watched his eyes darken as he took in a deep breath. This close to him, you could see the freckles he’d gotten from the sun, and the little moles he’d had before that you hadn’t really noticed before this moment. You studied the curve of his nose, the lines of his plush lips, all the details of his handsome face. You wanted to touch him, you wanted to feel his face with your hands, your breasts, your inner thighs.

One of his hands moved slowly around your hip toward your ass, lightly tracing his fingers there, his touch so gentle you could barely feel him. He moved around the swell of your ass and straight up your spine, watching you shiver as he moved. You looked up at him through hooded eyes, arching your back and wordlessly begging him to touch or even just look at your breasts.

Namjoon looked down, admiring you finally, and he leaned in so that his mouth was less than an inch from yours. You closed your eyes and could almost feel his mouth on yours. You felt his warm breath on your skin and nearly whined, a small moan escaping you. His hands traced up your ribcage, resting just below you breasts. Other than his hands, he didn’t touch you, though the rest of him was close enough to tease your skin with light touches and traces in the water.

His hands were so big and strong, you thought you might pass out just thinking about what he could do to you. His fingers touched the undersides of your breasts, moving upwards so slowly.

“This game,” he said then, pulling back completely and smirking at you.

You should’ve known.

You sighed and rolled your eyes as he moved back in the water, looking at you with a shit-eating grin on his face. You knew you were flushed and hot and bothered, and he’d gotten you so desperate in such a short amount of time, all but begging him to touch you.

Two could play this game.

***

It had to have been about ten days or so on the island by now.

You had yet to see a boat, plane, or any hint of other humans existing within a hundred miles of you. You would’ve been nearing the end of your cruise by now, you thought with a sigh. You had yet to get your period, guessing that was about due next week, and you were not looking forward to that experience at all.

The day after your game with Namjoon at the spring, you’d finished making the “HELP” letters and Namjoon had gotten a fire going. He’d eaten some bananas that night and didn’t get sick, so you considered that a success.

In the following days, you both got used to your routines. Namjoon worked on getting his strength up. He ran laps around the island, did push-ups, swam in the ocean — staying close to the beach, at your insistence. You even caught him lifting large rocks at one point, and made fun of him for that quite a bit. He’d insisted that he was doing it just to test if his strength was fully back yet or not.

You both went fishing and hunting. Namjoon made a spear like he’d said, sharpening the point on his belt buckle and using one of your suspenders to secure it there. He found and killed a small boar, which you roasted over the fire and split between the two of you. Namjoon made a joke about you eating a baby Pumbaa, which made you want to hit him. The following day you caught a huge fish and split that, too, though Namjoon seemed to not like seafood all that much.

You tested one of the fruits you didn’t know over a few days and found it was edible and wouldn’t kill you, and when you brought it back to your little camp proudly, Namjoon was sitting by the fire, cleaning the fish he’d caught that day.

“Noni?” he said, looking up at you as you walked over.

“Huh?”

“The thing you’re holding,” he said, motioning up toward your hands. “It’s called noni fruit.”

You looked down at the fruit you were holding. You’d spent days testing to make sure it wasn’t poisonous, and had wanted to present a new food to him as a nice surprise, and Namjoon had known the whole time what it was. Figured.

You had a fish and noni fruit dinner, finished off with coconut meat and milk and a leaf of water split between you afterwards. You didn’t have many complaints food-wise. You figured the two of you were about as lucky as you could get not to have ended up on an island with nothing, and even luckier to have ended up on an island at all. The place you’d landed pretty much served up all you needed to eat, and the only thing you really had to work for was meat, but even that helped give you something to do.

That night, you both sat by the fire talking for hours. You’d done a lot of that since you got used to your routines and set everything up. There wasn’t very much to do, besides hunt, collect fruit, and keep the fire going so potential rescuers could see it and the smoke.

Every night, you slept right beside each other, cuddled together. In the light you both were cocky and play-fought each other, teasing and bickering, but at night you held onto each other, neither pointing out aloud how much you depended on each other. A few times, you’d started crying in the middle of the night, and Namjoon always hugged you tighter and stroked your hair and told you it was going to be okay. You’d done the same for him when he’d broken down, and learned that night how much he liked and was comforted by you stroking his hair and humming to him. You were both so terrified, and at night you clung to each other like you were still lost and adrift in the middle of the sea.

When you went to bed that night, Namjoon just wore his boxers and you your panties and his dress shirt. You washed your clothes in intervals, wearing one outfit for two days or so and washing the other at some point in that time period. Namjoon was pretty much always shirtless now, to your delight, so he alternated between his dress pants, which he’d ripped into shorts, and boxers. You’d basically torn apart your bra when you got the underwire out to use, so now you alternated between your dress and Namjoon’s shirt. Both of you were clinging to the last semblances of modesty and normality you had left for as long as you could.

Tonight you laid facing in, turned away from Namjoon and the ocean, and after you’d been laying there for a while, you felt him turning toward you. He wrapped his arms around you, nuzzling his face into your hair, the tip of his nose touching your scalp. Your legs were bent and he bent his too, right along behind you, fully pressing his body against you from nose to feet. He was so gentle with you, and you immediately, reflexively, melted back into him. Namjoon exhaled, a hint of a small moan in his deep sigh.

You only ever felt truly safe at night, like this in his arms.

***

You woke up in the middle of the night. Namjoon was asleep, his erection pressed hard against your ass, and you sighed, snuggling back against him, using the slight friction for warmth. You loved when you woke up and could feel he was hard. The tension between the two of you had yet to be resolved, and nothing had happened after that day in the spring. You wanted him so bad your pussy almost ached when you looked at him, and when you woke up and could feel his huge length hard against you, it always made you shift and snuggle back into him, loving the feeling and idea of him being aroused by you so much, even if he was asleep.

He groaned in reaction to your movement. Still asleep, his arms tightened around you and pulled you even closer against him, holding onto you firmly with his muscular arms you loved so much.

He smelled so good. Earthy, like sea salt and smoke from the fire still burning a few yards away, with a hint of coconut and his musky natural scent and pheromones. You wished you could just lay here and smell this forever.

You turned over slowly, careful not to wake him. Once you were facing him, you nuzzled in against his chest. Namjoon tightened his arms around you again, sighing.

Facing him was even better. He was so warm and smelled so good, and you were right up against his bare chest. This close, you could see the hints of very slight stubble on his chin and the freckles across his face and shoulders from all the sun he’s been getting. Namjoon was so broad and muscular and big, and you brought one of your hands up to rest over his heart, very subtly feeling his pectoral muscle and heartbeat.

At your touch, Namjoon’s eyes shot open and he rolled both of your bodies, moving so that he was directly over you, straddling you, his face buried in against you neck.

You let out a small squeal in surprise, grinning and gasping in delight. He moved slowly, grinding his erection into you as he let out a low growl. You moaned, your eyes rolling back in your head as you felt his thick, hot length pressed against you through his boxers.

“What are you doing, Y/N?” he murmured against your neck, moving so that his lips brushed your skin while slowing down the pace of his grinding to downright torturous. He had to know that he was rubbing right against your clit, every sudden movement making you gasp.

“Nothing,” you said, your voice high-pitched and breathy.

You couldn’t see his face — the only thing you could see was the low light from the fire yards away dancing across the ceiling of the shelter above you — but you could feel him. The tip of his nose touched your pulse point on your neck. His breath both warmed and made goosebumps spread across you skin. He braced himself with both arms, caging you there, his hips grinding into yours.

“Are you sure?” he murmured right against your ear, his breath hot.

“Yes,” you said, closing your eyes. Right after he’d finished speaking, he’d taken your earlobe between his teeth and pulled gently. Your fingers dug into his bare shoulders, holding onto him desperately as he moved against you still.

“Tell me to get off,” he said, his voice so deep and gravelly and low you had to close your eyes. The tip of his nose traced your jaw playfully as he spoke. “Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll get off and never touch you again.”

You wrapped your legs around his waist, your centers pressed together fully through your thin clothes.

“Don’t get off.”

He didn’t even respond. Namjoon thrust so hard against you, your entire body rocked. He did so repeatedly, quickly humping and grinding against you through both his boxers and your panties. All you could hear was his breathing directly against your ear, low growls and breathy moans escaping him through the exertion of how forcefully he was moving. He was saying something you could barely understand, though you thought you heard “Yeah, you fucking like that?” after you moaned loudly.

You tried to meet his thrusts but he moved one of his hands down to grab your hips, roughly holding you in place.

“You’re so fucking good, so beautiful,” he growled, biting along your jaw. “I wanna fuck you forever, baby. God, I wish we could, so fucking bad.”

Before you could say anything, a sudden loud thump hit the roof of your shelter, and you both jumped and froze, waiting and listening for any other sounds.

Your heart raced. Namjoon looked down at you, eyes wide, and slowly moved off of you, shifting to his knees and then to a standing position outside the shelter.

He grabbed the spear from where it leaned against the tree, slowly walking where you couldn’t see him. You quickly jumped up too, watching him walk around the shelter, looking for what had made the noise.

He bent over and you couldn’t see him, and then stood up again, holding a coconut. You both looked up above you: you had set up your shelter underneath a palm tree that now had three coconuts hanging from it, and a fourth had just fallen and hit the roof of your lean-to.

You both laughed in relief, and Namjoon tossed the coconut behind him into the jungle, since you had no way of cracking into a non-baby coconut.

Namjoon walked straight for you then, throwing the spear off to the side. His eyes were dark and intense, and when he reached where you stood, he picked you up by your thighs, wrapping your legs around him as he sucked on your neck roughly, carrying you back to the shelter. His hands ran over your back underneath the shirt as he walked, feeling your bare skin desperately, and you tilted your head back in ecstasy and gasped, completely willing to let him do whatever he wanted to you.

He laid you down inside the shelter, his mouth still connected to you. He kissed you roughly, hungrily, claiming your mouth with his own, his tongue so deep inside you. You wrapped your legs around Namjoon tighter, pulling him down against you harder. He kissed you ravenously, one of his hands behind your head, knotting in your hair, holding your head just how he wanted you.

You could feel his erection through his boxers and your soaking wet panties. He ground himself against you roughly, bucking his hips, again nearly fucking you just like this through both your clothes.

“I’ve wanted you under me since the moment I saw you,” he growled against your ear, biting at your jaw. “So fucking beautiful.” He dipped his tongue into your mouth, so deep you swore you felt him in your throat, growling again.

