#like a little over 8.5 k

[starsinthesky5]

down bad || joe burrow x reader

description: you and joe go to your best friend’s wedding and it’s very clear that you both are soo down bad for each other ;)

a/n: bye i cannot believe i wrote this in 3.5 days because I was SO excited to write it. it’s just so 🤭 it’s definitely somethingggg 🤭🤭 also am i like one of the only people who thinks headband joe is peak joe. like his hair right now is amazing, but headband joe just makes me melt.

warnings: smut, language, and more smut, you both are perpetually horny

word count: 8.5 k

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“Joe!” You moaned as you felt the hot shower water dripping down your body. Joe’s head fell to the crook of your neck, sucking the soft skin which would be sure to leave a purple mark. 

“Shit, don’t stop,” you cried as he pounded into you, your body starting to feel sore since you have had your arms wrapped around his neck and legs around his waist for a good half hour. He was helping you out by holding you up, but everything about what was happening in the shower made you feel sore, in a good way of course. 

“Y/N…” he groaned. “Fuck, you feel so good,”. 

You felt a familiar sensation in your stomach as he continued to thrust into you, his grip on your waist tightening.“I’m close,” you whisper as you throw your head back against the shower wall.

“Shit, hang on for me baby,” Joe said as he picked up the pace of his thrusts, pushing you up against the wall each time. You whined at the feeling of him pushing himself deeper inside of you, which you thought was impossible. 

“Joe,” you whimpered again. “Right there,”. Joe’s rapid pace and deep thrusts were pushing you closer and closer to your orgasm, his cock grazing your g-spot. 

You move one of your hands into his wet curls and push him closer to your face, capturing him in a sloppy kiss as he continues to thrust into you. One particularly rough thrust causes you to break away. You felt the rubber band in your core snap as were clenching around his cock, “Joe,” you moaned into his ear as you came. 

“Y/N,” he moaned as he felt himself reaching his own pleasure. A few more thrusts later, you felt hot spurts of his cum fill your slick core as his head dropped down to your shoulder again, pressing soft kisses on your collarbone. 

As the water continued to rain down on you both, Joe and You stood in each other's arms, your bodies entwined in the lingering heat of your love. You knew that in that moment, there was no place you would rather be than together, lost in the blissful embrace of the shower.

“I love you,” he pants while pressing a few more kisses on your lips.

“I love you too,” you say back with a smile.

A little while later, you're standing in front of the bathroom mirror in your pink robe as you inspect the new purple marks littered around your neck. 

Joe walks up behind you, cupping the nape of your neck with his hand and rubbing it. “Sorry about that,” he softly says. 

You look back at him and smile, “It’s Okay, I’m used to it by now,”. 

What was supposed to be a quick shared shower before packing for your best friend's wedding in New York this weekend had turned into another one of your many unplanned romps. 

“I should’ve known this would’ve happened if we showered together. Every damn time we say we’ll take a quick shower, I end up with a limp,” you giggle while leaning back into his warm body. 

“Can’t keep my hands off of you. You know that,” he whispers into your ear lightly before lightly kissing the marks on your neck. 

You playfully roll your eyes as you move forward and walk into Joe’s closet. You weren’t living with him just yet, but by the looks of his closet, you basically were. 

You were bringing Joe as your plus 1 to your bestie’s wedding this weekend during the Bengals Bye Week and came over to Joe’s house to pack since he hated packing and needed you to keep him company. You had only been dating for 4 months but were already acting like a married couple according to your friend, and you were starting to see why she said so. 

Flashback to a few weeks ago

“So, you’re bringing Joe?” she asked, a little surprised since you’d only been dating for a few months and you never brought a guy to your friends this early, especially since you lived a little far away from them. 

“Mhm,” you responded while putting the phone on speaker as you were attempting to find your keys to Joe’s house in his driveway while he was away at practice. 

“Already the plus 1? Damn, he has you whipped,” she giggles. 

You roll your eyes and say, “Really funny Sophia,”. 

“Am I on speaker? Your voice is echoing,” she questions.

“Yeah, I'm trying to find my keys,”.

She stays silent for a second before saying “You’re in his driveway aren’t you,” with a big smile she wished you could see. 

“Maaaybee,” you trail. 

“God, get married already. You’re always over at his place, just move in Mrs. Burrow,” she teases. 

You laugh and say, “That’s because it’s most convenient. You know my apartment is a good half hour away from him. Besides, I thought you liked Joe,”

“Oh, I do, even though I've only met him a few times. I’ve never seen you happier, I'm just surprised you’re actually bringing him,” Sophia says. 

“Honestly, me too. But it feels right. And he’s very excited to go with me which makes it even better,” you say as you finally find the keys. 

End of flashback 

Joe joins you in the closet and watches you pack your stuff for this weekend in your suitcase. Along with your basic necessities, you pack several party dresses, heels, your wedding day look, and a bunch of accessories. 

“Damn, I never knew girls needed so much stuff for 3 days,” he laughed. 

You turned around and gave him a look that had him immediately retreating.“Not that it’s a bad thing,” he says while raising his hands to soften the blow. 

You break out into a laugh and say, “Calm down Joey, I’m jussst kidding,” as you walk over to him and kiss him before moving behind him to grab his suitcase. 

“You’re turn,” you say as you drop the bag at his feet. 

“I hate packing,” he frowns.

“That’s why I’m here baby. Here to keep ya company,” you smile before sitting in the comfy armchair in the corner. 

He lets out a defeated sigh as he begins packing his things and you watch him the entire time. He was doing something so simple as packing but looked incredibly delicious while doing so. His wet hair flopping around, his bare chest on display, and his shorts hanging low on his waist and showing off his blonde treasure trail. 

He catches you staring deeply at him and smirks. “Like what you see?”.

“You know I do,” you say as you cross your legs in the chair. 

“You know, we coulddd go back to bed,” he offers.

“Nice try Burrow. Packing comes first.”

“Damn,” he whispers. He finishes packing all of his things for the weekend, similar to you. Basic necessities, some nice shirts, pants, and jackets; also packing his wedding day outfit and a few of his favorite shades. 

“Always with the shades huh?” You tease. 

“If you can bring 20 different kinds of earrings, I can bring my shades,” he deadpans. 

“Alright alright, that’s fair,” you say as you get up and walk over to him to inspect his packing, making sure it’s not a complete mess. Satisfied with the way he packed his things, you move your face closer to his ear and whisper, “Now, if you’re done, is that ‘back to bed’ offer still on the table?”.

Joe immediately puts down his bag and reaches for your legs, picking you up bridal style, and rushes you to his bed. He softly drops you against the silk sheets before untying your robe and moving in between your legs. 

“I guess that’s a yes,” you giggle and you wrap your arms around his neck, pushing him closer to your lips for a sweet kiss. 

“We can’t be too rough though, I’m still a little sore from the shower and we have an early flight to New York tomorrow,”. 

He plants another soft kiss on your lips, “No worries babe, soft and gentle is one of my specialties,”. You watch as he kisses down to your core, closing your eyes in anticipation of what is to come. 

The next day

The ring of your alarm wakes you up early the next morning. You reach over and turn it off before turning to face Joe, who looks incredibly adorable and still asleep. His head was angled towards you, his messy bedhead hair was sprawled out against the pillow, his soft golden skin looked flawless, his lips curled up in a smile, and his bare chest was littered with a few purple marks from last night on display. He looked absolutely gorgeous at 6:00 am and you were jealous since you probably looked like a hot mess. 

You leaned over and kissed the tip of his nose, hoping to wake him up. Lucky for you, it worked.

“Morning sunshine,” you whispered.

He groans, barely opens his eyes, and mumbles “Morning Baby,”. 

You felt your core throb at the sound of his morning voice but immediately gave yourself a mental lashing since you were sore from last night and you guys have a flight at 8:00 to NYC. His morning voice and bare chest combo made you weak in the knees so early in the morning. 

After laying in bed for 10 minutes to give Joe a chance to fully wake up, you both hit the shower again. This time, actually showering with no funny business. Joe loads up the car to head to the airport but makes a quick pit stop at your favorite coffee shop to grab you both some breakfast. 

You guys were on the way to the airport as you were reading off the events and itinerary for the weekend. “Okay, tonight we have the rehearsal dinner and then the party at the club after,” you say as you feel Joe’s hand migrate to your thigh, a familiar spot for it. 

“Sounds like fun,” he says while giving it a gentle squeeze. 

“Then tomorrow we have the wedding and reception. And then the next day she said she planned a brunch for close friends so it’ll just be a small group of people,” you conclude.

He nods his head as he continues to caress your thigh. “So what do you think of Steven?” You ask Joe. Steven is Sophia’s fiancée and Joe has only met him a handful of times. 

“He’s a good guy,” he says. “We actually have a good bit in common and he’s a big football guy,” Joe says, turning the car into the airport entrance. 

“He likes the Eagles right?” You question.

“Yup,” he says.

“That tracks, you know Sophia’s a big Eagles fan,”.

“Oh I know, so are you,” Joe says giving you a look.

You look back at him, a little offended, and say, “Aye, slow down buddy. Were. Were an Eagles fan. My loyalty has changed, and I look better in orange anyway,”

“Oh I know,” he smirks, his mind flashing back to all the times he’s seen you in your adorable little gameday outfits. You and Joe had been dating since a bit before the season started and had been getting to know each other throughout the summer. When the first game of the season rolled around, Joe insisted that you come and watch him play. You were a little hesitant at first since you knew that a lot of people would be there, many of whom would notice a random girl in Joe Burrow’s suite, but ultimately said yes because you wanted to support your boyfriend in any way possible. 

Your first gameday outfit consisted of a black Bengals-themed baseball jersey which had ‘Burrow’ and ‘9’ on the back and ‘Bengals’ on the front. You left the buttons open and had a white crop top on underneath, with your favorite jean shorts. He loved your first gameday outfit, but the accessories made it even better. You had gotten an iced-out ‘9’ necklace and a vintage Bengals baseball cap you had on backward to pull the look together. You had him drooling the entire day and he couldn’t wait to get you alone, and when he did, you could hardly think or walk straight after. 

Flashback to Week 1

You were sitting inside the Burrow suite while the boys were warming up on the field before changing into uniforms. You were scanning the field to hopefully get a glimpse of your boyfriend but couldn’t find him. It's been about an hour since you drove over with his parents and hadn’t gotten a chance to see Joe yet, and you were feeling a little sad because you thought you’d have to wait till the end of the game. 

You heard the suite door open as you were trying to find your lipgloss in your bag and thought it was just his parents coming back from their tailgate. You felt a big pair of hands wrap around your waist and a warm mouth press a kiss on your cheek. 

You let out a shriek and immediately turned around, panicking because you thought it was some random creep, but it was in fact just your boyfriend.

“Woah Y/N. Calm down, it’s just me,” Joe soothes.  

You relax your muscles and let out a sigh, “Whew, I thought some rando creep found their way into the suite,”. 

“Nah, just me,” he laughs. 

You furrow your brows, slightly confused at what he is doing up here, “Wait, why aren’t you down there?” you say as you point to the field.

