#i bet he painted miles whole baby room

[clonehub]

the day he became uncle

[hadtochangemyurlquick]

here’s 7.1k of Toni pining and Shelby and Toni being childhood friends and also far more character analysis of Rachel than I was expecting? also Marcus is real and I made him a gorgeous himbo. it’s based off that poem by @theycallmedizzy and you can find it here. lmk if you want a second chapter from shelby’s perspective, tho i literally just finished this one. like literally ten minute ago.

Mr. Williams finishes reading the poem and looks over his spectacles at the class. Yes, they’re spectacles, those kind of tiny thick ones that make his eyes too big because he’s much too old to be teaching.

It’s eight am on a Tuesday, Toni walked the three miles to school because she missed the bus only to walk into her shitty honors English class and hear the teacher reading a poem aloud to the class. Her poem. She’d sat down after a momentary pause and listened to him read the final damning stanza.

And then he looks at Toni.

He reads her essays right? What if he recognizes her writing voice? Is that a thing? Or maybe her handwriting or—

“Toni, I was just explaining to the class that whoever wrote this should submit it to the state literature festival,” Mr. Williams says, Toni almost sags against her chair. “I was hoping someone would come forward,” He turns back to the class, eyes hovering over Quinn and Monty, two of the more sensitive guys who sit in the back and ruin the curve for everyone. “But I’ll leave it on the board here,” he clacks it on with a magnet and Toni flinches, “and hopefully someone will come forward. Now onto today’s lesson.”

After class Martha goes up to the board and takes a picture of it, her eyes a little starry at the words and Toni grits her teeth.

“You have to admit it’s pretty,” Martha says. “Even you can’t deny that.”

“It’s dumb,” Toni says flatly, crossing her arms.

“Well I’m keeping it anyway, maybe someday someone will write a poem about me,” Martha says.

“How do you know it’s not about you?” Shelby asks coming out of nowhere and uninvited too. Toni glares at her, letting her open disdain shine through like sunshine through clouds after a gully washer.

“No guys notice me,” Martha informs Shelby sadly. “I bet Andrew wrote it for you.”

Shelby purses her lips and looks over the poem, “I doubt it. He’s more of a doer, I think. Besides, I’m sure that guys notice you, you went on a date with that boy Sam last month.”

Martha sighs and before she can launch into what a disaster that date was, Toni tightens her hands around her backpack.

“I’ll see you in science,” She tells Martha and manages to escape Shelby’s eyes burning at the back of her neck.

———

reasons not to kiss her

1.) this sort of love is not allowed. you are both too soft, and the world around you is all knives and chipped teeth

Toni had played about every sport she was allowed to growing up. Basketball was her favorite, but she loved beat it ball, the game she made up with the other kids in the neighborhood. It was basketball but without rules, devolving into fist fights within the first half. Nothing tasted better than her own bloody lip on a hot summer day. Not even the cool glass of lemonade Mrs. Blackburn always had ready when she ran all skinned knees to Martha’s telling her about how she beat guys two years older than her.

She got angry when she had to stop playing, moving to a different neighborhood. Apparently, Mrs. Blackburn had figured out that she wasn’t only getting her split lip from the older kids in the neighborhood.

The new foster parents were a little stricter, a little richer, and signed her up for youth soccer when she complained about how there was nothing to do without beat it ball.

Martha Blackburn would always be her person, but Toni didn’t expect to find her people so young. Dottie killed as goalie, and Becca’s sweetness made her defense all the better. But it was Shelby and Toni who were the dynamic duo. Toni had a never ending amount of energy as a midfielder and Shelby’s precision made her the perfect striker. It worked the same way every game, Becca would kick it to Toni, who got it to Shelby, who scored a goal. It got to the point that Becca didn’t even need to do much and the coach had to pull Toni aside to tell her to pass to the other girls too.

At the end of the season they sat together at the team party, wearing orange slice smiles. With sticky fingers they held hands and Toni kinda wondered how someone’s eyes could be so green.

Toni doesn’t remember why Shelby’s parents were so angry about them holding hands, but she knows Mr. Goodkind talked to her foster parents and Toni was off to a different home, in a different district, and she lost even Martha for a few months.

———

At lunch everyone’s talking about that fucking poem. Martha sent it around to the whole school and Leah is discussing its merits with Rachel and Nora. Even they don’t seem bored with the topic, though Nora is sure Quinn didn’t write it.

“It could be Monty,” Leah says. “I wouldn’t have thought he had an eye for this stuff.”

“I don’t think it’s Monty,” Rachel says. She looks at Nora, “C’mon, you know what I’m talking about, right?”

“What?” Nora asks.

“I mean it smells like Anna Akhmatova had a baby with Adrienne Rich,” Rachel says.

“Who had a baby with who?” Martha asks.

“Please,” Fatin says. “You’re not exactly the world’s leading expert on free form poetry.”

“Uh, I know when something’s written by a girl,” Rachel says. “I bet you fifty bucks some closet case wrote this.”

Everyone looks at Toni. “You caught me,” Toni deadpans.

“Rachel’s right,” Nora says. “A girl definitely wrote this. Toni, do you know anyone?”

Toni glares at her. “I’ll shake the lesbian phone tree and see what comes out.”

“Well, could it be Regan?” Martha asks. “Maybe she wants to—”

“It’s not fucking Regan,” Toni grabs her books and stalks out, kicking a chair randomly strewn around away as she did.

She hears Shelby sit down just as she leaves, “What’s got her madder than a baptized cat?” Shelby asks and Toni rolls her eyes.

———

2.) no one ever taught you how to love. your war paint and scarred hands could never hold her like she deserves

The worst of it was that Shelby was gentle. Her hands were warm and soft around Toni’s callouses, and there was a crinkle between her eyebrows as she focused on Toni’s hands. No, the worst of it was that Shelby didn’t let go of Toni’s hands when she finished, kept holding onto them as she met Toni’s eyes.

“Well?”

Toni swallowed hard, “I’m not gonna apologize.”

Shelby sighed, her thumb traced little circles around Toni’s hands. “I know today ain’t easy for you.” Toni scoffed and looked away. “But you know you were pickin' a fight. Andrew promised to leave you alone.”

Toni ripped her hands away and jumped from the bench of the locker room. “What the fuck do you know? You weren’t fucking there.”

Shelby’s calm only made Toni’s anger redder, “You ain’t denying it.”

“Why the fuck are you dating him? He’s a self-satisfied little asshole who just wants a little trophy girlfriend to—”

“Toni,” Shelby cut her off sharply and got to her feet, meeting Toni’s eyes.

“You’re not denying that either,” Toni spat.

She could’ve screamed at the hypocrisy. She wanted to scream. She wanted to pound her fists against the walls and bleed all over the bandages Shelby wrapped around her knuckles. She wanted to hurt, to make Shelby hurt. She wanted everyone to see and feel how hurt she was, and hurt them with that hurt. Finally level the playing field.

“Andrew is my business,” Shelby said. “Not yours.”

“He becomes my business when you—”

“When I what?” Shelby asked.

Toni looked at her hands, “Never mind.”

Shelby sighed, “Martha’s helping you move in today, right? Shel’ll be there the whole time?”

“Don’t pretend you give a shit.”

“Of course I care. The last time you lived with your mom you didn’t eat for a week.”

“I was five, not fifteen,” Toni said. “And seriously, stop pretending you give a shit.”

She shoulder checked Shelby as she walked out and winced at the sound of Shelby hitting the gym lockers. Her hands still sting where Andrew’s teeth had scrapped them.

———

Regan approaches Toni during science, her eyes serious. Martha straightens, and Toni does her best not to make eye contact.

“It’s not mine,” Regan says.

“Yeah duh,” Toni mutters.

Regan frowns, “I just—I didn’t want you to—”

“You made it perfectly clear what you want,” Toni says.

Regan sighs and leaves and Toni regrets it.

“Shelby thinks it’s Marcus,” Martha tells her. Toni blinks up at her and Martha nods. “She thinks he wrote it for me.”

“Martha, that kid is dumber than a box of rocks,” Toni says.

Martha furrows her brow, “Maybe he has hidden depths.”

“If you think it’s him ask him out,” Toni says.

“Shelby thinks it’s him,” Martha is quick to correct. “But he doesn’t even know who I am.”

Toni rolls her eyes. Marcus had been in love with Martha since the ninth grade. They had gotten placed as lab partners and he literally didn’t take his eyes off her the entire time. Every time there was a dance he would always look like he was about to say something, shoot his shot, when Martha would loudly proclaim she couldn’t wait to go with her friends.

Toni would’ve pulled the guy aside and told him to grow a pair, but a guy who’s not brave enough to go after what he wants wasn’t good enough for her Marty, not by a long shot.

“Rachel still thinks a girl wrote it,” Martha says.

“Maybe Rachel wrote it,” Toni mutters.

Martha’s eyes light up.

———

3.) no one has ever loved you this full surely you would drown in it all

Being a lifeguard was the worst. It was super boring, the pay was shit, and also Toni would probably get someone killed. Like, they pretended she was CPR certified but she absolutely had no idea how to do it. She went to some hour long course, slept through it, took a test that was just: should you kill people? And then they wrote some bullshit on some papers about a three week long set of classes.

But Shelby was tanned and golden looking and on their shifts they’d text back and forth about which kids they were betting on to win sharks and minnows. Tweenage boys in all their adolescent infancy would gaze open mouthed at Shelby and Toni alike but Shelby was the only one who let them down gently. Toni would ruin them for girls forever with something enough to cut through even the thickest skin.

On the fourth of July the pool paid for fireworks and Toni found a blanket and Shelby found her and they sat watching the reflections of the lights together. Shelby rested her head on Toni’s shoulder, all gentle, like she was afraid Toni would spook.

“I know this ain’t much of a holiday for you,” Shelby said. “But thank you for spending it with me.”

She had her hand on the blanket, splayed out like she was waiting for Toni to take it, there in front of everyone. Toni imagined a world in which she did.

———

“Yeah it’s not me,” Rachel says. “I wish I could write that good.”

Which is such bullshit because Toni knows Rachel could say well if she wanted to. Rachel’s weird inferiority complex about Nora pisses off Toni to no end. Nora’s the smart one, Rachel will be the first to say, and Rachel’s the athletic one. But Nora has a six minute mile and Rachel has perfect pitch so Toni hates them both.

“Maybe it’s Dot,” Toni suggests and Rachel, Nora, and Martha snicker.

Out of all of them, Martha’s the best driver, but they always end up in Rachel’s car after school anyway.

“Most of the school seems to think it’s by Andrew,” Nora says. Toni’s fists clench.

“Yeah,” Rachel rolls her eyes, “I’m sure he would love to take the credit. C’mon Toni, you don’t know any lesbians who could’ve written this?”

“You’re a lesbian too,” Toni says. “You don’t know any?”

“I don’t have a life outside of the pool,” Rachel says, “and none of them have picked up a book since Hop on Pop.”

“Regan says it wasn’t her,” Martha cuts in helpfully. “But maybe it’s another kid in theatre. Shelby says—”

“Oh my god,” Toni grits out. “What is everyone’s deal with her anyway? Why is everyone still obsessed with her? She’s just another basic Jesus bitch.”

The car goes quiet and Toni wishes she could melt into her seat cushion.

“I didn’t mean that,” Toni says.

“Except you did,” Martha snaps.

Toni winces.

“What’s your deal with her?” Rachel asks. “You guys were fine last year.”

“Quinn says there’s a poetry club,” Nora says. “Maybe it’s someone there?”

No one takes the bait and they don’t talk the rest of the way.

———

4.) she belongs in a museum, and you are merely here to gaze. look around you, all the signs scream ‘do not touch’

“Shelby?”

Toni grabbed the shoulder of the girl and pulled her away from Marcus. Shelby was bruised lips and ruined make up and Toni took her by the hand. Thank god Martha wasn’t here, thank god Andrew wasn’t here, thank god Marcus looked just as trashed.

“Toni?” Shelby sorta stumbled, her ankle twisting painfully on her heel and Toni steadied her.

Shelby could do a cartwheel in six inch heels.

“I’m gonna get you home, okay?” Toni called over the music.

Shelby didn’t really respond, just leant into Toni as she led her away and outside. The party had spilled into the backyard and front yard some, the cops probably already on their way, but everyone was too fucking hammered to notice them making their way out.

Shelby’s house was only about a twenty minute walk but it was cold and Toni was only wearing her basketball shorts and her mom’s jacket that she promptly put over Shelby’s shoulders.

“Are you still—” Shelby swallowed hard, “You’re still living with your mom?”

“Mostly with Martha,” Toni said.

“Martha’s great,” Shelby said. “She’s so pretty it makes my eyes hurt.”

“One of our finest,” Toni grunted as Shelby nearly fell on her heels again.

“She could be a model,” Shelby told her. “We should get waffle house.”

“Shelbs, we’re nowhere near a waffle house.”

“What was Becca’s order? At waffle house?”

Toni sighed, looping an arm around her. “I dunno.”

“Neither do I,” Shelby said.

“I’m sorry, Shelby,” Toni said.

Shelby shook her head and stopped right there, circling her arms around Toni and pressing her into a hug. Toni closed her eyes, holding her back as tightly as she dared.

“Oh, Shelby, I’m so fucking sorry.”

———

“Day two!” Mr. Williams calls. He taps the poem again, “I will investigate the handwriting if the poet doesn’t come forward by Friday. I know it’s someone in one of my classes.”

His eyes narrow as he takes them all in and his eyes don’t linger on Toni. Not even for a moment.

There’s a part of her that wants to march up to the front of the room and write her name down, make eye contact with everyone who never even considered her before. But no one expects shit from her, and even if he does go over the handwriting he won’t really be able to pin it on her. He might not even bother checking to see if it matches.

Toni tries not to jump when Marcus takes the seat in front of her during quant lit. It’s not like they have assigned seating but everyone sticks to the same seats anyway. Marcus won’t get shit for it though, perks of being the quarterback.

“So, listen,” he scratches the back of his head and Toni rolls her eyes at him. “I know we aren’t really friends but I—um.”

“Marcus,” Toni says.

“I wanna ask Martha out,” Marcus rushes out. “She’s like the nicest, smartest, coolest girl in the school and like her eyes are out of this world radical.” Radical? “And I would take her somewhere nice like Olive Garden. Or Cheesecake Factory? And pay for it, and open all the doors for her, and I’d carry her books to class—”

“On your date? This is happening during school?” Toni asks.

His eyebrows furrow as he tries to connect the dots. Football players.

“Oh no! I meant like, after, if she wants me to,” He says. “Can I?”

“Can you what?”

“Can I ask her out?”

Toni blinks at him. “What?”

“My buddy said if you want to get with a girl you get close to the best friend first, and I figured I’d ask you for your blessing because that’s what they do in old fashioned stuff right?” He bounces up in down in his seat. “Can I? Or like, do you wanna give me your blessing?”

She feels like she’s having an aneurysm.

Listen, Marcus having feelings for Martha is one thing. Everyone on the planet who’s ever met Martha falls a little in love with her. That’s kinda just how she operates. Toni narrowly avoided that pitfall by being lucky enough to know her since she was five, but it was a tough time. But Marcus was never gonna act on it. Marcus can’t—he’s the quarterback.

It’s basic math, Marcus is a six foot five football player with shoulders wide enough to bench press the Subaru Forrester Toni’s legally required to buy when she turns thirty-two. He’s got that all American boy smile that shows of perfectly white teeth, and dark hair that sweeps in front of his eyes. His face looks like it was sculpted out of marble, like literally he looks like some sort of roman god, except if that roman god volunteered at the humane society on the weekends and called his mom Mami.

Martha is a res girl who’s best friend is the dyke with anger issues. And like yeah, she’s stupid pretty, but Marcus has exclusively dated varsity cheerleaders since the seventh grade.

So yeah, even if Marcus may have feelings for Marty, everyone fucking does, and there’s a host of reasons why she doesn’t have a date to every dance and a new guy every week. And most of them are the cliche high school movie hierarchy sort.

“It’s really none of my business, man,” she says.

“Dude, it’s totally your business,” Marcus says. He leans closer, “you two are like sisters right? What do I gotta do to prove I’m not gonna hurt her? I’ll do your math homework for a month, no two months.”

A thought occurs to Toni and it’s a terrible one. But when has that ever stopped her?

“You’re in my honors English class right?”

Marcus’s face screws in, “Uh, yeah. But I don’t think you want me doing your homework in there, I’m like totally failing.”

“I have a better idea.”

———

5.) she touches you like youre fragile, and if you break you wont be able put yourself together again

Dot was asleep which was Toni’s first indication that something was deeply wrong. The second was that Shelby wasn’t. She was definitely trying her darnedest, but Toni could tell she was awake. Awake in her arms.

Toni shifted, just enough to let Shelby know she was awake too. The movie was some horror flick, something dumb and flashy and almost muted it was so quiet. It was the only thing rated R that they could all agree on. Dot’s house was the only place they were allowed to watch anything rated R when they were still thirteen, so it was all they watched there.

She felt Shelby shift up, so her head rested on Toni’s chest, shifted until her lips met Toni’s clavicle.

Toni wondered if she’d die.

Shelby went up instead of down, pressing kisses up the length of Toni’s neck, soft barely there things that made Toni’s breath catch as she watched Dot snore on the couch next to them.

Toni’s hands moved to the inside of Shelby’s thighs and they stared there, tracing delicate patterns that only made Shelby curl closer.

“I think you’re probably the most beautiful girl I ever saw,” Shelby whispered.

“I—”

“I’m not done.”

Toni’s mouth clamped shut.

“I think about you all the time,” Shelby whispered. “Even when I—”

“Shelby,” Toni warned. Shelby pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

“You’re right,” Shelby said.

Neither of them slept that night.

———

Toni walks into class three minutes late with Mr. Williams, and takes her seat with a sulk.

“He still won’t let me redo that paper,” Toni mutters to Martha who’s eyes are wide.

“Toni, Marcus just—” She nods her head at the poem where Mr. Williams is studying it too.

“Marcus Gonzales?” Mr. Williams asks.

Marcus gets to his feet.

“You wrote this?”

“Yessir.”

“This poem right here?”

“Yessir.”

Mr. Williams blinks and takes off his spectacles, setting them down on the desk. “We’ll talk after class. I should hope everyone has a copy of—”

“I wrote it for Martha,” Marcus doesn’t sit down and the entire class stares at him.

“—Franny and Zooey and I would like you all to turn to page 52. Begin by annotating—”

“Martha, can I take you out on a date?” Marcus asks.

“—this first section, and on to page 64. Remember what Seymour serves as in—”

Martha blushes hard and glances at Toni who smiles before she looks back at Marcus in all his golden boy 6’5” glory.

“Um, okay,” she mutters out and he grins.

“Cool.” Marcus finally sits and gives Toni a thumbs up. She rolls her eyes.

“—this story and compare that to his roles in the other parts of the work we’ve read.”

“I told you it was for you, girl,” Shelby says on Martha’s other side. “People always have a way of surprising you.”

———

6.) she is all bubblegum skies and chapped stick kisses, and you cannot watch the love run out of another persons eyes

They were all a little bit slap happy by the end of the night. A little bit drunk, a little bit high, and laughing far too hard at one another.

“I’m scared,” Shelby told them, still grinning wider than any pageant smile.

“Girl, you picked dare,” Fatin said.

“I did,” Shelby bit her lip. “But all y’all dared Leah to do was finish the vodka.”

“That was—that was bad vodka,” Leah slurred from her position on Dot’s lap.

“But now we’re out of vodka,” Martha sang. “You picked dare.”

“I’ll go with you,” Toni got to her feet, surprised when they were more steady than she assumed they’d be. “Two chairs right?”

“Alright,” Shelby said. “And you’ll hold my hand?”

“Sure princess,” Toni rolled her eyes.

It was an office supply place, probably. The parking lot had this killer decline, and it was one of those spring nights where nothing could really ruin anything. Not forever.

The rolling chairs were kinda gross, left there but not yet picked up by the garbage men. They had to do a special pickup for that, which costed extra. No one in the office had done it for the weeks the girls had been going there after parties.

“Be careful,” Nora urged.

“Don’t fall,” Rachel suggested.

“Hold on, I’m not recording yet,” Fatin said. “Okay now go.”

They pushed off in their rolling chairs, holding hands, and sped down the decline laughing as they barely managed to hold on and steer at the same time.

Toni went flying as she bumped into a patch of grass and for some reason, Shelby went flying with her, landing on top. Toni grunted, but she wasn’t in pain, not really.

They met eyes.

“Sorry,” Shelby said. She didn’t sound sorry.

“You okay?” Toni asked.

Shelby smiled, this real soft thing, Toni wondered what it’d taste like.

“Fuck yeah bitches! I’m so putting that on snapchat!” Fatin screamed and Shelby pulled away, turning white.

“God if this is you in in freshman year, I’m terrified of you as a senior,” Toni called back.

Shelby’s hand slipped out of her’s and Toni tried very very hard not to overthink it.

———

“So I’ve been thinking,” Leah said. Toni took her gym bag out of her locker, pretty much the only thing she kept in there.

“Oh no.”

“Rachel was right about that poem being written by a girl,” Leah continued. “Which meant Marcus lied. And Marcus would never do that unless someone gave him permission to take credit. And since Marcus lied so he could ask Martha out that means the person who wrote the poem wanted Martha to be happy.”

Toni swallowed hard and tried not to fumble with the lock, stumbling with it.

“Toni,” Leah walked over to her. “You need to face the facts: Shelby’s into you.”

Toni blinked, “What?”

“She wrote that whole poem for you, don’t tell me you don’t see it. It’s about you!”

“She—” Toni stopped and furrowed her brow, finally making eye contact with Leah, “You think she wrote that poem for me?”

Leah nodded, “And she let Marcus take the credit. Listen, I know I’m right. I’ve been thinking about it for ages. Whatever fight the two of you had—you need to get over it. She’s into you, Toni. She’s been into you.”

“You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about,” Toni told her. “Seriously, fuck you Leah and fuck off. This is none of your fucking business.”

“You aren’t denying it,” Leah crowed. “Shelby likes you.”

“No she fucking doesn’t!” Toni spat at her. “She fucking hates me! She didn’t write that poem Marcus did! For Martha!”

Leah’s brow furrowed, “But… but you wanted her to. Didn’t you?”

Toni looked away.

“Shelby’s actually straight, isn’t she?” Leah asked. “Fuck Toni.”

“I’m happy for Martha,” Toni said, and marched away.

———

7.) if you jump, she might catch you, and then youd have to watch as she tumbled through the dark

“What if we ran away?” Shelby asked, which was Toni’s third indication that the punch was spiked.

The first two were her arms wrapped around Toni’s waist, swaying in the soft breeze to the distant music of Junior prom.

“Oh yeah?” Toni asked. “Where’d we go?”

“Peru,” Shelby said. “Or LA, or New York or—” Shelby sort of trailed off, losing her thought halfway through it.

“Our parents,” Toni pointed out. She’d moved in with Martha a few months ago but her mom had taken it as a wakeup call, promising to get her shit back together as soon as she could. Toni couldn’t help but believe her, even if it put her in stasis.

“Right,” Shelby sounded cold, “Our parents.”

“Are things worse with them?” Toni asked.

“No,” Shelby said. “The same, really. They’ve lightened up since—since Becca. Have you heard from your mom?”

“Every week or so,” Toni said. “And if you ever need a break you know—“

“Martha is happy to have me,” Shelby finished.

Toni smiled and pulled away enough to meet Shelby’s eyes, her hands slid from behind Shelby’s neck to either side.

“Did I tell you you look beautiful tonight?” Toni asked.

“You did,” Shelby said.

“Can I say it again?”

“You can.”

“You look beautiful tonight.” Shelby closed her eyes and Toni tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “You’re gonna get out, you know that right?”

Shelby nodded, leaning into Toni’s hand.