You loved every moment of this. He moved so desperately, he was rough with you without hurting you, and god, the things coming out of his mouth were obscene. Namjoon brought his lips to your ear and whispered all the things he wanted to do to you, all while grinding himself against you harder and harder. You nearly cried out, just his words and his hips bringing you close already as you felt him moving against your clit through your clothes. His voice was deep and gravelly, contrasting his usual smooth-as-honey tone. You felt his growls and moans deep within you, all the way to your tight, throbbing core.

“–And then when you’re writhing and begging me, your beautiful legs spread so wide, I’ll kiss your pussy, taste your sweet, wet cunt. I bet you taste so fucking good, don’t you, baby? I can feel how wet you are right now, and it’s all for me. I wanna kiss and lick every inch of you so bad, I swear I could swallow you whole. Do you want me to call you ‘baby girl,’ sweetheart?”

“Yes,” you gasped, clawing at his back.

“I knew you would,” he growled against your ear, still thrusting against you, and you could almost feel his smile. “I want to kiss every inch of your beautiful skin, baby girl. I want to bring you pleasure with just my mouth, I want to please you, praise you, worship you. I want you to know what I can do to you. I want to feel you cum for me and taste you as you cum all over my face. I think about that so much, baby.”

His hips bucked faster, spreading his knees apart to spread your legs even farther as you whimpered from his filthy words.

“You think about me?” you managed to say, your voice so much higher than normal, you barely recognized yourself.

Without answering, he brought his mouth to yours, the tip of his tongue nearly touching the back of your throat again as he tilted his head, trying to dive deeper still. He kissed you and fucked your mouth with his tongue, groaning obscenely into your mouth when you sucked on his tongue.

He parted from you after a moment, gasping for air. He kissed along your jaw as best as he could while trying to get his breath back, and bit at your earlobe playfully again before answering.

“You’re the only thing I think about, baby girl,” he growled, bringing one hand to your breast, squeezing roughly. “I imagine fucking you on your hands and knees and making you scream for me, stuffing you full of my cum ’til it’s dripping out of you. I imagine making love to you, so fucking sweet, holding you so tight to me as I take you over and over, holding you like you could break. But I know you can take it. I know you like it rough, princess. And I’ll do anything you want. You want me to make you feel good, even if it hurts too, because you like it. You like pain with your pleasure, don’t you, princess?”

“Yes,” you moaned, arching your back up against him, so far gone by just his words and him dry-humping you through your clothes. How he’d managed to work you up this much without even touching you under your clothes was beyond you.

“I wanna fucking drown in you,” he growled, your earlobe between his teeth again. He pushed himself fully against you, so hard you could feel his cock throbbing. “I bet you feel so fucking good, and taste even better. I wanna fuck you every moment of every day.”

You couldn’t take it anymore. You brought your legs down from around him, and Namjoon started to move off of you, surprised and confused. You only let him move enough so you could get your panties down and off of you and the buttons on your shirt undone, and then you brought him back down to you, pulling his boxers down to his knees and letting his erection spring free, bobbing up against his stomach, painfully hard. God, he was big, so long and thick and perfect. Your mouth watered just looking at him, already so eager to be filled up and stretched out by him.

“I don’t have a condom,” Namjoon said, biting his lip and holding himself off of you as you wrapped your legs around him again.

“Obviously,” you deadpanned, looking up at him. You giggled, shaking your head. “What? You mean you didn’t run down to the store and buy any?”

“Shut up,” he grumbled, hiding the smile he had from your teasing.

“Don’t worry,” you said, sobering after a moment of your giggles, your need for him taking over. You spoke quickly, nearly babbling in your excitement and need. “I have an IUD. Birth control for two years, no condoms needed. The doctor said it’s more than ninety-nine percent effective and it’s the most effective of all the birth controls, bla bla bla, and it may be stupid but I’m definitely willing to take that risk right now. Now get inside me.” You tried to pull him closer to your throbbing core where you needed him so badly with your legs, but Namjoon stilled above you.

“Huh?” he said, tilting his head and looking down at you. He didn’t follow, mostly because he was completely lost in a haze of lust, barely seeing straight, and you realized that you had kind of spoken about a hundred miles a second. His eyes twinkled in the light of the fire, but they looked glazed over, lost in his desire. He was breathing hard and already breaking a sweat, and you could feel his heart racing, his whole body throbbing from his need.

“I have a birth control implant in my uterus that lasts two years,” you said much slower, calming yourself down and looking him in the eye. You put your hands on either side of his face, making him focus. “Basically, I can’t get pregnant for at least another eighteen months. Now get inside me, daddy.” You added the last bit with a smirk, watching his reaction as all of that slowly sunk in.

Your words registered with Namjoon, and he immediately jumped into action, apparently also willing to take the less than one percent risk of pregnancy. You figured this island might be the actual worst place on the planet to get pregnant, but you trusted your IUD enough and were so far gone in your lust, you were willing to be stupid.

Namjoon reached down and lined himself up with your entrance, and then thrust into you in one smooth motion. You cried out as he stretched you, and he kissed you, swallowing your moans. A deep, broken noise escaped him as he felt your walls clenching down on him and adjusting to his size.

“You feel so fucking good, I knew you would,” he groaned, his words turning into a whiney moan as pleasure almost completely overwhelmed him. He was so big, and even though you were soaking wet, it was a tight fit. You’d had a while of intense foreplay and dry-humping, and now both of you were barely holding on by a thread.

“Keep talking, naughty boy,” you said, pulling his hair. You tightened your legs around him, and he began slowly moving, muttering praise and more dirty talk, his nose and mouth directly against your skin on your neck.

“Your pussy’s the most incredible thing I’ve ever felt, baby girl. You’re so fucking good, I’ve wanted this for so fucking long. I wanna make you feel so good, sweetheart, that’s all I want, I–” He cut himself off as he picked up his pace, and you arched your back and brought your legs up even higher around him. One of his hands held onto your thigh, bracing himself and holding you in place exactly how he wanted you. “You feel so fucking good, Y/N…” He moved his hips so quickly, you knew you both weren’t going to last.

You knew exactly what you needed for him to do to push you over the edge. You reached down and took his hand he wasn’t using to support himself, and brought it up to your throat. You squeezed your hand around his, making him choke you.

Namjoon took the hint and squeezed his hand tighter, and you gasped, your vision going blurry as he pumped pure bliss into you body. Every stroke filled you perfectly, the head of his cock hitting you deeper and deeper with every thrust, stroking a spot within you that made you see stars as his thick girth stretched you out. You tried to bring your legs up even higher around him, and then he was hitting you at the exact perfect angle.

You tried to scream out in pure uninhibited pleasure, but his hand on your neck made the noise choked off and broken. The hand that wasn’t around your neck was in your hair now, and he squeezed his fingers there too, just hard enough to hurt. He pulled you so that you head tilted back almost painfully, showing off your neck to him as he squeezed there tighter.

Namjoon’s movements were becoming erratic and brutal. He wasn’t speaking anymore, just moaning and grunting. He loosened his grip on your neck just long enough for you to wheeze in a shaky breath. Tears streamed down your cheeks from the force of it all, your eyes watering from asphyxiation and pure pleasure. His thrusts filled you so hard, you were sure the sound of his skin smacking against yours could be heard on the other side of the island, if they weren’t drowned out by both of your moans.

Namjoon buried his face in against your neck, his nose against your rapid pulse and feeling you trying to breathe and moan, his hand now squeezing your throat harder again. You couldn’t even see anymore, the only things your mind registered were his voice and the feelings of his cock moving inside you and his hand on your throat.

“God, you’re so fucking tight,” he groaned. “Your pussy’s so fucking perfect, I could fuck you forever. I wanna cum in your tight little pussy just so I can lick it clean. You want that? You want me to eat your perfect cunt, princess?” He paused long enough to lick once up the side of you face, slowly, his tongue wide, which would’ve made you gasp if you could breathe.

He rubbed his cheek against yours roughly, completely animalistic and primal, as he continued. “I’m gonna make you fucking scream, I’m gonna make you cum so hard you can’t see, can’t walk, can’t think. I’m gonna fuck you so good, the only thing you’ll know how to say is my name. Fuck, you’re so good. Scream when you cum for me, baby, or I’ll spank your ass raw.”

If you had any air within you, you would’ve screamed as you came. Instead, you tried to gasp, unable to inhale at all with Namjoon’s hand tight on your throat, and he only moved himself harder and harder, savagely pulling every drop of pleasure from your body. You’d never felt anything like this, your orgasm completely overpowering you. He must’ve loosened his hold on your throat, because you somehow screamed, and he came right as he heard you and felt you clenching and spasming around him.

Namjoon quickly pulled out, finishing himself off with his hand on your stomach, his head buried in your neck as he kept himself mostly up off of you. You gasped desperately, his hand gone now as he stroked himself furiously with it, thrusting into his own fist as if he just couldn’t make himself stop, moaning in pure ecstasy as he fucked his own hand and spilled his cum all over your stomach.

Namjoon let out a noise from deep within him and just barely managed to keep himself from collapsing on top of you when he finished. Instead, he held himself up with his arms and knees, giving you plenty of room to breathe and recover as you both gasped for air. His arms and legs shook like at any moment his limbs might give out, but he focused solely on keeping himself up. You noticed, and you turned your head and kissed the corner of his mouth, trying to pull his body down onto you with all of your limbs wrapping around him.

He reluctantly let himself rest his weight on you, only partially. You didn’t mind; if anything, you loved feeling him on top of you. Feeling the weight of his big, perfect body was so comforting, and you still just wanted to be closer to him. His cum pressed between your bodies, smearing on both your stomachs as he let himself put more of his weight on you. It was a sticky mess, but god, it felt so dirty and filthy and good.

After a moment of catching his breath, Namjoon started kissing your shoulder. He peppered your skin with his love, his breathing still deep and slow, his voice in his breath muffled against your skin as he moaned with almost every exhale, and the sound was music to your ears.

He made his way down your body slowly, and you only had the energy to lay there and enjoy being worshipped. His tongue circled one of your nipples, and you brought your hands to his hair, knotting there. He sucked your nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it lazily, and you arched your back, letting out a lazy moan and closing your eyes.

He kissed down to your stomach and started licking you, tasting his own cum and your sweat from the exertion of what you’d just done. He held you with both hands, holding you perfectly in place, his hands nothing but gentle as his fingertips skimmed along your ribs and his tongue lapped up every drop on your stomach, licking you clean, just as promised.