“I just had to make sure you were doing okay. I know this is all new for you and I want you to feel as safe and relaxed as possible,”. 

Your eyes soften at his response, “Awww that’s so sweet,” you say while wrapping your arms around his neck, a whiff of sweat making you grimace. “Ohhh that lovely football smell,”.

“Sorry about that,” he says while pulling you in for a kiss. 

He pulls away after a few seconds, observing your adorable gameday outfit that he was seeing for the first time. His eyes got stuck on the ‘9’ necklace. “And that is how people will know you’re my girl,” he says while touching the necklace. 

“Glad you like the fit,” you smile. 

“Oh, I love the fit. I could get used to this,” he winks. 

“Me too,” you say as your eyes travel around the room, taking in the feeling that this could very well be a constant thing in your life from now on. 

Joe looks at the time and his face drops, “I gotta go get ready now,”.

“It’s okay, I’ll be fine Joe,” you say while rubbing the back of his neck. 

He lets out a sigh, “Okay, but if you need anything, and I mean anything, ask my parents or come sit down by the locker room if things get overwhelming,”. 

“Okayy,”. “Now go back down there before they accuse me of hogging their star QB,” you tease. 

“Really funny babe,” he says while pulling you in for a hug. He pulls away before giving your forehead a sweet kiss and walking towards the door to head back to the field. “Knock ‘em dead shiesty,” you yell as he gives you a smile before leaving the suite. 

Although you were anxious about being noticed by thousands of people, you were having the time of your life. As time passed, you became more and more engaged in the game, screaming and shouting whenever Joe would throw a dime or a big-time play would happen. You didn’t give a damn about what anyone thought anymore and were not afraid to show people that you were his girl. And Joe noticed. Each time he would look up at the suite, he would see you jumping up and down with his family and looking incredibly focused on him; this was the ultimate motivator for him because he knew his girl was watching. 

End of flashback 

Joe parked the car in the lot while you got all your stuff together before boarding his private jet to New York. 

“Ahh, I can never get tired of this,” you sigh as you slip off your Uggs and lay back onto the cushioned chair. Joe drops down onto the seat across from you and immediately pulls your legs into his lap, massaging your feet. 

“You’re so cute,” he mumbles while giving you a warm smile. 

You brush your hair out of your face before sending him a flying kiss, “You are even cuter,”. 

You both ended up taking a power nap during the short flight to New York and woke up about an hour before you landed. Since you had some time to kill, Joe pulled out his Nintendo Switch and convinced you to play a round of smash-bros with him. 

“Noooo,” you whined as you just lost for the 2nd time in a row. Joe let out another laugh as he watched you struggle to digest that you sucked at Smash-Bros. 

“You’re laughing now, but once it’s time for Mario Kart, it is game over Burrow,” you growl. 

“Maybe, but at least I put up a fight in Mario Kart. You basically gave up halfway,” he laughed as he placed the controller down and grabbed his phone, opening his notes app to add to the win-loss ratio list you had going. You and Joe both had somewhat competitive natures and loved to play silly little games whenever you could, so you suggested you keep a tally of how many times each of you won or lost a game of anything. At the end of the year, the loser has to do whatever the winner wants them to do for a whole day. 

“What’s the tally right now?” You asked.

“34-45. I’m winning,” he smirks. 

“Damn,” you whisper. “It’s okay. I still have all of this month to get myself back on top,”.

“You can be on top whenever you want, just say the word,” he teases while motioning to his dick. 

Your eyes widen at his words as you grab a pillow from behind you and chuck it at his face. “Are you always horny?”.

“Well, when I'm with my drop-dead gorgeous girlfriend, I can’t help it,” he shrugs. 

Drop dead gorgeous? You looked like a sack of potatoes right now, wearing one of his old LSU sweatshirts that was too big on you, black sweats, messy hair in a claw clip, and your glasses on. “Joe, I look like a mess right now,” you say as you pull the hood of his sweatshirt over your head. 

“Well if you’re a mess, you’re the mess I want,” his face immediately scrunching up. “I don’t think that came out the way I thought it would,”.

You smiled, got up from your chair, and moved over to his lap, pressing a soft kiss on his smooth cheek. “I know what you mean,”. 

A few hours later 

After your plane lands, you both head over to Joe’s New York penthouse you’ll be staying for the weekend. You both unpack all your things and start to get ready for the night. 

You’re finishing up your makeup as you watch Joe walk into the bathroom, seemingly looking for his hairbrush. You look at him up and down in the mirror and he looks incredible. He’s wearing his black jeans, a plain white short-sleeve tee which showed off his bulging muscles, and his navy blue jacket in hand. He walks over to the sink and runs his hands through his hair, like usual, to perfect it. 

“Can’t find your brush?” You question while fixing your hair. 

“Nah, but it’s fine. This should do it,” he says as he pushes a few stray strands back. He turns around and feels slightly flushed as he looks you up and down. You were wearing a short baby pink dress that hugged your body in all the right places, strappy white heels, and an ensemble of jewelry which was all gifted to you by Joe. 

“Baby..” he breathes out, struggling to move from where he was standing. You looked absolutely sexy and he felt like he’d just had the wind knocked out of him, much like how he’d feel when that happened out on the field. 

You do a little twirl to show off your outfit, “You think it looks good?”. 

“Good?” He says as he walks over to you. “Looks fucking amazing,” he mumbles as he pulls you in for a kiss, one hand cradling your head and the other migrating to your ass. He gives it a delicate squeeze, making you moan into the kiss. 

You pull away and press your forehead against his, “We gotta behave tonight Joe,” you giggle. 

“Yes ma’am,” he says before giving you another kiss. 

You both finish up and then head out to the wedding venue just outside of the city for the dinner. You and Joe walk into the venue, hand in hand, and you’re in awe of how beautifully everything is decorated. The warm fairy lights that were all around the room made everything glow and highlighted the most captivating elements. 

You looked ahead and caught a glimpse of Sophia and released yourself from Joe’s grasp, immediately running over to her. 

“There’s the bride!” You yell. 

Her face instantly lights up as she sees you. She runs to meet you halfway, tackling you in a tight hug. “I misseddd youuu! Cincy stole you away,” she squeals as she sways you back and forth. 

Joe walks over behind you both, smiling at the cute interaction. 

Sophia opens her eyes and sees Joe standing behind you and lets go of you. “And here is the reason why Cincinnati stole you away,” she teases. 

“Guilty,” Joe says while giving her a salute. 

“Hey Joe,” she says while giving him a friendly hug. 

“Hey Sophia,” he smiles, hugging her back. You have a huge grin on your face as you watch your two favorite people get along, it’s the best feeling in the entire world. 

“What are you smiling at?” Sophia questions as she pulls away to wrap her arm around your shoulder. 

“Just happy that my favorite people get along,” you sing song. 

“Remember, she was mine first Burrow,” Sophia giggles, causing Joe to scoff and gently pull you into him as Sophia’s fiancée walks in behind her. 

“Well, I’m incredibly lucky to have her now, and hopefully forever,” he says as he stares lovingly into your eyes. Your heart feels like it’s about to burst at his words, add to the fact that his strong grip on your waist was making you feel butterflies in all the right places. You felt yourself getting lost in his deep blue eyes as you both were just stuck staring at each other. 

Sophia smiles at the sweet words that came out of Joe’s mouth for you and notices the way he’s looking at you and holding you. It’s like you were the only person in the room, like you were a diamond. “Aye, snap out of it love-birds,” Sophia claps as her fiancée joins you all. 

“Whoops, Sorry about that,” you blush. “Hey Steven!,”. 

“Sup, Steven,” Joe says as he lets go of you to greet your friend's Fiancée. 

You all have a small reunion and spend a few minutes catching up and talking about wedding details before the other guests start to arrive. The rehearsal dinner was great as you got to catch up with your old friends from home and got the chance to finally introduce Joe formally to some of them. 

Currently, You and Joe were sitting together in your own little corner at the table as a few speeches were being delivered, his hand once again on your thigh, and your hands wrapped around his, softly caressing his golden skin. You leaned your head onto his shoulder as you melted into his touch. 

“You alright?” He whispers, noticing the change in your body language. 

“I’m amazing,” you whisper back. 

“Good, we still have a long night ahead of us,” he laughs before planting a few kisses on your forehead. 

About an hour later, the wedding party makes its way back into the city to a club in the Upper East Side. 

Loud music and bright strobe lights fill the room as you take another shot of tequila at the bar with your friends. Joe was across the room with Steven and the rest of the boys, also taking shots but less frequently than you and the girls. You’re slightly buzzed, maybe a little more than slightly actually. 

“Come on, let’s go dance,” Sophia yells as she pulls you into the dance floor. 

You and the girls start dancing in the crowd, having the most fun when you hear the song change, which immediately causes you and Sophia to scream. 

“This is our song!” She screams. The song had just changed to ‘Blow’ by Kesha, a song that you had very fond memories of in high school. 

“Oh yeah,” you yell as you throw your head back and hands in the air. 

Joe watches you carefully from across the room as you dance with your friends, looking incredibly stunning and sexy while doing so. The tent in his pants was a sure sign that he was going to struggle for a few minutes. His eyes never leave you as he sips his drink while still talking to the boys. 

You keep dancing around with your girls as you feel a pair of eyes watching you. You turn around to where Joe was and obviously, it was him. You give him a playful nod and stare right back at him, still dancing like nothing mattered. 

“Damn, Y'all can’t be away from each other even for a little,” Sophia laughs. 

“I think I’m torturing him by being out here, especially dressed like this,” you giggle. 

“Y’all are soo Down bad,” she yells but you barely notice what she said as you hear the song change again. This time, to one of your and Joe’s favorite songs, ‘Feel So Close’ by Calvin Harris. 

You immediately look back at him, motioning him to come over with just a simple look. He smiles at the song change and doesn’t hesitate to get off the barstool, places his drink on the counter, and walks over to the dance floor. You turn around and keep dancing as you suddenly feel a familiar warmth behind you. Joe presses himself into your back as you dance back into him, making his boner even worse than before. 

You both were caught up in the moment as the loud music and flashing lights created a special scene around you both. Although you were in a room filled with people, right now it just felt like you two out there, dancing the night away. Joe placed his hands on you and slid them down your waist as you threw your head back into his chest. 

You felt the tent in his pants on your ass, causing you to let out a giggle, “Got you worked up, didn’t I?”

“You look amazing,” he whispers into your ear before fully wrapping his arms around your waist, turning you so you could face him. You were a little breathless as you closed the space between you both, capturing his mouth in a deep kiss while your hands wrapped around his neck. 

“Let’s get outta here,” he says breathlessly as he pulls away. You nod your head as he lets go of you. You walk over to where Sophia is and let her know that you’re heading out and that you’ll see her tomorrow.

“Me and Joe are going to head out,” you pant. She gives you a smirk and says, “Mhm, called it,”. You’re confused by her words, “Called what?”.

“You both couldn’t even last 2 hours in the club before getting so worked up over each other that you’d have to leave before the party was over,” she giggled. 

You felt a little red as she said that. Damn, she was right. You don’t know what it was about Joe that made you act like this or what about you that made him act like this, but you certainly weren’t complaining. 

