#i think most people rely on the ship tag way too much and forget to make their love believable

[arale2126]

Cherik fics - That ONE line - 107

「I feel like I should keep an index of the one line in each Cherik fics that impresses me to no end, making want to bookmark it immediately.」

Dreaming Aloud by luninosity

Summary: Written for a prompt somewhere on the kink meme that went something like this: “Erik and Charles, on their road trip, are in a bar. Someone gives Charles mind-altering substances. This is a Bad Thing to do to a telepath. Discuss.” So...that's what happens. Plus some confessions of Feelings.

The quote:

You know how much darkness lies in everyone, and you choose to believe in the light. You have such faith in everyone. Even in me. And I don’t understand you but you make me want to try. To see what you see, even for an hour, a day, a minute.

[luciddreamingcrow]

Playable Character Au p.1

---Song recommandatteon for today is BITE by Troye Sivan---

Sumery: in this au, you the reader, are a playable character/nps in which the fanbase have made their own ships with other characters based on voice lines, canon inteactions, popular headcanons etc. :D

A/n : Ones again I apologize for not updating as frequently as I want to, for a long time I didnt have any inspo and I started school again, again Im so sorry for my long absence I promice to start posting more frequently <3

Cyno

The General Mahamatra

Voicelines

About Reader:

I've met reader around the first year when I just started to study in the academia, we relied on each other to keep ourselves sane and awake during these years, now even outside of work we hang out quite frequently going to the same spot in sumeru city to play with my cards and order the same food as last time, the loser gets to pay for the food, lets just say that they may or may not have a 5 winning streak, and not because they are good at the game.

About Readers Reputation:

Reader is a individual that demands respect opon first sight and will not hesitate to show it, but outside of their personal workplace they are actually really humorous and a trustworthy companion that’s more than willing to take a bullet for people they trust, come to think of them they are surprisingly rebellious whenever the sages want their way, insisting in treating a situation as any other regardless of ones status, its really entertaining seeing how Reader puts the sages in their plase with no hesitation.

General sumery about your relationship with said character:

Your status in the academia is a simple but a respecteble one, basically you are the second in comand of the Matra organization(operation?idk how its called) you are mainly tasked to deal with paperwork, searching info and data about students that have broke the rules and traked down by Cyno, and more oftentimes than not you have to deal with students that have cheated on their tests/exams or iligal use of caned knowledge

What the fandom thinks/though:

At first when you were announced fans had mixed feeling, the Twitter part of the fandom as they always do, they complained, other casual fans were pleased and didn't mind that much. As for the shipping part of the fandom surprisingly at first Cynder (the ship name between Cyno and reader) was considerd as a rare pair being overshadowed by Cynary and Cynolu. But when voicelines, canon interactions, ect were leaked, the shippers whent WILD. Withing some days the Cynder tag was THRIVING, fanart, fanfiction, canon content👏you👏name👏IT. Yes there are some toxic shippers ESPECIALLY on tik tok were saying that Cynder doesn't work cuz "it ruins their fav ship"🙄 some even claimed it was a "proship" 😃, but honey ignore them, they don't know whats good.Jokes on everyone cuz in later events it was extremely hinted that it was canon also lets not forget about the study dates that he takes you on <3

Layla

Fantastical Evening Star

Voiceline

About Reader:

Reader? OOoooh, you mean my roommate, right? I really enjoy their company, quiet iet so energetic and loud, I dont really know how to explain it but on one second you can see them running errands for the rest of the students with a smile on their face and on the other they are speed running their forgotten homework for next class, they really have to start to manage their tasks and start getting their life together.

General sumery about your relationship with said character:

You and Layla are roommates and most of the time you make sure and by make sure I mean forse Layla to go to sleep earlier and make food for the both of you, and whenever you accidentaly fall asleep she makes sure to do some of your work so you wont burn yourself out, and yes some times you two blast music and sing in your shared dorm just cuz you guys had too much energy one night, the next morning both of you regretted it instantly.

What the fandom thinks/though:

The first thing that came into the fandoms mind is that Layer( the ship name between Layla and reader) is that the both of you fit the sun-moon trope (Layla- moon, reader-sun) and stuck with it, refusing to change its mind. And most people just accepted it, though its not really popular its not considered a rare pair either is just in the midle, and it has enough content to satisfy the Layer shippers^^, Also not to mention the unholy amount of hurt/comfors fanfics there are👀, as canon goes theres a good amount of scenes with Layla from your hangout to support the ship as "hinted as canon" by mihoyo.

[alexblakeisgay]

Wait for the Signal (Ch. 2)

Ship: Alex Blake/Emily Prentiss

Summary: It’s been twenty-three years since anyone has seen a zombie.

Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence

Word Count: 1025

There's little playground out back of the hotel where most of the colony's residents live. It's not much of a playground – just a slide, a few swings, and a see-saw – but it's enough for the colony's lone child. At least for now. Maybe they'll add to it, as the Aquene Generation grows. (They're on track for three births that year.)

It's around that small playground that most of the colony has gathered to celebrate Jenna's birthday.

Jenna, of course, being one, couldn't care less that people were gathered on her behalf. She was too busy gumming strawberries and toddling across the lawn (an overachiever, she was walking before she was eleven months old); her favourite game was to be chased, all the while squealing with glee.

"It's a nice feeling, isn't it?" Jack said, settling beside Henry on one of the tree stumps around the fire pit and passing him a chipped mug full of mead.

"Hmm?" Henry hummed a note of question in reply as he accepted the mug and took a swig from it.

Jack nodded in the direction of the playground where Emily was pushing Jenna on one of the swings, both of them smiling with a brilliance that almost almost made one forget that their world was but a shadow of what it had been only scant decades ago... "This," he added, "Our children will get to play outside. They'll skin their knees on the sidewalk, playing tag, instead of running for their lives. They'll get to be kids..." He didn't add, 'the way we didn't'...he didn't have to, as they were both thinking it.

The thing about growing up in the midst of the zombie apocalypse was that memories of your formative years were inevitably full of terror and uncertainty. They'd been lucky, of course, that the people in their lives were perhaps better equipped to endure such an apocalypse than most. That didn't mean there was any less fear, though...

"When is Lily due?" Henry asked, changing the subject. He glanced towards where Lily and her twin sister, Chloe, were helping Garcia prepare lunch.

"Six weeks," Jack said, following his glance with a soft smile. Quickly, his expression flickered over to anxiety.

Henry nodded sagely. "Scared?" he asked, as if he'd missed the flash of fear on his face.

"Shitless," he replied with a dry little laugh.

Henry nodded again – he remembered all too well that feeling of being so wildly unprepared for whatever came next, in completely uncharted waters as he became a father in the midst of a zombie apocalypse without either of his parents to guide him.

"Well?" Jack prompted, gently elbowing him in the ribs. "Got any wisdom for me?"

He barked out a laugh, not because anything was particularly funny but because the situation itself was decidedly not funny... "It really does take a village," he said after a moment of thought. "Now moreso."

Henry, probably better than anyone in the colony, knew just how important it was to have the support of others to survive. One after another, the important people in his life had passed away – as was wont to happen in a zombie apocalypse – so his whole life had been reliant on the kindness of others.

"I don't think I could have gotten this far if it weren't for Emily and Alex," he added. Tessa, Jenna's mother, had passed away in childbirth and since then, Henry had relied heavily on Emily and Alex to help care for the baby.

"Say, where is Alex?" Jack asked, apparently only just noticing that she hadn't joined the festivities.

Then, as if right on cue, Alex came stomping into the midst of the party, growling, "Emily Elizabeth Prentiss! How could you not tell me!?" Everything about her posture made it clear that she was furious; she wasn't normally one to be incandescent with rage, but something had clearly changed that...

Bringing the swing to a stop, but keeping Jenna between them like a human shield, Emily asked, "Could you be more specific?" She didn't make it a habit, per se, to keep secrets from Alex, so she had a feeling she knew what had her so riled up, but she wasn't going to come right out and say it on the off chance she was wrong.

"Is Derek right? Are you planning to go on some wild goose chase hunt for the so-called 'Murphy'!?"

Emily's expression turned to a glower and she glanced about in search of Derek, but he was nowhere to be found. Turning back to Alex, she held her hands up in supplication and began apologizing, "I can explain..."

"Are you going after The Murphy?" she demanded a second time.

"Maybe..." she admitted in a mumble, shrugging her shoulders up near her ears sheepishly. "But I can explain," she insisted once again.

Raising a brow, Alex dared, "Go ahead, convince me."

Emily glanced about, feeling everyone's eyes on them – partly because they were, in fact, making a scene, but partly because every Alpha in attendance could no doubt smell that Alex was in heat. "Can we talk about this in private?" she urged.

"What's The Murphy?" Henry asked, interrupting the silently murderous glares Alex was directing at Emily and the silently apologetic glances she was returning.

For some time now, there had been rumours of The Murphy on the ham radio transmissions they were receiving. According to the stories, The Murphy was immune to zombism...which, if it were true, would make him the key to finding a cure and ending this nightmarish existence.

Emily explained that to Henry, following which, his eyes lit up. "You're going to find him? Can I come?"

"Henry!" Alex scolded, "You have a child! You cannot risk making her an orphan by going on this snipe hunt!"

"Sorry," he said, shrinking in on himself. She was right, of course. He'd just gotten caught up in the excitement that came with the idea of returning to some kind of normalcy...

Turning to Emily, Alex continued, "No one should be going. It's just an urban legend. There's no such thing as The Murphy."

[hxdrostorm]

Name / Alias: Vani Are you over 18?   Yes  / No Is your muse(s) over 18?    Yes/  No  / Verse Dependent / Depends on the muse you’re asking When was your blog established? Blog was made in 2021! But there are some muses, I've been writing since 2017!

– W R I T I N G  –

Are you selective about who you write with?

No (anyone)  /  Semi (most people) / Yes (some people) / Highly (few people) / Private (mutuals only).

Are you selective about who you follow?

No (anyone)/ Semi (most people) /  Yes (some people) /  Highly (few people).

If your muse is canon, how much do you adhere to canon?

Not at all  / A little  / Some/ Mostly /  Strictly / Not Applicable.

// it depends on the muse you’re asking, I always try to stick a serie’s timeline of events. But at the same time, I like mixing canons from different sources. Seeing how some of my muses, can be pretty obscure with little in the way of lore, so I have to make do with I got.

What post lengths do you write?

One-Liners  / Single-Para / Multi-Para /  Novella/All of the aforementioned.

// One-liners are only for dash-commentaries/cracks.

Do you use icons and/or GIFS?

No  /  Gifs / Icons /  Yes / Sometimes.

Do you write on other platforms?

No / Yes

// Discord, which I've been very active on as of lately!

What level of plots do you write?

Unplotted/  Open-Ended Plots  /  Semi-Plotted /  Fully Plotted Epics / All of the aforementioned

// I have a preference for plotted stuff. Knowing the course of events and my partner’s muse makes things a lot easier for me.

How quickly do you usually respond to threads?

Very Slow (more than a month) / Slow (3-4 weeks) / Average (1-2 weeks)  / Fast (less than one week) /  Very Fast (less than three days) 

// It depends on the kind of thread & the size of it TBH. I can't do a lot of back and forth quickly, but I try not to take too long to respond (unless I forget about it ofc). On tumblr however, I rely on my queue to deliver the replies! I like giving us plenty of time.

What types of themes do you like?

Adventure  / Romance / Fluff / ANGST / Violence /  Tragedy / Domestic / Family

WHAT GENRES DO YOU LIKE? ( Feel free to add! )

High Fantasy / Supernatural / Science Fiction / Historical / Horror /  Comedy / Romantic / Drama / Action / Smut / Adventure /  Espionage / All of the aforementioned

Are there any themes you’re uncomfortable writing on your blog? (Not triggers)

No/ Yes /  Sometimes

// Gore can leave me feeling ill. I'm also not the fondest of those "instant family fanons" for RP. And I suppose I should mention how, even though I'm open for writing abusive/toxic relationships. That's something I prefer reserving to only my most consistent partners, or those I'm well familiarized with. I've had some, unsavory experiences to put it mildly, in the past.

Do you have any triggers? How do you request it tagged?

// I have no triggers! But I filter out anything related to politics/IRL stuff. Sorry not sorry. I don’t think that a RP blog is the best place for these things IMO. Keep it to your personal or a blog specifically meant for those things. I come here to relax.

Label & call me all sorts of names. But I think there are better places and the right time to talk about these serious subjects. I will unfollow, if I feel like my dash is being spammed about these things. It’s nothing personal, it’s just that I’m not interested in seeing stuff about it, on this side of tumblr.

– S H I P P I N G –

What types of relationships are you open to?

Romantic /  Platonic  /  Familial / All of the aforementioned

// Just make sure the muse is available/open for it. This goes double for family stuff.

What types of pre-established relationships are you open to?

Romantic  /  Platonic /  Familial /All of the aforementioned

// So long as we have managed to come up with something that works well for both muses.

Do you have OTPs?

No /  Chemistry Only / Yes

// They can all be found in each one of my muses' about docs! Even though these ships are my OTPs, it doesn't mean I'll insta-ship them. It only means I have my own preference, for them.

SW muses - Rexmé/Obirex/Rexwalker/Codex Palpatine/Fox, Dogma/Fox Appo/Vader

Pokemon muses - Eusine/Morty, Clair/Morty Barry/Dawn Juan/Rose Drake/Drayden

Do you have NOTPS?

No / Yes

// There are only a select few ships I straight up refuse to write.

SW muses - Ahsoka/Plo

Pokemon muses - Falkner/Morty

What is your muse’s sexual orientation?

Heterosexual /  Heteroflexible  / Bisexual / Pansexual /  Homoflexible  / Homosexual / Demisexual /  Sapiosexual /  Asexual / Still trying to figure it out / Depends on the muse you’re asking

What is your muse’s romantic orientation?

Heteroromantic /  Heteroflexible  / Biromantic /  Homoflexible  /  Homoromantic   / Panromantic/ Demiromantic /  Sapioromantic  / Aromantic / Still trying to figure it out / Depends on the muse you’re asking

Are you comfortable writing smut?

No  / Selectively / Yes

// Depends on the muse. So far, Barry is the only one I refuse to write it with.

How early in a relationship do you ship romantically?

Autoship / During plotting  /  After a couple IC interactions / Several IC interactions / Slow burn / Plot dependent /  Never 

// I'm always all ears to new shipping opportunities and plots!

Are you open to toxic ships?

No / Selectively/ Yes  / I am not sure

// See above. It's something I'm 100% fine with writing, but I won't write it with just about anyone I come across, due to some bad experiences in the past.

Are you open to problematic ships?

No /  Selectively / Yes / I am not sure

// At this point, anything has the potential of being problematic. All it takes is sb, to not like a ship and waste hours of their life, coming up with hot takes pulled out of their asses to "justify" their hatred for it. Some of my ships are already deemed "problematic", I've already been called a "nasty shipper", for something that's entirely harmless. But it is "bad", bc a large and loud crowd, decided to interpret it as such.

So, yeah uwu Im here for the uwu nasty uwu ships uwu!!!

Before anyone decides to put words in my mouth. I'll have to draw the line for minor/adult ships, I'm very on the fence about age up versions of muses. In the end, it all boils down to who I'm plotting/writing with.

Are you open to polyshipping?