As Namjoon licked his cum off of you, he moved his mouth so slowly, so gently, so sweetly, like he wanted to do just this for days. He moved down your body slowly though, and dipped his tongue into your belly button playfully when he reached it. You felt him smiling against your skin when you giggled in reaction.

He got to your legs and spread your thighs gently. He kissed your cunt so chastely, his lips pressed together like he was a gentleman kissing a lady’s hand. He tilted his head and kissed your folds, his mouth opening and his tongue moving on you. You knotted your hands in his hair and moaned as he dipped his clever, evil tongue into you.

“Joon,” you moaned, spreading your legs wider, and Namjoon moaned back to you in response, the noise muffled against your pussy.

He opened his mouth as wide as he could, covering you from entrance to clit, and then he started sucking roughly, drinking you, tilting his head as if kissing you deeper as he slowly moved his lips back together and slurped. You cried out, pulling his hair roughly as the new source of such intense pleasure overwhelmed you. As he sucked, he thrust his tongue in and out of you rapidly, fucking you with his tongue and moving his whole head around like he was trying to fucking motorboat your pussy, or maybe attempting to bury his head inside you.

He closed his lips on you with an obscene wet slurping noise and started drinking at your entrance, his tongue quickly lapping into you as you felt nothing but his talented mouth.

“Joonie, that feels so good,” you moaned, trying to thrust up against him. He groaned against you and moved his hands then, grabbing your ass with both hands and pulling you tighter against his face. Namjoon sucked and drank and fucked you with his tongue, every moment such sweet bliss.

He’d planned to work your entrance for a while before going up to your clitoris, but you didn’t even last that long. Your whole body shook when you came, holding onto his hair with both hands. This time you did scream fully, and you thought you heard birds all over the island flapping away from the trees, as if spooked by the noise. You scream-moaned with every exhale, and Namjoon kept moving his mouth and holding you close to him, working you through your orgasm roughly.

You laid there gasping, staring at the ceiling of the shelter, dazed and fucked out and so far gone. As you recovered, you felt Namjoon leaving hickeys on your inner thighs and hipbones, entertaining himself with marking your skin.

You glanced down at Namjoon when you felt him pulling back. He stared up at you, eyes dark and mouth nearly dripping from your wetness. After a moment of eye contact, he leaned in again and licked you slit, as if he were trying to lick up the new wetness that now dripped from you from your orgasm. He watched your reactions as he slowly worked, seeing you spasm and squirm as you moaned and arched you back again in overstimulation.

Namjoon pulled back again and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand before climbing on top of you. He moved in close, pulling your legs up around him and nuzzling his face in against your neck.

“You taste so fucking good, baby,” he murmured, his deep voice a low rumble, grinding his erection against your stomach, hard again just from eating you out. “I knew you would. So fucking sweet, princess, I can’t get enough of you. I’m gonna eat your beautiful pussy forever.”

Namjoon slid into you again and you screamed, full-out actually screamed, crying out in ecstasy and overstimulation as you gripped at his sweaty shoulders. You swore he was going to kill you, he felt so good.

“God, baby, keep sounding like that and I really will fuck you forever,” he groaned, his hands on your body squeezing you tighter.

This time he moved so much slower, holding himself up with his arms and spread knees. He kissed your mouth, slowly moving his tongue deep within you, hitting the deepest corners of your mouth and completely dominating you as he moved his tongue in time with his hips. His large arms caged your head, and he was the only thing you could see or feel at all.

He pulled his mouth back enough just to say, "See how good you taste?” before dipping his tongue back into you, hungrily, so slowly claiming your mouth. He growled when you started sucking on his tongue, thrusting in hard once and circling his hips when he was inside you as deep as he could get.

You moaned into his mouth and he moaned right back, not taking his mouth off yours as he kissed you and rolled his hips over and over, just fast enough to keep you desperate. He pinned one of you arms down above your head by your wrist, holding it down tightly but not painfully, lacing his fingers with yours.

As Namjoon moved, you felt him becoming more and more desperate. He began bucking his hips, kissing the corner of your mouth sloppily. His breathing picked up as his pace did, and he gasped, the two of you cheek to cheek as he brought one of his hands down to hold onto your hip.

You started encouraging him. “Yes… fuck, you’re so big. Fuck my tight little pussy, Joon,” you groaned, tilting your head back as he slammed into you so hard and fast you could barely breathe. He moaned with every exhale, so far gone, only moments away from falling apart again.

“What’d you fucking call me?” he growled, not stopping or slowing his pace at all.

“Joon?” you moaned, closing you eyes.

Instead of answering, he suddenly bit down on your neck so hard it had to have broken skin. You cried out, and as Namjoon kept biting down and kept thrusting, going even faster somehow, you kept screaming, short cries with each exhale between desperate gasps for oxygen.

“Joon,” you repeated, loving every moment of this, and he bit down again, harder, now where your neck met your shoulder. You felt the sharp pain in your shoulder throb, and it felt incredible, the pulsing matching that in your aching cunt. He licked at the part of your skin between his teeth, and you swore you felt him moaning.

You repeated “Joon” one more time, and Namjoon stopped suddenly, pulling back and glaring down at you, seething. Saliva and traces of your wetness covered his chin and lips, a wild look in his eyes.

“Call me that one more fucking time,” he snarled, “And you’ll fucking regret it, you little slut.”

You must’ve looked scared, because Namjoon’s eyes immediately softened, a concerned, terrified look on his face. He leaned in and kissed your cheek gently, murmuring against your skin.

“Only if you want to, sweetheart.” He kissed your cheek again. “I’m sorry.”

“No, you just surprised me,” you said, your voice so small and high-pitched you barely recognized it. “I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, angel. I’m sorry I scared you. I’ll never do that ever again.” He nuzzled in against your neck gently. He was still inside you, your bodies joined so perfectly, and he shifted his hips, trying to get even closer to you.

“You can do it again, I was just taken by surprise this time,” you said. “I’m sorry I kept calling you Joon.”

“No, it’s my fault. You didn’t do anything wrong. You can call me anything you want. I won’t do anything like that ever again, I promise, sweetheart. I’m sorry.” He kissed along your neck, avoiding the bite marks he’d left there before.

“I want you to do it again.”

Namjoon froze when you said that. He pulled back just enough to look at you and see your serious expression.

“Yeah?” he said, watching you carefully with a small smile spreading on his face.

“Yeah.” You nodded, biting your lip and looking up at him through your lashes. “I want you to fuck me like I’m your little slut, daddy.”

He flinched when you said that, apparently no longer in that kind of mood, so you corrected yourself.

“Namjoon,” you corrected, smiling up at him. “Joon,” you added, smiling, and Namjoon smiled too.

Namjoon moved to the other side of your neck, pressing kisses on your skin there. One of his hands went up to your ribs, just under your breast, resting there lightly as his mouth teased you.

“Tell me exactly what to do and I’ll do it, angel,” he murmured, his breath hot in your ear.

You could tell that he was trying to make up for his perceived wrongdoing by saying he’d do anything, and that he really just wanted to take it slow and gentle right now, scared out of his rough ‘daddy’ mood he’d been in before.

“Make love to me,” you moaned, holding onto his shoulders, and Namjoon complied.

Rolling his hips, he moved slowly in you, not lazily, but deliberate. Every gentle thrust brought your bodies closer together, the head of his cock stroking you so deep, exactly where you wanted him. You moaned, encouraging him with how good he made you feel.

He whispered soft praises in you ear. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N. I’ve never felt anything so good, ever. You’re so tight, so wet for me, so perfect,” he said, holding your body tightly to his. “I could make love to you forever. You taste so good, and feel even better. Your pussy’s like milk and honey. Like warm, wet silk.”

Your orgasm was gentle this time. Namjoon had to work for it, making love to you exactly as you’d asked, and when you finally came you let out a long, anguished moan that made him gasp and still, cumming into you as he felt you clenching down on him so tight. You froze when you heard what he was saying as he came, muttering almost unintelligibly as he spilled into you and hugged you.

“Don’t leave me. Please, don’t ever leave me here alone. I need you. Please, please, I need you, I love you. Please….”

This time he did collapse on you, completely spent. He breathed in sharply, rasping for air, and got himself off of you as soon as he could, propping himself up on his knees and forearms. You breathed steadily and tried to will your heart to stop beating so fast and hard as you looked up at him.

Namjoon started to roll off of you, but you leaned up and kissed him, holding onto the back of his head. He rolled anyway, keeping your mouths connected, both of you rolling until you were on top. He hugged you tightly, your breasts squeezed against his chest, and he moved one hand behind your head to hold onto your hair, pulling it back from your face for you.

You pulled back just enough to look down at him. He looked completely love-struck, hearts in his eyes as he gazed up at you, a lazy smile on his face. You could barely see his face in the darkness, the dying fire and the moon’s reflection on the water your only light. The warm red glow of the fire covered one side of his face and twinkled in his eyes.

You cupped his face, stroking your thumb on his adorable round cheeks. Namjoon closed his eyes and snuggled into your hand, letting out a small sigh. His hands rested on you lower back, his fingers drawing small lazy circles. You turned and kissed his cheek gently, closing your eyes too.

***

You weren’t aware of it, but you’d fallen asleep like that on top of him. When you woke up in the morning, you were still laying on top of him, your face turned in toward his neck, your cheek on his shoulder. Your hand rested over his heart, feeling his steady heartbeat, and you rose and fell gently with his breathing. Namjoon was still asleep, but his hands were where you’d last felt them, on your lower back.

He must’ve felt you stirring, because started Namjoon waking up slowly, too. You heard his deep sigh-moan as he stretched his muscles, and when he realized what was on top of his body and under his hands, he smiled lazily, bringing his arms up to squeeze you in a lazy hug.

“Good morning, baby,” he said, his husky voice so deep from his sleep.

You pulled yourself up, sitting up and straddling him as you stretched your arms. The ocean seemed louder today, the waves nearby crashing on the shore. The breeze was just a little stronger than normal, but the sun was bright, not a cloud in the sky.

You looked down at Namjoon and saw him staring at your breasts, mouth all but watering, eyes darkening from lust already.

“I see you staring,” you smirked, rolling your eyes.

“I wasn’t hiding it,” he said, matching your playful tone but still not taking his eyes off you chest. His hands rested on your thighs, holding you in place where you straddled him, his thumbs drawing small circles on your hipbones.

“I slept on you last night,” you said then after a moment. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” he said quickly, looking up at you. “Don’t be sorry. Do it again, as much as you want.”