“If you want me to stay, I can,” you say as you brush a few stray pieces of hair out of your face. 

“No, it’s alright,” she smiles. “It’s getting pretty late anyways, you guys should go rest,” she says.

“Are you sure?”.

“Positive. He makes you happy Y/N, I can see it. Go have fun, but not too much fun,” she winks.

You pull her in for a hug and tell her that you’d absolutely help her get ready for the big day tomorrow morning. 

You make your way back over to Joe, who has moved closer to the exit. He grabbed your hand and placed it in his, “I called Uber, you ready?”. 

“Yup,” you say while giving him a kiss. 

Both of you were wrapped up together in the backseat of the Uber. Your head once again on his shoulder, and his resting on top of your head. His arm was wrapped around you, and his hand was absentmindedly softly rubbing your arm. Your right leg was wedged in between his as his free hand was rubbing up and down your lower leg. Everything about this was comforting for you both. It felt so peaceful and natural.

Once you’ve arrived at the apartment, Joe helped you out of the Uber since you were a bit too drunk and were wobbling around; he was terrified that you’d fall in the heels you were wearing. 

He slowly helped you into the elevator and you moved to stand behind him. He pressed the number of the floor you were supposed to be on and immediately turned back around to face you as the door closed.

He looks into your eyes for a few heartbeats before leaning in and capturing your lips in a delicate kiss which you both grin into. Once again, your hands find their home wrapped around his neck, and you stay like this until the door opens again. 

A few minutes later, you both are back inside the apartment and are in the process of getting unready. You feel a gush of wetness pool your core as you catch a glimpse of Joe’s bare chest as he just got out of the shower. He looked so desirable and his bare chest always got you worked up.  

You walk over to him, take his hand, and lead him back to the bed. “What are you doing?” He questions.

“What I’ve been wanting to do all night,” you say as you push him back onto the bed, straddling his waist. You capture his lips in a fiery kiss as his hands grip your waist again. You slowly grind on his shorts, making him way more horny than he was before. You push your hand down to his dick and start palming him through his shorts when he suddenly flips you both over so that he’s on top, leaving you a little dizzy. 

“Hm?” You question his sudden change of mind.

“You can do that another time, I wanna make you feel good tonight,” he says. 

You don’t have a chance to argue with him since he starts to peel off your tank top; his lips finding the sweet spot on your neck, making you flutter your eyes as you let out a whimper. 

He moves down and presses a few wet kisses on your belly before getting right to business, sliding off your shorts and underwear. 

“Oh,” you moan as you feel him blow on your core which was already wet from earlier. 

He lets out a laugh before he moves closer to your core, attacking your folds with sloppy kisses. Your hands find themselves in his hair again as you pull on the strands. “Joe,” you whimper. 

“You’re okay,” he whispers as he goes back to lapping at your slick core. He takes one of his fingers and pushes them inside your heat which makes you let out another moan. The combination of his mouth and fingers, along with the alcohol in your system was making you feel like you were levitating. “Fuck,” you whined. 

He continued to pump his finger into your core as his mouth attached itself to your clit, rhythmically sucking on it. He inserts another finger, stretching you out even more which causes you to arch your back. His free hand pushes your belly back down to the bed as he continues to attack your core. 

“Baby,” you moaned while your eyes rolled to the back of your head. You felt a familiar warmth in your lower belly, signaling that you were very close. 

“I’m close,” you whispered, pushing your head further back into the pillow. You continue to pull on his hair which causes him to groan against your core, sending vibrations throughout your body. 

His fingers pick up the pace as his mouth is replaced by his thumb. He rubs circles around your clit while continuing to pump into you, which intensifies the entire experience. A few seconds later, you’re cumming hard and fast. “Joe,” you loudly moaned. He removed his fingers from your core and his mouth begins lapping up your juices.

He helps you come down from your high by pressing delicate kisses around your core and inner thighs. After a few minutes, he walks into the bathroom to get a warm washcloth to clean you up. Also, bringing you Advil and water to get ahead of the morning hangover. You’re too drained to move so he cleans you up and wraps a blanket around you while he makes sure everything is locked up. He joins you back in bed and pulls you closer to him, “You comfy?” he asks.

“Mhm,” you say sleepily. He presses one final kiss to your forehead before closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep. 

You stay awake for a few moments, thinking about how lucky you were to have someone who cared so much about you and always made sure that you were comfortable. He was perfect for you, and you couldn’t get enough of him. Sure, you two were absolutely insatiable for each other, but you also had a healthy balance between lust and love that kept your relationship steady, strong, and tender. 

The next day

The next morning rolls by fairly quickly. You get up early to go over to Sophia’s hotel to help her get ready for the ceremony and leave Joe to get a few more hours of sleep, assuring him that you’ll be back in time to get ready with him. 

“Babe, have you seen my watch?” Joe asks as he walks into the bathroom, his mouth agape as he sees your completed wedding look. His eyes travel down your body, the slit in the dress showing off your bare leg; the black material of the dress hugged your body in all the right spots, especially your ass. He felt particularly weak when he saw the v-cut neckline which highlighted your perfectly round breasts. 

“I think it was on the entry table,” you say turning to face him as you get your last earring on. Your eyes widen at his completed wedding look; black pants and a silk maroon shirt with his signature shades. 

“You look stunning,” he says while keeping absolutely still. His heart was racing at how gorgeous you looked. Even though he got to see your beauty every day, he would still lose his mind every time. 

“Right back at ya,” you wink causing him to let out a chuckle. 

After putting the finishing touches on your look, you both head over to the venue for the ceremony. 

It was a wonderful ceremony. You and Joe were seated towards the front so you had an amazing view of the whole thing. You both were sitting close to each other, his hand in yours. You were struggling to hold back your tears the entire time since you were watching your best friend since elementary school get married, and when Joe looked over and saw, he melted. You were also tearing up at the thought of imagining yourself getting married. You would have all of this one day and you wondered if it would be with the man sitting next to you, you were praying that it would be with the man next to you.

He raised your hands to his lips, pressing a few soft kisses to them to make sure you were okay. 

“I love you,” you mouthed to him. 

“I love you more,” he mouthed back, not knowing why you were feeling extra emotional all of a sudden.

A few hours later the wedding reception had begun, and you both had found yourself in your own little corner once again. You were absentmindedly rubbing Joe’s thigh while you both were focused on all the wedding speeches, and it was getting him worked up. Once it was time for your speech, Joe had lost it. He watched as you swayed your perfect hips, hips that he loved to grab onto, over to the stage. Your soft skin was glistening in the spotlight and your perfect breasts were mocking him. 

“Now’s not the time,” Joe thought to himself as he felt himself getting hard. 

You wrapped up your special speech for your bestie with a toast to the newlyweds and made your way back to your boyfriend, who looked like he was struggling to sit comfortably. 

“Are you okay?” you giggle. All you get in response is a blank stare.

“What?” you question. 

He lets out a sigh and fixes his posture, “You in this damn dress, is driving me fucking insane,” he blurts out. 

You stare at him for a few moments, thinking about how funny it was that he was going gaga over you right now, just like how you were drooling at his sexy self. “Well, you in this whole look is making me insanely horny,” you whisper into his ear. 

He clears his throat as a way to compose himself. He thinks about if anyone would notice if you both stepped away for a few minutes. “There’s a bathroom around the corner,” he whispers. 

Your eyes widen at his offer. You both rarely had sex in public places like this, usually finding pleasure in your home, car, or anywhere private. But right now, you honestly could care less.

As the wedding reception raged on outside, You and Joe sneaked away to the bathroom for a moment alone. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the candles casting a warm and intimate atmosphere.

Your eyes locked, filled with desire and longing. Without saying a word, Joe closed the distance between your lips, capturing them in a hungry kiss. Your bodies pressed together, his hands roaming freely over your plush skin.

You moaned softly as Joe lifted you up onto the countertop, his hands sliding up your dress to caress the smooth skin of your thighs. You push your hands into his curls as his lips travel down your neck, causing you to let out a moan. “Yeah,” you whimper. 

Your clothes were quickly discarded, leaving you both naked and exposed to each other. You push your lips against him again as you reach down and slide your hand up and down his dick. You guide it to your core and leave the rest to him. You moaned in ecstasy as he buried himself deep inside you. 

Your head falls back against the mirror as your legs hook around his waist. “Shit,” you moan as Joe moves his face into the crook of your neck, pressing wet kisses along your collarbone. His steady pace was doing wonders but you needed him to go deeper and faster. 

“Joe,” you whimpered, causing him to move his face back into your view. “Fuck me harder,”. 

“Are you sure?”.

“Yeah,” you moaned. 

He smiles and captures your lips in a sloppy kiss as he quickens his pace, rapidly thrusting into your slick core. The sounds of skin slapping skin filled the bathroom as you were drowning in pleasure. “Harder,” you whimpered. The sounds coming out of your mouth were driving Joe insane as he thrusted deeper and deeper into your pussy, completely forgetting you were in a public bathroom. 

“Y/N,” he groaned as he gripped your waist tighter, surely leaving a few bruises. 

“Fuck Joe,” you moaned, this time a little louder. Each thrust sends you further back into the mirror and your lower half becomes slicker and slicker by the second. “You feel so good,” you whisper. 

Joe smiles as he plunges into you harder and harder each time. You felt a familiar sensation build in your belly as he pounded into your heat, “I’m so close,” you whispered. 

“Fuck, me too,” he moans as he reaches down and starts to rub circles around your wet clit. You whimper at the sudden contact, eventually setting off your release. Your walls clench around his cock as you let out a series of pornographic moans into his ear. 

He continues to pound into you, harder than before, trying to reach his own pleasure. You whimper at his movements and your hands start to scratch up and down his bare back. 

“Y/N..” he moaned. 

“Mm,” you whined. A few seconds later, you felt his release coat your walls. You both were trying to catch your breaths and regain your senses for a few moments before Joe slid out of you. He cleans you up first and helps you put your clothes back on. Then, you clean him up and help him fix his outfit just like he did for you. You look into the mirror while fixing your hair and smile at how well fucked-out you look, and look back over to your boyfriend, also looking well fucked. 

Before leaving the bathroom, he pulls you in for a hug, whispering a few sweet nothings into your ear and telling you how amazing you were. 

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he whispered, causing you to smile against his chest and hug him tighter. 

You walk back into the reception with a slight limp, pretending as nothing happened, and tell Joe you are going over to Sophia for a bit. Joe nodded and said he’d be grabbing you both something to eat. 

You walk over to her table and slide into the chair next to her, flashing her a giddy smile. 

“How does it feel to be a Wifey,” you questioned. 

She laughs, “Very Fun,” while looking over at you. She looks carefully at you, noticing your smudged lipgloss and slightly messy hair. Your radiant smile and limp told her everything she needed to know.

“Looks like you had a little bit of your own fun,” she winks. “I saw that limp,”. Your face immediately turns red at the fact that she figured it out. How could she not? This girl has known you longer than anyone, of course she could tell when something was up, good or bad. 