Later, Toni will learn that was one of two lies Shelby told that night.

———

Martha gets home at 11:30, exactly when Marcus promised, and Toni smiles as her sister collapses backwards into her bed.

“Toni,” she actually giggles, giggles like a little school girl. “It was amazing.”

“Where’d you go?” Toni asks.

“Olive Garden, I think he was trying to win points with you,” Martha says.

“As he should,” Toni nods.

“He was the perfect gentleman,” Martha swoons. She rolls onto her stomach and looks at Toni and oh god, Toni knows that look. “He did tell me something about you, though.”

“Oh yeah? How I’m better in quant lit than him?” Toni asks.

“He told me you wrote the poem,” she says.

Toni looks away, “Okay, and?”

“You told me you were over Regan,” Martha says.

“It’s complicated,” Toni decides. “And whatever. I wrote it awhile ago anyway.”

“Have you thought about submitting it to that contest Mr. Williams was talking about?” Martha asks.

“Can we go back to talking about your date with Prince Charming?” Toni says. Martha acquiesces, she’s too damn giddy to do anything else.

———

8.) her gaze is too gentle. you will not be the one to tell her that not everything can be fixed with a smile

“Toni,” Dot began, and Toni could tell she was looking at her. “Toni, is Shelby—is she gay?”

Toni snickered, “Dot, Shelby is possibly the biggest straight girl in our school. Maybe our state. She’d sooner give herself a buzzcut than she would ever even kiss a girl."

“Andrew said Shelby got a job as a counselor at this church camp—Guiding Light—in Plano,” Dot said. “I wanted to find the address so I could write to her and it’s a conversion camp.”

The breath left Toni’s body.

“What?”

“And I got to thinking,” Dot said. “About what a mess she was after Becca died this year. Ignoring us, going to all those parties, signing up for a crazy number of pageants. Hell, it was only once you two started talking that she talked to us again.”

“Stop it, Dot.”

“Toni is Shelby gay?”

“Dot,” Toni said.

“Because if she’s gay, if she’s not there as a camp counselor—Toni, did you know about this?”

“Of course not! Jesus!” Toni said. She jumped to her feet and started to pace, “Jesus Christ. Oh my god.”

“Toni is Shelby gay?”

Toni looked at Dot and Dot sighed, her entire body sagging.

“What do we do?” Toni asked.

Dot, her solid, steady, friend since fucking youth soccer was silent.

“Dot, what do we do?”

“Dot, what the fuck do we do?”

———

Shelby finds her before school, Toni smoking like she hasn’t since ninth grade when Bernice gave her a stern lecture about lung cancer. It made Toni cry, actually. Not because it was so stern but because Martha and Toni had been separated for three years and Bernice still cared enough to get angry with her. She promised then and there to stop, and each drag she took now makes her feel like she’s committing treason.

“Smokin’ kills,” Shelby tells her, like they didn’t all go to Dot’s dad’s funeral last year.

Toni takes another drag, just to watch Shelby roll her eyes.

“How’d Martha’s date go last night?” Shelby asks.

Toni glares, “Seriously? You avoid me all year and now you’re asking about Martha’s date?” Shelby looks away. “It went fine. Whatever.”

“I just—I was surprised Marcus wrote that poem is all.”

“You literally said multiple times you thought it was him,” Toni says.

“I know, I know but—”

“Still holding out hope for Andrew?” Toni sneers. “Marcus may not be the sharpest tool in the shed but he cares about Martha. Even a fucking idiot could write a half decent poem if they had someone worth writing about.”

Shelby meets her eyes and Toni’s breath catches.

“Know a lot about poetry, Toni?”

Fuck fuck fuck.

Toni flicks the only half used cigarette away. “I have to go to class,” She says, aware it’s just about the worst thing she can do.

Shelby doesn’t even need the last word, she’s aware she’s already won.  

———

9.) she is so good. she is so good, and you cannot ruin one more good thing

It hadn’t been the first time Toni found her mom overdosed on the couch, but it’d been the most terrifying. Toni had waited in the school parking lot for a pick up for twenty minutes before Shelby had offered her a ride.

When they trooped inside, after having to use the key Tamera kept tucked away in a loose brick, her mom had been passed out on the couch. And the stupid thing had been that Toni had known her mom hadn’t been doing great. Like she’d known Tamera had lost her job, and was close to losing the car, that the pain in her back had been getting worse again from stress. Toni had known that.

But for some stupid, naive reason, Toni had never thought she’d pull this, go back to who she was.

Her tolerance was low, the doctors had told her, because she’d been clean for so long. She hadn’t realized it and had taken more than she could handle.

Shelby had taken the three of them to the hospital, helped carry Toni’s drooling mother into the ER, and held Toni’s hand until the other girls showed up, who she texted to come.

Shelby had been there when the police and social services came to talk to her about going back into foster care. Shelby had never left her side.

Toni couldn’t help but contrast that to the Shelby she saw now. The Shelby who showed up for senior year was barely christian, barely anything, just sort of blank and empty and waiting to grow up so she could have daughters that'd also wait to grow up so that they could have daughters that’d also wait to grow up so that they could have daughters that’d also

Shelby didn’t even look at her, for the first week of senior year she didn’t even look at Toni. She talked with Martha in that faux friendly way, she passed off on lunch invitations to do school work and Toni felt like she was going insane.

Sometimes she would just stare at the back of Shelby’s head in English class, writing whatever gibberish came to mind, and not listening to Mr. Williams at all. Just stare, for forty-five minutes, at a girl who wouldn’t even make eye contact, Toni’s pencil moving rapidly as she barely even glanced at the words her hands produced.

On the last day of the semester Toni finally looked away and came to two realizations:

a. Her mother was never getting better. Not really. b. Toni had written P E R U over forty times in her notebook.

As quietly as she could she tore the page out, and maybe about fifteen pages behind it, filled with similar drivel and recycled them at the end of class.

When the next semester started the seats were changed and something she’d written that she barely remembered was on the board.

Her mother was still in rehab.

———

Toni watches Marcus carry Martha’s backpack to class and watches as Martha giggles at him, argues with him. She is literally so happy it makes Toni’s heart burst.

“Shelby’s quite the matchmaker, huh?” Fatin asks.

Toni looks at her.

“Leah told me,” Fatin explains.

Toni rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, that’s what I said too,” Fatin says. “Leah’s good at noticing things but putting the pieces together is not her strong suit. So I called Dorothy.”

This makes Toni’s shoulders tense and Fatin wraps an arm around them.

“Dorothy didn’t want to talk but what she didn’t say was enough.” Fatin sighs, “I’m all for a little drama but this is cutting into my me time.”

“What going from twenty-four hours a day to twenty-three and a half?” Toni asks.

“God forbid,” Fatin nods sagely. “I didn’t know you could write.”

“I can’t.”

“Clearly not.”

Toni slips out from under her arm, and follows Martha into class. Mr. Williams glares as she comes in and Toni realizes if Marcus came clean to Martha he definitely came clean to Mr. Williams. At least the poem is off the board.

When he passes out papers from a recent essay her’s has a “see me after class” sticker that makes Toni slide down in her seat. Martha doesn’t even notice enough to give her an odd look because she and Shelby are yukking it up about the quarterback.

When everyone files out she hangs back and he looks at her, over his spectacles.

“I’m disappointed,” he says at last.

Toni scoffs.

“You write essays based off spark notes, you never participate, and half the time you don’t even do the homework. But you write this.” He slides the crumpled paper over his desk, her poem shining back at her. “So all I can conclude is that you’re lazy.”

Yeah, obviously.

“Why did you have Marcus tell everyone he wrote it?” Mr. Williams asks.

“So he could ask out Martha.”

“He didn’t need to have written the poem to do that,” Mr. Williams says.

“Can I go?” Toni asks.

“I want to submit this poem to a contest, I want you to start trying in this class, and this,” he hands her a slip of paper with about twenty sets of numbers on it, “is a list of Dickinson poems I want you to read by next week. Pick at least three to write me at least a page about. Single spaced.”

“What?” Toni asks, “You can’t make me do that.”

“I know half the kids in this class write off spark notes, I can easily have them all—including you—fail. So yes, yes I can actually.” He takes off his spectacles and Toni glares at him. “You’re a smart kid, Toni. You’ve got a talent for this.”

Toni shakes her head, “I’m a one hit wonder.”

“You know Britney Spears said the same thing after Baby One More Time.”

“That’s not true,” Toni says.

“Yeah,” Mr. Williams says. “Because she kept working at it.”

And Toni takes the slip of paper with the numbers on it, and marches to her next class and he watches her the whole way, not bothering to put on his stupid spectacles.

———

10.) you will not watch her crumble under the weight of your sins. she is too light, too breathless to be caught up in the dizziness of your heart

Dot didn’t invite them all to the funeral but they came anyway, even Shelby who Toni knew had been waffling back and forth.

Some of his army friends showed up, a doctor or two, and Mateo—the hot nurse Dot steadily ignored. It was a small and quiet service, and the seven of them sat towards the back, holding steady for her.

There was too much on Dot’s shoulders, there always had been, but she didn’t look any freer now that the burden was lifted. She just looked scared, small, and sad.

Toni couldn’t help but wonder if that was what she’d look like, if she got the call about her mom. It was a terribly selfish thought but who could blame her?

Shelby’s hands interlocked with hers, in broad daylight, and stayed there for the entire day. When Toni met her eyes she saw pure terror reflected back at her.

God, were they really only seventeen?

———

Rachel is complaining at lunch about owing Nora five bucks, how she was so sure some closet case wrote the poem but it’s no surprise Nora got it right.

Fatin and Leah don’t contribute and Martha probably wouldn’t have either except she was eating lunch with Marcus, they had found their own little table and were smiling at one another.

“They’re certainly cute together,” Shelby says, glancing back at Martha and Marcus.

“I say it’s weird they have the same name,” Rachel says.

“Says the girl who dated a guy named Raymond,” Nora says.

Rachel throws a straw wrapper at him, “That was a phase and you know it.”

“Marcus is sweet,” Shelby says. “If anyone deserves someone sweet it’s Martha.”

“Don’t you think he’s a little,” Leah trailed off and they all looked at her. “You know a little…”

“Spit it out, Leah,” Rachel says.

“Like the porch lights on but no one’s home?” Leah says.

“Martha is smart enough for the both of them,” Toni says. “And thank god because I was sick of doing his homework in quant lit.”

“That’s literally the easiest math class there is,” Fatin says and Toni shrugs.

“What’s that?” Shelby asks, pointing at the yellow slip sticking out of Toni’s binder.

“Some extra credit stuff, from Williams. Apparently I’m not doing so hot in that class,” Toni says.

Rachel leans way over from the other end of the table. “What is that, Dickinson?”

“It’s a list of numbers,” Shelby says. “Why would it be Dickinson?”

“All of Dickinson’s poems were numbered. It was only after she died that other people named them,” Nora says.

“And Nora said it so you know it’s true,” Rachel smirks.

“Join the fucking club,” Dot says to Toni. “I don’t know why y’all didn’t take non-honors English twelve with me. We just sit around and talk about whatever football game was on the most recently.”

“Well I’ve never liked football so.” Toni gets up, “I’ve gotta talk to my science teacher. I’ll see you guys after school.”

“I’ll go with you,” Shelby smiles and Toni clenches her jaw. “Ms. Roberts said I needed to rework my psych paper.”

“See you guys,” Rachel says and as they leave she’s arguing with Dot about why football is stupid and Toni can feel Fatin’s eyes on her all the way out.

———

reasons to kiss her

1.) she loves you, and her eyes are closed, and didnt your mother ever tell you not to leave a good thing waiting

Toni hated the magnet program kids at her middle school. Like everyone not in their cluster she found them annoying, rich, and privileged as fuck. They only hung out with each other and it was clear they’d never give—

———

“Toni?”

The stair well is empty, it’s the short cut through the language hallway and no one goes there during lunch.

Toni is working hard on ignoring Shelby but is forced to turn around when Shelby stops halfway up.

“Ms. Roberts doesn’t need me to rework my psych paper.”

Toni stares at her.

Shelby takes a step up, one step closer to Toni.

“I had hoped maybe you wrote it for Regan,” Shelby says.

“No such luck,” Toni croaks out.

“That’s a lot of reasons not to kiss someone,” Shelby says. “You’d think if you really shouldn’t kiss someone you’d only need the one.” She takes another step up, until they’re only separated by a few inches.

“I guess,” Toni says.

“Are you really gonna keep me waiting?” Shelby says.

Toni blinks, “You mean you still—”

“I have to do everything myself,” Shelby says.

She kisses her.

[may-b-a-u-shewritestoo]

Lady in Gold

It’s just a date at the Neue Galerie. That’s all it is, right?

Rating: M

Word count; 3,062

Warning/Includes: fluffy fluff, exhibitionism, slight choking, fingering, unprotected sex, slight breeding kink if you squint I guess?!

A satin tea dress, a mellow golden. It flowed to just below your knees, and it had been paired with nude block sandals. A simple yet elegant jewelled clip held a side of your hair back and you felt.. beautiful. This date had been planned for a while, he had said to meet him on the corner of 5th and 86th Street; you would look out for him, he would be in a brown suit. The night was young, the sun just beginning to set over the skyline. You’d wonder if he would be there earlier than you, or if he was barely going to come at all. These must be normal nerves, the churning feeling flowing around your stomach; it was just a date.

Clement and peaceful, the last streams of daylight laid upon your skin as you leant against a tree outside the building. Skimming your eyes against the array of people departing and arriving at the gallery; they finally landed on the tall figure ambling towards you. A soft smile, reflective aviator glasses and the brown suit. It was him. His own masterpiece, he gave a small wave as he grew closer. The faint scents of coconut, coffee and cologne overwhelmed your senses as you managed to stutter out a soft ‘Hi Matthew’.

‘Y/N hey! I’m glad you found this place okay, sometimes people end up on the wrong end of the mile.’ he exclaimed, waving behind him at the never ending street.

‘I’m that person, what should’ve been a 15 minute walk turned out a hell of a lot longer.’ you giggled out.

‘Well hey, we made it in time for the private slot, should we head inside?’ you nodded, and intertwined your arm around the one he held out for you. There was a way that he held you tightly against his side that felt as though you were fragile and he didn’t want you to fall and break. As he mentioned to one of the guards inside you were here for a private viewing, you couldn’t help but stare up at him with veneration. A king couldn’t hold the grace and charm he could.

You’d been meandering for a while, stopping to talk about Werkstätte accessories and admiring the vintage fashion. You were excited to get to the portraits. A favourite of yours was on display, Klimt’s portrait of Adele Bloch-Bauer. Filled to the brim with facts and knowledge on his art, there was a passion in your eyes as you tugged his arm towards the exhibition you’d been waiting for. Placing your clutch bag on a nearby seat you almost skipped up to the portrait.

‘Wow,’ you breathed out, ‘it’s even more beautiful than I imagined. The gold just hits different when it’s not on a phone screen huh.’

He stood behind you a few steps, observing and listening to your spirited words and facts. The way you vehemently expressed yourself started to get into his bloodstream, every time you said something new, turned to look back at him; goosebumps arose across his forearms and the back of his neck. He sauntered quietly and slowly closer to you, gently placing a hand on each of your hips. Inhaling abruptly, you didn’t stop exuding truths about the painting before you.

[[MORE]]

‘The painting was handed down to Adeles family members, but the Nazis stole it in 1941. After quite a long journey through multiple agencies, it was bought in 2006 and displayed. I’m literally speechless that it’s in front of me - ah!’ Matthew had pulled your hair to one side as you were speaking, slowly leaving open mouthed kisses to your exposed neck. His grip had tightened on your hips, subsequently beginning to run one hand up your body; the fingers coming up to grip your chin and turning your head to look back at him.

‘Do you know how beautiful you sound?’ he muttered, eyes travelling from your glossed lips up to meet yours. Maybe two centimetres between each set of lips and breath fanning against each other had changed the mood immediately. ‘It, uh, it really is my favourite piece. I could stay here and look at it - all- all night.’ Stumbling over your words, you kept your gaze on Matthew, as he lowered his hand a little; the slender yet gentle fingers contradicting themselves by squeezing the sides of your throat slightly.

‘I could say the same thing about you. This pretty dress, on such a pretty girl. I know which lady in gold I’d rather stare at.’ Smiling gently, he pulled you closer and pressed his lips against yours, breathing getting deeper when you whimper against his mouth.

Reaching your arm behind you to hold the back of his head, his other arm held you flush against him. It wasn’t dirty, it wasn’t rough; but it was a higher level of passionate that you wouldn’t usually show in such a public area. You wondered if there was a subtle message in Matthew reserving the museum for a private tour, instead of the romantic gesture it had seemed to be.

‘Was this your plan the whole time? To win me over with my favourite art and fuck me in the middle of the gallery?’ you breathed out, pushing back into him and curving your hips upwards into his. The satin of your dress was thin enough to feel the coarseness of his trousers and the cool metal of the belt holding them up. Matthew’s breath hitched beside your ear and he bit down on your lobe. Quickly clutching at your hips again, he ground his hips down into you and mustered out a small grunt at the contact. ‘I bet you’d like that huh? Already pushing up against me, needy little thing.’

The quiet moan that left your lips woke you up out of the sudden delirium you had fallen into, remembering where you were. ‘We’ll get into trouble.’ Matthew let out a condescending chuckle into your ear, a hand beginning to ruche the fabric upwards at the front of your dress. ‘Your body tells me you aren’t at all that worried, y/n. I bet you won’t feel as worried once I bring my fingers a little higher hm?’ He read your body language like a book. You were leaning into him, your hips bucking and following his hands. You were completely under his spell, entranced by the gentle but somehow rough feel of his fingers growing closer and closer to where you wanted him. Until he pulled them away.

‘No fuck please-‘ whining, you turned around to see why the sudden halt on his movements. He’d walked a few steps backward to the leather spectator couch in the middle of the room, sat down with legs spread; watching to see if you’d get the hint. ‘Come and sit on my lap baby. I want you to be comfortable when you’re talking.’ He smirked, knowing full well his actions were going to cause your brain to falter and words to fade away. Slowly walking towards him, you lifted your dress slightly to be able to straddle yourself across his lap; frowning when he spoke a stern, ‘no.’ He wiggled his finger in a circle, indicating he wanted you to face away from him.

Two could play at this teasing game.

Spinning around gently, you still lifted your dress before sitting down on him, giving him a slight peek of the white lace garments underneath. Judging by the way he pulled your hips down hard against him, you knew he saw the underwear. Leaning your back against his chest, he flopped his chin against your shoulder and gave a sweet peck on your cheek. All of these cute gestures couldn’t foreshadow the sheer vulgarity of what he was about to do; if there had been anyone in the room with you, they would’ve thought you two were adorable. He leant back, pulling you with him and the front of your dress up to mid-thigh. Trailing his fingers underneath the thin, yellow material, he ran his middle digit along your slit, feeling the damp patch that had formed on the even thinner lace. ‘I knew it. Filthy little slut. Was it me or Klimt who did this huh?’ he chuckled, gripping your hip when you tried to push against his finger. All you could let out was pathetic whines, and attempt to manoeuvre his finger inside you.

‘Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you sweetheart. You were spitting out facts a minute ago, where have all your words gone?’ he said, the condescending tone not helping your situation at all. ‘Please, I need, fuck, I need your fingers Matthew please.’ you begged, head falling back into his shoulder and hands gripping his arm that was around your waist. ‘Wow, you managed to ask so nicely too. Good girl.’ The sudden dominance he portrayed had you completely at his mercy, feeling nothing but a dull throbbing inside that you knew he could provoke. Stroking up and down your lips slightly to gather up your essence, he hooked his middle finger inside you so deep, so harshly you mewled out loudly; Matthew promptly covering your mouth and smiling into your hair. He nudged his index finger into you, curling the two together up against the spot that made your legs tighten around his wrist. He pulled them back open again and held them in that position, trusting you to be quiet. He wasn’t messing around; quick to thrust and curve his fingers upwards until your thighs began to shake against his arm. ‘Shit Matthew, i’m close already, please.’ you tried unsuccessfully to say it quietly, but the feeling he brought you came on so intensely you felt he needed warning. ‘Fuck yes, you’re so good to me. Letting me play with your pretty cunt right here in the open. Are you gonna come for me? I want you to fucking break baby. Come.’ He sped up his fingers, the wiggle of his fingertips against the spot, mixed with his palm grinding against your clit; the uncivilised words he growled into your ear had you gone. The hand returned to your mouth as you moaned and whimpered too loudly, bucking against his fingers, arching your back and gripping your fingernails into his legs as you came.

Matthew bit his lip and smiled into your neck as he drew out your orgasm, cock at its hardest as he felt your cunt tightening sporadically around his fingers. He needed you here and now. This beautiful woman spread across his lap, desperate and needy under his touch. How tight you got when you released onto his hand, the way you breathed out his name. If he could take you like that in this room, he’ll take you on his cock now too. Withdrawing his fingers from you and abruptly pushing them into you mouth, he pushed your hips forward a little so he could pull himself out of his trousers. You’d barely recovered from the intensity of the orgasm when you tasted yourself on your tongue, moaning around his fingers and curling your tongue around the tips. ‘Gonna take you right here baby, can’t wait anymore. Can you lift your dress a little higher for me?’ Trembling out a moan, you bunched your dress up around your hips, letting the spare material fall to the front so as not to expose yourself too much, which seemed ridiculous given the previous activity. ‘That’s it pretty girl. Sit yourself down on me, I want you to take as much as you can okay?’ the condescension had left his voice this time, his voice had become lower and exuded urgency.

Matthew lifted up your hips whilst you balanced your hands on his knees, bringing your legs together in between his. He grasped the base of his cock, pulling the lace to the side before coating himself in you. Pressing against your hole, wanting you to do the rest. You gasped as you glided down onto him, the lips parting and taking him in entirely. He was so thick and hard, you had to wiggle your hips side to side to fit him inside. ‘Shit, you’re so fucking big Matthew. Can’t take it all.’ He was just past halfway and already you felt so full. Matthew’s eyes had hooded and glazed over watching your pretty pussy taking him in, he ran a hand over your exposed cheek and gripped it tightly, pulling you down further.

‘Yes you fucking can, you can and you will. I know you can do it baby. Make me feel good, that’s it.’ You cried softly as he had you bear down completely on him. He was fully inside you, pushing against your cervix. It felt so good even just sitting still on him, let alone the pleasure it brought when you pulled up and back down again. His hands pushed and pulled you back and forth slowly and gently onto him, hitting special parts of you with every thrust. ‘Matthew please, please I just-‘ ‘Please what baby? Fuck-‘ ‘I just want you to fuck me properly please.’

He purred out a deep moan and laid back against the couch, you laid flat upon his chest again. He spread his legs a little more to give him leeway to fuck up into you easier, the pace at an allegro. Rolling his eyes back and biting his lip, he couldn’t get over the entire position you were both in. This wasn’t discreet anymore; no one could see where the two of your bodies met, but he was fucking up into you so hard, one arm wrapped tightly around your stomach, your head against his shoulder with the other hand covering your mouth. It was obvious this man was fucking this woman in the middle of an exhibition, in a gallery in New York. ‘God you feel so fucking tight around me, I can’t hold on much longer. You close for me?’ He sputtered out into your ear, looking at your face to see you nodding and eyes squeezed shut in pleasure. ‘Want you to rub that pretty clit for me, make yourself come on my cock. Use me, I’m all yours baby.’ he said through gritted teeth, growing closer and closer to just letting go. He wanted to feel those spasms around his cock before he did though. You held onto the hand over your mouth, and used your other hand to rub quick and hard circles on your clit, teetering on the edge. Tears began to line the brim of your eyes, everything becoming super overwhelming. Being fucked in front of your favourite painting, out in public, by the sexiest man you’d ever seen and felt, the strength of how he held onto you, pushed into you had you right there.