No /  Selectively  / Yes / I am not sure

// Depends on the muse because most of them aren’t open to it. Even though, I'm more than willing to write them!

Are you an exclusive shipper?

Never / Sometimes / Yes / I would be open to discuss it

// NOPE! Been there, done that. It didn’t work for me. At most, I have a cap on the number of different takes, of the same character I'll accept as shipping partners. Which is 3, anything beyond that, it just becomes repetitive and I get overwhelmed bc I can't give everyone the same amount of attention it deserves.

Does crack shipping ever happen?

Nope / Yes / depends / altho they normally become normal ships

// Stares @ all my ships

[addictofanimation]

I'm A Little Upset...

The anti kaeluc and anti luckae tags aren't even safe. Like, at all. This is a bit of a long one, so ignore it if you don't want to read this monstrosity.

I tried to look up some brotherly posts again and the tag is just filled with people hating "antis" and making all kinds of excuses to ship them and even trying to make arguments for it like eremika and guys who fall for their childhood friends. I myself don't really care for eremika and don't really watch AoT unless it's just the scene where Eren transforms for the first time, but did Eren ever consider Mikasa a sister? Did he ever refer to her that way? Or did his mother just help take care of Mikasa because she thought she would be all alone if she didn't? Besides (spoiler), they don't even get together in the end. Eren apparently got together with some other chick and even had a child with her.

What they ignore is that I usually don't like ships where they consider each other family then turn around and fall in love. I don't care if it's m/m, f/f, m/f, or whatever. It's strange and sends all kinds of mixed messages that can screw with a person's head and alter how they see things, especially if they are easily influenced. Not to mention that most of them are fujoshis anyway, not even LGBTQ people. Just straight girls who find it hot when two guys they want to screw, screw each other.

Some of the points they make are nonsensical too. Like relying on their color pallets or completely ignoring how Kaeya's profile has already been corrected of mistranslations, but the fact that he was adopted wasn't changed. Why would it take them over a year to fix a mistranslation? And why would they tell people who ask if Diluc and Kaeya are brothers (myself included), that they are and that they are adopted brothers? Kaeya canonically has referred to Crepus as his father and a Chinese fan has even pointed out that their mother (who spoke much better Chinese than they did) said that Kaeya referred to Diluc and Crepus as his adoptive brother and adoptive father.

It just boggles my mind that they have stooped so low that the only real defense that they try to make is by calling us racist. It's like they forget how anti-gay China is. Sworn brothers weren't invented as a BL trope or just so that gay Chinese people could fly under the radar, though I acknowledge that it's used for that too in recent decades or possibly centuries. It's older than that, much older. Even looking it up describes the bond as familial and it would honestly be pretty dang weird if it wasn't considering "brother" is in the term.

The only real-life comparison I can think of is if you had an adopted sibling that you adored when both of you were younger, practically joined at the hip. Then the two of you have a serious fight at eighteen and go your separate ways. Then when you meet again about three years later, everyone tells you that it's okay to get between the sheets with them because "you're not blood-related anyway, so it doesn't matter."

If someone told me to sleep with my adopted sibling, I'd punch their teeth out their mouth and have my siblings help me curb stomp them just to make a point. Not really, I'm a wimp who can't really fight even if I'm heavy-handed enough to hurt people around me by accident. I could probably be a pretty good fighter if I took the time to learn, but I'm way too lazy. I prefer to read, play video games, watch anime, and go for walks to get some exercise in. One of my siblings has handed my behind to me on a silver platter during the two physical fights we've gotten into.

I'm not gonna test somebody I don't know. That's how I wind up dead in a ditch somewhere. Or dismembered and scattered across the country and never recovered until much later.

Once again, I'd just like to point out that I do not go to these blogs, tweets, or posts to scream about how they are brothers and hurl death threats. I usually ignore them and go about my day. But it's getting really frustrating that I can't find any platonic Diluc and Kaeya content without kaeluc or luckae vastly outnumbering it and making it extremely hard to find. Even the Diluc and Kaeya are Siblings tag on AO3 isn't safe. While I don't hate them, I am getting really tired of their actions.

[alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom]

GREY HEAVENS (F/F)

@deans-ch-ch-cherrypie ie was one of the first I met here and I’m so proud of her. This beautiful and always jealous (oh lord, she is super jealous) person reached 500 followers and of course I (tried) had to write a fic. I know Cherrypie, I said this is a Hvitserk x Ariel fic, but I love Ivar too much, I just can’t ignore him, oops sorry. Te amo odiosa!

Pairing: Hvitserk x Ariel x Ivar

Warnings: F/F smut, fingering, oral, voyeurism

Words: 1726

Thank you to my amazing beta reader @quantumlocked310 for making my sentences sound good, helping me with the moodboard and always motivating me! The idea for the name of this fic is btw from my honey @jadelynlace, because I have no patience to think about an appropriate name and her titles are outstanding.

a/n:. This fandom needs more F/F so I took my chance to write one. This is also a call to those who write F/F Vikings fics -> tag me!

Forget everything you know about Ariel, because the only thing my Ariel and the Disney Ariel have in common is the red hair.

Summary: A Mermaid is the last chance Hvitserk has to revive Lagertha.

Tags: @xbellaxcarolinax @pomegranates-and-blood @heavenly1927 @walkxthexmoon @punkrocknpearls @mrsalwayswrite @grimeundglow

If you ever find her then speak cautiously, she is mightier than the sea and gentler than the breeze.

The seer warned Hvitserk; mermaids don't like humans. Also, Aslaug taught him not to talk about mermaids since he was a child. The fear that these beings might hear was too big. They pull men into the bottom of the sea and let their ships sink. Their voices intoxicate the mind and manipulate humans. Their beauty dazzles men and makes it easy to underestimate them. They can hide but are still visible for those who are meant to see them.

He rode days and weeks to the far north of Norway, where the sea is wild and high waves crash against the huge rocks, far away from all the villages. Where there are almost no animals to eat and fish are difficult to catch. He could easily die, but it was the last chance Hvitserk had to revive Lagertha.

~~·······~~

Evening dawned and he gathered wood to prepare the fireplace for the night. A few faint fire sparks flew away in the slight wind when he ground two stones together to start the fire.

"With so little wood you won't survive more than two hours" Someone complained behind him.

Hvitserk hastily picked up his axe and turned around to see who that was. Almost nobody knew why he left Kattegat. Every day he thought about how he killed the most famous shield maiden. The wisest witches and healers tried to bring her back. Daily sacrifices and even Hvitserk himself gave his blood in the attempt to revive her, but none of this was successful.

“Ivar?” He dropped the axe. “What are you doing here? Tell me, who sent you, huh?” He grinned.

“Brother, I am Ivar the Boneless, if this half fish is really more powerful than me then I have to see her.” Ivar didn't want to rely on the rumors.

“I don’t want to be a mermaid’s meal, so be kind Ivar.”

“I doubt we will find her, them, it, whatever” Ivar was quite unimpressed by Hvitserk’s enthusiasm. He was just looking forward to the little trip through Norway’s landscapes.

~~·······~~

They walked an extensive white sand beach in search of mussels whenthey heard stones rolling and humming high voices coming out of a big cave.

The sun shone through a big hole in the cave’s ceiling and illuminated two women laying on one another. They quietly tried to climb over the slippery stones in the entrance of the cavern to get closer.

The pureness of their naked bodies, never touched by a man, sliding against each other. Their bright silver-colored skins, glistening in the sunlight like sea pearls. Their wavy hair hid part of their faces. Rose lips sucking on the skin of the red-haired's neck while their thighs pressed around the other’s, spreading their juices over their intertwined legs. Two bodies soft as silk melting together, grinding their pussies and bringing each other to a shared pleasure.

It was silent, only their heavy breathing echoed in the big cave, making the squelching noises of their wetness hush. Their bodies harmonized and embraced; they took their time to satisfy each other without showing dominance.

She shivered at the feeling of the blue-haired’s teeth raking along the flesh of her throat. She was enticed by the way her tongue swirls and swipes the mounds of her chest, tasting the salty valley between her plump breasts. Addicted to the sight of her hips thrusting against her own, feeling the heat that wracked their entire bodies.

One hand roamed down the shape of her body and groped her ass. The blue-haired lifted her partner’s right leg and placed it over her shoulder, exposing her fully. She licked two fingers on her right hand and trailed them down over the red-haired thigh until she reached her cunt.

The red-haired pressed her beloved closer, having only a moment to breathe out before she delved her wet fingers inside her lover’s dripping walls. She stroked deeper, harder and faster; all the while nibbling the soft skin behind her earlobe. She pulled her fingers out and teased her entrance. Her tongue swirled over her lip, before she thrusted her fingers in one move again into her partner’s throbbing pussy adding one finger to stretch her more.

The red-haired pried her legs open andburied both hands in the other’s blue hair to trail her down, arching her back to catch each kiss she left. She brought her lover’s head between her legs and laid her mouth on her center, replacing her fingers. Her arms wrapped around the red-haired's thighs as her tongue dragged against her warmth, parting her folds to rub against her most sensitive spots. She moaned, savoring the taste of the one beneath her pulsating pussy, not missing a drop of her juices.

When her thumb brushes the smooth skin of her hard nipple, kneading it, the red-haired rewarded it with a melodic moan, a little louder this time. The strands of her red hair fell down from her face as she raised her head, revealing her gorgeous face. Her eyes shut tight and her lips trembled, before they spread in a euphoric moan with every slam of her thighs onto the blue-haired cheeks. She bucked her hips nearly throwing the blue-haired off her lap. Her hands looking for something to grip onto, settling them on blue locks. Seeing the lust-filled gaze of her beautiful girl tensed her body. Her end was near, the one above her flicked her tongue at a fast pace, curling it over clit once, twice until her body exploded in satisfaction, coating her mouth with her juices.

The shameless string of moans woke Hvitserk up from his trance.

“Do you think they are mermaids? Real mermaids?”

Ivar didn’t answer. Hvitserk hit him with his elbow, but h was totally obsessed from their magnet-like aura.

“Hey Ivar” He tried to get his attention again.

“What?!” Ivar finally could avert his gaze from them.

“I asked, if you think that these are mermaids?”

“Of course they are! Did you ever see a woman being so divine?!” It was obvious to him.

They heard a loud noise of something heavy dropping into the water but when they looked back to the place they were laying, both were gone.

“You idiot! See what you did, you should learn to speak more-”

“Mermaid! I can see you!” The mermaid’s colored hair reflected in the water. “Come out here! We don’t want to kill you!” Ivar ignored his brother and crawled over the slippery stones in their direction.

The red-haired rose confident out of the water presenting herself. Waterdrops covered her pale and shimmering skin. She titled her head to one side, focusing the two foreign men with her green eyes, without blinking.

“Vikings” She broke the intriguing silence. The way this word rolled of her tongue was tantalizing.

“We didn’t want to...uhm… “ Hvitserk stuttered ashamed about Ivar’s insolence. “We are looking for someone, a special woman, well she is more than a woman. Her name– “

“Ariel. I knew you would come. You’re here because of Lagertha’s death.” She completed his sentence.

The blue-haired came out from behind the rock and placed herself close to Ariel. Two goddess-like appearances, both the same; tall, hypnotizing them.

“Ariel. Hello Ariel” Ivar smirked, speaking in a seductive tone, scanning her naked body with his glance. “I assume you are the powerful creature Hvitserk needs.” He took a lazy step closer. ”Powerful and beautiful. I have a weakness for woman like you.” He confessed, brushing his lower lip between his teeth.

She approached and her cheek pressing lightly against his. Her damp red hair wet his armor as she leaned forward to whisper in his ear.

“I know who you are Ivar. So let me tell you whoIam.” He closed his eyes to memorize her unique salty smell better. “I am not a woman, I am a mermaid and mermaids don’t need to deal with men. And...don’t you dare to touch me!” Ivar clenched his fist and lowered his hand again.

She leaned back and spoke to the more rational brother. “I can’t help you Hvitserk. I’m sorry you came here in vain.” She wasn’t a talkative creature, especially when she felt used.

“Hey silver skin, where are you going?” Ivar started to treat her rude out of frustration. “We are not done here.” Ivar followed her out of the cave to the beach.

“But the seer told me you can, you can revive people. I didn’t want to kill her, please, it was a mistake.” Hvitserk tried to persuade her from the distance.

“This is my home.” She admired the calm of the ocean. “I can save anyone who gets lost in the heart of the sea, but Lagertha is not there.”

“Hey!” She gasped as Ivar grabbed her arm to hold her back. She immediately closed her eyes and was benumbed.

“No” The blue haired yelled and hissed, pushing Ivar away. He let go of her and Ariel started breathing again. Her eyes opened and even if they hadn’t told her how Lagertha died, she already knew it. She felt what they felt and saw what they saw. There was no secret that remained hidden from her.

“It wasn’t you who killed her, you were deceived Hvitserk. I am unable to overpower a dark might.” Hvitserk bowed his head. “But she’s fine. She is with Ragnar and she forgives you…and you too, Ivar.” Ivar rolled his eyes.

Ariel took her beloved by the hand and both stepped into the little waves. The silver colour of their legs became more luminous and greener the longer they stood in the water.

“Let’s go back to our sisters, my dear. I can hear them calling.” Her long red hair framed the curves from her swaying hips.

“And Ivar- “ She looked over her shoulder “- as long as your heart craves revenge, you will never be able to love.”

The sunlight reflected on her emerald green scales before she disappeared with her dearest in the depth of the sea completely.

Ivar waited a moment longer hoping to see her one last time.

“Ivar, it’s over.” Hvitserk laid his arm on Ivar’s shoulder and pulled him away.

[human-do-a-worm]

Ramblings of an Old Soldier Part 3/3

Sorry about the wait. The second dose of COVID vaccine drains you a lot more than the first dose. Anyways here’s part 3, part 1 and part 2 can be found here.

Admiral Sturm sat on the park bench as he always did. Sipping on his coffee and reading the latest news from his datapad. Once again, the Unkall boy approached him and sat beside him on the bench. He noticed that the aging Terran was wearing a strange uniform, with the image of a furred beast embroidered on the chest and upper right arm.

“Good afternoon Mr. Sturm.” “Ah, hello there son. Back for story time again?” “Yes sir. I was wondering what happened after the summit. Almost all traces of you vanished from records 8 cycles ago, and the only mentions of you after that were how the Terran Navy wanted you back.”

“Well, as I said the other day, I became a merc. My crew and I were the best. We took contracts from the Segmentum Norrus, all the way down to the Serectan Void. We didn’t work like most mercenary groups. We sought out our clients, and saw a lot of business. Everything from running escort duty on supply runs to desperate worlds, to taking down entire groups of bandits and pirates. Wherever we went, outlaws and tyrants alike feared the sight of The Wolf’s Den.”

“The Wolf’s Den? I think we heard about a group of people using that ship last cycle in our Galactic History class. Something about taking part in the Gingral war, only a few cycles ago.” “Ah yes, the Gingral war. Some of the bloodiest fighting I’ve ever seen. That was the last contract my crew and I took. We started off in a small role; mostly just escorting supply freighters to the border colonies since most of the supply lines had been cut and the colonists were starving. Our last supply run had been going well, until 6 light cruisers decloaked and opened fire. We did the best we could, but the supply freighter carrying food and civilians was destroyed in only a few minutes.”