You heave a sigh, “I don’t know what about him makes me so-,” you pause as you can’t find the right word to finish the sentence. 

“Down Bad?” Your friend says. 

You stay silent for a few seconds, “Yeah. Down Bad.” You smile as you look over at your boyfriend who was currently balancing two plates of food in his hand for you both.

“I see the way he looks at you, you know. It’s like you’re the only person in the room for him,” she says. “He looks at you like you are the most valuable diamond,”. 

You blush while you think about the countless times you’d find Joe deeply staring at you whenever you were talking. “Yeah, he does do that doesn’t he,”. 

“And I also see the way you look at him,” she adds.

“What do you mean, how do I look at him?”.

“Well other than looking like you want to pounce on him every 5 minutes,” she giggles. “You look at him like he’s the one,”.

You are surprised by what she says. The one? You’d only been officially dating for 4 months, was he really the one? He made you feel things that you haven’t felt in forever and even things you’d never felt before. He made you feel seen and he made you feel loved. You were so lucky to have found something special with him, but was he going to be the one? Did he even want you to be the one?

“Sophia, we’ve been dating for 4 months,” you nervously laugh. 

“And?” She questions. “I know it’s early, but I’ve seen you look happier with Joe in the past few months than I saw you with your ex who you were with for 3 years. He really really really loves you and I can tell that you feel the same way”. 

“He’s the one, Y/N. Trust me, I can feel it,” she adds as you look back over at Joe, who flashes you a warm smile, setting off butterflies in your stomach. 

“Yeah,” you say softly. Maybe he was the one. God, you wanted him to be the one. 

You hear her let out a loud laugh, “See what I mean! Even across the room, look at you two!”. 

You turn over and playfully push her arm. “Y’all are sooo down bad for each other,” she teases. You break out into a fit of laughter as you spend a few more moments talking to her about the wedding and the brunch tomorrow before getting up and joining your boyfriend once again. 

“What was that about?” He questions. 

“Ohhh nothing,” you say. The playful tone in your voice makes Joe slightly suspicious but he decides not to question it. Festive music fills the room as you both sit and eat your delicious meals while watching all the couples fill the dance floor.

Joe hears the song change from upbeat to slow; “Can’t Help Falling In Love,” playing softly in the background. This song was another song that was special for you both. 

He meets your eyes before standing up. You were confused at why he was getting up since you were both comfy the way you were sitting now, and you both certainly were not about to dance. Joe never danced in public as the only time he would slow-dance with you was in private. You didn’t mind though, it felt more natural and intimate that way. The song currently playing was one of your favorites to dance to.

He extends his hand out and says, “Y/N, would you like to dance with me?”. 

You feel like he’s messing with you so you don’t say anything for a few seconds, but he remains in the same position so he means business. 

“I would love to dance with you,” you say as he grabs his hand and leads you to the dance floor.  

His hands wrap around your waist as yours hang from his neck, and your warm bodies find themselves pressed together once again. 

“You look gorgeous,” he says quietly while swaying you to the beat of the song. 

You blush, “You’ve told me that like 50 times today,”. 

“And I’ll do it 50 more,” he says while raising his brows. 

“Only you could be so romantic not even an hour after rearranging my guts,” you whisper as he pulls you closer, if that was even humanly possible. 

“You just have this effect on me Y/N,” he says. “Got me feeling down bad every minute of every day,”.

Your heart skips a beat at his words. “Have you been talking to Sophia?” you question. 

“I mean, Yeah, it is her wedding,” he says while shrugging his shoulders. 

“No, I mean about us?” you ask.

“A little, but not anything in particular. Is something wrong?” he says, his face turning solemn. 

“No, No. Nothings wrong. It’s just she’s been going on the entire weekend about how down bad we are for each other,” you giggle, his grip on your waist becoming tighter. 

“To be fair, she isn’t wrong. You make me do things and feel things that I never knew I could be capable of,” he says, once again staring deeply into your soft eyes. Your heart beating so incredibly fast as it felt like it was just you two dancing on the floor. 

“Joe,” you whisper, your face moving closer to his.

“I’m so lucky to have you Y/N. You have no idea,” he says before pulling you in for a sweet kiss. 

Your lips fit perfectly against his as you stay like that for a few seconds before breaking away, “I can’t help falling in love with you,” you say, reciting the lyrics of the song playing while you two are dancing.

“I love you, so fucking much. If this is what they call down bad, then fuck yes I’m down bad for the love of my life,” he says. 

A huge grin appears on your face, “Love of your life?” you question.

“Mhm,” he says as he pushes your head into his chest. “Take this as a preview of what our first dance will be like at our wedding,” he says. “Same song and everything,”.

You feel tears pool in your eyes as you look back up at him, “Really? You wanna marry me?”. 

He smiles and says, “Down the road, absolutely. You are exactly what I’ve been waiting for in my life. If you think I’m gonna let that go, maybe I need to do a better job of showing it”. 

Your heart felt like it was about to explode. He wanted to be the one just as much as you did. 

“If you were to do more to show your love than you already did, I think I would drop dead,” you tease. 

“Hey, that is not funny,” he deadpans. 

“Oops, Sorry Mr. Serious,” you say as you kiss his cheek. 

“Well, for future reference, I like princess cut,” you smile, causing him to break his serious expression and let out a hearty laugh. Your head finding its way back to his chest as you continued dancing. 

The world around them faded away, leaving only the two of them entwined in a dance that seemed to last for eternity. The room was alive with laughter and chatter, but to them, it was as if they were the only ones in the world.

As the song came to an end, they held each other closer, never wanting to let go. The warmth of their love enveloped them, filling their hearts with a sense of pure bliss and contentment.

And in that magical moment, as they whispered sweet nothings into each other's ears, they knew that their love would always be the music that guided them through life's dance, forever intertwined and inseparable.

–The End–

[starry-eyes-love]

Dance with Me

Main Masterlist    Series Masterlist

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader, post-outbreak. Ch 8.5 of my series “My Journey to You”, but can be read as a stand-alone. 

Summary | Joel can't sleep and thinks about the first time he danced with you, back in the Boston QZ three years prior.  He was too afraid to tell you back then how he felt, but he speaks his mind now to you as you sleep.

A/N:  This is my 200 follower appreciation post.  Thank you so much guys for all of the love and support I’ve gotten within this past year. It means the world to me that all of you love this little slice of fanfiction/ world that I have created. Thank you!  

Warnings | 18+, Minors DNI.  Age gap (unspecified, but 20s/50s), language, fluffy (like a ton), sexual tension, tiny bit of angst (if you really squint), carefree Joel, Joel dancing with you (it needs its own warning), soft Joel, Joel soothes you, terms of endearment, love bomb dropped… and that’s about it I think. 

Word Count: 3.4 K

You gently shifted in your sleep, mumbling to yourself yet again.  Joel soothed you and kissed your temple once again, trying to get you to go back to sleep. “I’m sorry for not telling ya sooner, but I love you baby. And I promise I'll spend the rest of my life makin’ it up t’ya.” Joel said, gently whispering in your ear. You let out a small content sigh and said, “I’ll hold ya to that promise Miller” and then you drifted back off to sleep yet again.

Joel laid beside you in bed while watching you sleep. Your lips were slightly parted and you were breathing slowly and evenly, in and out with each breath. You wore an old, worn out t-shirt that once belonged to Joel, and underwear for sleep shorts. The old t-shirt was your favorite shirt to sleep in as it felt like the comforts of home, if home was a thing in the apocalypse.  You were lying on your stomach, hair tossed messy to the side, blankets draped over your lower half as you quietly slept. Joel, lying awake, felt the tug of his heart at the peacefulness of you. He wanted all of this to work out; for you, him, and Ellie to be a family. But how can one be a family in a world that was meant to destroy?

Joel turned to lie on his back, arm bent up and over his shoulder. His head rested on his forearm as he stared straight up at the ceiling. His mind was working overtime tonight, unable to shut down to fall asleep. You had been asleep for hours, peacefully resting in the quiet world. Where do we go from here when spring hits? Joel wondered silently to himself. You three were slowly running out of supplies, and food was getting harder and harder to find. The snow was deep, making hiking or walking almost impossible in certain areas. This limited your options, which put a strain on this little life that you had built. Death was once again staring all of you in the face, mocking and testing to see if you could survive.

Joel heard you whimper slightly, eyes moving rapidly while shut. You were lost deep in dreamland once again, and tonight Joel had hoped it was pleasant dreams that you were having. As he silently watched you sleep, he couldn't help but feel protective over you. You were his Angel, his baby, his future wife that he loved. You counted on him to be strong, to be a protector for you and Ellie. Joel was faced with difficult choices ahead of him, trying to figure out how to keep the three of you alive.

When Joel heard you quietly whimper yet again, he turned on his side. He gently reached out and soothed you by saying, “shh baby, I'm here and you’re safe.” He then lightly kissed your head, inhaling your sweet scent once again. Joel could get drunk off your scent, from the tenderness of your body, and the warmth of your heart. You smelled like vanilla and sugar, a delicate cupcake. One that he desperately wanted to taste and bury himself deep within. He wanted to wrap himself around you, so neither one of you would know where one person ended and the next one began.

“Joel, dance with me,” you said, still dreaming, whimpering slightly to yourself.

With a small chuckle, he ran his hand through your hair while whispering slowly in your ear “ok darlin’, I'll dance with you.” He then started to hum the song the two of you danced to a few years ago in the Boston QZ. As he hummed the tune, you relaxed and sighed in your sleep, feeling safe and content once again. Joel smiled to himself, remembering the details behind that fateful day where he showed you a piece of himself, a piece of what he was like before.

Flashback to Boston QZ

3 Years Prior

You rushed into the room, shrieking to yourself at the prospect of finding a record player once again. “Joel look” you said, jumping for joy at your find.

“Damn it woman, ya stay next to me and wait until I say t’go forward, understood?” Joel snapped, coming into the room that you just rushed into, without checking the room first.

With an eye roll you said, “Yes, Sir,” not wanting to argue with him. 

Joel froze at your statement, not wanting to admit what your statement did to him. How it made his pants a little tighter in the front. Your innocence and excitement in life shouldn't be something that made him feel attraction, but yet it did. The thought of him showing you things, how to do things, made him stiff in his jeans. You were practically a kid to him, even though you were technically an adult. You just were a much younger adult than he.  He was old enough to be your father and because of this he knew he shouldn't be attracted to wanting you the way he did. None of this made any sense to him, especially since he had Tess. But here you were, practically jumping for joy, bouncing around like a goddamn kid in a candy store at the thought of finding some old record player that probably didn't even work anymore.

“Can we-”

“No,” Joel said with finality in his voice.  

“Maybe we could just-”

“Didn't ya hear me, I said no. We're not here for some stupid record player. Damn thing probably doesn't even work anymore.”  With that statement Joel saw your eyes glaze over with tears. Joel didn't mean to say the word stupid, to call the thing that you were excited about stupid. 