‘You’re right there baby, I can feel it. Let it fucking go for me, good girl, that’s it.’ The deep, raspy voice in your ear was all you needed to burst out in pleasure. You rubbed faster, matching his thrusts just as your body shuddered against his, your toes curling in the heels, your moans being muffled by his hand. ‘Fuck baby, that’s it, what a good fucking girl coming on my cock like this, you’re gonna make me fucking explode baby.’ Matthew grunted into your ear, bucking up harder but sloppily as he reached his peak. You pulled his hand away and turned to meet his eyes; his pupils dilated beyond belief, hair messy where you’d tugged on it before, lips swollen where he’d bitten them so hard trying to keep quiet. God he was so hot. ‘Come inside me Matthew, please. Come inside me, I’m yours to fill please, fuck I need to feel you like that please.’

Quiet but desperate moans and cries left his mouth once you begged him for his come, his hand gripping your face as he brought your lips to his, silencing himself as he spilled inside you. He hadn’t come this much in a while, but the way you told him you needed it brought it out of him. Your lips were pressed together so hard, more of a muzzle than a kiss. The feeling of him slightly spilling out of you made you involuntarily clench tighter, maybe a natural instinct to want to keep him where he belongs. Matthew slumped back, his head dropping onto the black leather. ‘Let’s hope this stays in hm?’ after a few minutes absorbing what you’d just done, you spoke quietly, slowly going to stand up off of him. Smiling lazily, he let out a hiss when his cock slid out of you, falling onto his stomach, still slick with the mixture of you both. Adjusting your underwear and smoothing out your dress, you watched as he tucked himself away, sitting himself up properly and running his hands through his hair. He grabbed your hands and pulled you to stand between his legs, eyes shining with love and admiration as he looked up at you. ‘You really are so beautiful, y/n. Nothing in this gallery compares to you.’ Matthew whispered, stroking his thumbs out across your hands. You blushed and lost eye contact for a second, gazing at the artwork sprawled across each wall.

‘Thank you. I think one thing could make me a lot more beautiful though.’ You smiled and glanced towards your bag. Matthew imitated your smirk and grabbed it, pulling out the two sets of rings inside. The two of you slotting them back where they belonged on each other’s hands, you kept a tight grip on Matthew’s hand as he stood up in front of you. Twiddling with the wedding rings on your finger, you looked up at him beaming. ‘Much better actually, Mrs Gubler. Let’s go grab something to eat?’ he held out his arm the same way he did walking you in, except this time it was mostly to aid you in walking because you were staggering a little.

As you passed the guard who’d let you both in, Matthew turned back towards him. ‘Thank you for helping us out tonight. Can officially say we crossed a few things off our date night list.’

Slapping his arm, you dragged him away blushing profusely. It left you thinking; What would the next date night entail?

[agentofscifi]

Super Genius Ch. 3

I march my way through the complex, ignoring the stares off all of the Avengers. My Dad is biting into a bagel as I stop next to him. He swallows quickly. “Happy Birthday Kiddo!”  

I feel my eye twitch. “Peter, Peni, Miles, Anya, and Gwen have all been bitten by radioactive spiders. MJ and Ned seem to be some sort of Superhero backup. Riri and Harley recreated your tech in garages. Are any of these kids normal?”  

My Dad flushes. “How’s you find out?”  

“Peter got surprised, jumped, landed on the ceiling and then stayed there! This is not normal!”  

My Dad opens and closes his mouth. “I can explain!”  

I raise an eyebrow. “Explain what? How every one of your new interns is either helping a superhero, is a superhero, or is on their way to being a Superhero? What is this, the Junior Avengers?”  

My Dad rolls his eyes. “I haven’t coined a name yet, and don’t you mean everyone but you?”  

I raise an eyebrow. “Maybe.” It didn’t matter as much now. My parents in France were told about me being Ladybug after I became the Guardian. The kids all already knew. Harley had looked in my bag for my charging cord last night only to find Tikki. This would be when Peter freaked out and got stuck on the ceiling. Giant talking bugs were not normal in New York, according to Peter. Either way, my superhero ID had already known to the rest of the kids.  

My Dad does a double take. “What does “maybe” mean?”  

I shrug. “Maybe means that I was given a pair of magical earrings with a tiny goddess that’s attached to them when I was 12 and that I’ve been fighting a magical terrorist for the past 3 years while in Paris.”  

Everyone is looking at me once again. My Father is blinking rapidly. “This is a joke, right?”  

Tikki suddenly pops up in the air next to me. “Hi, I’m Tikki! I’m the Ladybug Kawami.”  

A disheveled Clint looks up from his cup of coffee before slowly grabbing a newspaper and rolling it up. “Stark, don’t move. There’s a giant floating bug.”  

I reach forward and snatch the newspaper from his hand. “She’s a goddess.”  

Clint closes his eyes slowly. “So, no huge bug bites from the giant floating bug goddess?”  

I resist the urge to facepalm. “No, there won’t be any bug bites. Drink your coffee.” Clint nods and slowly starts to sip on his coffee again.  

My Dad clears his throat. “Magical terrorist?”  

“Who uses evil butterflies to possess people.”  

My Dad stares at me then looks to the ceiling. “FRIDAY? Is my daughter on drugs?”  

“No, Mr. Stark. Further research has turned up a few blogs and news articles speaking of Ladybug, Chat Noir, and several other heroes fighting a Hawkmoth and Mayura.”  

My Dad furrows his brow. “Is Paris on drugs?”  

I roll my eyes. “No, Dad. This is not the point. Are you, or are you not, starting some kind of Junior Justice League?”  

My father gives me a playful glare. “Mari, you know me. I’m just mentoring.”  

“So you are starting a Junior Justice League.” I throw my hands into the air. “You have got to be kidding me!”  

“Marinette!” My Dad is whining now, like a child.  

I roll my eyes and decide to skip out on the rest of my questions involving my Father’s collection of teenage superheroes. “Dinner with Pepper, Rodney, and Happy tonight?”  

He smiles. “Of course, at your favorite restaurant!”  

I peak him on the cheek. “Love you Dad!” I twist around on my heels and hit the button for the elevator.  

Sam blinks as I step into the elevator. Tikki waves at Sam, who hesitantly waves back. “What’s with the floating giant bug in the elevator?”  

“The tiny goddess attached to Tony’s kid’s earrings that she used to fight a magical terrorist in France that’s possessing people with butterflies.” Natasha leans back in her seat, sipping on a cup of coffee.  

Sam rubs his eyes and looks back at Tikki, who is still waving cheekily. “I’m going back to bed.”  

The elevator door closes as Sam turns back around to go to bed.  

A few seconds later I end up back in the Teen living room. Harley looks up as I walk back in. “So, are we the Junior Justice League?”  

“Yup. You guys ready for today?”  

Ned briefly throws his hands up in the air. “5 Days of Star Wars in less than 24 hours!”  

MJ rolls her eyes as she finishes up the shopping list. “It’s 7 days Ned. We need to sleep.”  

“Sleep is for the weak!” Peni sitting on top of her robot, her spider resting on her shoulder.  

Anya sighs and runs a hand over her face. “I cannot believe I am doing this.”  

My mouth splits wide open. “Doing what Anya? Adding an AI to the Avengers Tower, freeing ourselves of the Baby Monitors, and rebelling form the man upstairs.”  

Gwen looks over the back of the couch with a raised eyebrow. “Is the man your father?”  

“Yes and if he was in my shoes, he’d be doing the exact same thing.”  

Gwen shrugs. “Probably.”  

“I’m sorry!” Peter looks around at all of us. “Are we all just going to go with the tiny goddess living in our...apartment, the girl with magical earrings, and the terrorist in Paris with magical butterflies possessing people?”  

“Peter,” Miles looks up from the sketch book in his hand. “There's a wizard with a semi-sentiate cape living in New York. The tiny goddess makes more sense than the cape. The evil butterflies, I’ll give you that. That’s just weird.”  

I click my tongue. “Says the kid who developed invisibility after being bitten by a spider. That’s weird.”  

Miles holds his hands up. “Agree to disagree.” He reaches down and holds up his paper. It was done in colored pencil, but was drawn as if it was spray painted. It was a large yin-yang symbol, however, a spider sat in the Yin circle of the Yang side and the arc reactor symbol sat in the Yang circle of the Yin side. “What do you think?”  

“I think we need to add spray paint to the shopping list. We have our symbol of rebellion.”  

Harley shrugs again. “Or the symbol of our Junior Avengers?”  

Riri glares up at Harley. “Way to ruin the moment, country boy.”  

Back in Paris  

Lila’s POV  

Alya squeals as Miss. Bustier smiles before the collection of students. Technically, Lycée was out for the year, but after months of fundraising and paperwork, the Akuma Class of Lycée Françoise Dupont was attending the International Technology Showcase in Washington D.C. in 2 months. A sizable anonymous donation was sent to the school. I had already spun a story telling all of my sheep that Tony Stark sent the money so that we could see the Showcase in D.C.  

Max had already planned on attending the showcase this summer, as he was showing off a computer program of his. With the announcement that the school would be covering the rest of the trip, several other students in the class were considering adding their own inventions to the showcase. I would have to whip something up and then maybe I’d be able to catch the eye of someone at the showcase. Science wasn’t where I wanted to end up, but winning some award at a huge competition for a bunch of nerds would look great on my portfolio.  

I give a loud sigh. “This sounds great, but unfortunately, my designs went missing. I had this amazing idea that I worked out with Tony Stark. The equations and blueprints disappeared out of my bag on the last day of school.” 3, 2, 1, and!  

Alya gasps. “I bet it was Marinette, just like your laptop Lila!”  

“Did you ever go to the police, Lila?” Rose is giving me one of those obnoxious smiles.  

“I tried, but since I didn’t have any proof, they said they couldn’t do much. Marinette must have reset the tablet.” I give a few sniffs as the class tries to comfort me.  

“You know, I bet if we told Marinette’s parents they’d believe us!” Alya stands up from the benches just outside the school. “I bet they’ll force Marientte to give back Lila’s laptop.”  

A brief wave of shock rolls over me. That was something I hadn’t considered yet, turning Ms. Goodie-Tooshoe’s parents against her. The iPad idea might not work alone, but with all the other stories I had made up, I could probably convince them. “Well, if you think it’s the best thing to do.”  

The whole class makes their way over to the bakery, Alya at the lead. I let the class escort me over, as if I didn’t want to be bothering the two bakers.  

Alya slams open the front door, the bell’s ring catching the attention of the two people behind the register, as well as the woman attempting to order. Both of Marientte’s parents give the class smiles, however, they seem hesitant. “Hello kids,” Marinette’s mother waves to us. “I’ll be with you in a second.”  

Alya, instead, marches her way towards the counter and pushes the woman aside. “Mrs. Dupain-Cheng, we have something important to talk to you about!”  

Said woman’s smile falls instantly as the other woman rubs her side. I immediately knew this wouldn’t go to plan. I’d have to adapt to get things my way. “Alya, I’m with a customer. It will have to wait a few minutes.”  

Alya rolls her eyes. “This is more important. Where’s Marinette?”  

Mrs. Dupain-Cheng crosses her arms over her chest. “Marinette isn’t here. What is this all about?”  

“Mari’s been bullying Lila!” Alya points back to me and I give a small wave. “She’s stolen things from her, called her a liar, has sent mean texts, and just a few days ago, she took Lila’s iPad and some tech plans Lila worked out with Tony Stark.”  

Marinette’s parents share a look before her mother bursts out laughing. Alya rears back her head in shock and I can’t even hide my surprise. Mrs. Dupain-Cheng looks back at us. “Marinette didn’t steal any tech plans. She doesn’t need to.”  

Alya opens and closes her mouth a few times. “What! Of course she does! She’s a complete scatterbrain.”  

Mrs. Dupain-Cheng’s eyes darken. “My daughter skipped a year of school and still had the best grades in your class, hell, in your year. She managed to have these top grades while juggling her class’ work, class representative duties and all of your outrageous requests that were usual last minute and always free.”  

Several of my classmates are red or pale after those words. This was not going my way at all. I give Marinette’s mother a big smile. “Well, that’s what friends do, they help each other.”  

Mrs. Dupain-Cheng raises an eyebrow. “Right. I suppose this is why my daughter spent countless nights and hundreds of euros on fabrics for commission she was never paid for. Or, why Marinette was told she’d be babysitting three little kids for free while their older siblings went on dates with the money their parents gave them for babysitting. Or why she was told she was being selfish everytime she tried to ask for help.”  

I let my smile fall. This was not going to plan at all. “She stole things from Lila!” Alya has a look of disbelief on her face. “She stole important work. So what if Marinette’s a year ahead. Max still has way better grades than her. You’ll see next year when we restart classes.”   

Max’s chest puffs out in pride. I have to stop myself from rolling my eyes. Mrs. Dupain-Cheng just raises an eyebrow. “Go to the police then, if my daughter has stolen something. As for next year, Marinette graduated Lycée last week after years of working ahead. She’s attending MIT in the fall.”  

This could not be happening. Adrien looks at Marinette’s mother with shocked eyes. “Why didn’t she tell us?”  

At the same time Alya screams. “What!”  

The eyebrow is raised even high. “Because you told my daughter that you weren’t friends with her anymore. Now, you had barged into my shop, pushed a client, and rudely interrupted a sale. Please leave!”  

“But-”  

“Now!” The class scurried out the door, me along with them. Marinette’s mother looked truly angry.  

We all stand outside the shop, several of my sheep looking completely confused. Since when was Ms. Goodie-Goodie smart enough to graduate two years early?  

I huff and I slowly make my way up the staircase of the Dupain-Cheng home. I need something for this showcase and if Marientte is as smart as her mother says she is, then she’d have something. I managed to pick the lock of the bakery and make my way up to the attic that Marinette called a room.  

It was bare. That was the best way to describe the room. All of the walls were empty of decorations. The desk had nothing on it either. All that was left was the basic furniture and the sheets on the bed. I try all of the desk drawers and even under the bed, nothing. Then, I remember it the board Alya told me about. The schedule of Adrien’s that Marinette had kept.  

I rooted around at the edge of the bed until I found it. The edge of the board. Smiling, I pull it all the way down. It was several layers of plans on top of each other. There were details about several apps, some green projects and well as some super resistant fabric for firefighters. What really caught my eye was the equations and blue prints for a small device that would wirelessly charge any device in a 50 radius. I snap photos of all layers of plans. If I could get this stuff out there, I could make thousands, and all with the help of Marinette. The only issue would be if Marinette came after me for stealing her work. Who was I kidding, that wouldn’t be an issue. I’d just shed some tears and tell everyone about Marinette’s bullying. I had school records to back me up. It’s not like anyone would believe her if she said she did the work.  

New York City

Marinette’s POV

I click my tongue as a notification pops up on my phone. After Chloe had broken into my room I’d set up security cameras and motion sensor alerts in case anyone else tried something. A good idea seeing as Lila was currently picking at things in my room. I raise an eyebrow as she pulls down my chart and starts to take photos of my inventions on there.  

“Everything alright?” Riri stops at shoulder and looks over at the phone. “What is she doing?”  

“She is taking photos of my ideas. The coding for a few apps, blueprints for some green energy things, the information required for my super resistant firefighter fabric and an invention I got a patent back on last week. It goes on sale in a month with Stark Industries.”  

“Cool. How does she expect to get away with this?”   

“Didn’t you hear!” I pick up an overly fake fangirl tone of voice. “It’s Lila Rossi! She’s Ladybug’s best friend, she saved Jagged Stone’s kitten, she does all kinds of environmental charities with Prince Ali, she helps the Avengers and all while having arthritis, sprained ankles and wrists, and tinnitus that switches ears every few hours.”  

Peter stops in the middle of the living room, a look of complete confusion on his face. “I thought Jagged Stone had a crocodile?”  

“He does Peter.”  

“Since when does Tinnitus switch ears?” Peter is still confused.  

“Since she saved Jagged Stone’s cat from an airplane.”  

Harley snorts from the edge of the kitchen. “This sounds like fantasy.”  

I groan. “You’d think, but my class all believes her. Max made a freaking A.I robot, with emotions, but believes that a paper napkin could cut his eye. He wears glasses.”  

“What did Hawkmoth lower your class’ IQs or something?” Anya settles down into the nest we had made in the past hour.  

“A leading theory.”  

The phone rings with a facetime request. I hit the accept button and my father’s face pops up with a stack of papers in his hands. “What is this?”  

I raise an eyebrow. “You got our declaration of independence.”  

My father looks unimpressed. “What is this?”  

Riri is grinning next to me. “Our declaration of independence.”  

“What does that mean?” I can’t but laugh at the confused expression on my Dad’s face.   

Harley pops up on my other shoulder. “No baby monitoring protocols!”  

“Junk food all day!” Miles yells from his spot.  

“No bedtime!” Peni is cheering. Sometimes I forget how young she is.  

There’s laughing in the background from my father’s end. “Tony, are the kids beating you up?” I recognize Bucky’s voice in the background.  

My father ignores the comment. “How did you block FRIDAY?”  

“Simple, I added in my own AI. I left the backdoor open years ago.”  

“You have an AI?” My father’s face is torn between confusion and pride.  

“JADA. Junior Avengers Defying Adults.”  

“Mari!” My Dad is whining again.  

“You have 5-6 days to review our Declaration, we will be occupied during this time. We have a lawyer, for the record.”  

“Do I want to know what you’ll be doing?”  

“Star Wars marathon. All 12 movies, along with all 7 seasons of Clone Wars, the first season of the Bad Batch, all 4 seasons of Rebels, and the two seasons of The Mandalorian. If we don’t sleep, it’s roughly 7711 minutes of Star Wars, which is 128 hours and 31 minutes or 5 days and eight hours. So, when you see us again is entirely dependent on how long we can go without sleep.”  

“I worry about you sometimes.”  

“ I’ve got to go. Ned just put in the first film.”

“Just one question. What is on the floor behind you?”  

I looked over my shoulder at the nest that had been put together over the past hour. Riri was settling into her spot. “That’s 6 mattresses, 19 blankets, and about a dozen pillows.”  

“Why?”  

“Couches are boring.”  

“Ok, now I’m worried about all of you.”  

“Goodbye Dad!”

Before ~~~~~~ Next

[rmnamjoons]

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.

[lilyharvord]

i need some marecal fluff please help

hehe, ask and ye shall receive. Here, have some older Marecal. (((: 

Grace 

I don’t remember when I stopped looking like myself.

Maybe it was after Coriane. I’m doubtful of that conclusion. She was a tiny baby, and I had bounced back into my uniforms at a pace that Farley had grumbled about for months. I was convinced that I would be able replicate the process almost five years later. My pregnancy with Shade had been a whole different beast though.

It had to be after Shade then.

I turn to the side, and twist my lips at my image in the mirror. No amount of training had been able to remove that pouch between my hips. Nothing could get rid of those stretch marks that crept up the sides of my stomach either. Sara had told me they were beautiful when I mentioned quietly how I felt about them. They’re a testament that you carried two babies in there, and they’re a reminder of that wonderful process, she had told me as she spooned applesauce into her second son’s mouth. She had adopted him out of a war torn Piedmont family, and she adored him as if he came from her own body.

I didn’t need reminders of that process. I had two reminders already, running and shrieking in my house, waking me up at ungodly hours by tapping on my cheek, or driving me up the wall with their antics. I was fine with just having that, I didn’t need the reminder on my body too.

I just didn’t look like myself anymore.

Running a scrutinizing eye over the rest of my body, I feel my lips pull down into an even deeper frown at what I see. My hips are wider than I remember them being a few years ago, and my breasts are definitely two different sizes. I blame Shade and Coriane for that. My son had refused to stop nursing, and my daughter had been terrible at nursing in general. I have more scars than I remember, and those thick branching ones on my back seem to get a little wider every month.

Mare Barrow of the Stilts would be shocked to know what her body would like at 35. She knew she might look like her mother someday, thin and wispy, with a little more chipping off like old paint every day. She probably hadn’t pictured what would happen after countless battle injuries, living more comfortably than she even could have imagined, and two children though. I bet if I went back in time to tell her what she would become, who she would become, she would laugh in my face and spit at my eye sometime between throwing insults.

“Mommy.”

Snapping my robe closed with my heart pounding in embarrassment, I glance over my shoulder to spot one part of my musings. Standing there trying to do his little tie, Shade shows me his tangled up fingers with a pout.

I chuckle softly at his expression and beckon him to me. He hurries across my bedroom so I can crouch down in front of him and untangle his hands.

“Why didn’t dad help you with this?”


“He’s busy on a call from uncle Kilorn. I told him I could do it myself.”


“Uh huh.” I nod with mock seriousness as I start the knot over. He’s only seven, but he’s got an independent streak that puts him in some tight spots that Cal and I have to rescue him from more often than not. He watches my hands with narrowed eyes as I work, probably trying to memorize the movements. When I finish, I ask, “What is Cori doing?”

“She’s done getting ready. She’s in the family room reading.” Shade shrugs as I tighten the knot just a smidge more and adjust the collar of his little suit jacket.

“Did she brush her hair?”


“I dunno.”

“Does her hair look like a lion’s mane?” I tease and he throws his hands over his mouth to hide his smirk, his only tell when he lies. At least he inherited his father’s complete inability to lie. Coriane on the other hand could lie her way to the moon if she wanted, and I blame my parenting for that. I taught her young how to get out of things, I regret that now.

“Did she tell you to lie to mommy and say she brushed her hair?”

He shakes his head quickly but doesn’t take his hands away from his mouth. Raising my brow at him, I wait for him to break completely.

He sits in silence, his eyes darting left and right. Eventually I notice his face progressively getting redder and redder.

“You can’t hold your breath and pass out to get out of this.” I snort before rising from my crouch, deciding to let him off the hook. I hear his rapid exhale and inhale as I leave my room and head downstairs.

Sure enough, my daughter is curled up in the window seat, her nose buried in a book. She’s dressed in the nice pants and shirt Gisa made for this occasion. Unfortunately, her hair is hastily tied back into a ponytail. It looks more like a bush attached to the back of her head than hair.

“What have we talked about?” I ask her as I approach. Her shoulders pull up to her ears at the sound of my voice, and she glances at me with a sheepish smile.

“I’m almost done though; can’t I just finish?”

“We’re going to be late if you don’t get your butt upstairs and brush your hair.” I admonish, as I hold my hand out for the book. Her face falls, before it shifts dramatically into that pleading face she knows gets her anything she wants.

“Just one more chapter? Pleeeeeeeaaaase?” She bats the thick, long lashes she got from Cal and although a part of me still melts at the sight, I’ve learned my lesson. Give her rope, and she’ll walk for miles.

“No, no more one chapter. You stayed up until two reading.” She blushes red, and she opens her mouth to refute my words. “Don’t even try. Dad went to bed then and saw the light on in your room.”

Her lips twist to the side, and she chapters her book off before handing it to me, begrudged. I take it as she slides out of the window box, a knowing smile touching my lips. Giving her a little nudge between her shoulders blades when she hesitates and gazes longingly back at the book, I say, “You can have it back at the dinner tonight. And I’ll even let you bring a second book to start.”

Her eyes light up and she takes off, her feet pounding on the stairs as she goes. Setting that book down on the side table, I follow her. As I enter the hallway, I can hear Shade in her room, chattering away. I can almost picture the layout of her room perfectly. He’s perched on her bed, kicking his heels and playing with the fringe on her blanket. Coriane sits at her little vanity, brushing her hair so quickly she’s probably pulling it out in chunks, while nodding along to whatever he says.

My children remind me so much of Shade and myself that it makes my chest ache somedays. I’m sure it reminds Cal of Maven too. We have yet to truly discuss that with our children. I wonder if I’ll be able to tell them what truly happened. We’d have to do it sooner rather than later though. Coriane is starting higher school soon, and when she does, her history classes will start to turn toward the Nortian Civil war. She’ll need to understand what the names on those pages mean.