“Really?” you asked, incredulous. “It doesn’t bother you, having a person laying on top of you as you sleep?”

“It feels amazing. Kind of comforting, too. And not to be rude, because I know talking about weight is a bad thing for a lot of girls, but you barely weigh anything and I love feeling you on top of me,” he said, his eyes so dark and intense and loving and playful all at once.

You shifted. You knew you didn’t weigh nothing, but hearing that he loved feeling you on top of him made your heart flutter.

You knew where this conversation was going, and you cut it off before it got there. You had shit to do today before more fucking.

“All right, we need to get up,” you said.

Namjoon groaned, his hands on your thighs gently massaging you. “Why?” he whined.

“We need to eat breakfast so we can keep our strength up, and I want to take a coconut milk bath at the spring.”

Namjoon’s eyes lit up. “Can I–”

“Yes, you can join me,” you said before he could finish.

Namjoon sat up, kissing you deeply and wrapping his arms around you.

***

After breakfast, your bath at the spring consisted of ten percent bathing and ninety percent fucking in the water. You wrapped your legs around him and he thrust up into you, holding onto your hair and pulling your body closer to his.

Namjoon carried you back to your shelter bridal-style, both of you giggling the whole way. When you got there, Namjoon fucked you on your hands and knees, his hand resting on your lower spine as he thrust into you savagely, his hips smacking against your ass so hard it sounded like he was spanking you. He did actually spank you at one point with his hand, and you came near instantly at the feeling.

After that, he laid you down and got down beside you on his side, propping himself up on one arm and looking down at you as you laid on your back. He leaned in and kissed you while his free hand moved down your stomach, his fingers playing with your curls as you spread your legs for him.

You gasped when he stroked your folds, and he smiled, sighing as he looked down at your face. You bit your lip and barely held in a groan as he curled two fingers into your soaking heat.

“You look so fucking beautiful like this,” he groaned. You held onto his wrist with both hands, feeling his tendons moving as he pumped his fingers inside you.

The two of you just laid there, Namjoon fucking you with his fingers and watching you as you reacted, moaning and writhing. His thumb circled your clitoris, pressing hard and moving slowly. You felt his erection against the side of your leg, and he seemed to be holding himself back, not wanting to lose control of himself but already so desperate for friction.

“Please, Namjoon, please,” you moaned, hips rolling, trying to fuck yourself on his hand. “I need you.”

“I’m here,” he murmured, leaning in and kissing the corner of your mouth as your lips fell open, breathing roughly as you felt yourself drawing close. “Let me take care of you, baby.” His fingers picked up their pace and you gasped, coming with a long, breathy moan.

Namjoon almost came just from watching your face in pleasure and feeling you squeezing his fingers. He quickly pulled out and moved on top of you, and even as you gasped for oxygen, you brought you legs up around him, wanting him, wanting this. You cried out when he slid into you, and he brought his fingers up to his mouth and sucked them as he started bucking his hips, desperate to finish himself off.

He held himself up higher off you, not trapping you and keeping you immobile with his body so that this time he could look down at your breasts bouncing with each quick, hard thrust. You arched your back, giving him an even better view and presenting your breasts to him like a gift, and you moaned and squeezed his cock purposefully and brought your legs higher up around him. Namjoon’s breath caught in his throat, his mouth agape and eyes nearly rolling back as he spilled himself into you, his thrusts sloppy and erratic.

Namjoon let out an agonized moan that almost sounded like your name before collapsing on top of you. You held him there with your legs, stroking his hair with one hand and resting the other on his shoulder. You loved feeling him on top of you just as much as he did you.

When he had the strength, he rolled both of you so that he was on his back and you were on top of him, just like how you’d slept. You leaned up about halfway, but Namjoon moved both his hands to your breasts and you stopped. He basically just supported your weight with his hands as he felt you, massaging slowly and watching your flesh between his fingers as he squeezed and kneaded you, your hard nipples against his palms.

You moaned, closing your eyes, and Namjoon lowered you down so that one of his hands was still on your breast while the other held you up by your shoulder and his mouth moved to your nipple, sucking and licking and biting.

After a moment, Namjoon suddenly pushed you up so that you were upright, and then pulled you forward by your thighs. He moved you around his arms and you let him, Namjoon moving your whole body like you were nothing. He positioned you so that you were straddling his face, and you gasped when you felt his tongue moving along your folds, surprised by all he’d just done but immediately tangling your fingers in his hair when you felt him sliding his tongue inside you.

You tilted you head back and closed your eyes, trying to spread your legs even further as Namjoon tried pulling you down on his face harder, both his hands on your ass as he sucked your cunt and fucked you with his tongue, making it rigid for you as you ground down against his face. You could hear him moaning against your pussy, the waves hitting the shore, the obscene slurping noise he always made when he sucked you dry, but there was something else you were hearing, too.

You suddenly froze as you listened, realizing this sound was something new. Namjoon kept going, unaware, but you looked out at the water, biting your lip to hold in a moan.

Out in the distance, a huge ship sat just on the horizon, and your heart skipped a beat when you saw it and realized you weren’t hallucinating. You thought you could see shipping containers on it, and the whole thing had to be the size of a football field. A small inflatable boat with a motor was headed directly for you, and would probably be here in a few minutes, its motor a quiet buzz in the distance.

“Namjoon!” you said, quickly moving off of him and jumping to your feet outside the shelter.

“What..?” he said, dazed, lost in his lust, looking only at you, still laying there on his back. His cock was half hard against his stomach already, his mouth, chin, and cock all glistening from your wetness. You grabbed your dress from its spot hanging on a tree nearby and quickly pulled it on, and Namjoon must’ve looked over and seen the ship and boat too because he started pulling on his boxers as fast as he could, jumping to his feet as well.

You both ran down to the surf, making yourselves much more visible to the people on the smaller boat, waving your arms. You were jumping up and down in your joy, holding onto Namjoon’s arm as you tried to hold in your tears, looking back and forth between him and the boat. Namjoon was grinning ear to ear, moving to hold your hand as he waved his other arm wildly at the smaller boat. You looked up and saw him tearing up too, and when he realized you were looking at him, he turned and kissed you, both of you barely able to press your lips together from smiling so wide.

The boat reached your shore a few minutes later. A cargo ship on its way to New Zealand had seen your fire earlier that morning, and had finally made its way to you after preparing its small rescue boat. You really really hoped they hadn’t seen any of what the two of you had been doing that morning in your lean-to, if they’d been looking at the beach with binoculars or something like that.

The three men on the speedboat had shock blankets and water bottles for the two of you, one of them realizing who you were and saying that the two of you had made big news all over the world the past few weeks. You and Namjoon gathered up your scarce belongings, each carrying the remainders of your clothes, and were escorted onto the little boat to be taken over to the ship.

As you sat in the back of the boat together, you in your faded, torn party dress and Namjoon in his boxers and his unbuttoned, worn-out dress shirt, the two of you cuddled close together, sharing one shock blanket. Namjoon closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against your temple, smiling softly.

“We made it, sweetheart. We’re safe,” he murmured against your cheek before kissing you there. He could tell you were nervous being out on the water again, so he held you close to him, his arm around you and nose nuzzling your cheek.

You tried to stop yourself from crying, but holy shit, you were saved. You weren’t going to die on that island. You were both safe and healthy, and you were together.

#btssmutclub #namjoon smut #bts smut #namjoon #kim namjoon #bts scenario #kim namjoon scenario #namjoon scenario #rm scenario #rm smut #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #marnie text #my writing #i wanted to write some fuckin on a beach and accidentally wrote a fully developed short story

3K notes · View notes

strangenewfriends · 4 years

Note

Hey do you maybe know any fics where louis and/or harry (preferably both, but one is fine as well) are detectives? Basically anything to do with them solving crimes. Thanks in advance!

I may be playing it a bit broad with the term detective in some of these but here you go:

There’s No Antidote for This Curse by LiveLaughLoveLarry: New York City, 1924. Harry Styles is an Auror working for MACUSA. Louis Tomlinson is an investigative reporter for the Daily Prophet in London. They haven't seen each other for years, but when bodies start showing up in Central Park, Louis travels to New York to cover the story. The two work together to uncover the killer, and uncover a few other secrets along the way.

Etched in Salt (is a cathedral of the world) by helloamhere: Louis asks for very few things in life, and they are: to solve cases, to keep bad people from doing their bad things, to get good coffee, to go home to a spacious apartment with nobody else in it, and to manage his stupid telempathy powers with minimal interference. And now he's stuck in a tiny cabin in a snowstorm in the middle of god-awful-nowhere with Harry Styles. Because of course he is.

Once Upon a Dream and the sequel the dream that you wish by thedeathchamber: Louis is psychic and gets caught in the middle of a murder investigation led by FBI Special Agent Harry Styles.

It’s a Better Place (Since you came along) by phdmama: When Harry Styles, a mid-level talent, Finder, and small business owner, sets off on the vacation of a lifetime with his best friend, Niall Horan, he has no idea the changes his life will undergo over the next nine days. He's got it all planned - there's going to be shore excursions, lounging by the pool on the deck of the luxurious cruise ship, not to mention margaritas. What he does not plan for are the new friends, new bonds, or the mystery from his past that comes back to haunt him, and he certainly hasn't planned for Louis. (the crime solving isn’t the main focus of the fic but it is harrys job and becomes more prominent later)

You’ve Got That Power Over Me by patdkitten: Hedgewitch Louis is new to Hedgehog Harbor, near the tip of Door County, having inherited his great aunt’s house and her responsibilities. He thinks it’s going to be a simple life, like some variation of the great aunts from Practical Magic, where he spends his days whipping up potions for lovelorn women. However, his very first day in Hedgehog Harbor involves finding a dead body of a woman in his kitchen and a particularly nosy firefighter, who keeps crossing Louis’ path. (as you can see neither are technically detectives in this either but theres a mystery and trying to solve it)

Into This Mess by crimsontheory: The first day of Louis’ promotion is going well, far better than he expected. That is until his new partner shows up, who just so happens to be the guy who stumbled half-dressed out of his flat that same morning. Or the enemies to lovers detective AU.

the world is vast by wallstracktwo: He didn’t finish his sentence. Instead he kicked the brick wall before collapsing against it, his head back, rain beating against his face, mixing with his tears. They stood in silence for a few moments before Harry looked to Louis. He saw the same sadness and sorrow as the night before. He felt the same connection, the same feeling that he and Louis were alike - both broken looking to belong. Or - The Killing Au

#asks #anon #fics #i kept it to ones i have read

49 notes · View notes

silver-wield · 4 years

Text

Fanfiction dork has returned!