“Darlin’, I-”

“No you're right, it is stupid. I am stupid.” You said with venom lacing your words as tears welled up into your eyes. “God forbid I find one thing, one fucking thing, that excites me and makes me feel alive again when I feel anything but. I know why we're here, what we came for. You're forgetting that I have brought you more money, delivered more goods than anyone else in this God forsaken QZ. So excuse me if I want to laugh again for just a second, and not feel numb anymore. You can thank the asshole that carved his dumb mark in my leg and forced his knife to my throat that made me feel numb when all I wanted to do was-”

You stopped yourself suddenly, looking over at Joel who was now glaring at you with concerned eyes. You've never spouted off to him like this before, and you never, ever, have been honest with him about how you felt after David attacked you. Joel had asked you countless times of how you felt after he rescued you two years prior, asked if you wanted to talk about it. Each time you told him to ‘just forget about it.’ Dwelling in the past wasn't something that either of you could afford to do, so you were shocked that you mentioned anything now. 

“Uh Joel, just forget what I-”

“Wasn't gonna say anything,” he said, still looking at you with concern. “If ya wanna talk ‘bout it, I'll listen.”

With a long sigh you shook your head and said “I know Joel, and thank you. I just-I don't want to talk about it. Let's- let's just get what we came here for, and then go.” After you spoke you hung your head and marched out the door.

Joel heard you sniffling in the other room. He found himself glancing at the record player, the one he just scolded you for wanting to take. He tried convincing himself that it wasn’t worth picking up and carrying back, that it was pointless to have something like this.  But he couldn’t stand seeing you so upset. He internally scolded himself for his actions as he quickly packed it up to take with him as a gift for you.

“Joel, are you ready?” You asked, not wanting to be yelled at again. When he didn't answer, you yelled saying “JOEL.”

“Jesus woman, I'm right here, ya don't need to shout.” he said, his pack full and bulging.

“What did you get?” You asked, while looking at his back.

“Found some medical stuff, now come on” he said as he walked out the door.

Later that night you were laying in bed, looking up at the ceiling when you heard a knock on your door. Your back was sore from carrying a lot of stuff, and Joel was in no better shape when you returned. You were freshly washed, Joel insisted that you use the shower first when you arrived back home. You had been staying with him and Tess since he rescued you from David.  Every time you thought of a reason to leave his house, Joel would always come up with an excuse to have you stay.  After the first year, you stopped trying to find reasons to leave and just accepted the fact that you now lived in the guest bedroom of Joel and Tess’s house. When you heard Joel knock again you gently said “come in” and took a deep breath, bracing yourself for whatever news he was going to tell you. 

“I made some dinner, ya want to come and eat with me?” he said, examining the wood construction of the door and lightly running a finger over the rough edges.  Joel seemed timid tonight, something that you weren’t used to.

“You cooked?” You asked as you slowly sat up, raising an eyebrow at him.  When he nodded his head you teased, “and the house didn't burn down?”

Joel rolled his eyes at your quip, responding back, “No wiseass, it didn't. Now ya hungry or not?”

You quickly got off the bed, stomach audibly growling at the smell that was coming from the kitchen. When you arrived, you saw two plates with spaghetti on them, two waters and alcoholic drinks (whiskey), with about a hundred candles all lit around the living room and attached dining room area. As soon as you saw the scene in front of you, you felt your face fall.

“What's the matter?” Joel asked, puzzled, wondering if he did something wrong.

“Oh nothin' I-I didn't know that you and Tess were going to have a night to yourselves. I'll just grab my food and eat someplace else I guess,” replying meekly and hanging your head at the fact that you once again felt like the third wheel.  With a dramatic sigh you took a step forward to go find something to put your food on.  As you stepped forward towards the stove, Joel reached out and gently grabbed your waist, pulling you back into him.

As soon as your back hit his chest you froze.  You could feel his strong body behind you, molding to your curves in the way that you loved.  Usually Joel wouldn’t outright grab you like this and hold you firm against his body, unless you were about to search a house and decided not to listen to him. It was his way of stopping you before you’d endanger yourself. This though was outside of the norm for him, considering that you weren’t about to search a house for supplies. 

You felt Joel gently stroke your skin underneath your t-shirt, a t-shirt you stole from him tonight to sleep in.  He was slowly rubbing gentle circles on your skin, slightly gripping your waist every time you tried to move away from him.  He was silently telling you to stay tight against his body until he said it was safe for you to leave. You relaxed into his touch, head slowly leaning back as you melted into him.  You felt the strong and prominent bulge behind you, fitting tight against the curve of your ass.  You gave your hips a tiny roll as you heard Joel let out a low growl in your ear at the sensation. Your head was swimming with a combination of his manly scent, warm food, and arousal, and because of this you didn’t realize that you had slightly whimpered at his touch. 

Joel, whispering gently in your ear said, “Tess ain’t home darlin’. She ain't gonna be here all night. This is just for you and me.” He then growled in your ear while lightly nipping at the soft spot below your ear, the spot that makes your toes curl and your clit throb.  Joel lightly laughed as he pulled away from you, looking at you with dark eyes saying, “come on darlin’, I’m hungry. Let’s eat.” 

You don't know how it happened, but somehow Joel was sitting next to you at the table, thighs touching, hand running soothing circles on your leg from time to time as you both ate. You two were also talking softly, occasionally laughing hysterically at the jokes that Joel was making. Joel Fucking Miller, Mr. Grumpy Man, was laughing and cracking jokes with you. You didn’t realize how easy the conversation could flow with him.  It was like the whiskey you both were drinking, it felt smooth. 

“You know I don't think I've ever felt this good talking with you before, ever” you say, slowly sipping your drink.

“Yeah well, I reckon it's cause you don't know the real me darlin’.” Joel says, slowly reaching out and grabbing his drink while brushing his knuckles over the back of your hand once again. Joel was touchy feely tonight, something that you've never seen him do with you. You didn't know if it was because he missed Tess, if he was just enjoying himself with you, if it was the alcoholic drinks that the two of you were drinking, or if it was a combination of all three. You weren't going to complain, you loved the attention he was giving you and by the looks of it, he was also enjoying the attention you were giving him.

Dinner had gone well and somehow you found yourself sitting on the couch, side by side, thighs touching as you slowly sipped your whiskey. You were on your third drink of the night, feeling loose and relaxed, wanting to keep the conversation going, but forgetting that your mouth needed a filter.

“I heard the fight that you and Tess had last week. I heard her leave.” You said, wanting to decide if his closeness was just him being lonely.

“Yeah well, shit happens I guess.” Joel said, leaning back and opening his legs a bit wider as he leaned into the couch, placing his one hand on the inside of his leg.  He was looking down at the glass that he was holding in his lap, slowly sipping at it and trying to relax.

“Do you wanna tell me why she left, or am I just going to have to guess?” you said boldly.

Joel, taking another slow sip of his drink said, “well darlin’, ya better start guessing then.”

Letting out an exhausted sigh, you turned to him and raised an eyebrow.  You knew the reason why she left, you heard her scream at him as you laid in your bedroom unable to sleep that night.  You were hoping that Joel would tell you, admit to you the problem that happened, that he moaned out another woman’s name when he was fucking Tess.  The longer you looked at him though, the more stone-like his features became.

“Joel I-”

“Don’t” he said, shaking his head, while taking another sip.

“Joel, I heard the argument that you and Tess had, and I-”

Joel’s eyes widened at the realization that you heard the argument, that you heard him moan your name when he was fucking Tess. “Quit it, will ya,” he said, embarrassment finding a home on his face. “I don't wanna fucking talk about it.” “It's embarrassing,” he mumbled to himself, thinking that you couldn’t hear him say it, but you could.

“Joel, I think we should talk about it.”

“Talk about it,” he said with a sarcastic laugh. “There ain’t nothin’ to talk about. I moaned out another woman’s name in bed when I was fuckin’ Tess and she almost ripped my balls off cause of it.”  What Joel didn’t say was that ‘the woman’s name was you baby.’

“Who’s name was it?” you asked curiously. You thought you heard your name that night on his lips, but you couldn't be sure. When Joel looked at you, you could tell that he wasn’t going to say it.  With a shake of his head and a huff he quickly changed the subject, trying to get you to focus on something that wasn’t so personal.

“Got a present for you, thought you’d like this so I brought it here.” He said, standing up and walking over to the other side of the room. He motioned for you to come over by him. “Thought you'd like this present darlin'” he said, putting the needle on the record. As soon as the sound started you heard Donnie Iris “Ah Leah” song come on. You squealed and ran over by him, jumping for joy that he brought back the record player you found. That was what was in his pack today, and why you had to carry double the load in yours. 

‘It's been a long, long time, you're such a sight. You're looking better than a body has a right to. Don't you know we're playing with the fire. But we can stop this burning desire Leah. Ah! Leah! Here we go again.

As the song continued to play you felt Joel grab your drink and set it down on the coffee table. He then grabbed your hands and started dancing fast with you to the beat of the song.  He was swaying his hips back and forth, spinning you around, moving his arms as he danced with you, singing the lyrics.

‘I see your lips and I wonder who's been kissing them. I never knew how badly I was missing them. We both know we're never going to make it. But when we touch, we never have to fake it Leah. Ah! Leah! Here we go again.’

The longer the song went, the more Joel was relaxing, enjoying himself.  You were laughing, moving your body to the beat of the music as you watched Joel shake his hips with his belt unbuckled, wanting to be himself and comfortable for a change. You have never seen him this comfortable or laid back before, and honestly it stirred something deep within you. You quickly switched to where he was behind you and you were in front of him, swaying your hips, slowly grinding your ass on his crotch.

“Show me how your daughter was made Joel,” you said, grinding back into him.

“Fuck, I’ll do more than that darlin’” he said, nudging your backside while grabbing your hips, swaying you back and forth to the music. Joel then whispered the lyrics in your ear again.

‘Baby, it's no good, we're just asking for trouble. I can touch you, but I don't know how to love you. It ain't no use, we're headed for disaster. Our minds said no, but our hearts were talking faster Leah. Ah! Leah!’

As the song slowly started to end, Joel was still twirling you around, smiling ear to ear.  You were laughing, both of you feeling carefree. It was the first time the both of you felt like you could breathe and have fun again in a world that was full of death and destruction. For the next hour you two danced together, having fun, taking just one night in life to forget and have it for yourselves. 

 Present Day

Joel laid in bed, slowly stroking your hair and remembering the last time he danced with you.  He was internally scolding himself, telling himself that he was such an idiot for not telling you back then how much you meant to him. He also hated that he didn’t kiss you or take you to bed that night like you both wanted him to.  You gently shifted in your sleep, mumbling to yourself yet again.  Joel soothed you and kissed your temple once again, trying to get you to go back to sleep. 

“I’m sorry for not telling ya sooner, but I love you baby. And I promise I'll spend the rest of my life makin’ it up t’ya.” Joel said, gently whispering in your ear.

You let out a small content sigh and said, “I’ll hold ya to that promise Miller” and then you drifted back off to sleep yet again.

Joel chuckled to himself that you heard him, even in your half sleep state.  With another smile plastered on his face, he leaned over and kissed you gently on the lips, thanking the heavens that you were here with him. He then whispered a few lines of his re-done version of the lyrics of the song you two danced to. He wrote them the next morning after your night of fun of dancing as he watched you sleep even back then softly. “It ain't no use baby, we were headed for disaster. My mind told me no, but my heart talked a hell of a lot faster. I love you.”