I pass my bedroom, and lightly knock on the ajar office door. Cal’s eyes dart up from the papers in his hand when I open it further and stick my head in. I give him a fake smile and hold my hand up to tap my wrist. He rolls his eyes and gestures to the phone he’s balancing in his ear. Huffing at that, I storm across the room before pulling it away from him.

Pressing the receiver to my ear, I try to ignore the look Cal throws my direction. “Kilorn, the speech sounds fine. You’ve had ten different people read it, including me.” I glower at Cal then, who simply shrugs in response. “Now if you don’t mind, I do need to steal my husband so that he can handle our children because I’m not dressed yet, and I don’t plan to be late to my best friend’s inauguration.”

Kilorn is quiet on the other end before saying, “It’s going to be good right? I’m not going to sound too… wishy washy?”

“If you sounded wishy washy, I wouldn’t have voted for you. I’m hanging up now, we’ll see you at the ceremony.” I press the receiver down before he can reply and drag a hand down my face.

“You gave him a much needed confidence boost there.” Cal teases as he sets Kilorn’s speech aside and rises from the chair. His shirt is still unbuttoned, and he’s missing his jacket. I grab at the shirt and start buttoning it up, ignoring the teasing smile he gives me when my cheeks flush slightly.

“You should have done exactly what I did and then helped Shade with his tie. He got his fingers all tangled up.” I admonish before patting the finished buttoned-up product. He tilts his head down to smile before sliding his fingers under my chin and lifting my head a bit more. “Plus, I had to corral Coriane who definitely did not put her conditioner in last night, so we’re going to have to deal with that mess before we leave.”

“They’re going to look fine. Besides, no one is going to be looking at us. This is all about Kilorn today.” He murmurs before pressing a light kiss to the tip of my nose.

I sigh in exasperation at his words. “People will look, they always look.”

“And we’re going to look just fine.” He presses one kiss to my temple, and then turns my head to press one on the other side.

“You’ll like fine; you always look fine.” I close my eyes at the feather light touches, melting just a bit.

A kiss gets pressed to one of my eyelids. “You are always the most beautiful woman at these things, you know that.” Another kiss lands on my other eye. I scrunch up my nose in distaste and open my eyes. He slowly pulls away to tuck my hair behind my ear in response.

Sliding a hand around my waist he pulls me up so that our bodies are flushed against each other. He hasn’t changed much over the years. At 38 he still looks like he’s pushing 24. All those good silver genes that have been passed through the generations. There are laugh lines starting to cut around his mouth, but that’s hardly a fault. I hope Shade ages like him. I don’t have to worry about Coriane, she looked like Cal the day she was born, and she’ll look like him for the rest of her life. She has the same amber eyes, and the same jet black hair. My features are hidden, but they’re there. In the shape of her nose, the hint of honey brown in her hair, and her smaller size. Everything else is her father though.

He guides my arms up to wrap around his neck before sliding his hands down my body to rest on my waist. With a smile that has always coaxed me back into bed on mornings when our children are still sleeping, he whispers, “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, and will ever see.”

“Now your pushing it.” I grumble as I try to escape his embrace. He pulls me up against him though so that I have no hope of getting away, and presses a kiss into the hollow below my ear. My eyes close involuntarily and my mouth falls open in a soft exhale at the sensation.

He presses another kiss against my neck and breathes against my skin. “You are, and always will be.”

I can feel my entire body responding to him. Damn, if he’s not careful I’m going to drag him down the hall to deal with this properly. We’ll definitely be late to the inauguration then.

“You know I’m not who I was when you first fell in love with me,” I whisper that thought quietly against his jaw. It had been nagging at me for days, and this morning it had really come to the fore as I stood in front of the mirror. He could say I was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen all he liked, but that didn’t mean I had to believe it.

His hands trail along my back and he whispers into my hair, “And I’m not the same either. It doesn’t change anything.”

“Don’t lie. We both you know look the exact same as you did when we first met.” I grumble, earning a little laugh from him.

“Do not. Besides, what does it matter what you look like now?” He pulls away enough to bring a hand up and trace his thumb along my lower lip. With another gentle smile he tips my chin down to press a kiss to the space between my brows. “You’ve brought two beautiful children into the world, and that still hasn’t stopped you from running head first into battle. You are still the force nature I feel in love with.”

I can’t help the smile that creeps to my lips as he presses soft kisses down the ridge of my nose. When he reaches my lips, I hug my arms a little tighter around his neck. “Careful, if you keep talking like this it might be three children.”

His eyes light up, and he presses the ghost of a kiss against my lips. “I would not be opposed.”

“Ew.”

I pull away from the actual kiss to glance over my shoulder with a light laugh. Shade stands in the doorway with his sister, looking every bit as disgusted as he sounds. He makes a face and pretends to gag in the hallway. Even Coriane looks a tad more disgusted than usual. Her lips twist to the side as she looks at us. “Are you two going to make out? Cause that’s gross.”

“Bleh.” Shade makes another pretend gag sound in the hallway.

“It’s hardy bleh.” Cal teases before sweeping me to the side and into a dip. “Your mother is beautiful and I plan to kiss her as long as I can.” I gasp at the sensation of falling backwards before smirking as he presses another kiss to my lips.

“Gross!”

“Yuck!”

“You guys are so gross!”

“Yuck, yuck, yuck!” They sprint down the hallway on the tail end of Shade’s words, both of them making gagging sounds that were comical no matter how unreal they sounded.

“That certainly got rid of them.” Cal smirks as he pulls me back up to my feet. I smack his shoulder playfully in response.

“If they heard what I said, I am not going to deal with the fallout of that.” I adjust my robe that had fallen open slightly and push my hair into some resemblance of order.

“I’m sure they know where babies come from by now, Mare. Coriane is twelve, and kids talk.” He passes by me, but not before hooking the top of my robe and pulling it away from my shoulder to press an open mouthed kiss there. I push his face away and wrestle my robe closed.

“Later, you pain in the ass.” I tease at his back. He doesn’t even give me a response. Instead, he calls down the hallway for the kids, already telling Coriane to get in the bathroom so they can fix whatever else she’s done with her hair. I hear Shade shriek with laughter a heartbeat later which means he must have chased him and caught him.

Smirking, I slip out of the office and close the door behind me. Immediately I can hear Coriane in the bathroom whining that there’s too much conditioner, which Shade immediately laughs about too. Pacing along the wall, I glance over the pictures we have hanging there. Tracing the one of Coriane holding Shade the day he was born, I let my fingers hover over that one the longest.

Another loud protest from Coriane draws my attention back to the bathroom and I glance inside at the scene before leaning against the doorway. Coriane pouts at her reflection while Shade perches on the edge of the bathtub watching the whole thing. Cal continues to thread his fingers through our daughter’s hair through her protests, taming the curls as best as possible. Even when his fingers get caught on a particularly nasty knot and she pulls an ugly face that makes Shade howl with laughter.

Yes, Mare Barrow from the Stilts definitely wouldn’t have been able to guess that this is what she would be watching on a spring day in her future. But in some ways, it’s better than anything she could have imagined.

[casmybelovedass]

The Destiel Folder: Season 8

[Season 4; Season 5; Season 6; Season 7]

Oooohhh this is where things start getting JUICY

Episode 1:

Again, Dean copes with the idea of Cas not being there by lying to himself

Parallel from S6: Dean behaves exactly like he was while looking for Lisa and Ben, looking for Cas. "Where's the angel!" (16:57)

Dean clearly states he won't leave PurGAYtory without Cas (22:45)

Episode 2:

Since Dean has come back, he has been snappy with Sam and Crowley about Cas, but every time he remembers PurGAYtory, he is either looking for Cas or with him, and that's all he thinks of

Again with the paraparallels with Lisa and Ben (12:21), also "You'll find your angel there." (13:19) ICWAW, come on, do I have to point that out?

"There are some in Heaven who still believe, despite his mistakes, that Castiel's heart was always in the right place [...] I think... too much heart was always Castiel's problem." (22:25) Samandriel says all of this while looking directly at Dean

Look at that hug. Have we ever seen Dean hug Cas before? The gring on Dean's face. [This is so fucking funny too me, the "Nice peach fuzz" reaction to Cas' beard VS the Sam's "That's the most disgusting thing I've ever seen!" reaction in season 14] (23:21)

"I prayed to you, Cas, every night!" (24:37) Cas once again chose to leave/hurt Dean in order to protect him, even tho he really doesn't want to leave him. "There've been things hunting me. [...] I've a price on my head and I've been trying to stay one step ahead of them to... to keep them away from you." (24:54) Those fucking eyes kill me

Dean is willing to risk it all to get Cas out with him. "Cas, buddy... I need you." [yeah, let's see how well that ages on episode 17], also the little "Dean... " after that... BABIES (25:33)

That smile, those eyes... LOOK AT HIM. This is such a "You and me against everything" moment that, ICWAW, would be considered HELLA ROMANTIC

"I'm not leaving here without you. Understand?" (25:51) for fucking finally, also 12 seconds of STARE + LICK of the LIPS action. Oooohhh ICWAW... just imagine

Let us remember that all of this ⬆️, Dean remembers after Samandriel told him "too much heart bla bla bla"

"... [Kevin] thinks people I don't need anymore, they end up dead." (40:36) 'you', Dean? Only you? That's so much guilt you are packing. And immediately after he thinks about trying to save Cas from PurGAYtory and failing... Alrighty then

Episode 5:

I get why some people ship Dean and Benny, but they really do struck me as a bromance. When they call each other "brother", I believe that. With Cas, Dean pulls the "brother card" whenever he's opening his heart to him, basically "no-homo"ing it at the end. Weird right? (12:03)

Benny bitches about Cas being a danger to them because of the attraction monsters have to him, and Cas himself tries convincing Dean he has to leave him behind for his own good, but Dean is having none of that shit and is ready to die trying to save him (12:56)

FUCK MY LIFE we are getting flashbacks from both Sam and Dean, Sam about the time he spent with Amelia, and Dean about looking for, finding and trying to save Cas. I MEAN??!!! ICWAW you BET this would be seen as a ROMANTIC PARALLEL

"He's a friend." "A friend? Dean, you don't have any- all your friends are dead." "That's not what I called to talk about!!" Ouch (25:27)

Episode 6:

"I was in Purgatory." "Like 'purgatory' Purgatory?" "No, the one in Miami." ... that's a gay bar, Dean, how would you know? (11:23)

Dean's lying to himself about Cas letting go (35:32)

Episode 7:

Parallel to S1 Sam seeing Jess while in the car (2:31). Kill me. Also Dean allucinates Cas just like Sam did with Jess (10:15) band tries coping with it by repeating to himself that he didn't leave Cas behind

Every scene in Purgatory where Cas tries to reassure Dean that, if he doesn't make it, it's just the way it is, and Dean insisting he won't leave without him. "I'm just saying... if it doesn't work.. Thank you. For everything." (12:50) I'm dying

Cas comes back and all Dean does for the first few moments is check him out (16:16-16:21) He says he kept trying to reach for the boys, but wasn't at full power, tho somehow Dean was the only one who could see him. And Dean's eyes looking back at Cas (17:58) End me now

FUCKING👏BONER👏SHIFT👏 (20:38)

LOOK AT HIM!! He's checking him out, making THAT face and SHIFTING IN HIS SEAT WHILE PRESSING A HAND TO HIS CROTCH. THAT'S A BONER SHIFT. Look at Sam and then at Dean (20:44) One is a friendly fond reaction, one ISN'T.

ICWAW, we wouldn't even be QUESTIONING it!

The amount of checking out in this episode is crazy. Look at Dean checking out Cas. Look at his face! THE EYES (24:08) ICWA- OH COME ON DO I HAVE TO POINT THAT OUT?!

"Did you not trust me?" "Dean..." "I did everything I could to get you out. Everything! ... I did not leave you." "... So you think this was your fault?" OH MY GOD SO FUCKING #MARRIED LOOK AT CAS' EYES (28:06) ICWA- I'm not even trying anymore

So many soft shoulder touches (34:42) also HOT SCENE I don't know why "I'm going in." "Cas, no. You're not strong enough." (35:15) precious babies

"You could've gotten yourself killed. Why didn't you wait for me?" "Well, I didn't get killed, and it worked." "And if it didn't?!" "It would have been my problem." "Well, it's not the way I see it!" (37:36) #MARRIED they're SO MARRIED

Dean keeps blaming himself for Cas not getting out "I don't need to feel like hell for failing you like I've failed every other godforsaken thing I care about." SEE??! (38:16) Dean preferred believing he had let Cas down, something he is used to, than he had sacrified himself for him (38:48). Dean can't believe Cas thought he deserved to stay in Purgatory. Also THE WAY THEY'RE LOOKING AT EACH OTHER (39:38) And Dean's deeply hurt by the fact that Cas would leave him to safety and remain in Purgatory as self punishment for what Dean had painted as all Cas' fault. And he is full of regret (41:30)

Episode 8:

[How fucking cute is it that Cas wants to become a hunter. I'M SQUEELING]

They are so #MARRIED my heart ACHES (5:02) and the way Dean looks at Cas is so fucking SOFT. And 6 seconds of just staring and... well, Cas in general (5:13)

"What? I was being bad cop." "No, you were being bad everything!" (9:12) #MARRIED (12:04) I'm dying, they're so cute

"I don't sleep." "Okay, well, I need my 4 hours, so-" "I'll watch over you *puppy eyes*" (12:52)

"Hey, can you lift this?" sure, Dean, every excuse is valid to have Cas be hot by effortlessly moving an anvil. And see how Cas looks at Dean, like "Really? You even had to ask? I'll fucking show you I can lift this shit". Look at how he looks back side-eyes at Dean here (14:16), like he's making sure Dean is watching him being hot. I'm dead

This is such a fucking sweet moment [I mean, kinda looked like the begging of a porn at first] (16:01). Dean can sense Cas is not okay, and gets him to open up about his feelings. And when Cas admits being suicidal, Dean is speechless, not even being able to imagine such an outcome. Anyway, it is so fucking sweet that they're always able to show themselves vulnerable to each other

Shut up. Look at this scene (18:51-18:53). Mute the video and just look. This is Sam marrying Cas and Dean. PERIODT.

"You're so pretty, Charles. [...] You were quite the bounder." DEAN'S FACE (20:27) He's so in love, and immediately after he LICKS HIS LIPS

While Sam talks about running away from your problems (referring to Amelia), and having to wake up in order not to destroy everything, the pan focuses on Cas (35:33) Subtext, gentlethem, subtext. CAS, FACE YOUR FEELINGS. SOON

Dean's face when Cas says he's not coming back with them (38:16-39:21)

Episode 10:

I now this scene is supposed to be funny, but the way Cas looks at Dean AAAWWW (6:53-7:01) Also do you really have to walk so close to Cas, Dean? Do you? While CHECKING HIM OUT nonetheless?! (7:54)

Remember when in 7x01 Dean was totally comfortable watching porn in front of his brother? Well, Dean goes on and on about Cas being a "brother", but his fucking reaction to Cas being in the same room as him with porn on his computer, is BY FAR the same he has with Sam, hell he even keeps watching with Sam! (8:05) Is it because the last time he, porn and Cas were in the same room, Cas popped a BONER?

Random guy @ Dean: "Are you serious?" Cas: "*leans in to look at Dean* That's his serious face, yes." And Dean's reaction (12:59) SO FUCKING #MARRIED

Dean, that's not the way you look at a friend, or a BROTHER (13:38)

LOOK!! I swear to GOD ICWAW that would be seen as nothing other than CHECKING OUT YOUR CRUSH

"Hey, how about we say, if this doesn't pan out, we had back to that beer and bacon happy hour a mile back, huh?" Translation: "Since I'm starting to realize I might feel something more for you, let me take you on what is totally not a date unless you want it to be" (16:58)

(24:02) #MARRIED

Dean, will you stop checking out Cas during missions? (25:06) Same goes for you, Cas, don't check if your husband's got a boner for you being the hero here (25:08)

Since the start of this season, we've been getting parallels between Sam & Amelia and Dean & Cas. The flashbacks, the guilt for leaving the other half behind, and now Dean tells Sam he's jealous he got a chance at being happy with Amelia (37:32)!!! I MEAN- and fuck my life when I tell you there are parallels with the whole Sam-Amelia-Don & Cas-Dean-Benny thing. I'M TELLING YOU

Episode 11:

"Trust me, this life... you can't afford attachments. You just gotta... let go." "... Are we still talking about Sam, or did you break up with someone too?" (21:17) CHARLIE KNOWS. TELL HIM CHARLIE

Episode 13:

Bitch... Dean's reaction to getting publicly hit on by a dude, so not the one a straight guy, confident in his sexuality and masculinity, "no-homo bro" would have (15:36). Just saying, we have seen Dean turn down what he thought were avances, and other implications regarding his sexuality, with either sarcasm/humor or anger... this is new. Progress?! [Wait till we get to 15x7]

Episode 16:

[Keep in mind how Dean's bedroom looks. Trust me]

Episode 17: OOOOHHH BOI

Cas has been tortured, mind-fucked, obligated to kill fake Deans over 1K times, in order to be ready to kill the real one. Let that sink in

Dean prayed to Cas, I'm sure almost every night, and can already sense something is not right with him ever since he came back from Purgatory (11:31), but when Sam questions his prayers to Cas, Dean doesn't know how to respond. Like, what, do I need a reason to try and contact my crush?

"There has to be another way. [...] This isn't right! [...] I won't hurt Dean!" (29:51-31:00) "Cas, fight this! This is not you! FIGHT IT!" and he does. Cas fights it. [and as soon as Cas starts fighting back, Heaven tints with BI COLOURS! LOOK AT THEM WINDOW THINGY (31:16) OF ALL COLOURS]

Dean is on the verge of tears, kneeling in front of Cas, telling him "This isn't you!", and to fight. He is pleading. And by the end, bloody, hopeless, "Cas... it's me! We're family. We need you... I need you." and Cas stops. (33:13)

Cas breaks the connection Naomi had installed in him. Once again, when presented with the choice, he chooses Dean over Heaven. All of this because Dean needed him. And let's not forget Dean was originally ment to say "I love you.", and that would've been the reason Cas snapped out of the control. I MEAN ICWAW THIS WOULD FUCKING BE CANON

Dean, thinking Cas is going to kill him, clutches onto the coat's sleeve for dear life, to the memory of his Cas (34:21) KILL ME

"What broke the connection?" The look in Cas' eyes... "I don't know." OH YES YOU DO (36:15) and Dean's face when Cas says he needs to protect the angel tablet. Dean knows he's gonna leave again (36:23). ICWAW, this whole scene would be the UMPTEENTH CONFESSION

Episode 18:

"I'm fine. Are you okay?" "Me?" "Yeah. Cass dinged you up pretty good." "... and?" "And I just wanted to make sure you're okay." "...What, like, my feelings?!" "If that's what you wanna talk about, sure." Dean gets pissy pretty easily when talking about Cas, who left once again, and his feelings. Also, Sam knows, and he ships it. He's president of the Destiel Company (4:02)

Episode 19:

The thing with the Deanny relationship is: Dean is naturally affectionate towards Sam, and he expresses the same towards Benny. His relationship with the both of them is very very similar, while see Dean showing affection towards Cas [same as he does with Sam] only during extreme emotional moments. Dean is known for repressing his feelings, and having a tendency to maintaining a "macho" exterior. He shows himself vulnerable in front of Cas, but not enough for him to think less of Dean. So, think about it

Episode 20:

Charlie, a lesbian, who has only ever heard of Castiel through Dean, describes him as seeming "dreamy" while talking to Dean... GAYDAR ANYONE??!!! (9:16)

Episode 21:

"In the words of a good friend... 'bite me'." Cas is quoting Dean, and if I remember correctly, Dean will quote Cas' "ass-butt" later on (16:"10)

Episode 22:

I hate when Dean treats Cas poorly, badly, because he can't deal with his feelings. In the heat of the moment, Dean is always forgiving, helpful and caring, but as soon As things cool down, he goes back to being cold, bitchy and snappy, like nothing ever happened. Repressed mother fucker

The small flash of hurt on Cas' face when Dean ignores his "Good morning" (3:33) fighting coupleTM. "Dean, I can go with you. *is ignored* Dean... I'm sorry. [LOOK AT THAT FACE]" "For what?" "For everything." "Everything? Like ignoring us?" #MARRIED

Cas is buying porn, beer and pie to make amends to Dean. "Where's the pie?" "I think we're out." "*grabs store clerk* You don't understand. I need pie!" (14:50) they are so fucking #MARRIED

Episode 23:

This is such a sweet moment. Cas is about to close the doors to his old home behind himself forever, while risking getting killed by his own kind, and Dean is worried about him. They are sharing drinks while longingly staring into each other's eyes. This is so sweet. Also, Dean warned Sam he might not be coming back. Why? Cuz he would probably die while trying to protect Cas from other angels. To them, they are probably spending their last moments together, while looking at each other like THAT (22:38) And 5 seconds of STARES (23:10)

In love. Fucking fools in love, that's what they are.

This is so stupid but they have just witnessed a cupid matching up two dudes, after all of the above⬆️ (23:53) AND IT'S JUST FUNNY!! Dean is stunned and all, while Cas is complitely fine and professional (24:04-24:17-24:21) DEAN'S FACE

"Talk first, stab later." (26:21) Cas is like "Bitch, you talking? That was our first date!" #MARRIED

[I'll just leave this here (37:00)]

Now shit's getting real

[Season 9>>]

[jenomark]

could you do a wayv version of their reaction to their s/o having a bad day and breaking down like the one you did for 127?

Kun: He picked you up from work. You slumped in the front seat and stared ahead blankly. Kun held your hand and kissed it. You could feel his eyes begging for your attention, but you didn’t have enough energy to give to him. “Long day?” he asked. He was always so patient. To Kun, nothing was too hard to fix. If you told him what was bothering you, you would cry. If you kept quiet, his kindness would cause you to cry, too. “Don’t.” you said. The least you could do was protect yourself. Kun left you alone, just like you knew he would. When you arrived home, he turned out all of the lights as soon as you went through the front door, and he pulled you into the bedroom to rest. 

Ten: You let yourself fall onto the couch with a thump. If you had your way, the cushions would swallow you whole. You fully intended to wallow in your own self-pity for as long as possible. In a timely fashion, Ten swooped in and made it impossible for you to stew in any negative feelings for too long. He took your hands and pulled you from the couch. “We’re not going to do that.” he said. You pouted and told him that you wanted to. He didn’t care. He wanted you to be as optimistic as he felt sometimes. Although his moods were contagious, you didn’t feel like rising to meet any good feelings. You looked at him and he looked at you: a square off. “Fine,” he said. “Sit here and feel pity. If not, I will be in the next room looking to get naked and paint. Your call, my love.”

Lucas: Too much silence freaked him out. Too much noise freaked him out. Lucas liked to operate with a happy smile on his face, a million words meant to make you feel better. It was either that, or alcohol. “Tonight, “ he said. “We drink!” You wanted to tell him you didn’t think it was healthy to drink when you felt so spent, but he slammed the bottle of wine on the table so hard that the glass shattered, spilling red liquid everywhere. Lucas cursed. You ran for the dish towels. Both of you bent down on the floor wiping up wine that would put a permanent stain on both your lives. Suddenly, looking at him furrowing his brows at the wine on the floor made you forget whatever you were mad at. “I love you, Xuxi.” you told him. 

Xiaojun: “It hurts me when you’re hurting.” he said. Xiaojun buried his face in your neck. You came home wanting to forget about the day, to close the blinds and rid yourself of the rest of the world. “I know.” you said. You loved feeling his weight on your body, because it made you feel safe. He never offered you any optimism on a silver platter either. To Xiaojun, the world would continue to suck after you forgot just how much. The most he could be was there for you, holding you, and touching your most vulnerable places. “Lets just stay here in bed forever,” he said. “Together, just me and you.” You played with the ends of his hair. “You won’t find me complaining.” you said.