“We could have escaped after that. Made a jump to the nearest Unkall station and gotten reinforcements, but My crew and I all knew what had to be done. We knew that the Gingral had to pay. They may have outnumbered us 6 to 1, and they may have had us outgunned, but they didn’t account for us having a mark 7 jump core. We warped around behind them and took down 2 of the light cruisers rather easily, but then we took a hit. The jump core cut out, and we were relying only on engine power.”

“But The Wolf’s Den must have survived somehow. The history logs said that it served through the entirety of the Gingral War.”

“That’s almost right. We knew that we wouldn’t be able to keep her together much longer, so we did what all Terrans do in situations like this. We became unpredictable. We gave all power to weapons and blasted the furthest ship from us, then mustered to the airlocks. We put on EVA gear and as soon as we were close enough to the next ship, we boarded.” “Wasn’t ship boarding added to the prohibited activities of War after the Terran war?” “It was, but targeting civilians has always been among the prohibited activities of War, so we were still committing a lesser infraction. We blasted open the port hangar with a plasma charge, and cleared the first room. Then we cleared the rest of the ship up to the bridge and took out the last remaining light cruiser. Changed the comms channels to the ones we had on The Wolf’s Den, then modified the IFF tag accordingly. When we arrived at the Unkall station we had just left, they demanded an explanation, so we told them what happened.” “And you weren't reprimanded?”

“Oh, we were. There was even a small tribunal held to determine if we could still fight. That’s when the call came in. Rakthis had been attacked, with only a handful of survivors. I immediately got up and started heading to my ship. The Unkall admiral demanded to know where I was going. After calmly telling him that there was now a full scale war, we had work to do. I went to the hangar and got the light cruiser repaired and ready for combat, but not before renaming it. The Wolf’s Den was never destroyed, it just became another ship.”

“What happened next?” the Unkall boy asked. “Weren’t the forces around Rakthis said to be uncounted?”

“They were, that’s why we didn’t go to Rakthis. We went to Waalon instead. Then to Rek’lon, and finally to Scrurros. Everywhere we went, we pushed back the Gingral horde. My first mate, Sarah Callingham, had family on the outer colonies back in the Vrumoid war. Saw most of them killed in front of her when their shuttle was shot down leaving atmosphere on Vrall VII. Scrurros was a tough nut to crack, and she had more crafty ideas than I did. We landed The Wolf’s Den on the uninhabited side of the planet, then bought a grav truck from one of the farmers. It was hard to weld the armor plates on it at the right angle, but mounting the lasguns and mortar was rather simple. I stood in the back, manning two of the lasguns and the mortar while she and two other soldiers were up front in the cab. We got almost to the planetary capital before we faced any resistance.”

“But the history logs said that Scrurros didn’t fall until the later end of the war.” “That’s right. We couldn’t take the planet as easily as we’d taken the others. When the first mortar hit the shield on the planetary governance center, we knew we were in for a fight. We got the truck away with only a few shots on the armor, but we were pursued by the planetary militia. One of the armored gun trucks fired their heavy las gun and took out the rear grav drive. With the back end of the truck along the ground, our speed tanked to a crawl. I was able to keep the militia back for a while by pinning them down with the lasguns, but then another shot hit us, dead center mass.”

“How bad was it? Were you alright?”

“I made it out with only a few scratches, scrapes, and bruises, but Sarah and the others up front weren't so lucky. The shot penetrated the cab and blew up at the steering linkage. Only Sarah, myself, and the one crewman in the back with me made it out of that. We ducked into a nearby building for cover, only to find that it was a school. Not wanting to put the civilians in danger, we lightly dressed Sarah’s wounds and went on into the forest surrounding the city. We came to a cave at the foot of a mountain, and made camp inside.” “Who was the other crewman that was with you? I notice that you haven’t said his name yet.”

“His name was Richard Grumman. He was the newest addition to The Wolfpack, joining us less than a cycle ago. We hadn’t had much time to get to know each other. The Militia found us in the first week, and he was shot to death on the night they raided the cave. Sarah and I managed to get away, but we were far from being safe. The next night we got a transmission from The Wolf’s Den; They had been found, and were wondering what to do. Sarah and I were at least four days away from the ship, so I made the call and told them to leave while they had the chance, to keep fighting and never forget about us.” “So you willingly stranded yourself and an injured crewmate on a hostile planet just to save your crewmates? The stories about the Terrans must be true.” “You’ll learn that those stories don’t even tell half the story if you stick on a Terran ship for even half a cycle. Anyways, there we were, just me and Sarah on Scrurros. I treated her wounds the best I could, but she wasn’t getting much better. Eventually she died, less than half a cycle into our time on that world. I retired with her body to the farmer who sold us the truck, and paid him to let me bury Sarah on his property. Much like with the freighter, the Gingral would pay. I took stock of what I had. Two lasguns, three fragmentation grenades, an energy grenade, and a plasma charge. Not nearly enough to take on the forces of the planet, but maybe enough to make it possible.”

“So what did you do? The Gingral don’t just let prisoners get away. Especially not in the middle of a war.” “Well, I couldn't just storm the Planetary Governance Center. That would accomplish nothing but my own death. Instead I went for something better. Three grids away from the Governance Center was the Defense Center. The plan was simple. Get inside, break as much stuff as I could, and hope that was enough to take down their defenses. It took me ten days to reach the capital again, and another three to figure out how to get inside. Turns out the Gringal didn’t make their roof as secure as they should have. I opened up the ventilation system and got inside. From there it was a short trip to the bunker exterior.”

“Aren’t Gingral bunkers some of the hardest to break open in the entire galaxy? How did you get inside?” “Simple; I didn’t break in; I snuck in. I kicked out the vent and got inside the bunker, then closed and locked the door behind me and smashed the controls. There were only technicians and a few soldiers inside, who were easy enough to dispatch. The harder part was accessing the communications room. Aside from the door of the bunker itself, the communications room was the most secure place in the facility. The door was half a meter thick, and barred at six points. That would prove to be a great challenge, so I left it for later. I quickly found the controls to the weapons system, and took it down. The planet was now mostly defenseless against ships in orbit and low atmosphere.”

“So you took down the guns, but how did you get in?”

“The door was too hard to get through, so I made my own instead. I went above the room and opened up the three fragmentation grenades. Terrna frag grenades use a pressure sensitive explosive to detonate, so I poured it out above the room, then placed the plasma charge on top of it. I ducked out of the room and waited for the explosion. When that charge went off, it was as if the whole planet shook. When I went in to check on the hole, the charge had only just broken through the floor. It took hours for me to get the hole wide enough for me to wriggle inside, but it was worth it. I contacted the Unkall fleet, and they were there within the week. The planet fell and I was pulled from the bunker before the food and water stores were even dented.”

“So that’s why taking Scrurros was so easy for the fleet. There wasn’t as much resistance as the planet originally had. And you were the one to take it down?”

“That’s right. After the war, I was broken. My knees were all but useless for fighting, and I could barely stand without swaying. The Unkall empire never forgot what my crew and I did. We were paid many times more than what was written in our contract, and they even got me a home right here on Unkall Prime. Now I sit here, enjoying retirement in my old age. Though the Terran lifespan is almost 50 cycles, we’re usually out of our working years after only 30 cycles. Our bodies are too old and weak to do most of the hard tasks that we normally would.”

“So what do you do now? Surely after a life like yours you want to do something just as exciting after you’re done working.”

“I mostly just read now. When you spend your life as a soldier, you miss out on so much. I never settled down and had kids, and my time for that is even drawing to a close. I did take up a few hobbies here and there, but nothing really stuck. I still work part time for the Unkall empire, training their soldiers in virtual reality simulations is about all I can do, but I’ve given the Unkall the strength to protect their planets, and given their generals and admirals the knowledge not to go on any missions they will regret. I’m happy with the contributions I’ve made in my life, and if I had the chance, I’d do it all over again. By the way, I never did catch your name.”

“My name is Ruthal Nerzak, and I’m slotted to be a soldier in the Unkall Defense Force.”

“Well Ruthal, I hope we will meet again someday.”

With that, Ruthal stopped recording and went home, finishing his final report.

A few days later, Ukall prime came under attack. A colonial independence group made numerous strikes around the city, and Ruthal had been caught outside on his way home from class. He tried to run away, but was chased by one of the insurgents down an alleyway, when suddenly two lasgun shots rang out. Ruthal though he was dead, but he slowly opened his four eyes and saw that the terrorist was dead on the ground in front of him. Looking up, he was me with a familiar face

“Thank you Mr. Sturm, I thought I was surely dead.”

“Don’t thank me yet, we’re seven grids away from the nearest shelter, and there’s enemies all around us. You said you wanted to be a soldier, well your training just started early.”

Sturm handed Ruthal the lasgun from the dead insurgent, and after showing him how to fire and teaching him how to make sure it doesn’t overheat, he led the Unkall boy out of the alley and down the street. Two blocks later, Sturm pulled the Unkall boy into an alley.

“Alright son, listen up. There’s about fifty armed and angry people between us and shelter. Our espace routes have been mostly cut off, so I need you to listen to me and listen well. When I tell you to run, you run as fast as you can. We should be able to get past most of them by taking the alleys across the street. I picked up some kit off one of these guys. The flashbang should buy us enough time to cross the street, but I’ll have to think of something after we get to our next crossing.”

Sturm threw the flashbang far into the crowd of terrorists, blinding a dozen of them and allowing them to cross the street. After seeing how many insurgents were at their crossing point, Sturm and Ruthal entered a tall residence building across from a big shootout between the insurgent and Unkall forces.

“Alright, we don’t stand a chance of crossing that. Here’s the plan. We’ll get up high, and then open fire on them. If nothing else, we’ll draw their attention away from the defense forces and allow them to break through.”

“I can’t. They’re people, just like us.” “Look around you kid. There’s men, women, and children all gunned down by these guys. I’m not sure what that makes them in Unkall society, but to us Terrans, they’re no longer people; they’re monsters. As a soldier, our job is to get rid of the monsters, so that everyone can sleep soundly at night knowing they’re safe. Taking a life isn’t something one does lightly, but it’s still something that has to be done. It’s better that we take them out, because if we don’t, who knows how many more people they’ll kill. We don’t do this because we like killing, we do this because we love the people we protect, and we’d give anything to keep them safe.”

“But I don’t want to hurt them.”

“I understand. I’m not sure if the Unkall have a saying like this, but Terrans sure do. You have a big heart. You want to keep people safe, not put them in the ground. But sometimes the best way to keep people safe is to put bad people in the ground. We’re between a rock and a hard place. If we sit here and do nothing, they will continue to hold this street, but if we can take them down, even just one or two of them, we can make them fight on two sides, which is the easiest way to break through an enemy line. I recognize a few of the soldiers I can see from up here. I trained them myself. They’ll realize what’s going on and they’ll do the heavy lifting; we just need to give them a helping hand. So, are you ready?”

The young Unkall nodded, then Sturm and Ruthal braced their lasguns on the windowsill, and opened fire on the street below. As Sturm said, the insurgents shifted their position, attempting to defend against incoming fire from two directions. As the Unkall defense forces broke the lines, a single shot came from the street and hit Sturm in the neck

Bleeding badly, Sturm stumbled back, Ruthall catching him in his arms. As he was losing his grasp on consciousness, Sturm held Ruthalls hand

“Never forget what happened here. Never forget the atrocities you saw with your own eyes, and never be afraid to rise up against the monsters who make things like this happen.”

With that, Sturm closed his eyes. Unkall security forces soon burst into the room, seeing the state of the old Terran, they gave him the best aid they could, and sent him off to the hospital, with Ruthall at his side.

After a lengthy surgery and two pints of blood, Sturm woke up in his hospital room, Ruthall asleep on his lap. Colonel Rengar, a soldier in the Unkall defense forces entered the room.

“So Admiral, I see your retirement is going well.”

“Can the crap Colonel. How many did we lose?”

“Casualties are still being counted, but even one is too many.”

“And what about the boy, Ruthall. Why is he still here?"

"His family were among those killed in the attack. We haven’t told him yet, just that we’re still looking for them.”

“So what will happen to him?”

“We don’t know. He doesn’t have any living family, and in our culture friend’s do not step in for situations like these. He will likely be left to become an adoptee for some family here, but after this, I’m not sure who would adopt him.”

“I will.”

“What? You can’t be serious. The looks he would get, especially here in the capital. I’m not sure if he can take it.”

“He knows my story. He knows that I take care of the ones I call family. He didn’t hesitate to pick up a rifle and follow me through the streets today, and he only barely hesitated to fight beside me. He’ll make a fine soldier, and he’ll make a damn good son. Get me the documents dammit.”

“Very well.”

Ruthall woke up, and was told about what happened. He didn’t take his family dying too well, but was glad that he would not be alone. The next day that school was in session, Admiral Sturm put on his old Terran uniform, and walked his son into class. It was not easy adjusting to caring for a young Unkall child, but it was a change that Sturm was happy to make. He had known what it was like to be alone, and now he could keep Ruthall from knowing that pain.

The End

Let me know if you guys want a follow up series about Sturm and Ruthall on Unkall Prime, and how they live their lives together.

[a-dragons-journal]

Hi! I was scrolling through the otherkin tag (as one does) and saw on an ask you answered that you hated DNIs and didn’t want to go into it on that ask. So I’m curious now- why do you hate DNIs? I don’t have a DNI, and I’m not out to try and change your mind. I’ve just never seen anyone say outright that they didn’t like DNIs, so I’d really like to hear your thoughts. Thanks!

I ended up indeed going into it later, because people kept sending in asks about it, so this tag exists now, but in summary:

- I don't necessarily hate the existence of DNIs, because they can be a useful tool in certain circumstances, but I hate that they're starting to become an expectation/requirement and that it's now considered "creepy/suspicious" in a growing number of communities to not have one. It should not be an obligation to basically list your political stances, discourse opinions, and triggers - you know, things you can be attacked for/people can use to hurt you - in any circumstance, least of all on the Internet where anyone can see it.

- For that matter, putting a list of things that can hurt you in public where anyone can see it and know exactly how to target you if they want to hurt/harass you is a bad idea, whether it's a social requirement or not. Full stop. Unless you are in a relatively small group where you know the intentions of the people there (and often not even then!), it is not a good idea to tell people how to effectively hurt you on the Internet.

- I hate it when people put "[x bigoted group] DNI" at the bottom of actual discussion-type content posts (as opposed to, like, aesthetics and stuff), such as people putting "TERFs DNI" at the bottom of posts about feminism, because a) if you're worried about your post appealing to that group, maybe you should reexamine your post's content, b) I've seen firsthand more than once that those groups, TERFs especially, will purposely put "[x] DNI" at the bottom of their crypto-rhetoric posts in order to turn people's critical thinking skills off and make them more likely to accept the crypto rhetoric (foot-in-the-door tactic), and c) even if it's not intentionally malicious like the last point, it still makes it so the OP's post is suddenly immune to criticism, because "hey this comes off a little transphobic" can be met with "how dare you call me a transphobe?? I said 'TERFs DNI' right there!!1!", which, again, has to do with the whole "turning people's critical thinking skills off" problem.

- On a similar note, I hate this recent trend toward performative activism and "racists/transphobes/homophobes/etc. DNI!1!" feels like another permutation of that; I don’t like people demanding/expecting me to announce all my political opinions right out the gate. It should be my decision whether or not I want to share sensitive information about myself (and if you’re scoffing at the idea of a political opinion being “sensitive information” - if it can get you, again, harassed and attacked by a complete stranger, it’s sensitive information).