-End Story-

Taglist: @punkshort @shotgun-shelby @strawbunnyx @orcasoul @pedritoferg @chiogarza @jesfreedark @untamedheart81 @rainbow12346 @nandan11 @swiftpascal @eliza-8 @joeldjarin @vickie5446 @nastiasnow @staywildflowahchild @ratoonstown @l3laze @its-always-420-on-the-moon @kirsteng42

[hyperfixatingmenever]

Today's Nightmare & Tomorrow's Daydreams | Part 2/2 | 8.5 K | Mature

Title: Today's Nightmare & Tomorrow's Daydreams 

Fandom: Triple Frontier  

Pairing: Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales/ Reader

Rating: Mature 

Word Count: 8.5K

Cross-posted on Ao3 here

A/N: I wrote part 1 (which I'd recommend reading first) for @theassbuttchronicles back in 2021, but I also wrote a dream that didn't make the final cut, which broke my heart because it was actually the first thing I wrote for the fic. BUT three years later, I've finally finished the fic! I hope everyone can enjoy it, but more importantly, experience the emotional turmoil of the dream with me! lol

"Son of a bitch!"

A sharp, stinging feeling shot through Frankie's hand; he had sliced it open while working on one of the helos he flew for instructing. The cut on Frankie's hand didn't feel like an emergency, but considering he knew you were working, and he cut it on metal, he thought, two birds, one stone. While holding pressure on his hand, he glanced around, looking for some type of fabric to help with the bleeding. The only thing within reach was his dirty, greasy hand rag. He rolled his eyes, knowing the lecture that was in store for him when you saw him. Accepting his fate, he wrapped his hand and headed over to the base clinic.

As he walked into the ER, he saw you busy working, bouncing between helping patients and other staff. He saw you smile and laugh with a fellow army medic. Your smile could light up his darkest days, and it had before. Without knowing, Frankie started to smile, feeling your warmth from across the room.

Out of his daze, he walked up to the registration desk. The sitting area was nearly empty, with only a couple of people since it was already late in the afternoon.

"Hi, Francisco Morales, 75-585-468."

"Frankie! What are you doing here?"

Picking up his head, he looks into your piercing eyes as you walk towards him. He lifted his hands clasped together, showing his poorly wrapped hand.

"Oh Jesus"

Leaning forward, you tell the nurse at the registration desk to not worry about it, ‘I'll take care of him.’

Blush starts to rise a little in his cheeks, but he looks down and hides his face under his favourite 'standard heating oil' cap.

"Come on, Frankie, follow me," motioning to follow you down the hallway to a more private room.

"Okay, let me take a look at it."

Taking a deep breath, Frankie releases the pressure and shows you his hand.

"Jesus, Frankie, is this a dirty rag?"

"I couldn't find anything else!"

He waited for you to give him shit, but he saw you take a deep breath and say, "I'm just happy you're okay. I worry about you."

As you cleaned out the wound, you also ordered a tetanus shot and eventually gave him a couple of butterfly stitches.

"You know there are mechanics on base. It's literally their job to keep all the machinery running. Why are you doing repairs to your own helo?"

"Because I know more than most of those idiots! I don't want to be in deep water just because one of those hijos de puta tontos forgot to do something. If I'm going to take 33,000 pounds of metal up into the sky, I sure as hell want to know it's up to snuff."

He can feel the crease in between his eyebrows as he starts to get angry, but that soon melts away as you jokingly massage it with your pointer finger.

“Well, look at you! Flying and fixing, how did you become a jack of all trades?" You softly chuckled.

“Well, my Abuelo could fix anything, but he loved fixing cars and planes in particular. With my mom always busy at work, I spent most of my time with him in the garage, or we would drive to a hangar and fix up a plane. I started out by just handing him tools, but eventually, I learned everything he knew, and I started helping him when I got older."

"Awe, I bet baby Frankie was cute! All covered in grease."

"Are you saying I'm not cute now?" Frankie says in a teasing tone, even though some part of him is completely serious. He wanted even a small piece of hope that could show that you cared about him the same way he cared about you.

He sees you roll your eyes as you start to bandage his hand.

"You know I’m not always going to be here to help with your cuts and bruises, right?"

"But I don’t know what I'd do without my favourite medic," Frankie shoots back, giving his go-to smirk — trying to cover up the hurt around the idea of you somehow not being in his life anymore.

The two of you talk as you continue to wrap his hand. Talk about Rebecca and that horrendous date. In the small silence, Frankie lets slip. "She just wasn't the one.”

Honestly, he knew that even before the date because 'the one' for him was carefully bandaging his hand. The one who worried about him. The one who took care of him. The one standing in front of him.

You finally break the silence, showing that you've finished with his hand. He thanked you, and you both walked toward the nurses’ station. Frankie thinks about how easy it would be to hold your hand as your fingers innocently brushed up against each other while walking. Instead, he just keeps walking down the hall as you stop at the nurse's station.

Stopping in his tracks, he remembers movie night and turns back towards you.

"HEY, MI CIELO! Don't forget movie night at my place on Friday!"

Frankie can't help but smile while leaving, thinking about you and your threat of physical violence toward Benny. Man, he couldn't wait for Friday night.

-----

"What do you mean you're not coming!"

"Allison finally agreed to let me take her on a date, but she's only free tonight."

"Wait, who's Allison? Is she the one with red hair or the one who never stops showing pictures of her hikes?"

"Neither"

"Pope, I can't keep up with you," he rubbed his face and groaned as he continued to push the cart with his elbows. "You can't cancel Pope! Will and Benny both canceled this morning! If you don't come, it will just be Cielo and me!"

"Maybe that's for the best'' Santi's playful tone came from the other side of the phone.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He retorts gruffly, already done with his best friend’s shit.

"You and I both know you’ve been dancing around your feelings for her since day one; maybe you should buck up and make a move Hermano."

"I can't! What if she doesn't feel the same way? I can't lose my best friend."

"Best friend? I'm hurt, Hermano. I thought what we had was special."

Frankie can imagine Santi dramatically clutching his heart. "You know what I mean," rolling his eyes at this whole conversion.

"Well, I still can't come. So I hope you two have a good time. I'll talk to you later. Good luck!"

And before Frankie could respond, Santi had hung up on him.

Frankie puts his phone in his back pocket as he continues to wander the aisles. He looked down at his cart full of groceries, snacks, and drinks. Even though it was now just the two of you tonight, the amount of food he got could feed a small army.

As Frankie heads towards the till, he's distracted by the flower section. He couldn't buy you flowers, right? Unless? No. It was already going to be weird, just the two of you; the last thing he wanted to do was ever make you feel uncomfortable. As Frankie lost himself in thought, an older man came up beside him and said, "She must be a special girl."

Tongue-tied, Frankie didn't know what to say. She was a special girl, but she was more than that. She also wasn't his girl. He didn't know what to do.

"My Winifred's favourite was tulips."

He reached down and grabbed a small thing of pink tulips. Giving them a light shake as he took them out of the water.

"It never hurts to surprise them with flowers, make them feel appreciated. They do so much for us, always caring for us."

He was right; even though he and Cielo weren't together, they always took care of each other.

Giving Frankie a small clap on his bicep, "And don't forget to always cherish her."

Frankie gave a small smile and nodded as the old man walked away. Frankie looked at the flowers for another second before picking up some sunflowers and continuing towards the till.

-----

The day slowly progressed; he put everything away and placed the sunflowers in water on the kitchen table. He wouldn't give them to you, but they reminded him of your smile. He made fresh popcorn with butter before running off upstairs to change.

"FRANKIE?"

Hearing you call his name while walking into his house always felt like a dream. He could imagine you walking into the home you shared together, calling his name, declaring your arrival. He would hug you and pepper you with kisses as you came home.

The night that this felt closest to the truth was one random Tuesday. It was the first time you didn't bother knocking; you just walked in… to his home. You walked in, grabbed a beer, and landed on the couch; he eventually brought you a plate of food and shared dumb stories about his students. As you threw your head back laughing, Frankie knew at that exact moment that he wanted to do this for the rest of his life.

But in reality, he never made any of his friends knock. It was well known his door was never locked, and you could just waltz in, but you were different.

"Up here! Coming!" Frankie rushes down the stairs to greet you, still rearranging the clothes on his body.

-----

Surprisingly you hadn't picked 'The Princess Bride,’ which he knew was your favourite movie. He'd never tell anyone this, but when he was having a dark day or missed you, he would watch 'The Princess Bride’ and think of you.

The both of you had watched 'Wonder Woman' and then put on 'Prospect,’ but as the night started to fall, Frankie's eyelids did as well.

-Dream-

Images of Cielo flashed through Frankie's mind. He couldn't help but smile. Cielo was the one good constant in Frankie's life; when things became too much, he always knew you would be there for him. But his lovely, warm memories of you were quickly distorted and changed into what he could only describe as a nightmare.

"Guys, this is Aaron. Aaron, these are the guys, Will, Benny, Santiago, and Frankie."

Aaron’s arm casually around your waist drove Frankie crazy; he could feel his jaw tightening. Thinking that it should be his arm around your waist, his shoulder you lean your tired head against, and finally, you should be leaving in his truck instead of some fucking Prius. Frankie saw a flurry of snapshots and nightmarish memories of Aaron and your life together. Starting with a simple date where Aaron reaches over and squeezes your hand, and you look at him with so much love and potential.

"That should be me she's looking at like that," Frankie thought, but as soon as it started, new images flashed in front of Frankie, Aaron holding you as you cry, movie nights with just Aaron and you. The last one making Frankie physically wince, Aaron rolling off of you, both of you breathless,

"That was incredible," you say while still trying to catch your breath, looking over at Aaron, propping yourself up on one of your elbows before leaning down and mumbling against his lip, "I love you."

Frankie didn't think it could get any worse; he was wrong.

"We're getting married!" You shriek as you wrap your arms around Aaron’s torso. Benny was the first to offer congratulations, hugging you and picking you up off the ground. But while Will was walking towards you to give his congratulations, Frankie was stuck. He didn't understand, how could you be marrying this guy? His eyes unfocused, and stared off into the distance. His head started to race, but before he could completely spiral, he felt a large wack on his shoulder.

Santi leans in and whispers in his ear, "Come on, Hermano, you’ve got to get it together and go congratulate her." Frankie knew he was right; he came out of his daze, walked forward, and wrapped his arms around you. He put his face in the crook of your neck and inhaled your scent like it was the last time.

Pulling back slightly, "Congratulations, Cielo."

Frankie started to feel uneasy; his stomach began to tie in knots. Suddenly, Frankie was in his tactical gear in the middle of the jungle; he didn't know what he was doing here? He was no longer on active duty; his current job was to teach new pilots how to control a helicopter under extreme conditions. It had been years since he was in full tactical.

It felt heavier than usual… without explicitly knowing that there was a picture in his breast pocket, he took it out and realized why he felt heavier. Tears started to well in his eyes; he turned the picture over and read, "30 weeks. Come home safe, Frankie. This baby needs to meet their godfather."