Hendery: He didn’t love dwelling on bad feelings. The minute he sensed anger or fear, Hendery did his best to erase it from your page. This time, you couldn’t stop crying, and he couldn’t make you laugh fast enough. “I’m sorry,” you said. “I don’t know what is wrong with me.” Hendery sunk down to the floor and buried his face in your lap. “No!” he said. “Don’t apologize. Baby, never apologize. You had a bad day. It’s okay. “  Hendery being so understanding made you cry harder. He was so good at making you feel better, and you felt like you didn’t deserve him.” Baby, honestly,” he said. “You’re going to turn me into a blubbering idiot. I hate seeing you like this. You’re my heart.”

YangYang: “I hate everything!” you said as soon as you shut the front door. The slam made YangYang jump up. “You don’t hate me, right?” he asked. He was in his pajamas, his little feet sticking out of the bottom. He was smiling widely, his eyes blinking slowly. “No,” you said. “But everyone else can kiss my ass.” YangYang laughed. He jumped over the couch so that he could come to kiss you. You didn’t want him to know just how bad your day was. The minute you started talking, the harder it would be for you to shut up. You didn’t want to be angry in front of someone as sweet as YangYang. “Do you want to hear about my day?” he asked. “I bet it was miles better than yours.” You put your bag down and said, “Yes, please.” YangYang hugged you excitedly. “And afterwards, you can get into your pajamas and we can eat junk food all night.” he said.

127 |

[ourloveisforthelovely]

Second Time Around 6

A/n: Elon Musk RPF

Link to Chapter 5

Words: 2, 751

Pairings: Elon Musk x Reader

_______

The next morning Kimbal walked down the hallway to Elon’s office. That morning, he decided that he hadn’t been annoying his brother enough lately and decided to get started. Stepping into the office, Elon’s assistant looked up. 

“You may not want to go in there. Mr. Musk isn’t in a good mood. He told us all not to bother him.”

Kimbal raised an eyebrow before smirking. 

“Oh? I am definitely going in there. I have no shame. He knew what risk that he was taking when he gave me security clearance.” 

Kimbal quickly walked in and shut the door behind him. Fighting the urge to give his brother a shit eating grin, he turned and stopped the moment that Elon didn’t even look at him. Instead, his older brother sat staring at the wall blankly. 

Kimbal stood watching Elon for a few moments before sitting down. He sat patiently waiting for his brother to recognize his presence. 

“I didn’t expect this.”

Elon muttered. Kimbal stood up and walked around the desk to kneel down beside Elon. He stared at the place on the wall trying to figure out what was just so fascinating. Tilting his head, he saw nothing but perfectly painted plaster.

“So...are you going to tell me what exactly we are staring at? I can’t figure it out.” 

Elon jumped before realizing that his brother was right beside him. 

“Kimbal, good fucking lord! How long have you been here?”

Kimbal shrugged and went back to his chair to finish his coffee. 

“A good five minutes. So what’s bothering you? What problem has fallen on your shoulders this morning? Don’t you dare tell me nothing either because that is a load of bullshit that can be smelt a mile away.” 

Elon sighed and tried to fix his messy hair. He knew that he had to look horrible at the moment. That morning he tried to appear as normal as possible when he left the house. If he appeared normal and calm, maybe you would feel better too. 

“There is a problem but I don’t think I should say anything at the moment.” 

Kimbal groaned. 

“Stop being a 15 year old girl and tell me. I will go harass Y/n if you don’t tell me. She finds me delightful and will tell me what I want to know.” 

Elon groaned and put a hand over his face before throwing his head on the back of his chair. 

“It concerns Y/n.”

Kimbal winced. He had a bad feeling immediately.

“Oh god, Elon! Did you fuck things up with her again?”  

Elon shook his head and looked back up.

“No, she and I are fine. She’s over the moon over her engagement ring...or rings since she has two...that doesn’t matter though because that isn’t the problem.”

Kimbal put his coffee down. 

“Again, stop being a teenage girl and tell me.”

“Fine, she’s pregnant.” 

Kimbal’s amused expression turned more serious. He looked thoughtful as he considered his words before speaking. 

“Is that a bad thing?”

Elon shook his head. 

“No, I just didn’t expect this. We weren’t trying. She was even taking pills.” 

Kimbal chuckled. 

“You two are that random statistic that pills don’t help….amusing. Elon, some of the best things are unplanned. I came here to give you a hard time and that is shot to shit now so I’ll try another approach. You’re a damn good dad. I am sure that this is shocking but it will be alright. You’re going to have to find some way to get Y/n to slow down. She's like you, always on the go. Both of you are going to have to slow down a bit.” 

Elon muttered a quiet thank you as Kimbal continued. 

“How is Y/n taking it?”

Elon sighed. 

“She was in tears. The poor thing thought that I was going to be mad at her. I’m sure she will be fine once she calms down a bit. Right now I have to be the strong one because she is scared enough as it is.” 

Kimbal held a hand up. 

“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Have you looked at your reflection in the mirror or are you just trying new hairstyles? You need to be honest with her too. I can take one look at you and see that you are about to lose your shit. Elon, you don’t like to do anything unless you have it planned out and written on a pad of paper. This is one of those unexpected surprises that no one plans. Go home and talk to your fiance. She is clearly in the same place that you are.” 

Elon sighed. Kimbal was right. He needed to talk to you but he didn’t know when would be the right time. That evening the two of you were due to go to your sister Ruth’s for dinner. Maybe Elon could get you alone at some point for a moment of serious discussion. 

“You’re right. I’m happy, don’t get me wrong. I just thought that my having a baby days were over.” 

Kimbal chuckled. 

“Maybe we can get a girl this time. If Y/n has a boy, I will be convinced that is all that you are capable of producing.” 

Kimbal almost burst out laughing at the expression of sheer terror on Elon’s face. 

“I would prefer a boy. I know what to do with those. A girl would be some crazy game changer. You’re girls are fine because I am not their father. I’ll be crazy by the time the little one gets to adulthood. There will be boys around my house and I’ll have to let her go out with them….eh, her brothers can deal with that.” 

Kimbal nodded.

“There you go! I would feel sorry for the poor little darling if the baby is a girl. Having that many older brothers. You remember how we were with Tosca?”

Elon chuckled. 

“We were horrible and there were only two of us. You know, having a girl doesn’t sound so bad now.” 

Kimbal chuckled. 

“You will spend a good deal of time trying to figure out what she is crying about but that’s okay.” 

Later that night, you sat in the car beside Elon watching trees pass as he drove to your sister Ruth’s home. This was the last thing that you really wanted to do at the moment. You didn't mind seeing Ruth. She was the closest thing to a mother that you ever had. Ruth didn’t give you anxiety or make you want to get the hell out of dodge the way that your actual mother did. You frowned thinking about Pattie. In all of the years that you had been alive, you couldn’t think of a time that the two of you had ever gotten along. Now you had to go spend the evening with her...lovely.

“How are you feeling?

Elon’s voice interrupted your thoughts. You turned your attention to your fiance. 

“I just dread this.” 

You commented. Elon reached his free hand over and wrapped around yours.

“If she opens her mouth then I’ll shut her up.” 

You felt better at that. Elon wasn’t joking either. The last thing that he was putting up with at the moment was your mother making you nervous. He was still on edge over the whole pregnancy to begin with. Luckily, he felt a lot better after the conversation with his brother. Your mother opening her judgmental trap was just the cherry on the sundae. 

“I would love to see that happen.”

Elon smiled. 

“If I hear one word that I don’t like from her you will know about it.”

Arriving at your sister’s house, the two of you stood outside the door. Elon stood a few moments before reaching down and putting a hand on the small of your back. 

“Maybe we should ring the doorbell and get this over with?”

You groaned and looked back to your fiance. 

“Lets just go back home and say all of the roads were closed.” 

Elon smirked before reaching out and pressing the doorbell button. 

“That isn’t very believable.”

“My mother would believe it.” 

You muttered as your sister Ruth opened the door. She smiled the moment that she saw Elon and yourself together. You knew that Ruth was as pleased as everyone to see the two of you together. 

“Hey! It's good to see you two together again!” 

You rolled your eyes as your older sister hugged you. It wasn’t like Ruth didn’t know. You had sent her a photo of the engagement ring. Ruth took a breath and looked at you with her warm mother smile. 

“Ruth, we have been back together for ages now.” 

Ruth laughed. 

“I know but this is the first time that I have seen you in ages! Ms.always busy.” 

Before you could respond your mother’s voice came from somewhere in the house. Immediately, you wanted to turn and bail out the door. If Elon hadn’t closed it behind him, you were half tempted to grab his hand and pull him back to the car. 

“Is that Y/n?”

You immediately winced and glanced back to Elon. 

“Abort mission. Let’s go!” 

He shook his head. 

“We might as well get this over with before she wants to spend a holiday with us.”

That was the last thing that you wanted to deal with! Your mother...in your home...looking at you...touching your things...hell to the fuck no!

Your mother walked into the room smiling hugely before coming to you. She pulled you into a bone crushing hug that left you rubbing your neck afterwards. Pattie looked you over before frowning. 

“You look exhausted? Do you ever have time for a vacation?” 

It took all you had not to say something snarky back. Your attention went to the doorway where Jeffree and Elon were whispering quietly to each other. If they were taking bets on how long you would make it before being sassy, you wouldn’t talk to either of them for the next week. 

“I’m fine, mom. Everything is going fine. I am not exhausted and my life is not falling apart.”

You frowned the moment that Jeffree passed what looked like a $100 to Elon, who was looking extra smug. Pattie meanwhile, turned seeing Elon as her next target of annoying fire.

“I heard the two of you were back together! I am so glad! Y/n needs someone to take care of her and you did such a good job.” 

Ruth’s hand squeezed yours in hopes to stop you from sounding off further. Your sister gave you her warm motherly smile. 

“It’s just one night, Y/n.”

She said soothingly as Elon’s eyes met yours. He was beginning to look as annoyed as you were feeling.

“She actually does a wonderful job taking care of herself, Pattie.” 

He said bluntly. The sentence probably came out a little harsher than needed but you didn’t mind. In fact, you were thrilled. Here was your knight in shining armor coming to your rescue against your mother, the dragon.

Ruth and your brother in law James looked at each other exchanging wary expressions. It was no secret to them that Elon could be down right cold if he wanted. The more Patty pushed him the more likely she would be to get a mouthful. Jeffree, meanwhile, had picked up his martini and took an over dramatic drink to stop himself from giggling.

Elon’s comment seemed to bounce right off of Patty. She didn’t even seem the least bit affected by it in any way. 

“Well, isn't that lovely? My! Dinner smells lovely, Ruthy!”

Ruth quickly motioned to the kitchen. 

“Thank you, mom. Why don’t you come in here and sit down. I’ll make you some tea.” 

You gave Ruth a kissy face to indicate that you thought that she was your mother’s butt kisser. This was a source of humor between the two of you. Ruth always said that she had to be the nice one to Patty. You definitely weren’t going to do it!

Dinner was uneventful for the first little half an hour. You, annoyingly, listed to your mother talk about her new boyfriend that she met in London. It would be just fine with you if she stayed in London and never turned back up in LA. You could visit her once a year, for a few hours, and your “mom” time would be met. A phone call would even be just fine for you. 

After a while Ruth made a comment about one of her kids. Your mother smiled. 

“I always knew that Ruth would be such a good mommy. I swear, Ruth and Y/n couldn’t have been more different! Ruth always wanted to play with baby dolls and was such a quiet little girl. Y/n on the other hand, I swear she aged me 30 years in the first two years of life. I was always convinced that she was going to be a lawyer because she loved to argue. She always had some talent! Y/n was always my creative one. She would build little cities out of legos. It was always some project! I think that I always knew that Y/n would never be a mother.” 

Yout bit down hard on your lip. Elon’s hand slid onto your thigh. Obviously, he had picked up on your growing foul mood. The two of you exchanged cold glares. You leaned closer to Elon, knowing that he was about to tell your mother to go kick rocks. 

“Don’t waste your breath. It won’t make any difference.” 

Elon rolled his eyes. 

“She’s a bitch and knows nothing.” 

You smiled and stroked your fingers over his. 

“Something wrong?”

Patty asked, turning her attention back to you. Mentally, you were telling yourself to hold it in but that wasn’t happening. 

“So you don’t think that I could be a good mother?”

You said through gritted teeth. Patty was clearly surprised by your hostile response. 

“Y/n, when would you have the time to be a mother? I don’t think that you could emotionally handle the chore of being a mother. I mean, you are getting hostile by this conversation.” 

“Y/n.”

Ruth said your name carefully. She hoped to provide any sense of comfort she could but you were seeing red.

You slammed your napkin on the table before jumping up. Elon reached up and gently pulled you back to your chair. He muttered something to calm down before turning his attention back to your mother. 

“Now wait a damn minute, she is actually a wonderful mother. She is wonderful with my children from my first marriage. I don’t think that you know your daughter as well as you think.”

 Everyone’s eyes were glued to Elon. Jeffree was blinking, clearly surprised himself. He gave you a smirk. 

“Elon…”

You quietly muttered his name. The expression on his face clearly said “try me.” You took a breath before looking to your mother then to Ruth. 

“I found out that I am actually pregnant. Time to see how shitty of a mother I will actually be. I’m sure I won’t out do you.” 

You said coldly before getting up and throwing your napkin on the table. The last thing that you were going to do was deal with anyone else at the moment. You wanted to stick around and wait for reactions but your pride would hurt too much. 

Once you were out of the room, everyone was silent for a moment before Ruth’s husband started dying laughing. He had to get a grip on himself before meeting everyone else’s stunned and questioning expressions. 

“Looks like someone finally caught her! She is serious right?”

He questioned in Elon’s direction. Elon nodded and stood up. 

“I don’t think one jokes about something like that. Ruth, thank you for dinner. I think it's time that we go. Patty, if I were you, I would suggest really thinking your words better when dealing with your kids. Maybe you should take some time and reflect on the reasons why your daughter wants nothing to do with you. You’ll find the answer like a damn neon sign.”

Elon turned as Jeffree jumped out of his seat like an over excited puppy. The two men exchanged a brief stare. Even though Jeffree drove Elon crazy at points, he had to admit Jeffree was always in your corner. 

“Time to go.” 

Jeffree nodded. 

“Yeah, I have had enough catty old women for one night.”

________

@elonscult and @xjjlex sorry, I’ve been lazy :) 

[tippitv]

RECAP: Supernatural 15.03 “The Rupture”

Watching episode three and I finally understand the warding logistics better now. Note that just because I understand it better doesn’t mean I think it makes any kind of sense.

So it seems the “mile wide salt circle” encompasses both the town and the cemetery. Like the entire town and entire cemetery and the space in between them is somehow less than a mile wide as seen in the shitty map I made in MS paint last week.  

This is poppycock of course. It’s also bizarre that somehow all these demons and ghosts didn’t manage to spread any further out than that in the hours in took the Winchesters et al to evacuate the town and for Belphegor to perform the spell.

I’m so distracted by this that it’s hard for me to suspend my disbelief.

Rowena tries to reinforce the warding but there are too many ghosts attacking it. More ghosts keep spewing out of the ground. I think it’s weird that Hell is an actual physical place somewhere under the Earth’s crust while Heaven seems to be some kind of otherworldly dimension that looks like an Apple store.

Rowena’s feeling very defeated. Ruth Connell is doing a much better job than the crummy ghosts we've seen so far would seem to warrant. Her acting makes them seem scary and the situation desperate, whereas the writing for the actual ghost characters is...meh. Dean wants to go fight the ghosts but like… there’s really nothing to be done. Shooting them with iron or rock salt only works for a few minutes at most. To make any dent, you'd need all the salt in the Hannibal fandom after NBC canceled it. Shout out to my Fannibals!

I still think somebody needs to be thinking about contacting Billie. Reapers take souls to their great reward or their eternal punishment, I feel like they’d have some useful input. Plus I just want to see Billie again because Lisa Berry is dreamy.

Also Belphegor is such a weaselly jerk about the whole thing. I won't miss that guy. He's the Martin Shkrelli of demons. Shout out to everyone who hates jacked up pharmaceutical prices!

Sam says they're out of ideas. That's because y'all haven't sat around reading books out loud to each other for half an episode! 

Jack mentions something called "Lilith's Crook." Ah, Martin Shkrelli again. He has to explain it's that curved stick thing shepherds use while everyone is being ignorant. "Thing's actually more of a horn," he says. She designed it to control demons on Earth while she was in Hell. You'd think that kind of thing would've come up when Lilith was topside but no! Also there really should've been a call back to that. "You know Lilith... you killed her to let Lucifer out?" That kind of thing.

They work out a plan for Belph to summon the demons and ghosts back to Hell and the Rowena can heal the big spewing fistula in the earth. She wants Sam to assist her, which makes me

Dean coolly volunteers Castiel to accompany Belph. "You've been to Hell before." Cas should've been like, "Yeah to grip your ass tight and raise it from Perdition!" Also how's he supposed to get out again?

Aw jeez here's Ketch in his hospital room. I hope the only reason he's in this episode is to die. The nurse doesn't want to clear him for discharge so a pretty doctor walks in and kills her with a telekinetic neck snap. And that's why we have a nursing shortage in this country! Oh the doctor is Ardat, the demon who hired Ketch to kill Belph.

Fisticuffs ensue even though she could just pin him in place with demonic power. When he refuses to give up the Winchesters, she rips out his heart and shows it to him. He Pikachu faces at her.

I mean, did she really need to ask him? Wouldn't the most likely place be the mile-wide anti-ghost dome? She texts Dean pretending to be Ketch.

Belphegor goads Castiel about his friends sacrificing him, so Cas pushes him down into the ghost fistula. Lol. It doesn't shut him up for long, though. As they wander around Hell, Belph continues to sow the seeds of doubt. Anyway, opening the chest that contains the Doohickey of the Week requires Castiel to sing an Enochian song of praise, but we cut away on the third note. BOO.

Also, having now met Lucifer the whiny petulant manbaby, it's really hard to understand why Lilith or anyone would be so devout for so long. Maybe it's because he was locked in the cage so they didn't actually experience a lot of his pouting. It's all I can think of.

Before Castiel can hand over the Doohickey, Ardat knocks him out of the way. She looks like Joanna Gaines. Maybe she IS Joanna Gaines!

Castiel and Ardat fight. She tries to warn him about Belphegor, but he pops up behind her and kills her with Cas's fallen angel blade. Now we'll never know what she was gonna say! I bet he ends up just blabbing it out himself in the time-honored tradition of villains talking too much.

Indeed, he goes on about how the crook/horn is actually a leash/siphon. This thing is the Swiss Army knife of Doohickeys. He's going to blow the horn and suck all the demons and ghosts into himself to gain their powers. "I'll be a god!"

So while Belph is blowing and sucking, Sam and Rowena and Dean are dirtside working the spell. Ghosts are zooming back down the hole like the Indiana Jones Ark of the Covenant scene in reverse. Castiel tackles Belph and punches him in the face a lot which seems like the equivalent of flicking a dandelion at a law mower to stop it.

Improbably, it hurts jazzed-up Belphegor enough that he pretends to be Jack again to get Cas to stop beating him. Castiel screws up all his angel power and somehow kills him even though there's a buttload of evil spirits in him. Jack's empty body burns like a Thanksgiving turkey left on broil all day.

The ground starts sealing up but something's wrong. Rowena uses a knife to gouge out a "resurrection sachet" she's been keeping buried under her skin. It's why she came back after Lucifer killed her, if you'll recall. It takes Sam a minute to catch on that she intends to sacrifice herself in one final spell. He has to be the one to kill her because prophecy and she can't bring herself to to it for a lot of good reasons.

Now, I don't understand here. She says she's going to absorb all the demons and ghosts, throw herself into Hell, and they'll be trapped. But... didn't Belphegor absorb them? Or a lot of them? I hate that Ruth is doing such a great job and this just feels like forced drama.

Speaking of forced drama. Castiel returns to the surface and tells Dean he killed Belphegor. This could be cleared up with a five second explanation but he makes a lot of pained faces while Dean berates him for ruining their one chance. Forced drama.

Sam reluctantly stabs her in the lower belly... you know, in the uterus area... and she becomes a vessel... with her uterus absorbing all the evil...

"Goodbye boys," she says as she Last of the Mohicans throws herself into the abyss.

Well, it's better than Charlie's death but I still don't like it.

All the surviving team members return to the bunker for the denouement. Sam is taking things pretty hard, which is to be expected, so Dean goes to check on him. "God threw one last apocalypse at us and we beat it," he says to baby bro. Oh honey.

Anyway we're all pretty sure Rowena's going to be running Hell now, right? RIGHT??

Now we come to the part where Dean and Castiel act out a bad soap opera scene. It's just a thin reason to get them to break up for a while. Maybe in the final season they couldn't work Misha into the budget for every episode or maybe the writers couldn't think of more for Castiel to do. So he's gotta go off and it couldn't just be because "you know my surrogate son just died and I need time." 

No it's gotta be all "you always screw up our plans!" and "you don't trust me!" and "are you hearing that romantically sad cello music or is it just me?" and "it's not just you but now I must leave GOOD BYE!"

Onward and upward, readers! Stay tuned for the next recap.

In the meantime, please reblog if you enjoyed this recap and drop by my Ko-Fi tip Jar if you're able. Henry Hound and I are perpetually trying to make ends meet and appreciate your help!

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[fattygraves]

Nashville

My weekend did not have a proud start.  On my 8:30pm flight to Nashville, I was exhausted. When exhausted, I also feel frisky and cuddly. This was not helped by the fact that I was flying next to a man who was the epitome of Canadian masculinity—avid winter sportsman with rough hands and rugged opinions. What magnificent hands he had. He was married with children, but we were flirting heavily anyway. I told you– I’m not proud. There was a lot of wonderfully unnecessary leg-touching. We sat in the back of the plane and ended up creating a little foursome with a Norwegian oil-worker, an obese southern health care worker, Renee (the masculine Canadian), and me, a wide-eyed woman in finance. I landed in Nashville at 9:30pm & was ready for bed, but ended up taking an Uber with Renee to his hotel in the opposite direction of my brother’s workplace. We thought the two locations were close. And, we were having too much fun flirting to double-check. I told myself it was innocent. I’m still not sure it was.

We dropped Renee at his hotel, where he hovered, saying nothing but looking at me like I look at Pizza when I’m on a diet. Then he disappeared to his room alone. We didn’t even hug goodbye because I think we both realized we were playing with regrettable fire.  Renee didn’t seem to want to be the kind of man who’d do that to his wife. I didn’t want to be the kind of woman who would do that either. My hormones made me sullen, and my mind made me ashamed. So that’s how I felt when I went to wait for my brother at the bar of his restaurant/bar workplace, Bastion.

The cocktails were good and I quickly found these young artist-looking bucks. Amid joking with one that I really liked, two women walked between us and sat down.  They said my brother had sent them over. Food industry friends of his, apparently.  And they said “you’re welcome” for saving me from the weirdo with whom I was talking.  My face did not inch towards smiling at that comment. I liked the weirdo and his too-big glasses and greasy hair. I liked him a lot. I made a salty comment about how Alex must not know me at all to send over two women to keep me company in a room of strangers because I love strangers.  They were staying for good at this point as they had bought drinks, and I decided against being awkward or miserable. I definitely didn’t want to embarrass my brother, which is easy for me to do as we are polar opposites in almost every regard. So, I decided to enjoy being with them. Besides, everyone is interesting if you dig, I reminded myself. So I dug. And they were interesting. We talked post-baby bodies and post-baby shirt-on sex. Tracy, my favorite between the two, called herself corn-fed a couple times, which I learned is the same as calling yourself a heifer with a smile.