- People seem to forget that people can, will, and do lie on their DNIs and bios. Predators will lie about being "under 18” in order to make minors they’re interacting with feel safe and let their guard down. TERFs will lie about “transphobes DNI!” to ensure their crypto rhetoric spreads and gets a foot in the door of trans-supporting people’s thought processes. All “it’s to let the people affected by [bigotry] know I’m safe,” which is something I hear sometimes, really means is that the bigot in question only has to put up a DNI to make the people they’re planning to target lower their guard. There is nothing guaranteeing that someone actually believes what their DNI implies they believe. It’s an illusion of safety that just doesn’t - and, really, can’t - exist on the internet, by the internet’s nature. And people thinking they’re safer than they really are is what gets people hurt because they stopped being careful. I’m not saying people need to (or should) live in fear, but relying on DNIs is not a sustainable solution, imho.

- I hate people using DNIs/BYFs as an alternative to blocklists because it often becomes essentially them forcing other people to curate their internet experience for them, and then getting mad (or hurt) when that doesn't work out for reasons that should be obvious. Especially when you take it to the extreme of trying to regulate anyone who reblogs your posts, which I have seen sometimes - you can't seriously expect people to check the OP of every single person whose post they reblog to make sure they agree with your opinions on fandom discourse; that's untenable and it can only lead to people getting hurt. You are the only person who is - and the only person who can be - responsible for your internet experience. Curate your own space.

- as a minor point, "standard DNI criteria" is becoming a popular phrase and it's frankly a useless phrase because there's no such thing. Beyond "racists/homophobes/transphobes" there's literally no telling what a given person includes in what's "standard" - pro- or anti-ship? SFW agereg/petreg blogs? DDLG? Steven Universe fans? inclusionists or exclusionists? There is no "standard." (But then, I feel like how common that phrase is becoming says something about exactly how performative and empty the trend of DNIs is as a whole at this point in time.)

- also as a minor point, I am frankly just not a fan of how often DNIs put things like "Steven Universe fan" and "neonazi" right next to each other like they're the same level of bad. I recognize consciously that this is not the intention, but it sure does come off that way sometimes. It reminds me a bit too much of those callout posts that have six pages about the person's bad opinions on anime or whatever and only then go "oh yeah and also they sexually abused, threatened, and sent their friends to harass a minor and we have screenshot evidence of all of that. anyway here's three more pages about why their art is bad because they drew a 16-year-old in a crop top one time".

And, let me be very clear here: I do not hate people who have DNIs, nor do I want to act like they're never useful. They are, sometimes! But I do feel they're being misused and they're starting to become an expectation and that's a huge problem, for the same reason that people trying to force everyone to put their age/basic personal information in their bios is a problem - it's a safety concern. I am honestly convinced that at this point, in most circumstances, DNIs are doing more harm than good.

If you want to use a DNI, that's up to you, and it's not like I'm gonna harass people about it ('s why I started that "dni critical" tag, so people could who don't want to read this stuff could avoid it) - but I want people to at least understand the risks they're taking depending on how they go about it. If it's useful to you, then good, I'm genuinely glad! It just concerns me how it's being treated by the larger Internet right now.

(And, of course, that's all just my personal subjective opinion - take what you like, leave what you don't. You're more than welcome to disagree with me; this is not a make-or-break argument for me, just one I have strong feelings about xD)

[kingofthewilderwest]

What's amatonormativity??

I’d encourage you to go to Google or check out tumblr tags and posts on amatonormativity to learn more!

Amatonormativity is the internalized cultural mindset that romance is default and central. It especially conceives of romance as the single most important relationship in someone’s life, to the point it should be focused upon and sought out above any other bond. It treats romance like the universal ultimate solution to any of our emotional bond problems (loneliness, intimacy, trust, support, longevity of relationships, etc.). Amatonormativity is heavily ingrained in many societies, like the mindset I find in people in the United States.

Of course romance isn’t a bad life experience! For many people, it can bring great joy. When people criticize amatonormativity, people aren’t criticizing that romance can be a great thing in someone’s life. The problem with amatonormativity is that it treats romance as the ULTIMATE thing, the ONE solution to our need for emotional fulfillment.

It’s important to understand that amatonormativity has profound negative side effects, whether you’re allo or aro, whether you’re queer or straight, and whatever gender you are. Society takes a lot of things for granted regarding romance and this can stunt our happiness. It stunts our ability to bond with other people around us or find satisfaction within our lives.

Amatonormativity underlies emotionally stunting assumptions like..... (disclaimer... I will often use language defaulting to the Western cishet perspective, because that’s the mindset of my broader society... I myself am an aroace enby and have more nuanced understandings of gender, gender expression, gender roles, sexual attraction and identity, romantic attraction and identity, etc.)

Automatically assuming that just because a man talks to a woman, the interaction MUST be romantic in nature (this of course intertwines with heteronormativity -- many of my points will intertwine with heteronormativity). It assumes there’s no such thing as “just friends” between people of “opposite” genders. This in turn can result in us losing opportunities to bond to, understand, or properly respect... literally half the human population.  

Treating friendships as secondary. Treating friendships as temporary. Treating friendships as more replaceable than romance. Treating friendships as less “deep” and important to our time than romance, even a romance you started two days ago with someone you met last week. By doing this, we lose the chance to grow deeper with someone near us. It limits the potential by which we can bond with another human soul and find happiness.  

The belief we are unlovable and not worth anything because we can’t find a romantic partner. I don’t know how many times I’ve seen people disregard their own worth because of this, and it makes me deeply sad. The truth is that our worth is not at all tied to whether we have a romantic partner. We can be so deeply loved and cherished in all sorts of relationships. Of course it’s still valid if you feel single blues because you want a romantic partner, but tying the concept into “I am worthless OR I’m dating” clearly is an emotionally harmful concept. It can result in everything down to hooking up in a relationship that you aren’t ready for or don’t like as much as you pretend you do.  

The belief that we are utterly alone without a romantic partner. I notice this often ties into the amatonormative belief that we can only get good physical touch, trust, emotional and physical intimacy, etc. through a romantic partner. I feel this mindset is especially pronounced in cishet men, since USA culture treats masculinity as lacking outwardly expressed vulnerability, and ergo you might not be getting your emotional needs met through your platonic and familial relations. The one “accepted” way of getting your emotional needs met comes through The Girlfriend / Wife. This belief prevents us from reaching out and finding support through other people in our lives. We can find love and comfort in friends. We can confide about our emotional struggles and find relational intimacy (great trust!) through familial and platonic bonds. Hugs, snuggling, other acts of physical affection are what humans need, and don’t need to be relegated to One Person Only. Plus... if we assume that our emotional struggles should be fulfilled by One Person Only... that puts enormous pressure on that partner to provide for everything. No one’s that strong. We need support networks, not one designated “save me” individual. It’s pure unhealthiness to mount burdens only on one person, and bottle yourself up otherwise. I often see this fallacy pop up when people start a new romantic relationship. You might barely know the person, and yet you’re trying to rely on them for everything, and you’re trying to be the person they’ll rely on for everything. You dive deep into the expectations before you really know how to handle it, and in the process become psychologically overwhelmed because of the Huge Responsibilities this role seems to entail. Being in a romance doesn’t automatically mean you’ve reached peak intimacy! Note: it’s not to say that romance can’t be a major avenue of security. Of course it’s a great way to fulfill intimacy, trust, physical needs, etc. Of course it can become a bond full of loyalty. But romance is actually like any other relationship... a familial relation can be weak or it can be strong, a platonic relation can be weak or it can be strong, and a romantic bond can be weak or it can be strong. The fallacy is that we are treating romance as *THE* way to fulfill all these diverse emotional problems, socking it onto one individual when it might be beyond their single load to bear, and then not seeking out help from the other sources that are around us.  

The belief that the only person you can live with is a romantic partner. Living with non-romantic roommates (aka living with friends) is seen as an undesirable inconvenience and something you only do temporarily because you financially have to. It’s seen as an immature youthful thing rather than something an established adult might do. Living with friends long-term out of chosen happiness is not something that crosses the mind of many people... it’s assumed you’ll either move out to live on your own, or marry and go and live with your partner.  

The belief that adulthood progresses through a very specific sequence of events. You go to school. You leave on your own. You marry. You get a house. You have kids. There’s a reason it’s common for family to nag you  “When are you going to get married? When are you going to get married?” Because clearly you haven’t made an important step of adulthood, an important step in life, unless you get married. I’ve noticed that for many of my friends, even those who are comfortable with the life choice to not get married... they express they don’t feel “as adult” as their married peers. And many people in society won’t treat them “as adult.”  

Harmful beliefs downplaying spousal abuse, like those people who try to argue “you can’t rape your wife / husband / spouse / girlfriend / boyfriend / significant enby / significant dumbass. That’s not what rape means.” Because a sexual-romance is the GOOD thing, right?  

AND MUCH MUCH MUCH MUCH MORE!!!

Some people of course have a better handle on their relationships than others. Some people are better at ignoring what society considers most important or most default. Some of what I’ve said above is when these beliefs are treated to their utmost, rather than what some people will do (lots of people have close “besties”, for instance). But amatonormativity+heteronormativity creeps in everywhere in society.

It’s the reason why, in most Hollywood movies, the protagonist is a man and the main actress is his romantic partner. It’s the reason why these two characters might start a steamy romance even before they know each other well; who needs to write ACTUAL understanding between the two characters when they obviously are going to fall in love and fuck?

It’s the reason why advertisements are so sex-oriented (reminder note: society usually doesn’t distinguish sexual and romantic bonds). Advertisements try to make their product appealing by associating it to romance, the Ultimate Desirable. Here’s how to make you look hot so you can attract someone in a romantic-sexual relationship, because THAT’S the ultimate goal of life, right?

It’s embedded in linguistic expressions. If someone asks if you’re dating, you respond, “No, she’s only a friend.” Or. “No. We’re just friends.” Friendship is being treated as lesser. Breakups are treated as inevitably bad even if you choose to be friends afterwards -- because clearly being friends is “taking a step back”, right? Even the word “break up” -- oooo that’s bad sounding! (There have been multiple times I’ve ended romantic relationships where I’ve turned the phraseology on the head and told them it’s a step forward to better, happier, healthier, stronger bonds... and they had to think it through, because amatonormative society forgets this can be the case.) “Friendzoning” is seen as a crime in part because you’re not going to be as intimate with someone as you want to be... despite the fact that having a non-romantic and/or non-sexual relationship with someone could be JUST as meaningful and deep!

I’ve FREQUENTLY seen church study groups that offer only these options: young adult small groups, women’s small groups, men’s small groups, and married couple’s small groups. Because clearly the only “mixed” gender situations out there are when you’re too young to be married, or you’re married.

And frankly, I think it’s one of the reasons why fandom likes to play hook-up with all the characters. Shipping is SO much fun! I love shipping! This is not a comment against the act of shipping! But if everyone needs a romantic partner to be happy...... mmmmm.... yeah let’s rethink what the underlying assumption is here. It’s that default assumption that “romance=happiness, romance=ultimate goal, romance=happily ever after, friendship=lesser.” If two characters in a show don’t canonically hook up, fans can get angry... even if the relationship showed on screen is one with a lot of trust, loyalty, happiness, and intimacy.

I am aroace. I don’t know how many other friends in the aro and/or ace community have talked about how lonely and unhappy they feel, because all their friends around them are looking for sex and romance and ergo don’t treat their friendship deep enough for my friends to get their emotional needs met. It’s easy to feel left out in a world where everyone is looking for romance, and ergo you are never the bond they want to pursue.

There are many ways in which we can achieve close bonds with people. This is why I think it’s important to talk about amatonormativity. Again, I’m SO happy when my friends are happy in a good romance. That’s a good thing!!! But it’s so psychologically destructive, whether you’re aro or allo, to live in a world where romance is considered The One And Only Key to relational happiness.  

Talking about amatonormativity has the goal of helping us be aware about how society idolizes romance and/or sex. The goal is to help everyone know we have many options by which to pursue good, deep bonds in a variety of ways. The goal is to make sure we don’t treat romance as the only acceptable way to live. The goal is finding ways for humans to get our needs fulfilled healthily and widespreadly. The goal is to be more comfortable with and more accepting of people who don’t follow The One Righteous Path Of Required Romance, so that we can all be more comfortable with ourselves and the relations around us -- including being comfortable with our romances!

[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.

[hiscyarika]

Among the Stars

Word Count: 2.3k

Pairing(s): Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x Reader

Summary: The Mandalorian voices his doubts about his Creed and his ability to uphold it. Prequel to Solace (but can be read as a standalone). 

Warning(s): Angst

A/N: I’m so glad to finally have this written. I’ve really been stuck on it for the last couple of weeks, but after a song recommendation from the lovely @murdermewithbooks, I finally found the inspiration that I needed to finish the work! I hope you guys enjoy it! 

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He was young then.

You both were.

Two people searching for their places in a war-torn galaxy. Who’d long since forgotten softness and instead internalized a love for violence. It was the only thing you’d known your whole lives. The most natural part of your existence.

Until you met each other.

You stand at the top of the loading ramp, staring out at the field of stars above you. The skies are clear and cloudless, letting you freely marvel at the sight. Looking at them, it’s hard to remember how lonely they really are. So isolated in infinite space despite their vastness in your current view. You know that loneliness well, the way that it settles itself deep in your chest, an ache that throbs without reprieve. It’s cruel really, the way that it hits you hardest when you’re among all those stars. You become one of them, suspended in darkness all alone.

You feel a heavy, gloved hand on your shoulder, but there are no words from the man standing behind you. Instead, you turn to him, your eyes meeting the visor of his beskar helmet. You smile just slightly, seeing the way that the night sky reflects gently off of the steel, basking him in a soft silver glow.

“Everything’s loaded up?,” you ask, glancing behind him at the carbonite freezer, where he’d just encased your latest bounty.

“Yes,” Din answers simply, removing his hand. “Are you ready to go?”

You take one last, long look at the stars, trying to fight off the tightening of your chest as you prepare to join those lonely stars once again.

“Yeah…,” you breathe.

You step back, pressing the button on the wall to close the hatch of the ship. Din climbs the ladder to the cockpit, and you follow silently after him, settling in your seat as he takes the helm, preparing to take off and head back to Nevarro. You’ll go back to your own ship then, working the next few cases on your own while he goes back to the covert.

The Crest slowly rises from the ground, then takes off, breaking through the planet’s atmosphere and into open space. There are a few idle moments of gliding through open space as Din makes the calculations on his own, but then you make the jump into hyperspace, where you’ll be for the next few hours.

Knowing that there’s plenty of time for you to get some rest, you rise wordlessly from your chair, going back down to the hull of the ship. There’s an extra cot that exists solely for you to use when you join Din. You curl up on top of it, pulling the thin blanket over your legs. But as long as you lie there, sleep never comes to you, fended off by that ache in your chest.

You long for the day that bounty hunting is no longer a necessity for your survival. You want to land on some far-off planet some day and never leave its surface again, free to stand in awe of the stars every night without being reminded of the constant emptiness you’ve felt among them for so long. There can be so much more to live for than the Code. Peace. Safety. Love and a family even, if you wanted. But you know that even if you earn enough credits from hunting and selling your ship, there will still be one piece missing from this life that you yearn for.