Red XIII lay in a cramped corner of the cargo bay on the ship travelling from Junon Harbor. The group sneaked on board during Rufus Shinra's inauguration celebration and disguised themselves as public security to hide in plain sight. “How much longer until we arrive at Costa del Sol?”

Tracking Sephiroth was almost too easy and Cloud had his suspicions why, but kept them to himself. He didn't want to worry anyone when it could be nothing.

“Cloud?” Red pawed at Cloud's leg.

“Hmm? Oh, sorry.” His frown cleared and he shrugged. “By morning, most likely. If we don't run into trouble.” The ship had weapons and onboard defenses for dealing with large monsters. Who knew what floated beneath them just waiting for the chance to attack unsuspecting travellers?

Red sighed. “It's stuffy down here.”

Cloud took his helmet off and swiped a forearm across his sweaty brow as though just noticing the heat. “It's too risky you coming up on deck right now. Someone could spot you.” He looked around and put his helmet back on. “I'll send one of the others later when it's dark, okay?”

Red lowered his head. “I suppose I've endured worse.”

Guilt pinged Cloud's conscience, but also a lingering sense of relatability fogged his mind. He grimaced and gripped the side of his head as a momentary flash of something hit, bringing with it a headache. A familiar voice echoed in his ears and he swung round, drawing in a sharp breath.

“The subject's lack of tolerance to mako make it unfit for further study. I have therefore marked it for disposal and dissection.”

No. No. Don’t. Please.

“Cloud!”

Icy cold and breathing hard, Cloud didn't hear Red calling him at first. A sharp heat swiped his calf. The gun-metal grey walls of the ship snapped back into focus, wiping out the hazy, green-tinged visage. Who was that? He felt like he should know.

“Cloud, are you sick?”

Looking down, Cloud noticed a faint scorch mark on his trouser leg. “Nah, I'm fine,” he replied in a dismissive tone. “It's the heat.” Realising complaining sounded unfair when he could leave the stuffy berth and get some fresh air, he grimaced again. “I'll send someone for you soon as it's dark.”

“All right.” Red settled down in the corner. “Although I don't see why Barret gets to stay up top. He's more conspicuous than I am.”

Cloud bit off a short chuckle. “You haven't seen what he's wearing?” The girls couldn't find a uniform that fit, so they raided the sailors' lockers instead. Luckily, they found one they could cut and stitch together on the fly before they left. Barret had to lose the gun, which was left with Red to guard.

“Take a picture for me,” Red replied, tipping his head to the side and grinning.

“I don't have a death wish,” Cloud joked, shaking his head. “Remember, stay out of sight.”

“You can count on me.”

~*~*~

Got dark quick. What month is it, anyhow? Cloud wandered the deck, copying the patrol pattern he'd noted, though it felt like he didn't have to memorise it to know how public security officers would move about. Why is that? Eh, forget it. He'd already sent Aerith to fetch Red, moving the biggest liability out of sight for a while. Barret positioned himself at the front of the boat where the spray was heaviest. It meant less people would head that way; a smart move from someone known for impulsive choices. That leaves Tifa. Cloud frowned and looked around for her. He hadn't seen her since they'd separated at an alley in Junon City to board separately. Cloud's unique appearance made him an easy target, so he'd put himself on distraction duty. Before that, he and Tifa sneaked into the city to get the elevator moving for the others stuck down in the undercity. It was the only way up.

Gaze panning skyward, Cloud spotted movement on one of the high catwalks. Of course she's up there. Always goes where she can fall the furthest. Not even a public security uniform could hide her identity to him. He knew it was her from the way she carried herself. The way she stood. He'd know it was her anywhere.

Cloud climbed the ladders to reach Tifa's position.

“U-uh, everything quiet over here.” She offered a clumsy salute to go with the artificially deep voice.

Cloud stifled a laugh by pretending to cough. “Girls work for Shinra too, you know,” he said, to relieve her concern.

“Cloud?” Tifa's shoulders dropped. “You startled me.” She put a hand to her chest and took a deep breath. “I don't know what I would've done if you'd been a real soldier.”

Cloud's brows pinched beneath his helmet. A real soldier? Aren't I? No. I'm an Ex-SOLDIER. “You can handle it,” he said as a throwaway compliment.

Tifa laughed. “And don't you forget it.” She turned to grip the railing with both hands and leant forward.

“Careful.” He took a step in her direction.

“Sure thing,” she replied in a cheerful voice.

Watching her for a moment, Cloud became away of the lengthening silence. It was pleasant, but he found himself wanting to fill it. To hear her voice. Focus her attention on him. “So...what do you think of the uniform?”

Tifa turned his way and tipped her head to the side. After a slight hesitation, she said, “It looks good on you.”

“Huh? You think it looks good on me?” Cloud ducked his head. “Uh, thanks.” He could feel his cheeks turning red.

“Oh! You meant—I thought you were asking—!” Tifa's laugh was adorably self-conscious. She linked her hands behind her back and shifted from side to side. “It's okay. Apart from the helmet.” She stopped moving. “...Do you think it'll be okay if I take it off for a bit? It's kind of stuffy.”

Cloud looked around. No one about. He nodded. “Should be okay for a bit.”

“Phew.” Tifa lifted the helmet off and her hair unravelled down her back like a length of ribbon. She shook her head from side to side. “That's better.” She put it on the floor.

Why not? Cloud took his helmet off and held it one-handed. Hearing Tifa laugh, his eyes widened, asking a silent question.

“Your hair.” Tifa pointed. “I didn't think anything could flatten it.”

Embarrassed, Cloud tried to smooth a hand through the spikes. From the growing look of amusement on Tifa's face, he guessed he was making it worse.

“Here, let me?” Tifa nodded and smiled as she waited for permission.

“Uh, sure. Thanks.” Cloud nodded and dipped his head a little as Tifa came close. She reached up and he could feel her gloved fingers teasing his hair. Her gaze was focused on her task, and he found himself smiling at the concentration on her face. A small smile teased the corners of her lips and a faint frown fluttered between her brows. Her breaths were steady and even, but each one brought her closer to him. Or was he moving closer to her? His free hand touched her hip and he heard a slightly sharper in-drawn breath, but she didn't stop what she was doing. In fact, had her movements become more caressing? Was he imagining it? She bit her lower lip and Cloud stifled a moan. He tried to keep his gaze centred on her cheek, but his eyes kept flitting to hers, watching slight movements she made as she fussed with his hair. The atmosphere felt good. It was soft and warm and he didn't want it to end. This is nice. But, she was taking a while. What if she thought he was taking advantage? He didn’t want to think badly of him. “No good?” he whispered in a low voice.

Tifa's eyes went to his and widened. “Oh.” She took a step back. Her hand caught and knocked Cloud's helmet from his grip. It clattered to the floor. “Sorry. I was—I mean, I didn't realise—”

Damn it. Shouldn't have startled her. He didn't realise how much he'd enjoyed her being that close until she wasn't any longer. “It's fine. Is it okay now?” He lifted a hand to his hair.

“Yeah,” she replied in a soft voice. Nodding more firmly, she added, “It looks good.”

“Everything okay up there?!”

The shout from below had Tifa scooping up Cloud's helmet from where it fell and jamming it on his head, as he grabbed her around the waist and positioned her out of sight in front of him with her back against the railing. If the grunt caught sight of her he'd call for back up. Girls worked for Shinra, but he doubted any looked like Tifa. “Just taking a breather!” he called over his shoulder. “Dropped my keys!”

“Copy that!” The Shinra grunt continued on his patrol pattern.

Cloud watched him from the corner of his eye until he couldn't see him any longer, then let out a relieved sigh. “Quick thinking,” he said to Tifa. He hadn't thought about his own distinctive hairstyle. He'd been preoccupied with keeping her safe.

“T-thanks,” she whispered, keeping her head tucked against him.

Cloud swallowed. She was closer now than when she'd been playing with his hair. He gripped the railing with one hand and had the other around her waist, held flat against her lower back. He could feel one of her hands on his bicep and the other against his chest and he cursed the thickness of Shinra's uniforms. “You okay?” He said the words against her cheek, almost like he kissed her.

“I guess, I just...forgot where we were for a moment,” she murmured after a pause. When she stepped back, she gave him a sheepish smile, her cheeks a deep pink in the dim lighting. “This isn't a pleasure cruise.”

Something in his gut shifted as she said the word “pleasure”. Part of him wished it was just that, but there were bigger motives driving their actions. Once I settle things, then everything will be okay. “Yeah,” he said, voice flat and unhappy. “You should probably put your helmet back on.”

“Right.” She didn't sound any happier about it than he did. As Tifa bent over to scoop it up, something knocked into the ship and made it tilt to the side. “Oh!”

“Tifa!” Cloud darted a hand out and grabbed her arm. Pulling her close once more, he turned and scowled towards the ship's bow. “Felt like something hit us.”

“Yeah. Monster, maybe?” Tifa gathered her hair up and stuffed it under the helmet as she put it back on. “Should we check it out?”

Cloud had a quick internal debate with that annoying voice who made him dance at the Honeybee Inn.

If it's a monster, Shinra'll deal with it.

And if they can't?

Not my problem.

You're on the boat, Buddy. You going down with the ship?

Shit.

Tutting under his breath, Cloud nodded. “Probably should.” He moved away from Tifa and towards the ladder.

“Barret's over there, too, right?”

Cloud huffed. “God damn it. Yeah.”

Tifa nodded. “Then, let's hurry. Who knows what kind of trouble he's gotten himself into?”

Sliding down the ladder, Cloud and Tifa rushed to the front of the ship where they found Barret fending off some kind of squid monster trying to climb its way on board.

“'Bout time you two showed up!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Cloud reached for his sword and grabbed air. “Shit.” His gear was below deck, along with Barret's gun.

“What now?!”

Tifa couldn't fend it off with just her fists, no matter how capable she was.

“Is it my turn now?” Aerith and Red appeared from the rear and put themselves in front of Cloud and Barret.

“You two have no weapons. Let us deal with this.”

Cloud glanced at Tifa, who nodded in agreement. “Fine. Be careful. Barret, pull back.”

Barret slapped a tentacle away. “Eh, who are you to be giving me orders?”

“Just do it!” Cloud spun on his heel and moved out of range, glancing over his shoulder to check Barret followed.