Alex took me to Attaboy after that. It’s a gorgeous bar. It’s secretive and stripped down and makes you want to curl into someone’s arm and swim around so deep in their gaze that you nearly drown smiling. I can tell you the cocktail I drank was a work of art and the people’s faces were flesh-colored, but that’s it. Because after the initial impression, I flopped myself over the bar and nearly fell asleep. I remember one thing—the male bartender was married to a man and had a beard. But that’s not distinguishing because in Nashville every man who can grow a beard grows his goddamn beard.  

Thursday Thursday Thursday. I woke up alone on Thursday morning on the pull-out bed of my brother’s new house. He was sleeping at his old house as his bed was still there.  He would be moving into his new home later in the day.  I called him and asked if he’d be alright to meet at 2pm because I had a whim to try out Kundalini yoga.  The opportunity for alone time seemed to be a relief for him. So, I threw on my tennis shoes and jogged at a tortoise-like pace for 6.2 miles to the nearest Kundalini yoga class.

I’ll give you two words to sum up my experience there: Asshole surgery. Unexpected, right? I thought so too. But that’s what we talked about after class. You see, Kundalini Kate (as I began to call her) was a 30-something yoga student who spent the ENTIRE yoga class talking, coughing, crying, belching, complaining about nausea, complaining about heartache, and farting.  This is not from illness. Oh no. This is how she is at every single class and how she has been at every single class FOR FOUR YEARS. This is just her spiritual journey physicalizing itself, they explained— just like a guy who had three asshole surgeries. THREE surgeries on his sphincter, and this was an apparently healthy part of healing his soul. I was dissuaded from Kundalini by this point because if being healthy means asshole surgery, bring on the refined carbs. Nonetheless, it was a beautiful thing to see the genuine acceptance of our yoga teacher who, by the way, calls herself a Catholic Mystic and could not believe more in every aspect of Catholicism and every aspect of Kundalini Yoga.  Did you know we all have ten selves and some of those selves are in love with people who we loved from other lives? I didn’t.  Apparently, we should all recognize this truth to better understand ourselves. For example, she’s married but just knows she was in the deepest of loves with a man in another life and in another self but he is, in this life, a very wise practitioner of evil black magic and also a kundalini yogi. She’s also a spiritual shapeshifter, appearing as different people depending on the circumstance. I got in my Uber at this point because I had to meet my brother to help him move some boxes, but I bet there was a whole lot more.

That night, Alex had me set up to get the tasting menu at Bastion. Eating at Bastion is more spiritual than a gospel choir. God! I didn’t realize food could be like this. It was art. Art is honestly boring a lot of the time, but then you’ll hear that one song or watch that one movie or see that one painting and it stops you… like your scarf catching in a car door. This was the night I learned that food can do that to you. Soup from a can is so depressing to me now. I keep getting hungry and eating crap like that anyway, which makes me feel a little sad and frustrated. So, I think I’ll start cooking. I mean, if it doesn’t make me feel something, if it doesn’t have some intimacy and care to it, my new Foodie religion teaches me that I should wait until I can make or find something artful.

After dinner, I went to the bar in Bastion to wait for Alex to get off work. This is when I met Joey. Oh boy. If I wanted a man who was a relationship guy, it’d be him.  He’s a good 4 inches shorter than me, slightly chubby, bearded (surprise), and he just sparkles.  He loves people, and people love him. He zipped around behind the bar, but it felt like he was strolling around instead. He lingered and peered into each person’s soul just a bit when he handed them their drinks. He listened well. He made drinks well. He felt good in every single way a person can. Almost. You know how being on the ledge of a skyscraper, holding someone’s hand makes you feel? That’s a damn good feeling, but he doesn’t feel like that.  He feels like that Attaboy bar did.  He makes me want to curl up and swim in his gaze and in his arms. He’s safe, beautifully safe.

Okay, now Friday sweet Friday. My brother and I started the day at Barista Parlor. It’s a gorgeous, open coffee shop tucked away in a big garage with high ceilings, white shelves full of records, chic yet simple design, and hipsters everywhere. The coffee was good. I mean next level good.  It’s famously ridiculed for the care it gives to its beans, its roasting, and its pour-over technique. But that coffee is the best in the nation. My brother was distant and irritable at first, as he had to deal with some personal finance stuff. So, I sat at the big hand-crafted wooden table tapping my fingers and looking around uncomfortably since he clearly didn’t want me to be there with him, but I had no escape. I turned from bitter to giddy when I realized that I could just get an Uber out of there. I suggested this with glee which offended him, so I stayed there, tapping my fingers. After he ate something and had coffee, he was all smiles. Not smiles, I suppose, more so smirks. But, he was definitely happier. He showed me this 3D wine map he created, which must have taken between a hundred and two hundred hours and was wildly impressive to say the least.

That night, we had dinner at a place called Rolf and Daughters, a rustic high class restaurant where we ordered nearly everything on the menu and tried different wines with each of the foods to see how they paired. It was really fun, actually. My brother finally sighed and said, “Okay. See, now I feel okay.” His month had been hectic and he was nobly trying his best to be present and kind, but the guy needed a break.

The meal was good. The conversation was better. My brother was honest about his perspective. He’s still upset about how distant and not nurturing our parents were and frustrated with their attempts to be close and nurturing now. Too little too late, he said. I said I wanted a relationship with them because they are fantastic people, albeit not so interested in being classic parents, and that I didn’t really care that they were reasonably absent in our childhood. He didn’t feel the same. That makes sense though.  He has trouble seeing beyond the purity of ideas—He is an idealist to his core, worshiping the thoughtful, thorough, and pure.  That means the titles “Mom” and “Dad” are more important than the individuals to whom the titles belong.  If you’re a Mom, be a mom. If you’re a Dad, be a dad. I imagine this love of purity is what causes his frequent frustration with the world. No one is pure. Pure isn’t even definable.

He also told me to slow the fuck down. As I talked about my career and how much I loved working and wanted to progress, he just said, “That’s good… but slow down.” That was it. That was the whole conversation about my work. Just “slow down.” He was right. I changed my perspective almost instantaneously. I don’t need to be staring at the future all the time. It makes me feel inadequate to not yet be there.  The stuff of life however is the right here, right now, person-to-person aliveness, isn’t it?  That’s where the best surprises are.  They’re right now, with you, right here. Smell the roses and all that.  The rest of the dinner doesn’t matter really. Except the sourdough noodles. Damn, those were good.

After dinner, we went to the LCD Soundsystem concert. This is where I met Matt.

Matt and I met because of two things: One, my brother knew and loved him already because they are both top-of-class alcohol people. (My brother, wine. Matt, cocktails and some wine.)  And two, he was dancing more wildly than anyone else at the venue, arms flailing, head banging, knees bending, eyes often closed, which drew me like a similarly flailing magnet. I stared smiling at his black skinny almost-handlebar mustache when my brother introduced us. The wonderful weirdo. Matt’s brother danced just like Matt. I joined in with them instantly, and Matt was downright amazed by this. The rest of the audience members were bobbing their heads to the ethereal rock tunes. It felt surreal, like we were floating on the eerie beats. The three of us, Matt, his brother, and I continued on with the head-banging and body-thrashing until the lights came up and the stage was cleared. I didn’t think much about his affection that night. I was not thinking about anything besides having as much fun as possible. And of course, I interspersed my flailing with scanning for Joey.

He was there too, Joey. And I only had eyes for him all night. 5 of us squeezed into a compact Uber car after the show—his short arm was forced around me and my big ass was forced on top of him. We both mentioned that we liked the arrangement. My brother was in the front seat. The Uber driver said, “Well, everybody’s squeezed in here pretty awkwardly.”  My brother replied while chuckling, “Yeah, but it’s not as awkward as one of my best friends and my sister blatantly flirting in front of me.”  This is the closest to protective I’ve ever seen him. It was surprising for us both I think.

Joey sure can hold his own in a crowd. Everyone adores him and he adores everyone.  He’s short, but refuses to stand above people when they talk to him from a chair anyway. He always squats down to get on their level. I saw him do this multiple times. He just seems inherently humble and confident. Joey is a man to fall in love with.  He’s a guy who I’d want my genes to mix with. He’s a guy who’d love well and parent kids well. He’s a partner kind of guy. I say all this after onle two days of knowing him, so I’m very likely wrong.  Why do we do that? Make all these fantasies and plans with so little foundation to base them on.

I’m not really good for people like that. I realized this fact with my traveling of late. I love adventure and freedom and opportunity and flirting. I’ve been trying to find the perfect regimen of food and sleep and exercise for my mental health. Yet, enjoying life with all its booze, calories, and people leaves me beaming for days. So does being curled around this computer alone, typing to you in darkness. There’s a balance. But balance is so annoying to try to strike. Extremes, baby. That’s where the fun lives.

There’s one more person you need to meet from Friday. He has a first name, but he lied about what it was six times in a row so I don’t know what it is, but everyone just calls him Finney.

Finney is Alex’s manic-depressive addict ex-roommate. They lived together 3 years ago, and the experience was equal parts hilarious and hellish.  Finney says more lies than truths because facts about himself (where are you from, what do you do, etc.) are not worthy of being shared in his mind. I don’t think he thinks that people actually want to know those things. Or maybe he thinks that if they do care about those things, they’re idiots because those things don’t matter.  Maybe he’s right. And maybe we only want to know those things so we can decide if someone is worth knowing more deeply. Maybe he’s afraid no one will want to know him once they see he’s just as human as they are.

He said he had been in the Navy, Law school, and about 3 other false professions I can’t remember. I can’t tell you where he’s from because he gave too many different stories to too many different people.  I can’t tell you what he does currently for work or what his musical preferences are as he pretended to both love and hate about every genre mentioned.  I can only tell you how he felt— that was the one thing he was honest about. I know he really liked a girl named Jacqueline that night and was sad that she didn’t seem to end up liking him all that much. I can tell you that he was uncomfortable when a couple people didn’t laugh at his jokes and that he was annoyed by some man’s bro vibes at the party we went to after the concert. He was so loudly himself and so relentlessly mocking of the world around him that he made almost everyone shift uncomfortably. I really liked him, hilarious hellion that he was. I really really did.

And so did my brother, funnily enough.  He likes eccentrics too, it seems. They make him smile like a dog with his head out the window.  He so thoroughly enjoys the ride.

Saturday. Okay. Buckle up.

My brother and I had brunch with Tony, the 33-year-old charming horndog and Sarah, the 22-year-old sexy bundle of substances.  Tony owns the house my brother moved out of over the weekend. That’s how we spent our daylight hours—moving my brother from Tony’s house to Jordan’s. Tony was, that very day, moving back into my brother’s old room from LA. And he brought Sarah along for the road trip because, as my brother eloquently put it, “he needed someone to keep his dick wet.”  This is maybe a heinous thing to say but it was also accurate. We picked them up at 10:30am, and she was already drunk.  She was maybe 95 pounds, glossy-haired, manicured, tanned, and scantily clad.  Her most redeeming quality was her wide flat box of a nose.

She bobbed into the car and said a slurred comment about her star sign and Nashville and how happy she was to be here. Five minutes later, I kid you not, she asked, “Hey… where are we?” Alex laughed and said, “You mean, where in Nashville?” To which she responded, “OH! We’re IN Nashville. Wow. I can’t believe I’m in Nashville. I really like you guys so much. You know that? And Tonty loves Nashville so much. Do you guys call him Tonty here too? Ton. Tee. Tonty Tonty.” She rubbed herself all over him while giggling before he put her back in her spot like a child who escaped her car seat. She went back to smiling blankly out her window.

The meal we shared with them was delicious beyond words. We went to Urban Cowboy, which is a B&B that has a restaurant considered a food industry secret—everyone worth their salt in the food industry is in love with the Urban Cowboy brunch menu. We ordered the whole menu to share. Sarah didn’t experience this lovable brunch because she only ate the grapes, which were grilled. The fact they were grilled surprised her every time she ate one. All 6 times. I know this number because she mentioned that they were too warm every time she put one in her mouth to which I would respond, “Yes, they’re grilled.” To which she would go blank for a bit and then reply, “It’s weird that they’re warm, right?” I sounded like a tired caretaker of an Alzheimer’s patient by the end of the meal, at which point she was 4 tequila shots and one cocktail in, this added to whatever she was hopped up on before the meal.

When we dropped Tony (or Tonty as Sarah was still relentlessly singing) and Sarah off, Sarah told us to maybe text later, but definitely much later, because they’d be “fucking for like four hours.” Then, she giggled and stumbled into the house on Tony’s arm.  As soon as that house door closed, my brother and I laughed the kind of uncontrollable laughs that only come when you’re making fun of someone. It’s sad that making fun of someone can be that fun, but damn, it really is. We drove off with giant guffaws, aching sides, and needle-sharp jokes.

That night, my brother and I bought prosciutto and basil pizza by-the-slice at this place called Five Points Pizza, where the chefs all had tattoos and casually flung pizza crusts in the air with cool smiles on their faces. We bought a bottle of wine, went home, and fell asleep watching Rick & Morty nestled into our individual spaces on the L-shaped couch, empty wine glasses and pizza crusts discarded around us.

I woke up at 11:30pm and asked my brother if he wanted to go to Matt’s big after-party for the fancy chef-centric event at the baseball stadium. I can’t remember what the Nashville team name is, but it was a Major League. Who cares about their name though? My brother said he’d do what I wanted and I said I’d do what he wanted and after a couple rounds of that I said, “If I wasn’t here, what would you do?”

He responded with, “I’d honestly go to bed. These last few weeks are catching up to me.”

“Perfect!” I said, “I’ll grab an Uber over and you go to sleep.” I threw the last of the pizza crusts in my mouth, gussied myself up, and ordered an Uber.

The Uber driver was a large, white, bald Iranian man who was thrilled to hear that I was visiting from Chicago because he loved the movie Chicago, the “beautiful, beautiful” movie Chicago.  He said that the movie taught him not to “mess up with Chicago women, because Chicago women are dangerous. In a good way, they are dangerous. The most dangerous women– Chicago women.“ He then told me I look like Catherine Zeta-Jones, which I very clearly do not. The compliment made me feel powerful and gorgeous anyway.

I bounded out of the car to a dwindling after-party crowd. It was five minutes past the stadium’s closure for the night (meaning, the after party was supposed to be over) and they were ushering everyone out. I plowed right past the exiting numbers with my arms flung up in the air like I was Dolly of Hello, Dolly herself.  Matt waved and sidled his way out of his conversation, but Tracy got to me first.  Yeah, you’ve read her name before. She’s the corn-fed woman my brother sent over to greet me the first night I was in Nashville. We had a witty but forgettable conversation, because both of us were too distracted by the small Filipino guy dancing intently to the DJ. He was the only one dancing. And when the DJ stopped and began to pack up, he continued dancing.  Drugs were very present this evening for him, I think.

The DJ group called themselves Sparkle City Disco and they were composed of three young men whose individual personalities had no hope of living up to the personalities of their clothes. They played disco music on vinyl only and accompanied the music with a series of flashing retro neon lights. I met all three of them but talked most with Jonas. He had a tight lil butt and high fashion overalls and gorgeous hair and thick-rimmed glasses. He talked to me slowly with his southern drawl, a crooked smile that wouldn’t quit, and the sweetest eyes. He told me about how he co-owned a pizzeria with a recovering drug addict, and I smiled at him like he was the most beautiful soul I’d ever met.  The DJ’s and the chefs packed into cars to go to Matt’s brother’s place at 1:00am or so. They were running out of space so Matt suggested I ride with him on his scooter. I adored the idea and skipped and danced my way to the two wheels of fuel-efficient freedom.

The scooter looked like a motocross bike but was under 50 cc’s and had a horn that sounded like a kid’s toy. The horn gave him so much pleasure that he could not stop giggling when he honked it, which must have been 50 times in the 15 minutes we rode. When we were climbing on, he put the only helmet on my head and tied the strap under my chin because the snap was broken.  When he did that, he kissed me on my mouth/cheek, which took me by surprise so I responded by saying “ohwoah. I didn’t realize… I would’ve…” but I stopped my sentence there because I didn’t know what I would have done.  He smiled but otherwise didn’t respond. We just climbed on and rode, the slightly drunk Matt and I. Yes, I agree that was a dumb move. What a glorious ride that was though. That was the way to see the city—in the quiet 1:00am glow, whipping through the wind with my hands around his torso, resting on the small pouch of stomach fat over his otherwise muscular body. I breathed in deeply, just to smell the warmth of him. Ah, men. Yum.

Matt made me feel good in a dangerous way, like death might be a consequence of loving him. He listens to albums from beginning to end without distraction, often on vinyl. He has a typewriter, which he frequently uses. He talked about kindness and how he tried to train clients of his restaurant to be kinder, which seemed ironically patronizing to me. He spoke of politics only from the perspective of the heart. He talked music and food and drink and people only when he loved them, and oh man did he love the things he talked about. He also had a lot of idealistic arguments about how one should live life that did not make a lot of sense. His arguments weren’t arguments really though. They were impassioned perspectives. Beautiful little flimsy boats floating along without any motors or sails, boats that I liked looking at too much to bare filling them with holes. 

He also offered me cocaine, an offer that I politely declined. Actually, I confidently and rudely declined, now that I think about it. I just laughed outright and said no without hesitation, which does retrospectively explain why he got sheepish immediately after the rejection and then said “yeah… yeah. Me either.” He then remarked, “Sometimes you want to be a nut. Sometimes you want to not be a nut. I’ve learned that when I want to be a nut, I have to tone it back.”

He was an angel-headed hipster through and through, wasn’t he? That Allen Ginsburg descriptor just rolled around and around in my mind like one of those carnival tilt-a-whirls that I almost killed myself on as a kid.  When I was 6 or something, I tried to climb out of one of those and my dad about lost his own life trying to get on and stop me from committing self-inflicted manslaughter. All I remember is feeling sick and also angry that Dad wouldn’t just walk through the metal death trap and save me like Jesus on water.  It’s so funny how confident we all were that our dads once had biblical superpowers.

During my discussion with Matt, the Sparkle City Disco DJ’s had brought in their whole set up. Flashing neon lights were transforming the white walls to lime green to blue to pink.  Old disco records spun on the vintage DJ record table and filled the crates piled around the couch.  There was plenty of room for the whole DJ setup too because Matt’s brother’s house, a large proper house, mind you, not an apartment, was nearly empty. Books were stacked here and there. A small couch sat in the middle. Otherwise, nothing.  Just a house full of disco records, bearded chefs, and me.  One of the chefs I talked to practiced Jiu Jitsu in his off time. He taught me how to choke him out and then tried to trick me into full-on knocking him out with a sleeper hold. 

I talked more with Jonas, the DJ with the tight little butt, about his pizzeria before getting swept away by Matt again, that Angel Head. But that didn’t stop Jonas from tying to kiss me at the end of the night, which I was too surprised by to even know if I’d want to return the affection.

When the clock hit 3:15am, I left the party, took an Uber to get my bag at my brother’s, and then took another Uber to the airport, boarding my plane at 4:30am.  I fell asleep immediately upon sitting down in the airplane, a smile plastered on my face.

[kairi-chan]

Functions and Feelings (V) - BoruSara

Chapter 5: Stage Fright

Characters/Pairings: BoruSara

Rating: T

Genre: Romance and Humor

Summary: Boruto wins a bet with Sarada to let him be her personal body guard during the Five Kage Summit to be held in Sunagakure. The functions they attend help them both to slowly realize their true feelings for each other.

This is also a sequel to my one shot Perfect Balance. You don’t need to read it in order to fully understand the story, however reading it will give you a good start to understand the context.

Chapter 1: The Bet

Chapter 2: Transit

Chapter 3: Balconies

Chapter 4: Cover Up

Chapter 6: Escort I

Outside the function hall Sarada was pacing back and forth, furiously reading her talking points again and again. She wiped her sweaty palms on the sides of her dress.

"What is that idiot doing?" she fumed quietly. He was supposed to be here to watch her speech. "Where is he?"

She opened the door a bit to take a peek. Standing on stage behind the podium, Iruka Umino was giving a lecture about the education system in Konoha's Ninja Academy. He was explaining how they patterned the new curriculum to the modernization that they were currently enjoying, while still preserving the traditional ways of forming young ninja. The room was filled with students, parents, educators, ninja, and business investors. It was common for large corporations to favor ninja academy graduates since they often showed a large amount of talent.

The thought that there were three hundred people in attendance made Sarada's legs feel like they were made of jelly. She had no problem single handedly facing ten rogue shinobi at a time, but public speaking was a fear she had yet to overcome. It was silly and she knew it. Being hokage entailed speaking in front of large crowds, to convey sincere thoughts and ideas, while keeping them engaged. Giving a short testimonial of the curriculum she had studied, and say a few encouraging words for the next generation to enter the Ninja Academy should be a piece of cake, right? Nope.

She closed the door and leaned back on the wall. She bit her lower lip, willing it to stop quivering. Sarada crossed her arms and held on to her shoulders. She could feel her eyes prick from the tears that threat to spill. She was standing all alone outside the function hall. It was well passed noon and the sun was baking the desert below. Despite this, Sarada felt so cold. Having a nervous breakdown before her speech would be unacceptable. Please, she begged herself. Not now.

"Sarada!"

She snapped her gaze towards the voice. Her dark eyes took in his form, and her tears were now pooling at the corner of her eyes.

Boruto came running down the hall, his right hand was holding a dark blue cape. This was the coat Naruto commissioned just for her. It was a gift to show her—and all the allied nations—that he was recognizing her as his successor.

She felt her stomach twist, and her heart flutter. Boruto always did have a knack for showing up just in time.

He stopped in front of her and draped the cape over her shoulders. Quickly, Boruto snapped the top buttons together to hold it in place. He then dusted her off. There was sand falling on the wooden floor.

He took in large gulps of air, trying to steady his breathing. The young Uzumaki ran across the entire Sand village to retrieve Sarada's cloak. She had left it hanging at the back of her chair at the restaurant she had lunch in with Kagura earlier. Boruto had realized she wasn't wearing it when they were already at the venue.

He looked at the ceiling and let out a heavy sigh of relief. "Thank Kami I made it in time. You should really stop spacing out whene—"

He was cut off when he felt two hands clutch at his flak vest. Boruto looked down to see that her closed fists were trembling. He felt panic arise in his chest. "Oy!" He held covered her small fists with his warm hands. "What's wrong?"

Sarada lifted her head and gazed into Boruto's deep blue eyes. "There's so many people," her voice quivered. "I-I can't do this." Her grip on his vest tightened.

His blue eyes softened. He knew she had stage fright. Trying to cheer her up, he pulled out his best sarcastic voice and teased her. "Oh come on. How are you supposed to be Hokage if you can't even deliver a simple speech?"

Of course it didn't work.

Her dark eyes went wide and she gasped.

Sarada would usually get angry, and give him a witty comeback followed up with an insult. No one dared step on her Uchiha pride. However, her frustration in herself merely intensified ten-fold. Boruto was right. How was she supposed to lead the village and be acknowledged if she couldn't deliver a twenty-minute speech in front of three hundred people?

Her insecurities came rushing out, clawing at her. Naruto knew about her stage fright, which was why he insisted she take on this role in his stead. He wanted Sarada to get over her fear. Naruto was a natural with people, everyone just loved him. For Sarada, it was different. She was an Uchiha. The general view on her and her family varied. She would never admit it, but it always hurt her feelings whenever someone would say mean and judgmental things about her clan—especially if it was about her uncle Itachi.

Sarada tore her gaze away from her teammate. She clutched his vest a little tighter in hopes to relieve her anxiety. He was right. She couldn't become hokage due to this silly fear of hers. What was she even thinking?

Sensing his slip up, Boruto mentally kicked himself and went straight to plan B. He wrapped his arms around her small frame in an embrace, and pulled her close. Her cheek pressed against his chest. Boruto stroked her back up and down, and then in soothing circles.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that," he apologized. "You'll do great," Boruto assured her. "I'll be inside the entire time. Just keep your eyes on me."