It was only ever supposed to be a partnership, giving you both someone to rely on when a particular bounty seemed too tricky for just one hunter. But you’ve worked with Din long enough now to know one thing for certain.

You’ve fallen in love with the Mandalorian.

And this life that you’ve envisioned for yourself? It will never be quite as wonderful without him. You’ve contemplated leaving him and the Guild behind, and every time it leaves that all-too-familiar tightness in your chest. You won’t delude yourself, though. You know about his covert, the way that they depend on him to provide. It would be abhorrent for you to even ask that he abandon his people, his Creed, the Way, for you.

Consumed by your thoughts, you don’t hear the heavy boots hit the ground as he comes down to join you. You don’t feel his worried gaze as he watches you in the dark.

“Cyar’ika?,” he ventures carefully, and even at his caution you startle. You push yourself up to sit on the cot, looking in his general direction but not quite sure exactly where he is in the pitch blackness of the hull.

But he soon settles himself next to you. Your eyes slip closed as the hisses and clicks of the helmet releasing him meet your ears. There’s a soft metallic ring as he places it on the floor, followed by a soft thud that you know to be his leather gloves. He takes your hand in his then, gentle but hesitant.

“Come on. You know you don’t have to sleep on your own,” he murmurs. And you know it’s true. The last few times you’ve been on the Crest, your own cot has been neglected, the two of you opting to spend the hours in hyperspace as close as possible in his own bunk. But the dread of your solitary reality resulted in this unconscious choice to distance yourself from him.

You open your eyes, finding nothing but darkness even as you look at him. You squeeze his hand, and he takes the action as a silent agreement. Din stands, carefully pulling you up with him. You immediately become rigid in his grasp, something that is not lost on him in the slightest. When your breathing hitches in your chest, he pulls you closer, one hand now gently cupping your cheek.

“You’ve been quiet since we left, cyar’ika. What’s bothering you?,” he asks, and your eyes burn at the thought of telling him exactly what has been eating at you. It’s not fair for you to put that on him, to make him think that there is a choice to be made. There isn’t. You won’t do that to him.

You shake your head, letting him feel the movement with the hand that cups your cheek. “It’s nothing, Din. Don’t worry. Let’s just get some rest,” you try. Though you know he won’t, you still foolishly hope that he’ll let it go. You don’t have the energy for this.

He doesn’t say a word, instead pressing his forehead lightly to yours. You take in a deep breath, breathing in his comforting scent and proximity. You’ll never forget the first time he did this, still wearing the helmet. It had brought you to tears to hear him explain to you the significance of the action. Even now, when you know his lips as well as your own, this Keldabe kiss is far more intimate. There’s so much exchanged between you in the simple touch. Things that can’t be done justice by any spoken language.

He pulls back after some time, though you’re not sure how long the contact lasted. He then presses his lips, soft and warm, to the spot on your forehead he’d just left. “I’m right here. Whatever it is. Please just let me help you,” he whispers against your skin.

You have to resist the urge to step away from him, even when the words burn like fire against you. “Din...I can’t. You can’t,” you tell him, hating the way that your voice begins to shake.

“I can’t what?,” he implores you, and you can tell that your vague wording is beginning to frustrate him.

You turn away from him then. You can’t bring yourself to face him as you speak the words. “I just… We…,” you take a deep breath, pulling yourself together as much as you can manage, for his sake, “Din...have you ever thought about leaving all of this behind? All of the fighting and struggling, don’t you want to just want to escape it?,” you ask.

He drops his hand then, taking a step back from you. You feel your heart clench before it begins to beat rapidly in your chest. This is exactly the reaction that you feared.  

“Now you know,” you whisper in defeat. You move past him, headed back to the cockpit to leave him alone. You surmise that he has no desire to lie next to you anymore.

But you’ve barely grabbed the cold metal rung before his hand wraps around your wrist. You freeze in place, closing your eyes as you wait for whatever response he’s come up with.

“Wait,” he tells you, pulling you back to face him. He lets out a soft sigh then. “I just...I can’t talk about this. I can’t even think about that. Someone like me…”

“I know, Din. I’d never ask you to betray who you are,” you assure him. You won’t pressure him to talk about these things. Forcing him won’t make this better for either of you.

He takes you back into his arms, your head resting on his armored shoulder. His fingers curl gently into your hair. You can hear the frantic beating of his own heart, and the guilt of upsetting him this much eats away at you. “Let’s get some rest,” he whispers, letting go of you only to remove the rest of his armor. Once the duraplast lies in a neat pile in front of the weapons cache, he returns to you, gently guiding you to the bunk.

But even as the two of you lie there in the comfort of each other’s arms, you’re unable to find rest. Your thoughts are much too loud to allow for sleep. Something between the two of you has shifted. You can feel it. There are so many words to be said, but yet are left unspoken.

The awareness of time evades you as you lie there, hating the silence that is far less than blessed. It leaves you feelings a sense of dread, that maybe this sliver of paradise that you’ve managed to procure even as you work for the Guild might not last much longer. You wonder if you’ll ever see Din again after you land in Nevarro, or if your own wishful and foolish thinking has put an end to the bond you share.

“Yes.”

You startle, but relax when he gives you a gentle, apologetic squeeze. “What?,” you ask.

He takes a deep breath. “Yes. I think about leaving everything behind,” he murmurs.

You shake your head. “Din, don’t. We don’t have to–”

“No. I want to. I…,” he has to take a moment to gather his thoughts, “I just… We don’t question the Creed. And we never abandon the tribe. To do so would warrant the harshest form of shame.”

You place your hand on his chest, right over his heart, turning so that you can look up at him even in the dark. “I would never–”

“I know that, cyar’ika. I know. But...I trust you with this. With my...doubt,” he admits, and you can tell that it’s hard for him to even confess to his uncertainty.

You nod slightly. “You can trust me,” you assure him.

“Believe me, if I could leave all of this behind, I would. You and I, we’d never have to worry again. We’d be safe and happy. That’s all I want,” he begins. “But my tribe, they depend on me. It would bring great dishonor for me to leave my people behind when they need me most. They saved me from certain death. I owe everything to them.”

“I know,” you answer simply, trying to fill the quiet left in the wake of his words.

He rubs a hand down your back. “And it’s hard. I’ve...I’ve never told anyone that. But having the entire covert depending on me, to be stuck hunting, not being able to show my face, especially to you. Cyar’ika, I…” You can hear the panic mounting in his quickened speech. You frown deeply, wanting to relieve his distress in any way that you can. “I wish things could be different. They would be if it weren’t for the Purge. I’m sorry,” he laments.

You lean forward, pressing your forehead to his. “Shhhh,” you soothe, “Don’t be sorry, Din. It’s not your fault, and I don’t blame you for any of it.”

His breathing hitches, and then a shaking exhale escapes his lips. He brings his hand to the back of your head, holding you closer to him. After just a few seconds, his breathing evens out. You feel his pulse slow beneath your hand. Keeping yourself propped up against his chest, you bring your other hand to his unruly locks, gently threading your fingers through his curls. It’s your touch that grounds him, brings him back down from the heightened state of anxiety.

“You don’t have to carry it all alone, Din,” you whisper. “I love you too much to let you suffer alone. Never forget that, please,” you say, nearly begging him. You need him to know that even if the life you both long for is impossible, that it doesn’t change the way that you love him and the way that you will always be there for him to rely on.

“Ni kar’tayli gar darasuum,” he murmurs. You don’t know what it means. You don’t even know what language he’s speaking. But it doesn’t matter. You’ve always understood each other better in nonverbal ways. You know the implication of the words without knowing their meaning.

He presses his lips to yours, the tender kiss just an affirmation of his words. Something has shifted between the two of you, but you know now that the bond remains. What is so strong between you now will never fade, no matter the circumstances.

And there, even in the infinite cosmos, you know better than to think that you are just as lonely as the stars.

-

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[silver-wield]

Can you do an analysis on Cloud and Tifa’s body language during that scene when they’re in Cloud’s room and he’s slyly referring to his promise to Tifa? There was crazy sexual tension in that scene and it honestly looked like Cloud was subtly being flirty with her 😭

No probs, Nonny! I actually already touched on their body language in a reply to a gif set of this bit, so we'll just expand on that ^=^

Ok, spoiler warning for ppl who haven't played – do I still need to do this? Eh ok, (I tag FF7R spoilers as final fantasy 7 remake spoilers) and it's gonna be a VERY long one so prepare to scroll.

Also, this is one person's interpretation of the scene, so if you disagree that's cool and we'll agree to disagree.

You're also gonna have to excuse the janky quality on some of the screens, I'm grabbing them from Youtube and it's frustrating af trying to get the exact moment I want.

Other analyses if anyone's interested.

Shinra HQ vision scene (Cloti/plot analysis) 

Chapter 3 (Cloti reblog) 

Tifa character analysis 

Aerith Resolution (plot analysis/theory – I should probably update this since I've had other ideas since then) 

Train graveyard (not really an analysis, but I got some sweet screenshots of Cloti) 

Clotiscrew tunnel analysis 

Cloti reunion analysis 

The Promise Analysis 

Andrea's approval (Cloti ask response) 

Leslie analysis (not mine, but a good read) 

Cloti action touching 

Aerti friendship analysis 

Now, strap in and enjoy the ride.

Keep reading

Recap time! Yall know the drill by now if you've read my other ramblings.

Chapter 3, where we get a room (lol), do some jobs and have a chat with Tifa. It's pretty basic stuff until the cut scene after Marle gives Cloud a talking to. She's the overprotective grandmother figure that Tifa needs in her life and she wants to make sure Cloud isn't messing with her. Now, why would she think that? Well, maybe she picked up some hints when Tifa mentioned Cloud to her about wanting a place to stay? Marle's pretty sharp, after all, and if she got the impression Tifa is carrying a torch, she'd definitely make sure Cloud's not about to blow it out. She tells him to pay attention to her, to listen. This is the very first instance of Cloud taking in that kind of info and it changes how he treats others for the rest of the game.

After the chapter 4 mission where Cloud reflects on his promise to Tifa, it's back to the slums for some rest. Then Tifa knocks on his door and enters. She mentions Cloud was gone for a while, and he answers he was walking so that he keeps Jessie's secret – because he's that kind of guy.

Small talking Tifa is cute, but lol, Cloud seems to have purposely forgotten Johnny since he's yet another admirer of Tifa. For a guy who doesn't forget info like morons who could cause them trouble in the long run, it's pretty telling how quickly he is to dismiss Johnny.

Onto something more interesting in this pic, though. Cloud is sitting on the bed. Now, if he wasn't comfortable around Tifa he'd have got up. His eyeline is lower than hers so he has to look up at her. This puts her in a position of dominance over him – also not surprising since his mentality is that of a 16yr old around her and she's the adult in the relationship. Tifa for her part has her body turned to the side in a non-confrontational pose.

Tifa has her hands clasped in front of herself (couple of seconds before this screen) which indicates she's trying to protect herself as she asks the question if Cloud is leaving Midgar. Not surprising since she's afraid of losing people she cares about and even just someone heading off somewhere else would upset her, though she'd try not to show it.

Cloud, for his part, looks away, appearing as though he's thinking it over, but we're already aware he's decided to stay and help Tifa out, so this is a fake out on his part. He's half-teasing, half trying to get a positive response from her (remember the water tower? Yeah, this is that Cloud. The dork. The one who is useless at talking to girls).

I'm sorry, but Cloud is such a cheeky bastard I just can't with him! This is giving me all the throwbacks to his behaviour at the water tower and I love that it mirrors that moment, but with more success on his part this time. He's looking all around trying not to give himself away before it's needed. He's smiling and looks relaxed. He might be sitting but he definitely believes he has the upper hand between them at this point. Remember, I've said before that eye contact is important. Well, in this case, Cloud's deliberate refusal to make eye contact shows he's teasing. This is such a cute moment between them!

Oh ho! But here's where his teasing ends. Cloud is being completely serious and obviously took the promise between them as being special. Ducking his head out of sight completely prevents us from seeing his expression and allows him to act in a casual way about something that's such an important part of who he became. But, he's not quite pulling it off because he's also looking quite defensive in this pose. His hands are clasped in front of him and he's leaning forward, looking at the floor. This is something very meaningful for him to talk about and he's hoping Tifa doesn't brush it off, so if he doesn't look at her he won't have to see her reaction.

Tifa's obviously got her own interpretation of how that promise went. We can guess she did it because she just wanted a guarantee she'd see Cloud again some day from how she acted during the water tower cut scene. Here, she's leaning back on her hands which leaves her body language open, but also conceals something. She's looking down, the same way Cloud did. She's also hiding her true feelings towards Cloud the same way he's hiding from her, but she's being as honest as she can be as the same time. I've seen people call Tifa a liar because of how she doesn't address Cloud's memory problems in OG, but when you really take a close look at her, lying just isn't her. This is a complex moment between them. They've not long met again and they're having this heavy conversation. The feelings between them are still there, but there's all this other stuff that's more important. But, they know they're friends, and that's a good place to start getting to know each other again, and Cloud choosing to stay is that first step, with the quick follow up of him reminding her of their shared history.

Cloud, you smooth bastard I love you for this! This is definitely flirting! He's looking directly at her, then dips his head to the side in an inviting gesture. His eyes soften and he gets this tiny smile on his face. His body language has changed, too. He's sitting up and back slightly with both arms by his sides. There's no more defensiveness about him. He wants to listen to her. Cloud is choosing to ask for Tifa's confidence. He's letting her know she can rely on him. That he's interested.

For her part, Tifa's pleased, but surprised. She's not long got back in touch with Cloud and, while he's been a decent guy, she's had the overall impression he isn't the same as the soft boi she knew, so this is a revelation for her. The Cloud she knew is still within this Cloud – which anyone who knows the real!Cloud SOLDIER!Cloud storyline is exactly the point of this moment. Tifa knows his true self. The true self that comes out only when he's with her.

Cloud, bro, I'm gonna combust from all these flirty gestures! Fully open body language, a smile, teasing tone. Goddamnit, just say you love her already! Yes, please, invite Tifa to check you out. Remember, he's still sitting. He's so relaxed and natural around her. Even if all you saw was two friends and no ship, you'd be insane to think he isn't a different person in this scene. He's not SOLDIER Cloud here.

Tifa, for her part, isn't flirting here. She likes Cloud, that's clear, and her body language is reaching towards him, which suggests she has feelings towards him, but her tone is more playful and her expression is pleased. She's happy to see her friend isn't too different from the one she knows. Most of the flirting in this scene is on Cloud's side, which makes sense when you think of the torch he's been carrying for her. He's trying to get her attention, same way he did when they were kids. Tifa's oblivious but receptive because she likes him back, but she won't show it as much because she thinks he's not interested. Someone knock their heads together please lol

OMG FUCKING HELL CLOUD JUST TELL HER YOU LOVE HER! Leaning back on the bed, totally vulnerable body language, drawing attention to the bod in an attempt to spark her interest – since he's clearly interpreted this line from Tifa as a rejection – this boi is trying so hard! He even looks a little disappointed she's not more impressed with SOLDIER Cloud, but we knew she preferred the dork anyway lol

Now, I know everyone talks about the physical and emotional distance between them here, which is obvious, but what I'm gonna point out is after feeling like SOLDER Cloud has been rejected by Tifa – thanks to her preference for the real deal – Cloud looks away from her. She's brushed him off and he's hiding his upset by not meeting her eyes.