“We got this, guys!”

Cloud's gaze panned to the upper deck. “Could shoot it,” he suggested to Barret.

Barret laughed. “Now you're talking my language! Let's go!” Slapping Cloud on the back so hard he staggered forward, they ran to the upper deck and the harpoon gun...

#final fantasy 7 remake #cloud strife #ff7r #ffviir #cloti #tifa lockheart #final fantasy 7r #final fantasy viir #final fantasy 7 remake fanfiction #Silver wields a pen

38 notes · View notes

kjblynx · 4 years

Text

To Boldly Been There ... Boldly Done That

Driven 100 mph - Once, on accident during a long drive. I don’t have a license.

Ridden in a helicopter - I have not.

Gone zip lining - Yes! My summer camp had one and the skiing slopes not far from my house does summer zip lining. Michigan has a ton of these.

Been to an NFL game - No. I like watching from home so I can eat what I want, be comfortable, and listen to family commentary.

Been to Canada - No, and a lot of Michiganders are surprised by this!

Visited Florida - Yes, a few times! My favorite was with three school groups for nearly all of spring break - we pretty much took over a hotel.

Visited Mexico - Nope. I’ve considered it, but not as a vacation. I want to meet my favorite chef’s family and learn their story.

Visited Las Vegas - No and I don’t have any interest.

Eaten alone at a restaurant - Yes. I honestly enjoy it because many servers are much more casual and have mini conversations with me.

Ability to read music - Yes. I’m not great at sight reading (means to play while reading) but I generally read, practice, memorize, then play based on memory. This might be why my piano skills are meh at best.

Ridden a motorcycle - Yes! My grandpa had this gorgeous teal Honda Goldwing, then later a brown one.

Ridden a horse - Yes and no. I didn’t really ride, more like sat on a horse at a festival.

Stayed in a hospital - Several times. Meningitis as a baby, appendicitis, child labor, and a couple other times.

Donated blood - No. School would ask and promote it for anyone of age, but I was always just a tad under the weight requirement. Later in life my iron levels were too low to be of any use.

Been snow skiing - Yes. We didn’t live too far from a ski “resort”.

Been to Disney World - No.

Disney Land - No.

Slept outside - A bunch. Tents, hammocks, beaches, picnic blankets, and once face down with my baby blanket on my great aunt’s deck.

Driven a stick shift - Yes, with my dad’s help when I was really little.

Ridden in an 18 wheeler - Yes; grandpa was a truck driver!

Ridden in a police car? - Yes. Mostly just the school stationed police officer giving me a ride home once after school activities were over because I always stayed even later to clean up.

Driven a boat - Yes! I went through the boater’s training and got my boating license when I was thirteen. I drove sea-doo mostly, but I held the helm of a sailing ship for a short time.

Eaten Escargot - Yes and it was amazing, but most of the time it sucks because people cook it wrong.

Been on a cruise - A basic harbor “cruise” that I was consider a dinner ferry instead. We went through tampa bay during sunset and had a formal dance!

Run out of gas - Nope.

Been on TV - Yes, a few times. A couple for Cheer America, which were lame because they only caught us when we were just walking by. I did an interview for a convention I was staff for.

Eaten Sushi - Yes. I worked at a sushi place for a few months last year.

Seen a UFO - Yup - I see plenty of things in the sky that are flying and I could not identify it.

Been bungee jumping - No but it was on my top ten of things to do when I was in middle school. I still think it would be fantastic.

Been stuck in the house for days - Yes. I got extremely sick a few years ago and was stuck in my house for 5+ days because it hurt to move.

- - - - -

You go ahead and do this if you want to. :)

2 notes · View notes

roswellroamer · 5 years

Text

Day 6. February 4, 2020. Dunedin to Owaka. 150km.

Woke up to the expected rain. While loading the bikes we chatted for a few minutes with a couple guys on Harleys who along with us secured the only covered parking spots behind the Victoria hotel. They were both Goldwing riders back in Atlanta (!) and Edmonton and were less than thrilled with the handling of their Street Glides. They hadn't been aware of the Burt Monro Rally and were wishing they had booked a week later as they were headed back north to CHC. The rain which hasn't been too bad (until today) has been pounding the south and west coasts. In fact, schools are out in this area due to localized flooding and buses not being able to navigate successfully. One event that occurred due to flooding is going to force a change in our plans. https://www.nzherald.co.nz/nz/news/article.cfm?c_id=1&objectid=12305737

The poor folks who got stuck and hundreds are still marooned on the Milford Sound side of this washout! Imagine if you got stuck and had to be choppered out. 🚁 What would you do about your rental bike or car? Crazy. Only one road from Te Anau up to and back from Milford Sound. Doubtful the road will be reopened in six days time when we have a reservation on a boat out of that port to see glaciers and fiords. Oh well. They say a week or more until repairs will be completed. We had another short riding day slated. Tonight Elton John is performing at the Dunedin stadium and we needed to adjust our route to adapt to the reality of zero room availability in Dunedin tonight due to that concert. The Rocketman screening 🎥 was for the Elton fans flocking to Dunedin. Only a couple hours ride on tap so we took a small detour to ride around the Otago peninsula which is accessible from central Dunedin. Despite the drizzle and a few construction zones where it seems they are adding a walking/biking lane along the bay, the scenery on the peninsula was beautiful. A few sailboats were moored in various harbors and the large cruise ship docked in town was visible across the sound. We opted to grab brekkie at the Portobello cafe. I opted for a banana milkshake (good but no ice cream), bacon & egg sandwich with sausage links and topped off with a homemade carrot cake and fresh whipped cream. I even saw the milkman deliver the milk and cream as we ate there outside. The weather gave us the only break of the day during that hour into the peninsula. As we headed back to the mainland and highway 1 south, Mother Nature gradually increased her intensity with more rain. We stopped for some memorable pics of the hillsides, tree lined sheer cliffs along the road all overlooking the water or the dormant and verdant Dunedin volcano. Instead of rocks strewn about its signature comical base, this volcano is covered in sheep! The interstate-like 1 through Dunedin gives way to the usual two lane road 10 miles or less outside of town. We got gas in Milton and due to the steady rain and dropping temperatures to around 50°F we skipped the well maintained Sod cottage that sits immediately adjacent to the road south of there. As we wound down towards Balclutha we began to notice the large volume of water. Standing pools became lakes in the fields, streams were roaring and overflowing their banks and impromptu rivers founds their way through unexpected farmlands. The Clutha River was very high and from what we hear, the south road to Invercargill may be flooded and we may have to retrace our path to Balclutha to then swing westward to Invercargill in a couple days. Soaking wet, we tried to check in to the Catlins Gateway motel but were unable to raise the innkeeper. We were an hour and a half prior to check in so we rode down the street to the Catlins Cafe and both enjoyed a hearty homemade tomato soup accompanied by two large and delicious slabs of garlic bread. 😋 Our gear was dripping all over the place and it was nice to warm up the hands. Not sure why I was riding in my mesh gloves in the 49° cold rain. After lunch the innkeeper was there and was very friendly. He told us if the local sites, restaurants and what roads might be closed due to the rains. A laundry room has already been used and the heater in my apartment style unit has been on high for hours already. The bed even has a heated blanket, sweet. The laundry and blog duty has kept me from a rainy afternoon nap but I have been getting solid rest. I had to make a toast last night for being out and not asleep at 11 PM. 🍻 Just down the street is Teapotland. A Route 66 worthy place to stop. Cool. I'll get a pic when the rains diminish. I think we'll walk to the recommended Lumber Jack cafe for dinner in a bit. A number of waterfalls should be much larger than usual if we can get to them tomorrow. Also a nearby beach by the Nugget Point lighthouse has some endangered penguins which come ashore later in the afternoon. Hopefully we can see them tomorrow.

Just saw the evening news. In addition to the previously declared state of emergency in Fiordland, now Southland has also been declared in a state of emergency by NZ civil defense. 40" of rain (over one meter) in just 48 hours! Whoa. 😮

#newzealand #owaka #motoadventure #advrider

2 notes · View notes

coaldustcanary · 6 years

Text

fic: Thrown to the Wolves (1/?)

Werewolves are pack creatures, but Emma "Swan" Blanchard has always preferred to work alone. When a missing wolf and a dead body smell like imminent trouble for the werewolves of Portland, she returns home to the city to track down whoever's responsible. She soon discovers that she's not the only one trying to figure out what's going on in her old stomping grounds, and soon finds herself stuck with a partner - the infamous Killian "Hook" Jones - in more ways than one.

Author’s Note: At long last, my contribution to the @cssns - my self-indulgent World of Darkness/Werewolf: The Apocalypse AU. Due to unavoidable issues entirely on my part, this work is dropping without any associated art - my apologies.

Also available on AO3. Rated M for mature themes, sexual content, violence, and shady werewolf politics.

The park on the south side of the bay was large, dotted with clusters of trees and spread over a vast hillside overlooking the water, meeting it directly at high tide, and with a rocky, muddy beach when the tide was low. It was shaded by a passing bridge and highway, and offered the perfect vantage point from which to see ships coming and going, or the array of vessels large and small moored in Portland across the way. From massive cruise ships making their way from warmer climates to stolid cargo ships laden with containers from Scandinavia all the way down to the squat little lobster boats and the rare elegant tall ship looking like something out of time, Portland’s harbor bustled. It was both a working harbor, with heavy trade in international shipping, and a tourist’s playground, clustered with restaurants and bars. Just beyond the harbor, on Commerical Street, for a few blocks both groups created a busy throng of cheerful humanity.

Even here, across the harbor and the Fore River in South Portland, gentrifying neighborhoods and a fair view made for more traffic, more tourists – and much less parking. Emma cursed under her breath as she eased the Bug into a narrow spot along the road that bound the south side of the park and the crest of the hill, turning the wheels into the curb and applying the parking brake to keep the old beast from rolling on into the sea. Turning off the ignition, she laid a hand lightly on the car’s dashboard, closed her eyes, and let her consciousness seep down into the sun-warmed metal.

“Blend in, buddy,” she murmured. A grumbling, mildly offended vibration was the only reply the car deigned to give, but as she opened her eyes, the sunny yellow on the car hood seemed to fade, and without any conscious thought, her gaze slid away from the car to the park and the flowered bushes just beyond. With a small smile, the opened the door and stepped out into the summer heat, walking away from the vehicle that even she had a hard time laying eyes on, now, let alone anyone else passing by. The Bug might be a difficult car to keep running, but decades of “life” had given the car a powerful spirit inhabitant that could be coaxed into cooperation nearly as easily as a dog could learn new tricks. It was more than worth the trouble, even if it meant the odd game of fetch with a bicycle tire now and again to keep it happy.