Silently, Frankie started to cry. Crying over the fact that you were pregnant, that the baby wasn't his, but also over the reality of how happy you were. Happy without him. Frankie turned the picture over and started to caress your face and your bump carefully. Frankie loved you with every ounce of himself, and he would choose your happiness over his every single time. He knew there was nothing for him to do; it was too late to confess his love, but he also knew that he wanted to be in your life, and this baby’s, in any capacity he could, and if "godfather" was his role then so be it.

Suddenly there was loud banging in the distance, gunfire? Frankie's breathing hitched, and then, like some sort of glitch, the picture was no longer in his hands but a gun and the photo on the muddy ground. Frankie bent down to pick up the picture of you, but out of nowhere, he was tackled.

"Estúpido hijo de puta! What the hell were you thinking, Frankie? We're being shot at, and you're just standing there like target practice?!" Santi kept his voice quiet, but that didn't mean he wasn't yelling at Frankie.

"What the fuck are we doing here?" Frankie says, completely confused.

"You need to get your head out of the Sky and help me eliminate this last guy shooting at us so we can go home."

Frankie nods; he will do whatever it takes to get back to you.

"Okay, you go left. I’ll go right. They seem to be following us, so maybe we can surprise them from behind."

Frankie follows Pope's instructions and gives a wide berth to the left in hopes of trapping and surprising the person after the two of them. Frankie slowly crept through the jungle, keeping the end of his gun butted against his shoulder and his eyes keeping track of Pope through glimpses in the foliage. Frankie saw the person after them; he stopped and made eye contact with Pope. Pope gave a small nod. Frankie raised his gun and shot twice in center mass. The body crumpled. Frankie and Pope stalked towards the body. Frankie looked around the body for the gun, but there was none?

Frankie turns over the body… shock hits Frankie's entire body like a wave crashing over him. What had he done, what had he done! He dropped to his knees and cradled your body; Frankie’s gloved hand moved some stray hairs from your face. "Mi Cielo, what are you doing here? Baby, why are you here?" He starts to rock your body and cries, "I'm so sorry, so so sorry. I love you. I love you so much. Come back to me". Frankie feels a hand on his shoulder. He looks up as Pope looks down at him. "This is your fault, Frankie, she's here because you never told her." As soon as he hears that, he can't speak, he can't move, everything is heavy, this is his fault. Suddenly BANG!

-End Of Dream-

Frankie jumped up from the couch in a terrible panic, trying to comprehend what was happening. His eyes dart around the room; he sees a broken plate on the floor and sees you step toward him. Scared of hurting you, he takes a step back. You're trying to talk to him, but it's all garbled; he can't make anything out. Violently, he shakes his head, hoping that everything will go back to normal. Finally, your sweet voice comes to him.

"Frankie, everything is okay, you're safe, I'm right here,"

As he looks down at his hand, he can see the blood that was there as he held your lifeless body in the jungle. Words tumble from his mouth. Part of him knows he doesn't make any sense, but all he knows is he has to keep you safe. Keeping you safe is all he cares about, and to keep you safe, he had to get away from you.

"I need you to stay back!"

Frankie ran into the nearest room and locked the door. He can hear you running after him, but as he slides down against the bathroom wall, everything feels like it's closing in on him. He can feel himself starting to hyperventilate, but the more he focuses on his breathing, the more he panics that he can't get it under control. He can feel himself spiraling; he's shaking, crying, hell, he can't even breathe right, but seconds before he feels like he's going to pass out, he hears you humming.

Humming a sweet melody, he doesn't know the song, but it makes him feel safe. You always make him feel safe. As he focuses on your humming, unconsciously, his breathing starts to even out, and he wipes away some tears. Frankie tended to feel nothing or everything after an attack like this. His hands were still shaking a bit, but when he focused on you, he felt better.

“Frankie? I'm going to go clean up the plate. Just call if you need me. I’ll be right back, okay?”

God, her tone was so sweet, which only made this hurt more. This was just supposed to be a typical movie night so she could get her mind off work, but he had to ruin everything, like always. All he wanted to do was go out and act as if nothing had happened, but he couldn't look into your eyes. He didn't want to show you how broken he was.

Frankie was unsure how much time had passed, but then you finally spoke, “You need to let me in, Frankie...please.”

That broke something inside of him. Hearing your plea, realizing how much this was hurting you, he never wanted to hurt you. That’s why he ran. He didn't want to be the reason to hear such hurt in your voice, but as he reached for the doorknob, his mind betrayed him.

“You don't deserve her. You'll always hurt her. She was happier with Aaron. You could never make her happy.”

As if these words caused him physical harm, he winced and pulled his hand back. His head is low as he took a deep breath, trying to hush these thoughts "...I don't want you to see me like this…"

She says something that makes Frankie chuckle, but before she can continue, he reaches for the doorknob again. He stands and slowly opens the door, revealing him behind. You take his non-bandaged hand in yours and, with your other, wipe the tears that still must be rolling down his cheeks. Your hands are so soft; he never wants to forget your touch. Gently, you pulled Frankie into a hug, wrapping his arms around your torso tightly; he stuck his nose in the crook of your neck. Frankie had never felt safer than in your arms, your fingers tangling in his hair as you rubbed circles on his back.

Eventually, Frankie starts to let go but only far enough to rest his forehead on yours; he stares into your eyes; his eyes then fall to your lips. Trying to alleviate any of the tension that was in the air, the first thing Frankie thought of slipped through his lips. "So, is this where we kiss?"

As soon as it leaves his lips, he wants to take it back.

Quickly changing the subject, you ask, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Frankie can’t even begin to explain how much he doesn't want to do that. Honestly would rather do anything because the only thing that could make this night worse was seeing pity in your eyes. “Can we just talk about anything else other than that?”

What Frankie wasn't expecting was your reply. “Sure.”

As you lead him to the couch and sit down, he lays his head on your lap without even thinking, only knowing that he needs to be close to you, touching you. You talk about everything that comes to mind. As you talk, he can feel you play with his hair. He closes his eyes and enjoys as your nails gently brush across his scalp.

"Frankie, why do you call me Mi Cielo? I know it means 'my sky,’ but I don't understand why you would call me that? I asked Santi in the past, but he just laughed and rolled his eyes at me."

Frankie groans. The only thing worse than you asking this question is you asking Santi first. Unable to look you in the eyes, Frankie explains his name for you, making sure to keep out a couple of details.

-Flashback-

“How about Mi Cielo?”

The rest of the guys give each other side glances before all bursting into laughter.

Santi, still laughing, said, “You can call her whatever you want. When it's just the two of you in bed.” Giving you a large smirk, “But we need a name we all can use.”

Frankie throws one of Santi’s many throw pillows that cover his couch at him. “Fuck you! It's not like that!”

Benny was now getting in on the teasing. “Oh, then what is it like?”

“We’re just friends! Just like the rest of us!” Frankie gestures to the three guys sitting around him.

While sipping his beer, Will quietly adds, “Man, I hope you don't look at us like that while our backs are turned.”

Frankie’s head whips towards Will, but Will’s comment has already sent the other two men back into hysterics. Frankie can feel his cheeks starting to get hot, so he gets up and grabs another beer from the fridge. Frankie throws back the bit he has left before opening the new one.

Santi walks in and grabs the new beer out of Frankie’s hand before he can drink it and takes a sip. “You know we’re just kidding, right?

Frankie glares at Santi as he turns around and grabs another beer.

“You're our brother; we’re going to give you shit, It's inevitable, but we do want you to be happy. She makes you happy, and even though you can't see it, you make her happy.”

Frankie waves off his comment as he takes a sip of his new beer.

“I’m serious! I wish you two idiotas could see yourselves. You guys have already wasted what? Seven years? I know you guys weren't in a good place when you first met.”

Pope was alluding to the coke. Frankie was now clean, three years sober. It was still a daily struggle, but there was no part of him that ever wanted you to see him like that again.

“But what I'm getting at is that you both have grown. You lean on each other. Hell, didn't you once meet her family?”

“Yeah…”

“Exactly! Now you've just gotta make a move! Because I don't know how many more barbeques I can take where you’re both looking at each other longingly when the other isn't looking.”

Frankie takes another sip. “I don't know, Hermano. I know I love her.” Frankie realizes this is the first time he has said it out loud, partially wide-eyed. He continues, “I want to be with her, but if she says no...I don't know what I’ll do. Part of me is happy with her just in my life, even just as friends.”

Frankie leans against the island with his elbows and rubs his face with his hands. “I don't know what I’d do without her, Pope.”

Santi claps him on the back. “I know, Hermano.”

There was a few seconds of silence before Benny yelled loud enough for Frankie and Santi to hear in the kitchen. “Maybe I’ll ask her out! How do you say it again? Pre-ci-ooo-sa?” (Frankie didn't even know you could butcher Spanish that badly)

Shaking their heads, Santi and Frankie both simultaneously say, “Maldito gringo”

-End Of Flashback-

When Frankie finished his explanation of your nickname, he saw you start to stare off. Thankfully, you were too preoccupied zoning out and playing with Frankie’s hair to see the red tint that slowly crept up his face. Frankie enjoyed the soft touches of your fingers intertwined within his messy curls, wishing he could stay like this forever. But you somehow caught him stifling a yawn. "Let’s get you to bed.”

Frankie was incredibly thankful you agreed to stay; he didn't know what he'd do if he had another nightmare like before. Hearing your steady heartbeat and even breathing kept him calm, but as he lost himself in the rhythm, that's when he heard — your confession. Frankie doesn't move; he’s got to be dreaming, right? His brain is playing a trick on him. You could never love him; he’s just a broken man. As his brain tries to process your confession, he can feel your breathing get shallower; you’ve fallen asleep. He lifts his head, looks at your peaceful face, and thinks, “I love you too, Mi Celio.” He places his head back on your chest and immediately falls asleep.

-----

This was the best sleep Frankie had had in years; he could imagine the rest of his life sleeping right beside you. In between conscious and unconsciousness, Frankie reaches out for you to pull you back toward his body, but all he feels is empty sheets. His eyes instantly open as he sits up to scan the empty bed and the empty room.

Where could you have gone? Could you have just left him in the middle of the night? Before heartbreak overtakes him, he sees the light coming out from under the bathroom door; he throws off the blankets, runs over to the door, and tosses it open. Your eyes meet as the bathroom door swings open; you’re at the sink washing your hands.

Seeing your eyes makes everything better. You didn't leave; you stayed; it wasn't a dream; you did love him. He leans into your hand, and everything feels better.

Frankie opens his eyes and asks, “Are you hungry?”

-----

“Can we talk about you kissing me?”

He could have been more delicate, but he was thinking hard about what to say. The words just tumbled from his mouth as he looked at you across the kitchen.

Seeing you start to backpedal made a small part of his mind doubt what he knew. But his love for you won out. He knew how you felt, and he knew he loved you, and he told you just that.

“I love you too.”

-----

The next couple of hours felt like a dream. You both confessed your love for each other, he finally got to kiss you (and taste you), and he got to worship your body as you deserved. After he rolled off of you, both of you still breathless, you turned your head towards him and said: "That was incredible… that was beyond incredible."