Tifa is still oblivious to this, but Cloud definitely has a look of disappointment on his face.

Now, after that last bit you'd think Cloud would assume he's got no chance, but then Tifa says how glad she is to have him back and that cheers him up. He's still in that mindset of a 16yr old with a crush, whereas Tifa's moved on. She's had 5 years apart from him (she thinks it's 7, I know, but he saw her in Nibelheim and how she'd matured a little). She's not thinking of him in an openly romantic sense, whereas Cloud is definitely still deep in his feelings for her. Hearing she's happy to see him hints to him that he might still have a chance with her if they spend more time together. His soft af goodnight is the last indicator of his strong feelings for her. His body language is open once more, he's staring after her with a longing look and a smile and doesn't look away until the door closes.

Conclusion

JUST GET FUCKING MARRIED ALREADY IT'S BEEN 23 YEARS!

Lol seriously though, Cloud is definitely still deep in the throes of his childhood crush. Tifa could resurrect hers with time because it's clear she does still harbour feelings for him, but she's not the type to be pushy or insistent. She'll let Cloud take the lead and offer subtle hints how she feels, hoping he feels the same. She doesn't pick up on Cloud's subtle flirting compared to those more in your face things he tried earlier. Through all of those interactions with her he's definitely trying to say that he likes her and he'd like her to accept his feelings, but the bigger gestures get the brush off, although she blushes and looks shy, and the smaller ones go over her head.

Unfortunately, these two are oblivious af and it's gonna take everyone's help to get them together.

[duhragonball]

Yamcha if you're still doing the character meme?

I am still doing these, and I’m enjoying it, so keep ‘em coming.   Before I start, let me promote the original post, in case anyone else wants to start their own thing.  I’d link to the OP, but I guess they deleted this from their blog, probably because their notifications went nuts.

Give me a character and I will answer:

Why I like them: Let’s be honest, Yamcha doesn’t get a lot of big “hero moments” in Dragon Ball.   Or Dragon Ball Z, or Dragon Ball GT, or Dragon Ball Su-- Look, you get the idea.   In most arcs, he’s the first one to get benched.   In tournaments, he always loses in the first round.   He spent the King Piccolo Saga recovering from a broken leg.    Against the Saiyans, he was the first one to die.  Against the Androids, he was nearly killed and had to sit out the rest of that arc.   In the Buu Sagas he was retired.    In a number of major storylines, he just isn’t there, because no one called him.

But he remains a fixture in the franchise anyway, because he’s always showing up for more.  Let’s take the Buu Saga as an example.   It didn’t surprise me to find out he had retired, mainly from a dramatic standpoint.    There’s a lot of new characters in the Buu arc, and it made sense for some of the older characters to step aside and make room for them.   But he’s still there, because he wants to see Goku one last time, and he wants to hang out with his friends and watch some of them kick the crap out of each other.   It was kind of sad to see him stay behind while the others rushed off to follow the Supreme Kai, but he’s retired, after all.    Also, they didn’t stop to fill him in on what was happening.    I suspect he might have tagged along if they asked.  

As it was, he still ended up getting involved, and he was with the Dragon Team right up until Super Buu cornered them on the Lookout.     And the next time we see him, he’s on the Grand Kai Planet with Krillin, and King Kai seriously considers sending them in to take on Buu in case Goku and Vegeta can’t get the job done.   

And that’s a big deal, because it even comes up in the anime.   King Kai tells them that he arranged for them to keep their bodies as a precaution, but he’s totally in favor of letting them remain on the Grand Kai Planet with all of the other honored warriors, like Goku.  So you start with this desert bandit, a highwayman without a highway, probably because he’s afraid of all the women that use the interstate.   But he gradually overcomes his fears and insecurities, never completely, but just enough to put one foot in front of the other and become a better man.    And finally he ends up receiving a place among the great heroes of old.  

So why doesn’t that get more attention?   You could make a whole epic story out of that, except it’s not Yamcha’s story.  He’s a supporting character.   So the franchise itself tends to play it down.    Even Yamcha doesn’t really take it all that seriously.   I don’t know if that’s modesty or cluelessness or Big Himbo Energy or what, but that’s why it’s so easy for everyone to write him off as a loser or a failure.   They’re overlooking the bigger picture.

The best way to illustrate this is with this TFS short that serves as an epilogue to their DBZ Abridged series.   Yamcha goes back to playing baseball for the Taitans, only to get fired, because he’s so talented that he’s literally broken the game, and no one buys tickets anymore.    But he gets a gigantic severance package, and he still goes down in history as the greatest ballplayer in history.  What always gets to me is that they have to explain to him that this is actually a win.  As his coach puts it, “you do nothing but win.”   

Like Yamcha himself, we often see him from the lens of these insane Dragon Ball adventures, where you have to have glowy hair and a hot cyborg wife to be considered a success.   But to the rest of the world, he’s a jacked up millionaire with fantastic hair, and he’s a real sweetheart.   Who couldn’t like this dude?

Why I don’t: As you may have noticed, I tend to only use this section to talk about why I disliked the characters initially.   I have to think back to 1999 when I was still having trouble keeping track of who’s who.   In particular, I found Yamcha’s presence frustrating because he looked and dressed almost exactly like Goku, but not quite, which seemed bizarre.    Later, I picked up on the context, and it didn’t bother me as much.  

Yamcha does have a bit of an overconfident streak in some situations, which might look like unfounded arrogance, but I think it’s really just his carefree nature and enthusiastic can-do spirit.   He was confident about their chances against the Saiyans, but I don’t think that was him being cocky.   He just knew they had all trained hard and he was stronger than he’d ever been.    But that’s easy for people to jump on as a reason to hate the guy.  

Future Trunks claimed that he fooled around while he was involved with Bulma, but come on.    Does anyone really buy that?    Besides, at best, that would only apply to Future Yamcha, the one who died in the other timeline.   Once Trunks changed the past, all bets were off.

Favorite episode (scene if movie): I’m gonna get a little nuts here and go with TFS’s playthrough of Legacy of Goku I, where they decided to level up Yamcha and have him solo Broly.

Basically, in an RPG game like this, Wolf Fang Fist can do monster damage, so they maxed out Yamcha’s stats to wreck the game’s hidden superboss.  You have to skip to 1:40:00 or so to see the successful attempt, but I loved this video.   This is where I learned to respect the utterance of “Roga... fufuken!”  Broly probably would have respected it, too, except he died from all those hits he took.

Favorite season/movie: You know, that fight with Tien was a classic.   Not sure it’s in my top ten, but it’s on a lot of people’s lists, and I absolutely get that.

Dumb as it may sound, I enjoyed seeing Yamcha in the hospital, wrestling with his own despair as he recuperated from his broken leg.   And when he shows up at the end to congratulate Tien and accepts Tien’s apology, well, like I said, Yamcha has this great character arc, but it’s easy to overlook with everything else that goes on.

Favorite line: I forget which game it was in, maybe Budokai 3, but one of his pre-fight taunts is “Watch this, Puar!  I’m gonna win!”, which always makes me think of Puar sitting just off-camera, watching the action from a little lawn chair.  

Favorite outfit:

I may take some heat for this, but I like the Androids/Cell Saga version of Yamcha, with the short, spiky hair.  This dude’s long, luxurious rockstar ‘do is a national treasure, sure, but I dig this look more.  

Also, I consider Yamcha to be the only guy from the Turtle School who pulls off the slippers and no-blue-undershirt look.   It looks off when I see it on Krillin and Goku, but with Yamcha it just feels right. 

OTP: This guy gets shipped with a lot of people, probably because he’s one of the major characters without an established love interest.   Folks still carry a torch for Bulma, some people ship him with Tien, Frieza hit on him in FighterZ, and I’m still trying to make sense of that.   He flirts with your character in the Xenoverse games.    Years ago, I considered doing something with that, but I’ve fleshed out my OC enough to where I don’t think that fits. 

At the end of the day, I can only see Yamcha getting together with @cozymochi ‘s OC, Marzi.  

Brotp: Tien, Krillin, Goku.  Hell, I always figured Yamcha was one of the few people Vegeta could get along with to some extent.  

I mean, Tien couldn’t stand to be one the same planet as Vegeta, but Yamcha keeps coming over to have hot dogs at Bulma’s place, long after the Namekians have left.  

Head Canon: He’s Luffa’s type, don’t get me wrong.    I just don’t see any room in my fic for a whirlwind courtship.    The stars just don’t align.

Unpopular opinion: I’m not really behind this notion that they should give the humans more stuff to do in future series.   When it comes to supporting characters, sometimes they get phased out, and there’s no point in phasing them back in unless there’s a compelling story idea for them.   

I think it’s dumb how they teased Yamcha in the Tournament of Power prelude, only to leave him out of the tournament itself.    On the other hand, they put Tien on the team and barely used him, which tells me that even if they’d put Yamcha on the team, it wouldn’t have amounted to anything.   

I get it, people love these characters and want to see them used more, but I’d rather have one strong Yamcha story than a hundred non-starters.  And at this point, I think the only thing anyone can do is rely on fan-created content.    Be the change you want to see in the world.

A wish: Crap, it’s after ten pm.    I dunno, I wish Marzi was canon.  

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen: I feel like the character’s already been through worse than I could come up with for him.��  

5 words to best describe them: Cat loves food, yeah yeah yeah.   That’s six, but who cares?

My nickname for them: Yeah, I don’t have one.

[the-shadows-angel-archived]

Happy 2021!!!

With 2021 being here, I just wanted to say how much I love and appreciate each and every one of you for sticking with me for another year. This year has been hectic for a lot of us, probably one of the worst years ever, but lets be glad we can put it behind us and make 2021 a better year for us all.

Before I move into the Blog Update, I just wanna give special thanks to a lot of my close friends that i’ve met this year, and to those who have stayed with me since joining Tumblr about 3 years ago:

@demacianmage One of my first best friends to ever have on this platform, and someone who I put my trust in completely. We both have been through a lot of shit, but we stuck it out together and helped one another through it all. I could never ask for a better friend than you, and i’m glad to have met you.

@moonaspect One of my friends I met when I first made my Morgana blog through a mutual friend, someone who, even though I rarely rp with as of late, I do love and appreciate all of your hard work you put into your OCs and Canon muses. I loved out little jokes we had and how much you irritate me whenever we have the chance to play Minecraft. You will forever be known as ‘Mom’ to me. 

@vilefeather A dear friend of mine I met earlier this year, and someone I didn’t think would make me love a ship more than any of my OTPs. Even though we don’t hang out a lot, the little time we do spend together are always the best, and i’m glad to have met you. 

@halfliing-ormr Another dear friend of mine, and someone who I was actually scared to interact with when I first saw her on Tumblr. I didn’t think I was worthy enough to talk to you, but i’m very glad I got the courage to follow you and make amazing headcanons together. I love all of your hardwork you put into your OCs, and I love our family headcanons between Nami and Morgana, that I will treasure forever. I hope to continue this into 2021, and give all of my love to your OCs.

@thegoldentigress A friend I met earlier this year, and someone who I love to death. You make me smile with your antics and I can’t help but to poke fun at your OTP, WHICH WE ALL LOVE AND APPRECIATE AND DON’T LET ANYONE TELL YOU OTHERWISE. I love how easily I got you to adore Furyhorns and even have Dira adopt one, especially our headcanons between Baby and Goldie. I hope to continue to grow our friendship into 2021. 

@stabby-talon (I had to tag you on this blog) One of the FIRST Talon’s to ever interact with me and love my Talgana ship and headcanons I made, let alone, love and support this ship in Immortal Journey when Morgana got the skin. You’re a great friend of mine and I love all 16546543524635 of your muses. You will forever be the one person I can rely on for interactions even if you’re dead most of the time. 

And last, but not least, @ncumenia You are TRULY a close and dear friend of mine. You were a great friend when we first met, and you still are. I’m very happy you started talking to me again, and that you still love and adore my Kayn as much as I love and adore Nina. We have been through some of the worst bullshit we could have ever gone through, but i’m very glad we put what happened behind us and learned to trust and listen to each other. I love Nina a lot that I LITERALLY FORGET she’s an OC half of the time. Keep being you and staying strong, because you deserve all of the love in the world. 

And thank you to everyone else I have met along the way. I hope that you guys will become as great of a friend as these guys have to me.

Now, onto Blog Updates...

This blog as gone through a lot of changes, some I liked, some I hated, and I kept thinking what was wrong with it and why I wasn’t happy with it. After a lot of thinking, i’ve decided to go back to when I first made this blog.

I’m going back to being more Open to people, so my RULES have changed to accommodate that. I require EVERYONE who wishes to interact to PLEASE go and read them, new and old followers alike. 

I am also rewriting her verses, and removing those that were merely there for fun. I will not get rid of them entirely, but I will be moving them to DISCORD ONLY if anyone wishes to RP those verses on there. 

Likewise, all of her headcanons will be rewrote too. Now, that won’t be done tonight, as I am already writing a lot as is, but they will be done by the end of the week. 

I also plan on being more active on my other THREE blogs: My Multi, Kayn, and OC. I know, it’s stupid to juggle 4 blogs at once, but if I didn’t think I could do it, I wouldn’t have them. 

x

And, thats about it. As for some final words:

This year has been hectic, for all of us, and I know for me, it has been the toughest year i’ve ever had. From work being a disaster, to a lot of personal problems from either home or even on here. I’ve lost a lot of friends, i’ve made a lot of new ones, i’ve reconnected with a few, and hell, i’ve had a lot of drama from simple misunderstandings and rumors that I should’ve stepped up and resolved myself. 

To anyone who i’ve hurt this year: I’m sorry. From the bottom of my heart. I’m not asking for your friendship, i’m not asking for forgiveness, i’m simply wanting to apologize for not being honest, truthful, and taking my OWN advice and talking with you about it. That was my fault, and I understand that. I shouldn’t have done what I did, and I accept what I have done wasn’t mature, and it was in fact immature of what I did. I don’t want to start the new year with skeletons in my closet from this year, which is why i’m apologizing. You know who you are, and even if this isn’t the kind of apology you were expecting, it’s all I can give right now. Sincerely, I am sorry for hurting any of you. 

And again, I want to say thanks to all of the friends I have kept and made this year. Without you guys, I probably would have left tumblr and stopped roleplaying altogether, and not have met anyone. You guys keep me here, and it’s all I could ask for. 

I love you all, and I hope 2021 is better for us all. 

[dreamcatcherfication]

Dreamers in Fantasyland - Part 4

I keep forgetting that I tried to do a balance of old English dialect and modern English dialect, and it surprises me every time I edit this fic.

Final part, woohoo! We made it guys! A little sooner that expected, but that’s the fault of my laptop breaking. This is the last part of the fic requested by @theatergirl06 long ago when we had our ask war. As this door comes to a close, hopefully I’ll be able to open another... more sinister door...? This part is about to be very confusing, but if I’ve done it correctly, it’ll be (hopefully) a great ending. Things are about to get really meta. Buckle up, cause you aren’t ready.

Writing Masterpost

If you want to send a request or a prompt, my inbox is always open! I publish a story at 8:00 AM PST everyday, so I’m always in need of new ideas. If you want to be tagged in my works, just let me know and I’ll be sure to tag you!