The warm, humid air was thick with the scent of mown grass and the beach roses that dotted each cluster of bushes. Beneath the heavy scents of summer the pungent, salty earthiness of a receding tide mixed with the acrid exhaust and oil from cars and ships filled Emma’s nose, nearly overwhelming her senses. She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply, and smiled.

“So they finally believe after all.” Emma’s breath caught briefly in her throat, but she forced herself to exhale slowly, and only then open her eyes. The sight of August’s face prompted both a pang of relief and a certain undercurrent of shock. His familiar features were far more careworn than she’d ever seen them, and both his hair and scruff were peppered liberally with gray. When he’d found her as a child on the streets, sick and panicked, her body fairly vibrating with the need to become the wolf for the first time, he’d been barely out of his teens himself. Now he seemed, if not old, older than he ought to have been. The life of a city wolf came with certain benefits, but nobody would ever call it easy. Emma looked down, away from his faint smile and forced a smile of her own even as her chest tightened with guilt.

“It’s good to see you. Despite circumstances,” she said. August smiled crookedly.

“It’s good to see you, too, Emma. Looks like the woods and wilds have been good to you,” he said, tilting his head to look her over with the same curious scrutiny she’d paid him, his gaze lingering.

“Though I can’t imagine that jacket is very good camouflage,” he added, a hint of teasing humor in his tone. Emma shrugged and tugged at the red jacket’s hem pointedly.

“It’s not. The jokes I hear about hunter’s orange are really old and unoriginal at this point, but I’m not changing my style for any stuck up, stuffy werewolf nobility with more names than brain cells. They all wear clothing out of last century. Or camo. Or even plaid, when they’re obliged to blend in with the humans,” Emma grumbled. August snorted, shaking his head.

“You can take the wolf out of the city, but you can’t take the city out of the wolf,” he said gently. “I did warn you. And them. But I don’t think your mother wanted to hear it.” As August spoke, he turned and gestured down the path for her to walk with him into the park territory of the city wolves. Emma hesitated, eager fondness to return warring with cautious instinct to hang back The scents of this place were so familiar, but at the same time every wolf’s instinct in her body urged her to stay back, out of this place marked and claimed by other wolves, wolves who weren’t her family any longer. August was at her side suddenly, his hand very lightly resting on her shoulder.

“It’s still your home. It’s always your home,” he said firmly. Emma swallowed and nodded once, jerkily, taking a few cautious but deliberate steps down the path, the tension in her shoulders easing a fraction. She let out the breath she’d held onto for too long in a steady stream, and looked sideways at August who paced her, stealing regular glances in her direction. When their eyes met, she held them briefly – not long enough to hint that she was challenging him, mindful of how the wolf could take eye contact – and managed a small smile.

“Thanks.”

“It’s only the truth. I just wish…” He paused, and at Emma’s searching look, managed a tight smile in return.

“Never mind. You’re where you need to be. But I’m glad they understand how risky this situation is for us all, and let you come back to help us.” The edge of relief in his voice was palpable, and Emma grimaced.

“Well. Gotta be honest, here. They still don’t exactly agree with you on that,” she said slowly. August’s brow furrowed.

“Then why-“ he began, and then stopped abruptly, his eyes widening. “Oh, Emma. You didn’t…”

“She didn’t outright forbid me from coming.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I might not have told her that I was leaving, though.” August groaned, clutching a handful of the hair at the back of his head in frustration.

“No, don’t act like that,” Emma started, pointing a finger at him. “You taught me the rules just as well as anyone-“

“Yes, as we follow them, here in the city. Loosely. Subject to interpretation and balanced with our need to survive among humans,” August said intensely, pitching his voice low and for her ears only. Some subjects it was best not to let strangers overhear.

“I haven’t broken any of our laws, August. I’m respecting claimed territory, both yours and theirs. I announced myself when I came, and I was permitted entry, or did you actually mean to tell me to go to hell instead of welcoming me ho-here?” Emma drew herself up straighter, a sharp edge to her voice. August abruptly turned from her and started walking, pulling Emma along by her sleeve. She fought down the snarl of anger and jerked her arm free, though she kept pace with his rapid stride, even as he snapped a reply.

“And what of your responsibility to your mother? To your pack? I sent word to you about what’s going on here because I knew you’d believe me. I thought you could convince the Storybrooke wolves that a wolf gone missing like this is just as much a danger to them as it is to us here. Even if a Kinfolk’s death is nothing they will care about,” he growled. Even as he spoke, August continued walking out on the dock that extended from the wedge of parkland tucked under the highway bridge overpass to the city. The sun was sinking below the horizon to the west, casting long shadows into the river, and though it remained humid and still, the temperature was dropping quickly. August only stopped walking once there was nowhere else to go but the river itself, staring pensively across its modest expanse to the city on the other side.

“She didn’t forbid it, August. That has to be enough. And you know my pack would stick out here like a sore thumb. They’re very good at being werewolves, but they’re not at all good at keeping a low profile. Even if I could convince them to help me, it would be a disaster. They’d talk to spirits right and left and look crazy to the humans. And if that wasn’t enough to get the cops called, they’d probably come armed to the teeth with medieval-looking weapons and wearing armor. Can you imagine Mulan casually toting her sword around the city, looking for an enemy to stab?” August sighed

“We could use their help, though. They might not trust city wolves much, but we’re all in the same boat, here.” Emma shook her head, fighting to keep her voice even.

“You’ve visited Storybrooke, what, twice? On formal occasions only? You don’t know how they are when they’re being honest. Merida told a grand tale at the last full moon gathering, you know, about how great it was that the wolves had taken out all the rest of the shifters. It was this incredible story about how great it was that the werebears were all dead, and how her father had gloriously slain one himself in single combat. She’s a bit extreme, maybe, but it’s not even unusual up there. It’s been a decade since a wereraven has been seen anywhere in the North Country, let alone Storybrooke, and they used to be our allies. And the other wolves don’t even pretend they don’t wish that they could go hunt down the last few werecats for fun.” August held up his hands against her tirade.

“As if they’d find them…” he muttered with a roll of his eyes. “But I know, Emma. I know. They’re self-righteous to a fault, but it’s not a bear or a cat we’re talking about here, it’s a wolf. It’s Will. He’s gone, and we can’t find hide nor hair of him, not the slightest trace.”

“And Liz?” Emma asked. She knew the truth of it, likely better than he did, but she had to hear it in his own words.

“Traces…everywhere.” He blew out a breath, settling on an overturned bucket with slumped shoulders. Emma crouched on her heels, squinting slightly against the glare to peer across the river before she began to speak, reluctance in her tone.

“The cops are still confused. Official investigation theory is that animals got to the body, but it doesn’t fit the timeline at all. She had not been dead long when they found her.” August looked at her sharply and Emma shrugged. “We don’t really do the high tech stuff up in Storybrooke, but Dad’s still the town sheriff. We have Kinfolk in every position of authority there. I had him pull the file from the state database. Walked him through it, step by step.” She’d hated to do it, to prevail upon the man she’d known for only a scant few years for a favor, the kind she’d wheedled as a bounty hunter from Portland police contacts under Cleo’s training. But as hungry as she was to know her family and understand their strange ways, they were just as eager, just as quick to try to connect with her in whatever way they could.

Even if for her father it meant providing illegally-obtained crime scene photos that she could pore over for evidence that one of her old acquaintances had committed a gruesome murder that could put every werewolf in Maine in jeopardy. And when push came to shove, and she had formally asked her mother for permission to return to the city, he had supported her mother’s stern denial. Not that it mattered. He was only Kinfolk, of course. Hardly more than human, and outside the city, that meant useful and little else.

Oh, her parents loved one another. That had been a strangely comforting realization, to see that even traditionalist werewolves who lived outside of human civilization as much as possible could still see the value of individual human-like Kin for anything besides breeding and propagating the next generation of werewolves. But when your spouse, or your parent, or your sibling couldn’t take the wolf form or speak with the spirits to learn their secrets, it made them less for many werewolves, particularly those who lived in their own private fiefdoms, like her family and the land they ruled, protected by magic. Kinfolk were plentiful – they outnumbered werewolves by a significant margin, with the magic, or genetics, or whatever it was that created them a fickle thing – but in the town of Storybrooke, they played a role more than anything.

David, her father, might be the town sheriff, but when your wife was one of the highest-ranking werewolves on the North American continent, what did it matter? When your mate could take the form of a terrifying wolf-human hybrid and have any mere human gibbering with fear, had slain vampires, fought off multiple challenges for her throne, and bartered with powerful spirits for secrets beyond mortal understanding, a badge and a service revolver meant precious little.

So he’d been glad to help her – he was so fond of her, so proud of all she’d become, and her mother was, too, in her way – but when it came to a decision, when it came to action, his voice was silent. It wouldn’t have mattered a whit had he spoken, of course. But Emma wished, vaguely, that he’d tried. But sometimes when Kinfolk tried to take a stand, especially if it disagreed with a werewolf, particularly one they were close to…

“Will’s probably hiding, August,” Emma said, admitting what she’d begun to suspect days ago, as soon as he’d sent word. “I don’t think he did it intentionally – he’s not that stupid and he’s not cruel – but he probably lost control of the wolf. If Liz cursed him out or got tired of his bullshit antics or even breathed funny and he took it the wrong way, and couldn’t control himself…” August had sagged on his seat, his elbows on his knees, but at Emma’s suggestion he straightened and shook his head, eyebrows climbing toward his hairline at the implied accusation.

“He wouldn’t. He can be an idiot, and impetuous, but he wouldn’t,” he said firmly.

“All it takes is one moment of weakness. You’re the one who taught me how important control was, and how quickly you can lose it. I’m sure he feels terrible about it, but I saw the pictures. If it wasn’t Will, then some other werewolf killed Liz.”