Sarada sniffled. She was blushing so hard it should be illegal. "Really?"

Boruto chuckled. He could practically hear her pouting through her words. He found it amusing how Sarada always wanted him to say these things out loud, despite knowing what the other was feeling. He knew it wasn't because she didn't trust him. A part of him liked to think she just enjoyed hearing his voice. "Of course!" He beamed. "I'll even walk around so it'll look like you're scanning the crowd."

Sarada laughed. "I have to admit, that's crafty."

He felt her loosen up, but decided to push his luck a little further to lighten her mood. "You're so tense! Come on, let it out!" He lifted his hands to his sides.

Sarada was confused. She pulled away from his chest and looked at him. His smile was full of mischief, but his eyes reflected nothing but sincerity. "I'll let you squeeze me like a stress ball so you can get that tension out of your system."

"What?" She screeched, momentarily letting go of her composure.

He and grinned at her. He loved it whenever she forgot to keep up her stick-in-the-mud-act. "Come on, go ahead!" He was still holding his arms up like a scarecrow. "Squeeze me as hard as you can, just don't break my spine so I can still walk over to the nurses' station," he joked half heartedly.

Sarada gawked at him. What kind of idiot willingly lets someone break his bones, just so I would calm down?

An idiot who had fallen head first into love.

Sarada smiled, shortly it turned into a face splitting grin—it even made her eyes disappear. She couldn't believe this guy, or fathom the lengths he went to support her. A light blush painted her cheeks as she giggled.

Boruto's an idiot, but he's her idiot.

He drank in the sight of her and relished the sound of her giggles. He felt his cheeks heat up, and butterflies flutter in his stomach. Again with this feeling. He looked away and pouted at her. "Shut up and just do it already!" She's such a weirdo.

The young Uchiha composed herself, but she couldn't stop smiling. "Alright, alright."

She stepped closer to him. Boruto shut his eyes tightly, bracing himself for the pain to come. He was expecting her to at least break a few ribs, and prayed to Kami even harder that was all he was going to get. Boruto knew it would hurt like hell, but he could easily have it healed. This speech was important to her, and he had to make sure it went well.

Boruto felt her hands touch his chest. He winced out of habit, despite not even feeling any pain yet.

"Stop being such a baby." Sarada rolled her eyes as she placed her hands on his chest, tiptoed, and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. Her lips brushed the corner of his mouth.

Feeling her soft, warm lips on his face, Boruto felt his whole body light up in a blaze. His eye lids flew open and turned to look at her. His daze must have lasted longer than he had expected, as he only saw the Uchiha insignia at the back of her cloak. Her long, raven hair was swaying as she walked into the function hall.

His body reacted far faster than his brain could function. The heat in his body intensified, and his face turned bright red. Boruto's fingers hovered over his cheek. "Wh-wha-"

After a few seconds, Boruto staggered back into the wall, now fully grasping what had happened.

Sarada kissed me.

"WHAAAAAT?!" He shouted.

The people passing by the hallway gave him dirty looks. He was disrupting the quiet needed for the talk.

His thoughts were racing a million miles a second. She kissed me! He screamed in his head as he clamped his hands over his mouth. Oh Kami. She's never kissed me before. His brain couldn't wrap around the concept. Other girls have kissed him before, but this was no 'other girl.' This was Sarada Uchiha.

His face was dark red, and he was still staring at the door that led to the function hall. He heard clapping from the inside. After taking in rapid breaths to calm himself, he finally came into his senses.

He realized why people were clapping—it was Sarada's turn to speak.

"Oh shit!" He staggered into the function room, and saw her climbing up on stage. Boruto ran to the back of the hall.

Sarada could still feel her lips tingle from the kiss. She looked straight ahead as she approached the podium, delaying her need to look at the audience for as long as possible. Finally, she reached the podium and looked at the crowd. The young Uchiha felt her knees go weak, and her mouth suddenly felt dry but when her eyes landed on a mop of blond hair and large blue eyes, she felt all her nervousness flutter away.

Boruto was at the back, waving his arms over his head to catch her attention. Once her gaze rested on him, he gave her two thumbs up and a million-ryo smile. He grinned even wider when he saw her lips curl up.

Sarada couldn't help but feel a smile creep up her face. The sight of him waving his arms around and grinning like an idiot knocked all of her nervousness away. She licked her lips, his taste lingering a little longer as if to encourage her on. She opened her mouth and begun her speech.

After three minutes, Boruto didn't even need to walk around anymore to make it look like Sarada was sweeping her gaze over the audience. She was doing it on her own, and had visibly relaxed. She even placed in a few jokes that everyone seemed to enjoy.

As for the young Uzumaki, he watched her fondly and felt pride swell in his chest for her. She was one step closer to her dream.

His heart tightened and his stomach flopped more and more as he watched her on stage. He was getting all of these strange feelings that he had been feeling since their encounter on her balcony. This is nothing. The heat's probably just getting to me.

He tried to shake it off, and finally convinced himself it was the high temperature that was playing with his thoughts. However, when their eyes met over a crowd of three hundred people for a split second, he felt his resolve melt away and the realization hit him like a thousand chidoris.

Oh shit. I'm in love with Sarada.

A/N: This was one of my favorite chapters to write. It’s also the idea (along with ‘Balconies’ that drove me to write Functions and Feelings. Thank you so much to everyone who has supported my story so far. An even bigger thank you to Poodie and @levadia for beta reading for me. You guys are awesome. <3 

Let me know what you thought about this chapter, please! 

You can read more of my stories in my fanfic master post or ff.net account.

[nothing-but-kpop-dreams]

GOT7 Reaction: Finding out the gender of their baby during the ultrasound

I originally had a specific style intended for this reaction, but writing just doesn’t go as planned haha. I hope you all like this reaction and we are so sorry that it took so long for us to finish. 

Mark:

He held y/n’s hand tightly and she held his hand even tighter. They both stared at the doctor intensely as he looked at the screen and gave them small updates on what he was noticing. Even though Mark was thankful and relieved that everything was normal, what he was most excited for was the gender. 

After what felt like forever, the doctor turned to them, asking if they were sure they wanted to know the gender. Of course he and y/n said yes right away. The doctor laughed at their excitement before he said. “You two are going to have a girl!

“A girl?” Mark smiled. He stared deeply at the screen, looking at the shape the doctor was pointing at. That little figure on the black and copper toned screen was his daughter. “We’re having a girl!”

Mark couldn’t help but let out that signature giggle out of pure joy. Unable to contain the love filling within himself, he went over to y/n, hugging her tightly. “You’re making us a baby girl!”

Jb:

He and y/n held hands as they waited for the doctor’s response.

The doctor was both funny and annoying in how he was doing a drum roll noise as he was about to reveal the gender. “Iiiiiiit’s a boy!” the doctor cheered.

“Jagi we’re having a boy!” Jb couldn’t hep but squeal. He was smiling so hard, he couldn’t stop. There was so many thank you’s and i love you’s that he wanted to say to both y/n and the their little boy in her belly, but he was too happy to  move. 

Even as the doctor continued on with the little updates and all, He couldn’t get himself to be serious again. Just knowing he was going to have a little boy, his mind was filling up with possible names and day dreaming about those cliche father son moments.

Jinyoung:

“I really think we are having a girl.” he said

“No I think we hare having a boy. Even your mom thinks we are having a boy!” y/n retorted. “But why are you bringing this up, i thought you wanted to do a revel party?”

“I did, but now that we’re here i kinda just want to know now.” 

“I think... I think we should still wait and have a party. Won’t it be more fun that way?”

“Eh, maybe...”

Suddenly the door opened and the doctor stepped in. After the short series of questions and loading up the ultrasound machine, their little bun in the oven was showing on screen.

“You guys ready to know the gender?” The doctor asked teasingly.

“No” “Yes” they both said at the same time.

“Jinyoung, are you sure you really want to know? The whole reveal thing was your idea.” y/n pointed out.

“I know” he pouted. “But I really want to know.”

After giving the doctor permission for the reveal, she smiled. “You two are having a girl!”

Immediately Jinyoung couldn’t help but smile. “A girl? Y/n we’re having a girl!” He would have thought he would have gloated to y/n about being right, but at the moment he was jut so happy to know he was having a girl he couldn’t get himself to do anything but smile.

Jackson:

They sat in the tiny room waiting for the doctor to finally come in. 

“Babe can you be still for like two seconds?“ Y/n said in a hushed laugh.

“Noooo. I can’t I’m too excited. I want to know if our little angel is going to be a boy or a girl!” he said in an excited mumble as he placed his hand on her belly. 

“I thought we both said that it didn’t matter the gender, just as long as they are healthy.”

“I know, i know. And I will love our the same no matter what! Buuuut like just imagine if we have a little girl! We can put her in gymnastics, or martial arts or ballet, and she’s be so cute and we could dress her in a mini you out fit. And if we have a boy, we can put him in gymnastics or martial arts. or ballaet and we can dress up like a mini me! I just want to knooooooow!”

Y/n just laughed at him, placing her hand on his. “Don’t worry the doctor will be here any second.”

After an excruciating 2 minutes of waiting, the doctor finally came in. Then after another never ending three minutes of introductions, the ball was finally rolling and the blob like image of his liltle baby was on the screen.

“Okay... so... its... It’s a girl!” the doctor said.

He let out a shriek. “I love her more already! We are naming her Jackie! We have to!”

Youngjae:

“A girl!” He cheered. He couldn’t help but feel like he made up of puppies and rainbows. There was nothing but joy in his body

His mind filled with the joys of a first time father, everything cuter because now he can picture a baby girl. His thoughts were a going 100 miles an hour, picturing her first steps, her finally saying “dad”, her first day of school. “Ah, our little girl!” he smiled at the thoughts

His mind continued to race and now in his day dreams he was a middle aged man with a teen daughter. He pictured the first “I hate you dad!”, the first. “So this is my boyfriend” (hating the imaginary boy in this hypothetical day dream), catching her sneak out of the house, her and her boyfrined going on their first real date, her high school graduation.

Then in his mind his mind continued, suddenly he was thinking about her first day of college, her graduation, her wedding, finding out she was going to have  baby, then he was going to be a grandpa!

But then what if he missed everything because he was busy with work?!? What if she wanted to be an idol like him?!? What if she ever let the country and was far away from him?!? He could feel himself getting light headed as the possibilities filled his mind. “Oooooooh I don’t feel good.” he thought.

He looked over to y/n, wanting to let her know the mess that was going on in his head, but he kept his mouth shut when he saw the look on her face. She stared the screen with pure love. There were tears in her eyes and the biggest smile on her face. He looked at the screen again and all those worrisome thoughts faded away. Now matter what was going aspects of life were going to come up, he was ready for it because he knew he loved his little girl before she was even out in the world.

Bambam:

“It’s a boy!” the dotor cheered.

Bambam couldn’t help but let out a laugh” Y/n i knew it!” he beamed. “Now you owe me fifty bucks!” he laughed, joking about the bet they made on the drive to the appointment.

Y/n could care less about what he was talking about she had her eyes glued to the screen staring at their baby. Looking at the screen, the thought of their joke of a bet escaped his mind and he couldn’t help but feel happy about being dad.

He leaned down next to y/n. “Baby, we’re gonna be parents!” he said with a smile “We are gonna have a little boy!”

Yugyeom:

He and y/n waited eagerly for the doctor to reveal the gender of their baby. The doctor turned away from the screen and looked between the both of them. “You guys ready?” she asked with an almost mischievous smile. “What were you guys hoping for by the way?”

“Oh, we don’t care too too much.” Y/n began. “We mostly care about the baby being healthy.”

“Buuut, we wouldn’t mind knowing what color to paint the nursery though.” Yugyeom added, hinting that he really wanted to know what they were going to have. “I’m really hoping for a girl.” He smiled. “and y/n is secretly hoping for a girl too even though she says she doesn’t care too much.” 

The doctor laughed. My husband and i were the same way a while back, we ended up having a boy. We still love him alot though... But for the two of you, it looks like you two got what you wanted. You are having a girl!”

At the same time he and y/n let out a shierk of excitement. “We’re havinga girl!” he smiled.hugging y/n so tight.

-Admin Boat

[thats-immortality]

Can you write an emison prompt where they have the twins and Ali is pregnant with a baby boy?

this is adorable! i wanted them to have a boy so badly, but i do love my granddaughters lol. thanks for sending this in!! enjoy xx.

—————————————

We’ve all heard the saying that two’s a party and three’s a crowd, but Emily and Alison DiLaurentis-Fields will tell you any day of the week that that isn’t true. Never in both of their wildest dreams did they even think that they would have one child together, but when they were blessed with a set of beautiful twin girls, they were ecstatic.

But…

When Emily came home to her beautiful wife and daughters one day to find Grace and Lily wearing matching “Best Big Sister” t-shirts, Emily and Alison were through the roof. Their little family was growing by the minute and the both of them realized that they were getting everything they ever wanted. They were building the perfect family, and better yet, they were building it with the love of their life.

So when it came time for the discussion of whether or not they wanted to figure out the sex of the baby, they both immediately knew that they didn’t want to find out until Alison gave birth. When Alison was pregnant with the girls, her and Emily were both so excited that they just had to know, especially when they had to plan for buying two of everything. But this time around, they wanted to be surprised. It didn’t matter to them whether the baby was a boy or a girl, as long as they were healthy, that’s all that mattered.

But that didn’t stop Emily and Ali from having a wife-on-wife bet about it. Emily was dead set on the fact that they would be having another girl, she just kept saying that she had a feeling. But Ali on the other hand, knew that this pregnancy was completely different then when she had the girls. This time, her hormones were all out of whack, she had ridiculous food cravings, and she just overall felt differently. She was positive she’d be having a boy.

Grace and Lily, of course, had their own little bet going. The two 4 year olds were carbon copies of their moms. Their previously blonde hair, began turning a soft brunette when they turned 2 and their athleticism showed the second they could walk. But they had all of Alison’s confidence and attitude, well maybe not all of it.

Little Gracie agreed with her mommy, saying she “wanted a wittle bruver,” and she wasn’t going to accept anything differently. She was so adamant about it that whenever they went to the store and Ali and Emily let each of them pick out one thing for their new little brother or sister, Grace immediately went to the boys section.

Lily, on the other hand, took the side of her mama, saying that having 5 girls was good luck. And every night, when Ali and Emily tucked the girls into bed, Lily always said “good night to Mommy, Mama, Gracie and little sister.” To which, of course, Grace rolled her eyes and corrected it to “brother.”

When it came to the time of discussing names, Ali and Emily really wanted to keep open the idea of a gender neutral name, as well as pulling out a few gender specific ones just to keep in the back of their minds. Soon, they had a list a mile long on their refrigerator blackboard of all the names they loved, new ones being added every day. At the top were names like Taylor, Avery, Bailey, and Dylan. And who could forget Grace’s suggestion of “Joey” after her favorite teddy bear, and Lily’s suggestion of “Emma” because “it just sounds pretty.”

Before they knew it, the nursery was painted a light grey color, with white wood furniture to match. Ali had insisted on a nursery tale theme, and had an artist friend of Aria’s come in to paint different characters and quotes all over the place. Everything was falling into place, and all that was missing was a beautiful baby to wake up there every morning.

And when Alison went into labor and was rushed to the hospital at 3 am one evening, her and Emily could hardly wait to get their hands on their baby. All through Alison’s contractions and being wheeled to a delivery room, with Emily’s hand in hers, they ran through their name list a hundred times, trying to finally narrow it down to just a few.

But when the nurse handed Emily their baby, adorned in a blue hat and matching blanket, Alison knew that there was only one name that would really fit.

Emily carefully handed the baby to Alison, who was ready with open arms, and climbed into bed next to her beautiful wife and her new son. “We have a boy,” she said, wiping the tears from her eyes.

“I know,” Alison said, wiping her own tears as she relaxed into Emily’s embrace, “Are you happy? I know you thought I was having another girl.”

“Are you kidding?” Emily said, a smile breaking out on her face, “He’s absolutely perfect. I wouldn’t want anyone else but him.”

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

They sat there for a moment, sharing sweet kisses between them and taking in every detail of their beautiful son, who had his whole hand wrapped around Emily’s pinkie.

“So,” Emily broke the silence, “I guess we should finally decide on a name for this little guy, huh?”

“Oh,” Alison spoke up, “he’s already got a name.”

“Oh, really?” Emily laughed, moving the hair from Alison’s face and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Yeah, the second I saw his face, I knew. He always already had a name.”

“Well, would you like to share with your wife or are you gonna keep that a secret for forever?” Emily laughed again, “What’s his name?”

Alison took a moment to stare up at her beautiful wife, the girl she’d been in love with for almost half her life. She knew what his name would be from the start.

She leaned up and pressed a small but lingering kiss to Emily’s lips, pulling away slowly and waiting until Emily’s eyes met hers. 

“Wayne,” she whispered.

Emily’s eyes filled with tears once again and that smile that Alison loved oh so much returned, this time bigger and brighter than Alison had ever seen. Alison carefully placed the baby in Emily’s arms, and pressed a small kiss to his forehead.

“Hi Wayne,” Emily said, her voice cracking ever so slightly, “Welcome to the family.”

[jornami]

Teacher Headcanons!

A/N: When I wrote my high school headcanons I always thought about doing one where the squad are teachers, but I never did! So I'm doing it now! Thanks to @a-schuylerr , after I saw your headcanons they inspired me to finally write this!

 Masterlist | Request! | My previous fic!

Let's start with Eliza, shall we?

Eliza teaches third grade

And after seeing her teach and her connection with the students, it's very clear that she was meant to do that

Her students love her

Parents love her too

They often send her emails about how much she has helped their kids

She cries every time

She makes all her students end of the school year gifts

She does the most™???

She gets sand pails and fills them with bubbles and sunglasses and a coloring book

And Alexander is like “honey, chill.”

“But Alexander a lot of them don't have anything to do in the summer!”

Alexander eventually backs off because, hey, if it makes her happy; that's all that matters

Promised herself she wouldn’t cry on the last day

Spoiler alert: she did...hard

 Angelica!!

Angelica is a 12th grade AP English teacher

She strikes fear in all of the students

Even the ones who aren't in her class

“Young man, are you supposed to be in Mr. Johnson’s class right now?”

“N-no ma’am, I'm a ninth grader.”

“Then I suggest you get down to the ninth grade hallway!”

That was the last time she saw that boy on the twelfth grade hall or ever...for that matter

All her students are scared of her and/or hate her

Some gave her the benefit of the doubt at the beginning of the school year

“I had her sister in third grade. Maybe she's just as nice?”

Wrong

“I'm hard on you guys…”

“BECAUSE YOU CARE! WE KNOW!”

But under the death stares and harsh words there's a teacher who truly cares for the well being of her students and as long as they leave her class knowing it; she's done her job

Sponsor for the Social Justice Club

 And Peggy!

Peggy's either the art teacher that doesn't care or the agriculture teacher that doesn't care

Gives her students the answers

“Ms. Schuyler I'm confused about question five.”

“It's C.”

….

Yeah

Gives no fucks towards the end of the school year

“Okay, you guys! We're going to watch Nemo so take out a pencil and a piece of paper so if the principal comes in, it looks like we're working.”

Everyone loves her

Gets kids out of gym for “remediation”

“Remediation” meaning “you can sit in here if you don't want to run the mile.”

 Maria!!

Definitely teaches second grade

Warns Eliza of the bad kids

Sings to her students when they have free time

“Miss Lewis! Will you sing for us?”

“Tommy, I just sang for you guys.”

“Again, please?”

She can't say no

Spends a lot of time on Pinterest

“Eliza! Look at this idea! No, this one’s better! No, this one! Eliza!”

“Oh, nevermind. I'll just do them all!”

What can she say? She's passionate about her job

 Mr. Fifteen Names

Teaches French obviously

Goes on random tangents in French that confuses all of his students

“Mr. Lafayette—”

“Monsieur Lafayette!”

“Monsieur Lafayette, slow down!”

Even though he's fluent in English, there are some words that he still can't pronounce

“And ‘bijoux’ in French translates into the English word jew-jewe—”

“Jewelry?”

“Qui.”

Poor baby, help him :(

 Here comes the general!

Check his out here :)

 Thomas Jefferson.

That pseudo intellectual art teacher™

“What does this painting communicate to you?”

“Nothing, Mr. Jefferson, it’s just a rectangle.”

“But it's so much more! It's a way of life!”

No, it's a rectangle

Goes on thirty minute tangents about nothing

“So, in a sense, Van Gogh was like god.”

At this point, everyone is sleeping

Is aware of the fact that no one listens to him and it bugs him to no end

“Hey, hey, are you listening to me?”

No, Thomas, they're not

  John Laurens, my sweet

John definitely teaches sixth grade

Everyone who has had him as a teacher will tell you that he's one of their favorite (if not the favorite)

Made sure all of his students have a smooth transition into middle school

One of his students was crying on the first day so he pulled them outside to talk to them

“I know it's hard, but you're going to have so much fun in middle school. We get to do so many fun things! In a few weeks, we get to do a project with M&M’s!”

And when the kid’s face lights up with excitement, he knows everything is going to be alright

Sings AND plays the guitar

When the students see his guitar case sitting in the corner of the room, they know they're in for a treat

“Mr. Laurens! Mr. Laurens! Please play for us!”

“Guys, we have to talk about order of operations first.”

But then he sees the frown on all his students faces, and he breaks

“How about...we sing a song about the order of operations.”

And they all start cheering

Also helps his previous students get ready for high school

“But, Mr. Laurens! I don't wanna leave. I thought I did, but I'm going to miss talking to you and visiting your classroom.”

“You can always come and visit me. You’ll always have a place here. If you ever need community service hours, you can come help me set up the classroom in the summer.”

But the poor student is still crying

“And when you see Mr. Hamilton, tell him he still owes me money from that bet.”

And of course, the student starts laughing and gives John one more hug

I might as well write a fic at this point

Brahhhh! Brahhhh! It's Hercules Mulligan!

He’s a music teacher

“Guys! Who shoved gum in the recorders?”

…

Doesn't deserve this

Let's the kindergarteners bang on whatever they want to their hearts’ content

Buys his students recorders with his own money if they couldn't afford it

Got thank you notes from the parents

Has a bulletin board in his room where he hangs up all of the nice notes from his students

Sings with his students 

Mr. Waitforit

He’s an honors government teacher

Hates the honors government teacher next door (you know who)

Sponsor for debate club

Theodosia got put in Hamilton’s class and he had a fit

“I don't want her in his class.”

“Mr. Burr, he's the only other honors government teacher besides you.”

“Then put her in my class!”

“Sir, you and I both know that I can't do that.”

Very competitive but not as competitive as Hamilton

 Finally, Mr. Alexander Hamilton

The most competitive™

“Okay guys, so next week we have a debate with Mr. Burr’s class and we're going to crush them!”

Him and Burr end up debating the whole time instead of the students

Competitive even when it's not academic??

“Okay, you guys! We have to sell more chocolate bars than Mr. Burr’s class.”

“But Mr. Hamilton, isn’t the goal to raise money for the history department?”

“Yes, Rachel, it is. But we also have to beat Burr.”

His students swear they've never seen anything like it

Gets upset when they don't laugh at his history puns

“What kind of tea did the American colonist want?”

…

“Liber-TEA!”

…

“Laugh or I'll make you read chapters two through five tonight.”

*forced laughter*

Gets upset when students have to leave his class early for art class

“Mr. Hamilton, I won't be in this class tomorrow because of the art fair.”

“With Mr. Jefferson?”

“Yes, sir. Is that a problem?”

“No, no! Not at all!”

But secretly, he's fuming

Philip got put in Burr’s class and of course he threw a tantrum

“I don't want him in his class.”

And the secretary has to tell him the same thing she told Burr

 Bonus!