Prompts | More Prompts | The Trifecta of Prompts | Original Prompts

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of sexual abuse

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Things seemed a lot calmer on Anne’s boat, the world finally back on track. Cathy had no real sense of what was normal anymore, so she relied solely on the feeling of calmness she felt with Anne. They were sitting on the floor, backs against Anne’s bookshelves. “You know,” Anne commented, her hand unconsciously fiddling with the bandages on her upper arm, “I was afraid you and Cleves wouldn’t come.”

“Why would you think that?” Cathy asked, putting a hand on Anne’s leg.

The captain shrugged. “I barely know you, and no matter what I feel when you’re around,” Cathy had to hide a blush, “you have no loyalties to me. The only reason I could think for you tracking us down was to save my cousin. Thank you, by the way,” Anne tacked on at the end. Despite the melancholy in her voice, Cathy could tell Anne was being sincere. “And Anna, she may seem young, but she’s smart. She knew our ship had taken serious damage from Henry’s attack. I didn’t think she’d risk our crew just to come for me.”

Knowingly, Cathy replied, “I don’t think you were her only motivation.”

Laughing, Anne’s face lit up, if only by a little bit. “Yes, yes. I’m glad she’s found someone in my cousin. They seem happy together. I long for that.”

Cathy frowned, suddenly hyper aware of her hand on Anne’s leg. “What do you mean.”

Hanging her head, Anne’s hand crawled until it was sitting on top of Cathy’s. “You remind me of a past that I don’t have, Miss Parr.” Anne lifted Cathy’s hand and pressed a light kiss to her knuckles. “I feel as if we’ve spent a thousand years together, and those thousand years have been lost somehow. I want nothing more than those years back.”

Staring at her hand in Anne’s, Cathy took the leap and slowly leaned forward, pressing a chaste kiss to Anne’s lips. “I believe I understand what you’re saying,” she murmured, hiding the full truth from Anne.

Anne’s lips pulled upwards slightly, her eyes going soft as she stared at Cathy. “Everything is right in this world.”

A phantom hand shoved Cathy backwards, causing her to jump in shock. “No,” Cathy spoke softly, “everything is not right.” For some reason, she had been handed an answer. “Things won’t be right until you tell Kat that you are her cousin.”

Nervously chuckling, Anne shook her head. “I don’t think it’s best to drag up my family history.”

Grabbing Anne’s hands, Cathy leaned forward so that their noses were inches apart. “Things will never be the way they are supposed to unless you tell Kat.”

Anne was growing frightened by Cathy’s strange behavior. “How do you know this? What if she turns me away, knowing of the past with our family.”

“Kat is the most kindhearted person I know,” Cathy stated determinedly. “She is loving, and while she retains some of her naivete, she is intelligent. I know that girl better than she knows herself,” Cathy felt confident in her words, despite having only met this version of Kat a few days ago, “and I know she will not hate you. Kat is the last person to judge anyone on family matters. It will do her good to know the truth.”

At first Anne seemed reluctant, but she agreed. “I… I will tell her.”

As if summoned by Anne’s agreement with Cathy, Anna and Kat entered the quarters. “Anne,” Cleves greeted her captain, a hand around Kat’s waist, “It seems you’re doing much better.”

“Yes Anna, thank you,” Anne grunted, standing up from her sitting position. Cathy followed, brushing off the dust that had collected on her skirt. “Kat, if I could speak with you?”

The girl frowned but detached herself from Anna and moved over to Anne. “What is it Anne?”

“I…” Anne struggled with the words, “Do you remember when you asked me if we knew each other?”

Unsure of where Anne was going, Kat hesitantly answered, “Yes?”

“Well, the truth is, we do.” 

Kat’s eyes narrowed as her head scrunched in confusion. “How? I still can’t quite figure it -”

“Boleyn.” Anne blurted. “My full name is Anne Boleyn.” 

Eyes widening, Kat finally made the connection. “You’re my cousin,” she gasped, staring at Anne with wide eyes. Biting her lip, Anne nodded, expecting Kat to yell at her. Instead, the noble girl threw herself into Anne’s arms, hugging her close to her chest. “It’s been so long since I’ve heard from any of you,” she admitted into Anne’s chest.

It took a moment, but Anne reciprocated the hug, wrapping her arms around her younger cousin. “I didn’t think any of you wanted to hear from me.”

Pulling away, Kat curled her lip. “Our family is a mess. Everyone is constantly fighting and there’s never any peace. You may not have felt welcome, but that’s not your fault. It’s theirs.”

“Oh, Kat,” Anne’s voice was so full of emotion, it almost seemed as if she would cry.

“I want to stay with you,” Kat told her newfound cousin. “I want to stay with you and Anna and Cathy on this ship.”

“You want to be a pirate?”

Kat did the equivalent of a 15th century puppy dog pout. “More than anything.”

Unable to resist, Anne told her, “Well then, welcome aboard sailor Kat, I hope you're ready for some chaos.”

“I’m always ready for chaos if it’s with you.”

This, Cathy thought, this was right. This was how the world was supposed to be. The two cousins were together and happy, reunited after their family had torn them apart. Anna had found her happiness with Kat, and she had gotten her captain back. Cathy had saved the girl she loved with all her heart and Henry was gone from their lives. This should be the end.

…

But something kept pushing in the back of Cathy’s mind, telling her there was more. There was something that she kept missing, even when it was blatantly obvious to her. It was right on the tip of her tongue, infuriatingly so. “Anna, Kat,” she spoke up. “Would it be alright if I talked to Anne for a moment. Alone.”

“Of course,” Anna nodded, holding her hand out for Kat to take.

Before the two girls could leave, Cathy intercepted Kat. She pulled her friend into her arms, holding her tight. “I love you Kat,” she murmured into her ear. “You’re my best friend. Don’t you ever forget that.”

“I know Cathy,” Kat mumbled back. She pulled away and bounded to Anna’s side, holding her hand as they exited the room.

Shifting her attention to Anne, Cathy started to feel dizzy. Stumbling on her feet, Cathy had to press a hand to the wall to steady herself. “Cathy?” Anne spoke worriedly, promptly at her side. “Are you alright?”

Cathy wasn’t alright. Everything was hitting her at once like an epiphany and her mind couldn’t handle it. “Anne, Anne,” Cathy started to stutter, reaching out and grabbing Anne’s arms. Pulling her closer, Cathy spoke directly in her face, “Anne, I’m not from here.”

Laughing nervously, Anne nodded. “Yes, I could tell that by your skin color, but it’s not anything to be worried abo-”

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” Cathy cut her off. “I’m from the future. Or from the past and then the future. Or they’re both the future compared to now.”

Anne was at a loss for words. “Cathy, did you hit your head -”

“No,” Cathy stared directly into Anne’s eyes. “I am going to tell you something that sounds crazy and - and - and,” Cathy stuttered over her words, “You have to promise to believe me. Please,” she begged.

As confused as Anne was, she could tell when people were lying. Cathy was either telling the truth, or she was crazy, and Anne didn’t believe for a second that Cathy was mental. “Okay, I promise.”

Nodding, Cathy stepped away from Anne and started pacing around the room. “In my first life, I was married to King Henry VIII of England, known to you as Henry Tudor.” Anne’s face grew into a snarl but she said nothing. “I was Queen Catherine Parr, the sixth wife of Henry. We never met, but I knew you well in that life.”

“How could you know me if we hadn’t met?” Anne questioned.

“Because you were Queen Anne Boleyn, Henry’s second wife. You divided England from the Catholic Church, and you changed the world.”

Anne didn’t like the way Cathy was speaking. It wasn’t in her tone, but rather the way her words made sense. Anne knew she should be finding Cathy’s claims preposterous, but for some reason they resonated in Anne’s heart. “Who were his other wives?”

Attempting to steady her shaking hands, Cathy started to explain. “His first wife was Catherine of Aragon. You might know her name, she’s the informant who run’s Aragon’s Pub.” The way Anne’s eyes lit up let Cathy know she did in fact know who that was. “Then there was you who pushed Henry to break from the church and annull his marriage with his wife. You two were married, but when you proved too much for him -” Anne scoffed, “he beheaded you.”

Falling silent, Anne looked at the floor. “Who was after me?”

“Jane Seymour, the one who gave him a son. She’s Kat’s caretaker back at court, although you’ve never met her. She died of natural causes. His fourth wife was Anna von Cleves,” Anne’s head shot up.

“Please don’t tell me -”

“She got the best outcome of us all,” Cathy assured her, breathing in heavily as she continued. “She had an arranged marriage with the King, but when she embarrassed him, Henry started calling her ugly and later annulled his marriage once again. Anna got her own palace and lived far longer than any of us.” Cringing, Cathy realized who she had arrived at.

Noticing Cathy’s apprehensiveness, Anne pushed, “Well? Who was next?”

“Katherine Howard.”

“No,” Anne choked. Cathy was only giving her a brief rundown, but Anne felt as if she was living through this experience with Cathy.

Swallowing, Cathy had to take a moment to steady her voice. “He married Kat when she was only fifteen, maybe a year or two older, none of us know for sure,” she refused to look in Anne’s horrified eyes, “But Kat had a terrible past where men had… sexually abused her. One of her friends in court took advantage of her and when the King found out,” Cathy’s voice hitched, “he beheaded her.”

Anne was devastated, even though she knew Kat was safe and sound. “That bastard,” she hissed. “I’m glad he’s dead.”

“Then there was me. The survivor,” Cathy was finally able to make eye contact with Anne. “I watched him die, and I thought I was free. I remarried, but died barely over a year later.”

“That’s… quite the story,” Anne muttered, unsure of how to process what Cathy told her.

Grabbing Anne’s hands again, Cathy set her face. “That’s not the end. After we died, the six of us woke up in a new world. The 21st century.”

“The what?”

Cathy knew it was hard to believe, but she had to get Anne to understand. “This is going to sound very confusing, but you have to understand what I’m saying.” Anne’s hesitant nod was all Cathy needed to dive in. “Five hundred years in the future, we live in the modern world. We tell our story as Henry’s wives to the world, and we reclaim our lives. You and I are in love in that world,” Cathy said fondly, running her hand over Anne’s, “and all six of us are a family.”

Anne was subconsciously smiling, content with the picture Cathy was painting. But it was shattered as Cathy started choking on her words. “I - I think that - that - that,” she breathed in deeply to control herself, “That this was meant to happen. Us being here.”

“What are you talking about?” As hard as Anne was trying, she couldn’t keep up with Cathy’s mind.

Resuming her pacing, Cathy made a variety of frustrated noises. “It all makes sense, doesn’t it! Right from the start, it’s been set out. I’m not Cathy Parr. Or rather, I’m not the Cathy Parr of this reality.”

Anne took a step forward, attempting to calm Cathy. “I don’t think you’re making much sense.”

“No, it makes perfect sense,” Cathy gasped. “When Kat and I snuck into Mary’s room, the only reason we were in there so long was because I couldn’t write her letter. If I had control of myself, I could’ve written that letter in five minutes. Instead, the actions of the other Cathy Parr, the real Cathy Parr, kept me from completing the letter. And because of that…” Cathy paused her pacing. “Because of that, we met. Anne, don’t you see!” she turned to the captain, “It’s all predestined.”

“What?”

A theory started to weed its way into Cathy’s mind, taking root. “What if, every generation there’s a Catherine Parr and Anne Boleyn. And a Katherine Howard and Anna von Cleves, Jane Seymour and Catherine de Aragon. We’re all destined to meet again and again in some new reality. Somehow, we all are connected, with ties to Henry.”

All common sense told Anne that Cathy’s theory was impossible. Yet deep inside her, there was some little bit of her that couldn’t help but believe what she was saying. “If you’re right, then why can only you remember this?”

“It must be some fluke in the system,” Cathy ran a hand through her hair. “Clearly I don’t have complete control of my actions. When Anna and I were getting information from Catherine, she asked what was in my satchel. The only thing that I had packed was a journal full of academic teachings, the exact thing Catherine wanted. I would’ve never thought to bring it, yet somehow it ended up in my possession.” There was awe in Cathy’s voice as things started to make sense. “The longer I stay here, the more I speak as you do. I’m speaking as this Cathy Parr would, not as I, my modern self, would.”

Anne nodded her head, understanding what Cathy was trying to say. “Every generation, the six of us are destined to be connected. Somehow, some way, and Henry’s involved.”

“Yes,” Cathy bit her nails, an anxious habit she didn’t know she had. 

“But I’ve never met Jane Seymour or Catherine de Aragon,” Anne frowned. “Surely that doesn’t make sense.”

“I said we were connected, not that each of us have to meet,” Cathy corrected. “Anna, Kat, and I never even met you in our lives as Queens. I - I don’t know Anne, but there’s more to it all than the surface level.”

Sliding back down against the bookcase, Anne rubbed her eyes with her hands. “This is a lot to take in Cathy.”

“I know, I’m sorry Anne,” Cathy came and sat beside Anne. “Just, promise you’ll still love me if I wake up someone else,” she pleaded.

Giving the girl a painful smile, Anne leaned over and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I don’t think it’s possible for me not to love you Cathy Parr.”

Giggling, Cathy rested her head on Anne’s shoulder. “I’m so tired,” she whispered, feeling her eyes drift shut. “This is all so much.”

Anne pulled Cathy into her lap and wrapped her arms around the girl. “I’ll be here when you wake up. No matter who you are.” And so Cathy gave in to the darkness.

Jerking out of bed, Cathy spun around, looking for anyone familiar. “Cathy?” Anne groaned beside her, shifting under the sheets. “Are you awake?”

“Shh,” Cathy shushed her girlfriend, slowing her breathing. “Go back to sleep Anne.” The bedroom was dark, exactly as she remembered it when she fell asleep here last. 

“Mmkay,” Anne hummed lucidly, “G’night babe.” Cathy watched her girlfriend fondly, holding back the tears that inexplicably appeared in her eyes.

“Sweet dreams, Anne Boleyn.”

-----------------------------------------

Tag List:

@radcowboyalmondtree @boleynhowards @annabanana2401 @babeebobo @dont-lose-your-queerhead @everything-insanity @mindless-pidgeon @i-wanna-dance-and-sing-six @thedemidisaster @its-totes-gods-will @thatbolxyngirl @thenameisnoone @sixqueendom @totally-not-boleyn-falcon

[spectraspecs-writes]

Korriban - Chapter 92 (Carth, Jolee)

Link to the masterpost. Chapter 91. Chapter 93.

@averruncusho @ceruleanrainblues @chubbsmomma @strangepostmiracle thank you for reading, you get a tag. @skelelexiunderlord thank you for support, you get a tag.

-------

Archaeologists and scouts are a similar breed. While I would follow a set of tracks to my own doom, archaeologists are certainly prone to going too deep into a tomb or a ruin and not being able to get out. We’re both drawn to nesting sites in our own way - mine to animal, them to humanoid. We get along with others of our same profession, despite our client, but we keep our secrets just the same. And we both think of the other as far too obsessive over our chosen passion. There are archaeologists in the Valley, but the tombs are closed. Not sealed - you can still get in - but they aren’t open for archaeologists to go in and dust to their hearts’ content. Which strikes me as odd. Like I said to Thalia, I can’t resist a cave. Or a forest. Or a valley. Or a prairie. Really, any place I might conceivably find life, I can’t resist. And I’ve never met an archaeologist who could resist a tomb.