August didn’t argue the point; he knew it to be true as well as she did. They sat in silence on the docks, only the soft sound of the tide coming in, raising the slow-moving river by inches surrounding them. With the light reflecting on the soft waves and the cries of the gulls overhead, it might have been peaceful. In another time, but in this very same place, she’d spent many peaceful hours in August’s company, and with Cleo, Lily, Will, Jefferson and the handful of other tough, tradition-flouting werewolves and Kinfolk who preferred to live here surrounded by humanity. They’d found her and taught her the ways of the world when the bitter feuds among political rivals had left her a veritable orphan. It would be sweet to pretend that nothing had changed and she still belonged here, but then she’d been “rescued” from the hardscrabble city life and whisked off to a fairy tale existence as freaking fantasy-creature royalty. But Cleo was dead, Lily gone, and whatever August might say, this place was no longer her home. Emma abruptly pushed up from her crouch and walked back along the dock to the park with purpose, her eyes adjusting swiftly to the growing dark.

“Either way, I’m going to find out. Don’t wait up."

The old cobblestone streets of Portland could be treacherous even for a cautious driver – dimly lit and thick with pedestrians – but Emma took the Bug across the bay into the city nonetheless. To let the car stay hidden for too long was risky in general, so she’d coaxed it into dropping the camouflage, instead only keeping the usual distraction magic in place to keep anyone from looking too closely at the car’s registration, or lack thereof. She avoided the Old Port area where tourists thronged easily enough, skirting the west side of the city only to turn for the northern part of the peninsula where Will lived in Bayside.

Here the city mixed historical buildings with industrial warehouses, and though no housing could be considered cheap in Portland, not any longer, it was at least cheaper than anywhere else in the city proper. Whether it would remain that way for long was doubtful, however. Will lived equally quite close to both the city’s homeless shelter and the Whole Foods grocery store, and new apartment buildings sprung up every month alongside multi-million dollar renovations of old buildings. Emma’s mouth twisted with distaste at every visible change she catalogued as she pulled the Bug to a stop along a sidestreet curb. Will’s apartment was on the third floor of an aging multi-family dwelling. The first floor housed the elderly Kinfolk gentleman who owned the building, while on the second floor lived a family of city wolves and their Kin. She could check in on old Percy at least, before she went up to Will’s place. He might have a sense for where Will would be laying low. She mounted the porch steps lightly, ready to pull open the door to the building’s shared common stair, when she glanced up briefly and fell perfectly still.

The third floor window was softly illuminated from within. A human wouldn’t have seen it, or at least dismissed it as a trick of their eyes and the ambient light from streetlamps. But Emma could see the light move through the window above, concentrated and small, like a flashlight. Emma’s eyes narrowed as she considered the possibilities. Any of the building’s other inhabitants would turn on the light – they had no need to hide. If it was the cops, they’d have lit up the building like a Christmas tree at the very least, and parked cruisers all along the street. And if it was Will himself he would hardly need or risk a flashlight. That meant that while the obvious suspects were unlikely to be up there, someone taking pains not to be seen was in a missing wolf’s apartment. Steadily, her step light and cautious on the old creaky stairs, Emma crept up the first flight next to Percy’s apartment door, listening carefully.

There was the soft hum of a radio from Percy’s apartment, and that of conversation and laughter from the second floor, but beyond that Emma couldn’t make out any particular noises from above. She passed the second floor landing and continued to the third, testing each step carefully and taking her time. The apartment door was slightly ajar, and she could see the faintest glow of light and soft movement, of someone walking carefully over the creaky floorboards. As she reached the third floor landing, Emma pulled in a breath slowly, weighing her options, and then bent to pull a slender knife from her boot. She might rue the idea of Mulan bringing her sword to the city, or Merida striding down the street with her bow, but she wasn’t entirely averse to being armed. Straightening, she gently nudged the door open, pressing it with a fingertip, and thanking whatever spirit of the night or silence was looking out for her that the door swung freely and without a sound.

Will’s apartment was a single room with a high ceiling, and in the late summer heat the air was stiflingly thick and warm. A running ceiling fan squeaked rhythmically, spinning in a feeble in an attempt to keep the air moving, but it accomplished very little besides covering the sound of Emma stepping into the room, her gaze fixed on the black-clad figure shouldering a satchel with its back to her as it held some kind of light over the room’s unmade bed. She inhaled delicately in the space of a heartbeat, scenting the room’s occupant – a man and wolf-blooded, but not a werewolf. Whoever he was, he was definitely Kinfolk, but not someone she knew, and that was all she had time to decide before action was required. He paused in his apparent search, and started to turn. The room was four strides across for an average human. The muscles in Emma’s legs burned as she leapt across the room in a bound, setting her shoulder into the figure’s back and pressing him down onto the bed. The figure crumpled with a grunt, the bed’s springs screeching in complaint, and Emma swiftly brought her knife to his throat.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she hissed. A breathless wheeze was her only immediate answer as his gloved right hand convulsed on the source of the light he’d been carrying. Emma’s eyes widened and she pressed the knife more firmly against her captive’s throat.

“Drop. It.” The light source dropped to the sheets with a soft noise, and the room was plunged into full darkness. Emma swiftly moved her free hand from his back to the piece of carved wood he’d carried, picking it up and jamming it into her boot. Only then did she ease her weight from the man’s back a trifle, and he drew in a rough, gasping breath before answering her, voice muffled into the rumpled bedclothes.

“Could ask you the same question, love.” His voice was accented, but despite the playful words, he didn’t move, remaining absolutely still. Carefully, she wrapped her fingers in his dark hair and steadily pulled his head back, free of the bed. He hissed in pain, and she carefully scraped the edge of the knife a fraction higher against his neck.

“You were saying?”

“I said, ‘What’s a nice girl like you doing in a wretched place like this?’” Though the skin of his neck slightly indented from the blade’s pressure, his tone was somehow light. Emma used her handful of his hair as leverage, turning his head to the side so that she could get a look at him and in the relative privacy of the pitch blackness, she took a moment to take in his features. Dark stubble, good cheekbones, and thick lashes that fluttered prettily when he blinked. Not at all bad to look at. When his blue eye met her own unerringly even in the darkness, however, she froze and sniffed again, carefully, to confirm her original suspicion. His scent carried the edge of wolf-blood, but not the specific, powerful scent of a fellow werewolf. There were ways for werewolves to hide their scent, but even that trick had a price – he wouldn’t smell of anything at all if that was the case. But he smelled very much like a man, and like a Kinfolk, and no werewolf could pretend otherwise. At least not that shew knew of. Her grip tightened a fraction, and he grunted in pain.

“I do apologize if my scent offends, my morning ablutions were so long ago now,” he ground out, teeth flashing in a sharp grin.

“Is this really that funny to you, wise guy? Who are you, and what are you doing here?” she tried again.

“If you let me up, I’ll answer any question you like, but this is rather uncomfortable for us both, don’t you think?” He shifted, trying to get his feet beneath him, most likely. Emma sighed and let the entirety of her weight settle on his back for a moment, leaning close his ear as he wheezed once again.

“Stand up, both hands where I can see them, and keep it slow.” With that, she slipped to her feet and took half a step back, yaning the satchel from the man’s shoulder as she went and dropping it to the floor. With a groan, the man rolled to his side, pressing his right hand against his ribs with a wince. She stepped back away, giving herself room to maneuver.

“Just the one,” he ground out, using an elbow pressed to the bed to lever himself slowly to his feet, keeping his arms raised slightly afterward. In the dark, his smile was pained, but still disarmingly charming.

“What are you talking about?” Emma snapped, unamused. “One what?”

“Hand, darling.” The fingers of his right waved in her direction, but the left was still and lifeless. It tickled a memory, but then it was gone and she frowned, shaking her head.

“Oooo-kay, that’s just fascinating. Let’s try this again. I’m going to ask you one more time who you are and what you’re doing here, and if you don’t start answering instead of flirting pronto I’m going to lower your total number of hands further one finger at a time.” The smile on his face faltered.

“Brandon Smith. I’m doing the same thing you are, I presume – looking for Will Scarlet, but as you see, he’s not at home,” he snapped, an edge of sullen impatience to his voice.

“What’s the spirit for?” He smiled again, tilting his head.

“Why, the flask in my pocket is for my own consumption, but I’d gladly share-“ Emma growled over his lilting invitation, a rumbling, thunder-like sound that couldn’t have come from a human’s throat. His smile returned, though it was more a baring of teeth than anything.

“I don’t have your nose, darling. The carving hosts a dog spirit who can sniff and track. But you know Will’s not been here for a week or more.” She lifted her chin slightly, but he wasn’t wrong.

“And your name?”

“I told you-“

“Bullshit,” she cut him off sharply, raising the point of her knife to point directly at his face. “I know a lie when I hear one. You can deflect and dance around a topic, but when you lie to me I damn well know. Tell. Me. Your. Name.” He let out a breath through his nose, somehow still unerringly able to meet her eyes in the dark. He couldn’t possibly see her face, and yet…

“My name is Killian Jones. I am, as I’m sure you know, Kinfolk.” Truth. The first plain statement he’d made this whole time, and it was the truth. But he wasn’t done.

“You probably know me by another name, though,” he continued. Still the truth. She made a soft noise of inquiry, lifting an eyebrow, the knife blade unwavering.

“Hook. The wolves, they call me Hook.” The room fell silent, save for the steady squeaking of the overhead fan. The urge to take the wolf form swept over her like a cold wave and she inhaled sharply, his scent prickling with uncertainty despite his steady expression. The blade point wavered as she gripped it so hard her hand trembled as she fought down the howling need to have fur and teeth and claws. Hook. She’d heard stories, of course. Werewolves were nothing if not tale-tellers, particularly when it came to their enemies. Their traitors. In some he had chosen to become a vampire, in others inviting his possession by a spirit of vengeance. But in all of them, he was Kinfolk – blood of the wolf who had betrayed his own people. Murderer. Hunter. He watched her – though he couldn’t be in this lighting, not really – almost expectantly.

“It’s just there,” he said finally, breaking the silence. His arms remained slightly raised and still. “In my bag.” Without lowering her blade, Emma crouched, slowly reaching her left hand into the satchel. Her fingers brushed over the few items inside, until they settled around the one she was looking for. Gritting her teeth, she wrapped her fingers around the cold metal shape and pulled it free, hissing softly under her breath. It prickled at her fingers sharply, alternating between freezing numb cold and needle-sharp pain as she held it up. The wickedly curved hook seemed to glow in the dark of the room, the enchanted silver casting its own light. They both stared at it for a long moment before she looked away, back at the man who seemed to be waiting on her, his arms slowly dropping to a defensive position in front of his body.

She was leaping for him with a snarl, body contorting and sprouting thick silver fur, before either hook or knife had hit the ground.

#cs ff #cs ff au #captain swan #ouat #cssns #my fic

27 notes · View notes