Both Hamilton and Burr try to get information out of Philip and Theodosia about what's going on in the other’s class

They'll never tell ;)

[fallen029]

Firsts.12

"I cannot believe that you live off this stuff."

"Why can't you believe that?" Bickslow asked as he and Lisanna walked along, each with a large paper bag in their hands loaded down with groceries. Err, less groceries and more cupcakes, cookies, candy, and anything else remotely sweet. "You know that I don't cook. So I buy things that I don't need to cook."

"Bickslow, you're gonna, like, die of a sugar overload," she said.

"What? Nah."

"Yeah," she insisted. "This is probably why you're always so hyped up. You have too much sugar in you. I bet you'd, like, crash or something if you went a day without any of this stuff."

"No," he said, shaking his helmeted head. "When I'm out on jobs, I ain't got nothing sweet and I'm fine."

"I bet you're super annoying though. Grumpy and stuff."

"Me? Grumpy? Lissy, have you met me?"

"I've met this you," she said. "But- Hey, isn't that Laxus?"

Turning, Bickslow glanced across the road to the man her girlfriend was pointing out. Sure enough, it was Laxus, who had his own sack of groceries. The problem though was that the bag had ripped and all of the stuff had spilled everywhere.

Needless to say, as they walked over there, they heard the utmost of colorful language. A woman walking by with her young son took to throwing her hands over the boy's ears and giving Laxus a look. He only snarled at her until she scurried off.

"Laxus," Lisanna greeted as she got to him. "Need some help?"

"No, I do not need fucking-" He stopped when he saw who it was, looking up at their approach. Bickslow's dolls had taken to circling around his head and, when the man raised his hand, their master got spooked and yelled for them to get back. Laxus only frowned.

"I was just going to do this," he grumbled, reaching out to pat Lisanna on the head, his usual greeting. "Not shoot lightening at them or something."

"Oh," Bickslow said as Lisanna sat her own sack of groceries down and began gathering up the few of Laxus' that had spilled.

"Here," she said, going to put them in her own sack. "We'll help you out. Where were you going? Your apartment?"

"No," Laxus said slowly. "Your house."

"You shop for Mirajane?" Bickslow took to snickering.

"Don't you always say that shopping is woman's work?" Lisanna asked, taking to giggling too. That time when Laxus flexed, they both knew what he was doing.

"Ah, no, Laxus, we were just-"

"It was a joke!"

And that's how Poppo got turned into apple (Lisanna was insisted that Bickslow buy something healthy) for the duration of their trip to the Strauss household.

"I can't believe that he shot my babies," Bickslow complained as, after dropping Laxus and all his stuff off, they headed back home. "I mean, seriously."

"You know that he can't take teasing."

"Yeah, I know."

When they got home, Lisanna went to work putting all the groceries away while Bickslow went to work making Poppo a new body.

"Papa needs a new diet," Lisanna complained to the dolls as she began putting away all of his different packs of cookies and stuff. "Don't you think?"

"Think," Puppu repeated as he came to rest on her head. "Think."

"Lisanna," Pappa was complaining as he dashed around, annoyed that Puppu was in his spot. "Lisanna."

She only ignored them though as she finished with the groceries. "I think, though, that the only way to get him to eat something other than this junk is if I make him something. Did you know that? I can cook."

"Lisanna can cook," Pippi agreed, zipping around the kitchen at a fast speed. He almost hit her, but luckily she dodged him.

"Be careful, Pippi," she complained, heading then into the living room. "Honestly."

When she sat down on the couch, Pappa dove quickly for her lap, as if to best Puppu.

"Lisanna," the doll said as she only sighed slightly. It was like taking care of five children. Five annoying children. They were all in constant need of attention. Pretty much like Bickslow.

"Alright, the paint just has to dry," the man said some time later when he came out of the bedroom. "Then you got a new body, Poppo."

The apple was still dashing around and, fearful that he'd hit a wall or something and get smashed apple bits everywhere, Bickslow went to grab him.

"You go sit with Lissy too, huh?" he said, setting him in her lap. The other dolls were over there then, resting close to her. "'fore you break something."

He sat with her as well, Bickslow did. Lisanna only smiled as he threw an arm around her.

"So what else is on the agenda for today?' she asked him. "Now that we went to the store?"

"Before Poppo got broke, I thought that we'd go train a little."

"I thought you and Freed usually train in the morning?"

"Not me and Freed, Lissy. Me and you."

"Me and you?" she repeated.

"Me and you?" the babies chirped.

"Yeah." Bickslow reached out to poke her nose gently. "Me and you. Don't you ever train?"

"Sure. With Elf. But I'm not… I mean, you probably train a lot harder than me. I bet-"

'Then I'll do your training as my warm up," he said with a slight shrug. "Open with a run, spar some. That your usual workout?"

"Well, running is a little harsh," she said. "I mean-"

"Never mind," he sighed. "If you don't wanna-"

"No," she insisted then, feeling something come over her. She knew how Bickslow was. He thought that weak people weren't worth his time. You had to be the best of the best to be a part of the Thunder Legion. Or his girlfriend, she figured. "We can train. I'll do whatever you want."

Frowning slightly, he glanced down at her. "You don't gotta, Lissy. Me and the babies, we just-"

"We can go for a run," she told him. "How far do you usually run?"

When he told her, Lisanna's jaw about hit the ground. Noticing this, he only shrugged.

"You just run till you can't, huh? And I'll be with you the whole way," he said. "Then we'll go from there."

So when Poppo's new body finally dried, they headed to the Strauss house so Lisanna could change into something to work out in. They ran into Laxus, who was in the kitchen, making something.

"You can't eat here tonight," he told Lisanna gruffly as they came in through the backdoor. When he saw who she was with, he frowned. "Never mind. Stay."

"I'm not running whatever weird dinner thing you're doing for Mirajane, Laxus," she told him as Bickslow went to go get a glass of water in preparation for their workout. The babies all stayed far away from Laxus though, as none of them wanted to get struck again.

"No, you can," he insisted. "In fact, stay home. And Bickslow? Get out."

"Yes, sir." He turned to head for the door. "Come on, babies. Let's-"

"Bickslow," Lisanna complained. "Honestly?"

"Lisanna, he has shown that he has no problem with breaking their bodies. I might have a bunch in case of emergencies, but what if he keeps shattering them? Huh? Then I run out and have to go out and buy more? Then what? Then-"

'If you shoot one of the babies, Laxus, I'll tell Mirajane," Lisanna threatened before starting out of the room. "And I'm going back home with Bickslow tonight."

"Are not," he grumbled.

"Are too. And we're totally going to-"

"Lisanna!" Bickslow complained as Laxus glared at him. "Knock it off!"

When she got to her bedroom, she was quick to change before heading out. She didn't really want Laxus to hurt any of the dolls. Or her boyfriend for that matter. When she got back to the kitchen though, she found it to be empty, save her sister's boyfriend, who was sticking something in the oven.

"Uh, Laxus?"

Grunt.

"Where's Bickslow?"

"I made him wait outside."

"Laxus-"

"You don't gotta eat dinner with him tonight," he grumbled. "You can eat with me and Mira, if you wanna. I-"

"He's my boyfriend, Laxus."

"…Haven't you ever heard of abstinence?"

"Laxus-"

He only huffed, glancing back at her. "What are you two idiots doing anyways? Right now?"

"We're going to workout together."

Snort. Then he glanced out the glass backdoor, staring at Bickslow who was out there, jumping around in no doubt excitement over working out.

"You know, you were the one talking about how you had all these other guys for me to date," Lisanna said softly, watching him.

"Yeah, but I wouldn't want them sleeping with you either."

"Why does it bother you so much?"

"I don't know," he grumbled. "It just does. And Bickslow's… I just don't like it."

"You sound like Elf."

That got another snort. Then Laxus went back to chopping some vegetables.

"Stay away from the house tonight then," he told her. "Don't care. I'm making up with your sister. I already told your brother the same thing."

"Making up?'

"Don't play. You know that we haven't been… That the past few days we've been fighting."

"That for the past week you've been a jerk?"

"Lisanna-"

"So you're making her dinner?"

"Of course. She won't come over to my apartment, so I figured when she got off, if I surprised her with dinner and was all attractive and shit, she'll have to forgive me."

Lisanna blinked. "Attractive?"

He nodded. "She likes it when I'm in my undershirt and-"

"Ew, ew, ew. I don't wanna hear about you and-"

"And you think I do you and Bickslow? No. So stop talking about it and I won't mention this again." His back was to her, but she was pretty sure he was as red in the face as she was. "Deal?"

"Deal."

When she got outside to Bickslow, he immediately tossed his arms around her.

"I thought he had, like, locked you away or something," he said.

"Well, you were the one that was so willing to just ditch me."

"A lot of things went into that decision, Lissy."

"And you decided upon all of them in less than a minute?"

"My brain runs at, like, a thousand mile per minute. Swear."

"I believe you," she said as he only released her before moving to tap the pendant resting above her breasts gently. After giggling, she said, "Now let's go for this run, huh?"

"Kid, next time just tell me that I'm pushing you too far."

"I'm fine," Lisanna mumbled against the cool sheets of his bed. "Peachy. That? That was hardly a workout. I… Bickslow?"

"Hmmm?" He only stood over the bed, staring down at his girlfriend.

"Can you get me some aspirin or something?"

"Sure, kid."

Lisanna only sighed, rolling slowly onto her back. While they had been out there, working out, she'd more or less reached her usual limit. But she'd decided to push herself. Because how bad could it get?

…But then she pushed herself even more. And more. And more. And then, well, she kinda just gave out.

Bickslow thought it was real funny at first. They had been sparring and, when he swept her legs out from under her and she fell, he'd only taken her fall as one of her normal ones. She'd actually been taken down by him every time previous. But then she just laid out there in the empty field and didn't move.

"Get up," he'd said. "Lissy?"

So she did. Again. And again. And even when he wanted to race back to the house, still full of an amazing amount of energy, she went along with him. Because how could she say no? And be weak? He was only sweating a little and she was beyond exhausted, but he valued strength.

She wanted him to value her.

When they got to the apartment, she just went and dropped onto the bed, planning on never getting up again.

"Here you go, Lissy." He was back then, with a glass of water and two pills. When she took them, he only said, "Me and the babies are all keyed up now, huh? So we're gonna go workout some more."

"'kay."

"You need me to do anything for you?"

"Nope."

He grinned at her then. "You did great today. Really. And tomorrow will be even better?"

She didn't have the heart to tell him that there wouldn't be a tomorrow.

When Bickslow got back home that night, it was to find Lisanna in the bathroom, soaking in the tub. He only went in there as well.

"I brought you some takeout," he told her simply as she sat in the water, hardly glancing at him. "I already ate though, so your stuffs in the kitchen when you want it."

She was about to say alright…until he started stripping down too.

Lisanna only stared straight ahead as Bickslow slowly moved to get into the cramped tub with her. They'd had sex, fine, slept in bed together naked, okay, but they'd never bathed together. Ever.

But he had no qualms about it, so she tried to put it out of her mind. He only sunk into the water with a slight sigh.

"I like showers," he told her then. "But this is nice too."

The awkward moment didn't come, really, until Lisanna got out of the bathtub and he stayed in. She felt odd, being so stark naked in front of him for some reason, but Bickslow had taken to washing at that point and only stole a few glances at her.

"Food's on the counter, Lissy," he called out to her after she was toweled off and dressed.

"Thanks."

The babies were waiting for her out in the living room. She was used to her muscles being sore, like, a day after doing something strenuous, but at the moment, the pain was immediate and she wasn't up for them slamming into her.

"Enough," she sighed as they took to their usual greeting, which involved pelting her with their bodies. "Please."

After getting the takeout box from the kitchen and heating it up a little, she took it back with her to the living room where she collapsed on the couch.

"Lisanna," the babies cried, landing all around her. "Lisanna."

"I'm fine. Just tired."

"Meow, meow," Poppo told her, as he had since she transformed into her cat animal spirit earlier in the day, when her and his papa were sparring. "Meow, meow."

"I agree, Poppo."

Bickslow was coming out of the bathroom then, only in a pair of boxers, and nodded his head approvingly.

"Lissy is a very attractive cat," Bickslow said. "The little ears, the paws. Very sexy."

"Meow, meow."

"Meow," his master repeated. Lisanna only rolled her eyes.

"We're not doing anything tonight, Bickslow," she told him as he came over to the couch, lifting her feet so he could sit down before dropping them back in his lap. "I'm too-"

"It's cool, kid," he said as he began to mess with her foot. She thought he was trying to tickle it and tried to kick away, but he held tight. "Just relax, huh? Me and the babies, we shouldn't have run you so ragged. I could tell you were tired, but I kept it up. I'm sorry."

"I'm not some frail person, Bickslow," she told him with a frown. "I'm a mage. I-"

"I know, Lissy. But still."

She wanted to argue, but, well…what he was doing to her feet did feel rather nice. And she was kinda tired. So she let him continue as she only sat there, eating, as the Poppo kept meowing, Pappa was whining that Pippi and Peppe was in his other spot, on her tummy, and Puppu rested on Bickslow's shoulder, ignoring the other dolls as his papa just kept messaging her feet.

They must have spent an hour or so doing that, just killing time. Eventually they all moved to the bedroom, where Pappa immediately took to snuggling up to her before the other dolls could. She only rolled her eyes though, watching as Bickslow crawled into bed as well.

"I think Pappa's jealous."

"Aw, he just likes you, that's all. Huh, Pappa? You just like Lissy, don't you?"

"Don't you?" the other dolls seemed to mock.

"Like Lissy," Pappa agreed, unabashed. "Like Lissy."

"That's okay," he assured his doll as he snuggled up to Lisanna as well, making the woman giggle. "I like her too."

"You sure are perky today."

"No more than usual," Mirajane told Erza as she sat a plate of food in front of the other woman. The red head only eyed her suspiciously from her spot at the bar.

"Is that so?"

"Mmmhmm."

"Because you've been humming incessantly this entire time-"

"She's just happy that Laxus and her made up last night."

The two women glanced up as they were joined by Mira's younger sister, who practically fell into one of the stools at the bar.

"Hi, Lisanna," Mira greeted, giggling slightly at her words. "And what do you know about that then, hmmm?"

"I saw Laxus going shopping, before, and stopped by the house to get some stuff while he was cooking," she sighed as she moved to rest her head against the bar. Frowning then, Mirajane reached out to pat her on the head.

"You okay? You're not sick or anything, are you?"

"No," she sighed. "Just tired."

"From?" Erza prompted, staring worriedly down at her as well.

"Bickslow."

Erza's face turned about the shade of her hair then as Mirajane only blinked.

"L-Lisanna-"

"I mean…" She was blushing then too, sitting up slightly. "We were training yesterday. That's all. And I might have pushed it a little."

"O-Oh," Erza said, glancing at Mirajane who only let out a soft sigh. "He trains hard then, I take it?"

"Very," she said, making a face before resting her head against the bar again. "And I only wanted to keep up. But ugh, he's too much for me."

Giggling then, Mirajane reached out to pat her sister on the head one last time.

"He is quite energetic," Erza agreed.

"Very," she sighed. "Though I think that has more to do with what he eats."

"What do you mean?" Mira asked.

"All he eats is, like, sugary stuff. Constantly."

"Makes sense," she agreed before going to get her sister a glass of water. She always refused to serve her alcohol for whatever reason. Ugh. Everyone loved when Mira worked, but Lisanna far preferred Kinana.

"I wanted to, like, make him dinner or something," she said then. "But I wouldn't know what to make him."

"What does he like?"

"Anything, I think," she told her sister. "He just kinda shovels food in his mouth."

More giggles. Then Mirajane said, "My lunch break is in an hour. What if we go to the store and we can find something you can make him?"

"I want to do it myself, Mira. Like Laxus did for you."

"You can," she assured her. "I'll just help you pick some stuff out. That's all."

So that's what they did. And Lisanna felt kinda bad about running Mira's break, but her big sister only assured her that it was fine. She even helped her carry the groceries back to Bickslow's apartment.

"He already gave you a key?" Mira asked, shocked.

"No," Lisanna sighed. "He just never locks the door."

Widening her eyes, she said, "Perhaps you should keep that quiet, hmmm?"

When they got into his place, Mirajane helped her younger sister start on the meal before giving her a few instructions and heading back into work. It was the first time she'd been in Bickslow's place and, against Lisanna' better judgment, she let Mira look around some.

"I just have to make sure that you're, you know, safe here."

"By peeking into his bathroom?"

"Well, I thought you'd yell at me if I went through his dresser drawers."

"Mira, get out!"

Once she was finally alone in the apartment, Lisanna set out on making the meal. It wasn't hard. In fact, it was already cooking in the oven by the time Bickslow showed up.

"What smells?" he asked as the babies dove towards the couch where she was sitting, reading a book.

"I made you something."

"Ah, cool!" He was excited immediately, closing the door behind him. "Is it a cake? Cookies? Ice cream?"

"Who bakes ice cream, Bickslow?"

He only stood there, knocking his helmet off his head as he stared at her.

"What is it? A pie?"

"I made us dinner, silly," she told him. "So calm down."

"Dinner, huh?" He went to set his helmet down on the coffee table before joining her on the couch. "What sorta dinner?"

"A casserole."

"Hmmm. And there's no cake?"

"Bickslow-"

"Anyhow," he said as he moved to take her book from her hands, ignoring the woman's protests as he sat it near his helmet. "Me and the babies had a good workout. You think that you'll wanna go with us tomorrow, maybe?"

"No," she complained. "Yesterday was enough for me. Just like I told you."

"Aw, Lissy." He wrapped his arms around her, keeping her from reaching out to grab that pesky book again. "I won't work you out so hard again. I promise."

"Bickslow-"

"We'll just go for a little run, yeah? And then only do some sit-ups and pushups. Then-"

"Do you really think I'm weak?"

He frowned at that as the babies who were in her lap only repeated the question.

"Think she's weak?" they asked Bickslow. "Papa?"

"No," he said, frowning. "What is it with you and that word, huh? I have never said that, Lisanna."

"I just-"

"You're as strong as you need to be, kid." He nuzzled against her neck. "I just like training with someone. And I like you. So common sense would lead to me to putting two and two together."

"I just don't see us as compatible. To work out together."

"But it's like I told you, kid. I'll workout with you until you get tired, then I'll just go on without you. Like the first day."

"Yeah, but won't that annoy you? That I'm-"

"You ain't gotta be as strong as me. Or workout as much as me. Have as much stamina or whatever. Me and the babies don't care none. Do we, babies?"

"No," they all agreed as Pappa took to the air to land on her head, apparently not liking have to share her lap with the others. "No, Papa."

"The princess can't be stronger than the knight anyhow," he told her softly as he rested his forehead against the side of hers. "Else she wouldn't need him."

That night when they finally got down to eating, Lisanna found that it didn't matter what she made Bickslow. He engulfed it with the same gusto as he did everything.

"Slow down," she complained as they sat with their legs crossed on his bed together, their plates of food between them. "You're gonna choke. And don't you ever just enjoy anything?"

"It's great, Lissy," he said after swallowing what was in his mouth. Reaching behind him, he grabbed his glass of water off the night stand. "Real great."

"I spent all that time on it, Bickslow. You could at least-"

"I do like it. It tastes good," he insisted. "What do you want me to do? Savor it?"

"Well, I wouldn't hate it."

He only grinned though as the babies all around laughed.

"Don't get all girly on us now," he warned. "And besides, I'm glad that you made it for me. You can cook for me for the rest of your life, if you wanna."

"Trust me, I don't."

'That's okay too. Just this once was great. Anything else would just be overkill."

"You're so stupid."

"Maybe," he agreed making her smile. He could always do that. No matter how annoyed she was with him, just a few words from his mouth and she'd be grinning again like it was nothing.

Just then though, there was a knock at the front door, running their moment.

"Is that a delivery man with my cake?"

"There is no cake," Lisanna complained as Bickslow rushed to the door. "I never even mentioned one. You did."

"Bet it's our cake, babies."

"There isn't a-"

But then he was at the door and opening it…only to find a weeping Elfman.

"Is Lisanna here?" the man asked through tears. "I need to see her."

"Lissy," Bickslow called as he took a step back then, letting the man in. But she had already heard, all the way from the bedroom, and was rushing in to find out what was up.

"Elf," she said as she rushed to his side, Bickslow's babies following. "What's going on? Are you hurt? Is Mirajane? What?"

"It's Evergreen," he sobbed as she took to grabbing one of his arms and pulling him over to the couch.

"Ever?' Bickslow seemed shocked as he shut the front door. "She's hurt? Where's she at? Where-"

"No," he wailed. "It…it… She kicked me out!"

Lisanna blinked before her shock made her sit down on the couch as well.

"Come again?" she asked as Bickslow only took to frowning at the man.

"We got into a fight again," Elfman insisted. "And she kicked me out. But when I tried to go home, Laxus was there, again, and said that he and Mirajane couldn't go back to his place for some reason and that I wasn't allowed in the house. I was going to fight him, but he told me that it didn't matter. If I stayed, he'd still…still…"

"Still what?" Bickslow asked.

"Still…" He glanced at Lisanna before blushing slightly. "You know. Still do…naughty things to Mira even if I was around. And that they'd be real loud about it!"

Apparently, the deal was only between Lisanna and Laxus, Elfman not being included.

Lisanna shared his blush. "Well, why'd you come here?"

"'cause I don't have nowhere to go. And I guess I could stay in a motel, but then Ever would think I was with a woman and then we'll just keep fighting and-"

"You wanna stay here?" she asked in shock. "Elfman-"

"You can have the couch," Bickslow said then making his girlfriend glance at him. He only shrugged. "There's some casserole in the kitchen too. Just don't mess anything up."

"O-Okay," Elfman said slowly. Then the tattooed man took to snickering.

"I'm just messing with you. Mess anything up you want! It's a free-for-all!" Then, after his babies got excited and started laughing too, Bickslow sobered. "But there is one rule."

"What's that?"

"You gotta train with me in the morning, since Lissy's too tired. Deal?"

Elfman glanced at his sister, but she only shrugged.

"Deal," Elfman said.

"Great." Then Bickslow headed off to his bedroom before returning with his plate. "I'mma get some more casserole, Lissy. You better come get your share, Elfman, before I eat it all."

"Bickslow," Lisanna hissed as, after making sure Elfman was okay, they both went to his bedroom. "What was that?"

"I don't know, Lissy. You're the one that made it, not me. I thought you said it was cass-"

"Not the food, Bickslow. With Elfman," she clarified. "Why were you being so nice to him?"

"Because," he said with a shrug. "I know what it's like to be intimidated by both Ever and Laxus. More Laxus than Ever, but she's pretty dang scary too."

"Yeah, but-"

"It's one night, Lisanna," Bickslow said with a shrug as he and the babies went to fall back into bed. "What's the worse that can happen?"

"Uh, gee, Mirajane and Laxus decided to just take over the house and never let me or Elfman live there again?"

"Then you and him could stay here with me and we could all hangout together." He patted the bed. "Now get back over here. Your brother's fine."

Sighing, Lisanna reclaimed her spot before saying, "I hope you know we can't do anything with him here."

"What?"

"Yeah, Bickslow. Duh. He's right outside the door. He'd hear."

"And?"

"And it would be awkward for me," she said, blushing just from the thought. "So no. We can't."

"Hmmm. And it'd be that way if you and him both came to stay with me too?"

"Most certainly."

"Maybe this whole thing ain't gonna work out."

"Surprise, surprise."

"Then it's our job, Lissy, to get him and Ever back together," Bickslow insisted then. "Not tonight though because right now, I just wanna eat this casserole."

"Uh-huh."

"And before, I totally planned on fooling around, but since that's off the table-"

"It never even was on the table, really."

"-I guess I should find something else to do with my night. Hmmm. You think Elfman likes to play cards?"

She only rolled her eyes as the babies came to rest on her head and lap. It would be a long night.

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