I want to know more. But first I need to meet with Lashowe before she gets herself killed.

She’s standing near the edge of the Valley, in front of one of the tombs. When she sees me she rolls her eyes. “Finally!” she groans, “If you were any later in showing up, we would have had to abandon this.” Chill out, it’s been twenty minutes. Thirty, tops. “I've been calling to the tuk'ata mother in their language. She should respond fairly… ahhh, here she comes now.” The tuk’ata matriarch is flanked by two smaller tuk’ata. She’s scarred, and her horns have been damaged. “Get ready,” Lashowe says, “This will not be easy… she’s a tough beast.”

I stop her. “Let me give this a shot first,” I say, and she steps back. Carth holds his blaster ready, in case the matriarch jumps at me. Animals have a different body language than people, but most animals have learned to recognize ours. Humans tend to approach aggressively, full-on body, no weak spots presented, arms raised as a threat. It’s different for every animal, of course, but most of them don’t like eye contact and prefer it when your head is low. I approach her slowly, my feet sideways with each step, my head and eyes lowered, and my torso open to her. She’s still a predator, and still a danger to me, but the other three are ready if she attacks. I can handle this otherwise. She’s confused - her head tilts at me. But her posture is still defensive. My hands are low but open, and when I get close enough I kneel into the dust. I don’t reach out to touch her. That would be a threat. I reach out with the Force. An animal wouldn’t understand a holocron. Only that she has something we want. We do not want her pups. We do not want her food. We do not want her land. We simply seek a human trinket from her den, and then we will leave her in peace.

And then Lashowe cuts her head off. The matriarch was surprised. She didn’t suffer. Carth reacts quickly and shoots the other two. Okay. Calm over. Lashowe, what the hell?! “I said let me handle it!” I shout at her.

“And I told you that the holocron was in her gullet - she ate it!” Lashowe shouts back, “I thought you were going to get close enough to kill her, not reason with her! What sort of Sith are you?”

Well, I’m not one. “The kind who doesn’t want to add ‘animal cruelty’ to her conscience!”

“You saw her, she didn’t suffer!” Lashowe cuts the matriarch open at the stomach and pulls out a small crystal. “And here is the holocron,” she says, examining it, “Such a small thing to be so valuable and require so much effort to obtain. I'll just run along, now, and give this to Master Uthar. I'll be sure to tell him of your contribution, naturally.”

No. She won’t. “Wait,” I say, “We’ll go to Master Uthar together.”

“Forget it,” she says sharply, “I’m not waiting up for you. That wasn’t our plan, anyway.”

Carth’s hand rests on his blaster, Jolee’s on his lightsaber. “The plan was we both get credit,” I remind her.

“Back off, I’m warning you!” She reaches for her own lightsaber now. “I’m not giving this up!”

“No more arguing,” I say firmly, “We take it back together.”

“Over my dead body!” she shouts, and she comes at me with her lightsaber. Mine comes out just as quickly. She’s scrappy, but not much of a fighter. She relies on agility rather than strength, but I have both. I don’t even need Carth or Jolee to help me. I take her down, no problem, and take the holocron. I take a moment, to honor the tuk’ata matriarch, and then I stand and shake a little bit. Trying to get off the dust of this world. That sort of brutality is a little hard to believe, even from a Sith. I know I shouldn’t be surprised. Lashowe barely showed any consideration for people, much less animals. But once - you know? Just once I’d like to meet a Sith who isn’t an asshole. You can be evil without being an asshole. You can wreak havoc on a galactic scale without kicking puppies for fun. Hell, Sith scouts weren’t like that. Maybe they didn’t all view an ecosystem as a living breathing thing rather than a resource, but they weren’t assholes. They weren’t evil, either, so I guess they don’t count. I can’t fault them for having a conservation view over my preservation view, I guess, it’s a valid enough position even if I don’t agree with it.

I take a breath. “We should probably take this back to Uthar while I’m thinking about it,” I say, “Then, I could go for some lunch, you guys?” They both agree so we head back.

-----

Master Uthar hasn’t moved from earlier - he’s still meditating in the central chamber, but he acknowledges me when I approach. “Greetings, young one,” he says, “I sense you have something to show me, yes? Something to earn you prestige.”

“Yes,” I say, “I have found a Jedi holocron.” I hand him the crystal.

He chuckles. “I had heard that such an artifact existed,” he says, examining the crystal, “Tell me, young one, did you acquire this device by yourself?”

“No,” I say.

“So I see.” He doesn’t seem to hold it against me. Like he knew anyway. “And Lashowe… does she yet live?”

“No,” I say, “She’s dead.”

He laughs gladly. Which is weird - I thought he liked her. That was the impression I got yesterday. “Well done!” he says, “You gained an artifact through trickery and eliminated an opponent at the same time. That is deserving of great prestige!” Ah, that’s what he was glad of - I was displaying Sithy behavior. “I also heard you ventured into the shyrack caves - tell me, what did you find there?”

“I dealt with the renegade students,” I say.

“Ahh,” he says, “The ones I ordered executed for their mutiny? It’s done then?”

Well, ultimately, yes, they aren’t a problem anymore. “It’s done,” I repeat, “They are… gone.” Not a lie, really.

“Indeed?” he says, his infection raised with just a hint of doubt, “We checked the caves and found only a couple bodies.”

“There was a large beast in the caves - perhaps it ate them?” I offer, trying to blame the terentatek. Not like anyone else will find it. If the caves are that dangerous, I doubt a lot of people go that way.

He shrugs. “Ah, it is just as good, I suppose,” he says, “The lesson is learned, I believe. Go now - you have done well, but you have not impressed me enough to declare you the victor.” And he returns to his meditation

We go for lunch in the cantina - there is a cafeteria of sorts in the Sith Academy, but frankly, I don’t want to deal with the sort of childish antics I’m sure happen there. I just want to eat in relative peace. Or at least Carth and I eat there. Jolee goes back to the ship for some reason. I don’t get why - he was complaining about the synthesizer on the Hawk so why he would choose to get lunch there is beyond me. But, whatever, he’s an adult, I won’t stop him. I figure I’ll just buzz him on the comm when we’re ready to go back.

Carth finishes first - he just got some sort of sandwich - but I’m going slower with my bowl of soup. Idly scrolling through what I skimmed off Master Uthar’s datapad. And Carth is watching me. He’s trying to be subtle about it but failing miserably. And I’ll admit it’s sort of nice? But also kind of creepy, so rather than just sit and live with it, I bring it up. “You’re staring - you need something?”

“Hmm? Oh, no,” he says quickly. Awkward bunny man. “Sorry.”

“You know, come to think of it, you’ve been watching me a lot lately,” I say. He’s been ready for a surprise fight a lot. “Why is that?”

His cheeks go red. “Oh, I…” he says softly… “thought you hadn’t noticed.”

I scoff playfully. “If you were any more obvious about it, your eyes would fall out of your head.”

His redness gets even worse and he smiles sheepishly. “Err... I'm not that bad, am I?”

“Not bad for a monkey-lizard, no, not bad at all.”

He smiles and laughs. “Damn it, woman, if you keep hounding me I'm going to put you over my knee and teach you a lesson!” he jokes.

Whoa! That’s the most overt thing he’s ever said to me! “I’d like to see you try!” I laugh.

He shakes his head. “You just wait, you’ll get yours.”

“I’m sure I will!”

“At any rate,” he says more seriously - not like serious, serious, but he’s not joking anymore, we’re just two close friends chatting over lunch. I mean, hopefully more than friends, but as it stands, anyway - “I wasn’t ogling you. I've just been admiring you.” Don’t melt, Rena, you’ll spill your soup all over your lap and kill the mood. “I've been watching you in action. Your- your skills. You have a natural talent that is incredible. Not that, ah, all I do is watch you or anything. I don't mean anything by it.”

I raise my eyebrow. “Any other observations?”

“Well,” he says slowly, considering his words, “maybe a few. I hope you don’t mind if I keep those to myself.”

“You don’t have to be so embarrassed, Carth,” I say, “although it is adorable. I don’t mind if you watch me.”

He relaxes, relieved, and lets out a short laugh. “Why didn't you tell me that sooner? You would have saved me a lot of trouble!”

“Give up the chance to give you trouble? As if!”

He laughs again. When he calms down a bit, he continues. “I will say one thing, though,” he says, “We've come a long way with your help. Whether it's the Force or fate or just dumb luck… I'm glad you're here.” Don’t melt, no melting. “We probably would have never made it this far without you.” He scratches the back of his head. That’s his apology scratch, I know that well. “I, uh… I should have said this long before, instead of doubting you. I, uh, hope you can forgive me.”

I smile softly at him. “You already apologized once, Carth.”

“And you accepted it, but that doesn't mean I'm forgiven,” he says just as softly, and I love his soft voice, “I'd like to be.”

“Why do you need my forgiveness, anyway?” I ask, casually going back to my soup.

“Because you're an impressive and beautiful woman,” he says, “In some ways… good ways… you remind me of my wife and I'd like to make things right between us.”

Beautiful? I mean… he’s called me that before, but always more like a flirty nickname, never as… never like that, I mean… whoo, really hard not to melt right now… Is my face red? “You… you think I’m beautiful?”

He smiles. “I'll, uh, take that as a yes,” he says. He’s also trying to play it cool. “I’m glad that’s settled.” He’s probably wishing he hadn’t finished his sandwich so quickly so he’d have some way to avoid meeting my gaze.

He starts to say something but before he can get a word out I reach over the table and kiss him. He’s startled at first but then he leans into it. I could get used to this.

Suddenly Jolee clears his throat. Where the hell did he come from? He’s smiling, but God, this is kind of embarrassing, which is weird because I’ve been talking to him about this, it’s not like this is a surprise for him. But Carth and I break away from each other and try to casually regain our composure. Even though clearly neither of us was done with the other. “Don’t stop on my account,” Jolee says, which makes it even worse. “I’d ask if you were ready to get back to the Valley, but it looks like you’re still eating.”

“Yeah,” I say awkwardly, “Soup.”

He sits down next to Carth, who thankfully takes over the conversation. “What were you doing at the Hawk?”

“Nothing important,” he says with a shrug, “I wanted to put on a different pair of boots. You’d be surprised how much the wrong pair of boots can hinder your connection to the Force.”

“Seriously?” Carth says in disbelief, “Boots can limit your abilities.”

“Not like that,” I say, “It’s not like you can’t fight if you’re wearing the wrong shoes. But some boots are better for dirt and some boots are better for rocks. If you’re uncomfortable, then it’s just harder to hear the Force. Right?” Jolee nods. Carth still looks skeptical. “I swear to God.”

“You spent a month in the Enclave on Dantooine learning about boots?”

“Not just boots - it’s… a Jedi’s strength flows from the Force, and if your feet hurt, then there goes some of your focus. Not just feet, either - any sort of pain or discomfort. But there’s a reason we wear robes instead of armor. It’s not just a fashion choice.”

Carth blinks a bit. “Okay,” he says finally, throwing his hands up in defeat, “Any other strange Jedi things I should know about? Special socks?”

“Ah, I can’t tell you about the special socks,” I say teasingly, “Jedi secret.”

“Jolee, she’s not serious, is she?”

Jolee starts to open his mouth, but I interrupt. “He’s not a Jedi, he can’t tell you about the socks.” Jolee smiles at me. Carth looks between me and Jolee, eventually figures out I’m bluffing, and just gives up. I go back to my soup. But now I’m curious. “Why did you leave the Order, Jolee?”

Jolee gives a small chuckle. “Who said I left the Jedi?”

“You did,” I say, “You said you weren’t a Jedi anymore.”

“Well, technically, I was never a Jedi, I was only a Padawan,” he corrects, “Not that that makes a difference to most. But as for the order, itself… no, I never left it. It left me.”

“Hang on,” Carth says, “You’re not a Jedi?”

If I had asked that question, he would bluster at me a bit, but not Carth. “I follow the Jedi Way and use the Force. That makes me a Jedi last time I checked. But the Order, itself, the Jedi Council and so forth… no, I'm not a part of that and haven't been for a long time. And good riddance, I say!”

“You say the Order left you,” I say.

Jolee groans a bit. “You know what I hate?” he says. Then he tosses his head a bit. “Well… you know, lots of things, really. But I'm old and easily annoyed. But that's beside the point. What I really hate are how most people view the Jedi. Everyone thinks the Jedi are perfect, that they can do no wrong. They think the Jedi Council is completely incapable of injustice.”

“I don’t think that,” Carth says with a shrug.

“Hmm,” Jolee hums, “No doubt you've been on the receiving end of Jedi justice at least once, eh?” Has he? I guess the Mandalorian Wars. “And I'm not even talking about how some of us fall to the Dark Side,” he says to both of us, “No, that's plenty indication of our fallibility, but it's something else entirely. No, I'm talking about how, more often than not, your average robe-wearing Jedi can try to do the right thing and still be completely wrong.”

I shrug. “Nobody can be right about everything.”

“That's true,” he says, “but it's not what I meant. I guess I'm not being clear, am I?” He scoffs. “Come to think of it, I don't have to be clear. Someone my age is entitled to ramble, dammit!” (Carth chuckles a little - he isn’t as used to Jolee’s manner of speaking as I am.) “But for your sake I'll try to explain. I'll tell you a little tale about a Jedi Master I once knew. Hortath, I think. Or was it Hartoth? I could never get it straight.” He shakes his head. “Master Hortath was a kindly old Jedi who meant well, but the most near-sighted thing in the Core, I swear. He would walk into walls, knock over tables, mistake apprentices for rancor beasts, that sort of thing. And he was too proud to submit to proper treatment. Some used to counsel him and urged ‘Use the Force, Master Hortath. Allow the Force to see for you.’” Now there’s a solution. “But he refused to believe that his eyes were failing. He simply squinted more and more as the years went on, the other Jedi resignedly passing it off as the amusing quirk of a compassionate old man.”

“Ah, like blustering on with stories from the past,” I tease.

“I’m not finished yet! Now shush!” Jolee mock-scolds, “So one day a young Padawan meets Master Hortath in the courtyard and, not knowing of his blindness, asks him for directions to the Council. Quite sure of himself, Hortath gave the lad directions… which happened to lead outside and away from the Enclave. The Padawan is confused, naturally. He asks if Master Hortath is sure, and of course Master Hortath says that he is. The Padawan suggests that perhaps he should ask someone else… but the proud Hortath now feels insulted. He tells the Padawan to take the route he prescribed and no other. Rather dejectedly, the Padawan did as he was told... and so ended up leaving the Jedi Order forever.” Carth grimaces a bit. “It was decided that the boy's fate was to leave the Order anyway… though whether that was out of respect for Hortath or because the boy went on to something else, well, we'll never know.”

Carth and I are both silent for a moment, then Carth asks, “So… you knew this Master Hortath? Or the Padawan?”

Jolee shakes his head. “No, no. Both of them were before my time. Well before the Sith wars, even.”

“I don’t think I understand…” I say, and Carth indicates the same.

Jolee sighs. “The tale is about blindness and I thought the point was clear,” he says, “At any rate, you think about it. You're the one who asked why the Jedi left me, remember? Finish your soup - my feet are itching for a traipse through a tomb.”

“But you didn’t really answer the question,” Carth objects.

“He never answers the question,” I say, and Jolee harrumphs, “Amusing quirk of an old man.” I have some soup to finish.