Frankie gave a goofy smile to himself, proud to have satisfied you better than your imaginary boyfriend he made up. But just like in his dream, you propped yourself up, leaned down, and mumbled against his lip, "I love you."

Frankie took further care of you, wiping you down with a warm face cloth and gently reminding you to pee. As he laid in bed waiting for you, he knew he wanted to take care of you for as long as you'd have him. He wanted this for the rest of his life: you taking care of each other. When you crawl back into bed, he wraps his arms around you, wanting you as close as possible, and the both of you fall peacefully asleep tangled together.

-----

Frankie woke up the best way he could ever imagine, with you leaning over him, slowly kissing his face. A smile on his face grew, and he greeted you, "Good morning." And with your warm smile matching his, you greet him as well. "Morning, Frankie."

He pulled you in with his bandaged hand to continue this kiss. After a minute or two, you pull back, Frankie’s lips pursed forward, wanting more, but you stopped to say something. "Oh, by the way, Santi stopped by and wanted to gossip with you, but I told him you were busy."

"Oh, am I?" Frankie said, completely joking. At this moment, he couldn’t care less about Santi. The only person he cared about at this moment was in his arms with the most addicting lips.

"Yes, extremely busy," her lips attached to Frankies. Their lips fought for dominance, but Frankie won when he flipped the both of you, so he was on top. With a small gasp, your mouth opened, and he used this to his advantage. As Frankie's hands traveled down your body and got to the bottom of your shirt, he realized something was different; this didn't feel like the shirt you had been wearing earlier this morning. He broke the long kiss between you two, both of you already breathless, and he looked down.

"Is that my shirt?”

“Yeah, I borrowed it. Is that okay?” He can tell you're a little nervous.

“Yeah, I…you just look good in it… really fucking good”. Trying to keep his feelings in check. He couldn't tell if he wanted you to only wear his shirts from now on or if he wanted to rip it off your body so he could worship every inch of you all over again.

“You should see how good I look out of it,” you say with a wink.

Option two, he thought, definitely option two.

-----

Frankie woke up with your hair tickling his nose, but this only brought a smile to his face when he realized you were here and he wasn't dreaming. Frankie carefully propped himself up and gazed upon your face. He lightly pushed the stray hairs out of your face, pressing a light kiss on your temple. Then, he caressed your face, neck, and shoulder with the back of his fingers. Still asleep, you shifted your body, rolling on your back, seeking his warmth. Frankie's smile only grew as he watched your naked body search for his. Frankie kisses you once again before covering you up with the rest of the blankets, hoping that would stall your search for his body heat. Pulling on a pair of sweatpants, he makes his way to the kitchen to once again try and cook a meal. However, the terrible mess in the kitchen looked like it was going to take priority. After throwing away the cold starts of avocado toast, Frankie decides on something simple in case he gets interrupted (his stomach growls in agreement). Not that he'd be complaining; the both of you happily ate the cold takeout that you had ordered before falling back to sleep from exhaustion. He would eat cold food the rest of his life if it meant he could enjoy every noise, moan, and pleasure-filled eye roll you made as he worshipped you like it was his last time.

Frankie quickly whipped up some sandwiches, grabbed a bag of chips and a couple cans of pop (deciding it was late enough in the day for pop but not late enough for a beer). Looking at everything before him, he realized he didn't have one of those trays everyone in the movie seemed to have, mentally adding that to a list of things to buy if you were going to be staying over more. He hoped you would be staying over more. Deciding that they would be sharing a plate (one less thing to carry … and potentially drop,) he moves all the sandwiches onto one plate, puts the bag of chips under his arm, and puts a can in each pocket of his sweatpants, which are pulling them dangerously low, but he didn't have to go far. But before leaving the kitchen, Frankie looked over to his table, which seemed to be brighter from the bouquet of sunflowers he bought the day before. With his one free hand, he grabs a single sunflower and heads back to the bedroom. Opening the door slowly, he sees you cuddled up in the pile of blankets he left you in. Frankie walks over to his side of the bed, places everything on the floor, then cuddles into you. He kisses up your jaw, pressing his nose into your soft skin, tickling you with his scruff. He tries to wake you up with a sing-songy voice.

"Come on Mi Cielo. Waaaake up. I've got a suuuuupriiiiise for yooou"

Only groaning your response

"Come on baby, wake up." Really trying to wake you with his scratchy scruff rubbing up against your face.

"Okay, okay, stop it. I'm up!" Grabbing the sides of his face and pushing him away.

Frankie laughs as you groan, sitting up and leaning against his bed frame.

"Okay, what's the surprise?"

"Close your eyes."

You squint your eyes, suspicious of Frankie, but you both know you trust Frankie with your life. Closing your eyes, you wiggle to make yourself more comfortable against the bed frame.

"Okay, open'em!"

Frankie sees the genuine surprise on your face. "It's nothing fancy, but I-"

Covering his mouth with both of your hands, you interrupt him. "Frankie. This is perfect. Thank you." Releasing his lips, you pull him in and kiss him. Both of you break the kiss rather quickly, knowing if you don't stop, it will be another forgotten meal.

Frankie saw you look at the sunflower on the plate's rim before delicately picking it up and gently tracing the petals with your finger. Internally, Frankie debated whether to tell you the meaning behind the sunflower, but as he saw your soft smile only grow, he simply couldn't hold it in any longer.

“It reminds me of your smile!”

Both you and Frankie are suddenly startled by Frankie's unusually loud declaration. Cocking your eyebrow in confusion, you look at Frankie in hopes of an explanation.

“I - uh, when I was at the grocery store getting food for movie night, I walked past the flower section, and when I saw the sunflower, I couldn't help but think of you… and your smile.” Frankie didn't think he had anything else to say, but he just couldn't stop. “I met this old man, and he told me about his wife and how she liked tulips, and all I could think about was us at that age. What we'd be like. But then I saw this sadness in his eyes, and even though he didn't say anything, I could tell how much he missed her. And all I could think of was how much more I'd miss you if we were that age, and I still hadn't told you how I felt.

As Frankie finished, he felt out of breath, like he had released all he had been holding on to for seven years. It took all of Frankie's conviction and confidence not to hide his eyes from your all-encompassing gaze.

There was a long silence as the two of you stared at each other. This was only broken when Frankie saw your eyes turn partially glassy, and panic flooded his body, but before he could apologize for anything and everything that possibly could have made you cry, he felt your arms be thrown around his neck, and with a tight squeeze he knew everything was going to be alright.

—--

The next two days, neither of you spent more than a couple minutes out of bed and almost always in arm's reach of each other. Contact became practically a necessity, Frankie constantly wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing your neck. Your hands traced each scar, cut, and bruise that littered his body. Neither of you wanted this to end, but Frankie was the first to declare a solution.

"Why don't we both call in sick?"

"We can't just call in sick, Frankie."

"Why not?"

"The both of us calling in sick? That's suspicious. Someone is bound to figure it out."

"We work in two completely different sections, no one would ever know." Frankie knew you. He knew you wanted this; it just might take a little extra convincing. But for a couple extra days with you in this bubble, it was worth it.

"I don't know, Frankie." Frankie saw you hang your head, and he knew this was his moment

"Come on Mi Cielo, play hooky with me." Giving his signature smirk before leaning down, kissing your temple, and whispering in your ear, "I'll make it worth your while."

Frankie pulled back to gauge your reaction. And when he saw your smile, he knew he had you.

"Oh, is that right, Mr. Morales?"

Hearing 'Mr. Morales' come from your lips made him give a low moan before biting his lip, trying to contain it.

"Si mi amour"

Frankie barely answered before dragging you back to the bedroom.

-----

Slowly, Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday passed. Frankie and you found a rhythm in your rose-tinted bubble. Nothing appeared to be able to burst it, that was, until an unexpected guest.

Frankie was washing dishes from supper the night before as you dried and put them away. This felt like the most natural thing, sure you had washed dishes together in the past, but now, as Frankie looked over at you, everything was different. You were wearing an old shirt of his and an even older pair of boxers. You shook your hips and swayed to the music that played throughout the kitchen. From time to time, touching his waist as you move past him to put something away, often followed by a kiss on the cheek or behind the ear.

This time, however, Frankie saw you coming and turned to catch your lips; he could feel you react at first but, in an instant, melt into him. Not caring about anything, he turns, making sure not to break the kiss, and pulls you into him with his wet soapy hands, one on your back and one gripping your ass. You gasp in surprise, which Frankie takes advantage of, deepening the kiss. The smell of you fills his nostrils, and the sweet taste of you starts to fog his mind, but before he can do anything else, he hears, "Ahem."

Pulling back, Frankie turns to look at Pope, giving the two of you a shit-eating grin.

Frankie's head falls to your shoulder, and without looking at him, Frankie asks, "What do you want, Pope?"

"Oh well, when I heard my best friend was out sick, I went to see if our licensed medical professional knew anything. But to my surprise, she was out sick too!" Sarcasm dripped from Pope's statement.

Frankie feels a whack on his shoulder. "I told you someone would figure it out!"

Frankie lifted his head and rolled his eyes. "Pope doesn't count as someone."

Looking directly at Pope now, Frankie asks, "Again, what do you want, Pope?"

"Like I said, I wanted to check in on my best friend!"

Frankie cocks his eyebrow, knowing nothing is simple with Pope.

"I've given you guys four days together. Isn't that enough?"

Frankie, already incredibly annoyed by his best friend, matter-of-factly says “No.” before quickly pulling you in and passionately finishing the kiss Pope had so rudely interrupted. Frankie can feel you initially melt into him, but feeling Pope's eyes on you, you quickly come to your senses and push away from Frankie. He can practically feel the heat coming from your cheeks as you look down, making sure to not make eye contact with Pope before quickly excusing yourself to get dressed.

Watching you walk up the stairs to his room, he couldn't comprehend how lucky he was, but his fantasy was quickly dismissed when Pope declared, “Enough about you two, let me tell you about my date!”

Turning his neck, Frankie gave Pope one of the coldest stares he could muster this early in the morning. Either completely missing or ignoring the stare, Pope went into his story about his date with Allison “Okay, so I picked her up and took her to that hot new restaurant I told you about, and then we-” It was then when Frankie tuned Santi out and continued with the dishes, only occasionally adding in a helpful nod and ‘uh huh’ as the story continued.

By the time the story was wrapping up, Frankie heard you coming down the stairs, and he couldn't help but turn to you and smile. Like it was second nature, Frankie opened his arms, welcoming you into his embrace, but before you could Santi had to ruin the moment. “Wipe that goofy smile off your face. She was gone for like ten minutes.”

Santi and Frankie couldn't help but roll their eyes at each other, which only made Cielo giggle as she secured herself in Frankie's embrace.

“So what is this? Are you guys together? Or just fucking?”

Instantaneously, both Frankie and you shout, “Santi!” but Santi brushes this off with a shrug.

Frankie suddenly panicked. These days of playing hooky had let him imagine a life with you. In a perfect world, he'd propose to you right now, and you'd be married, moved in (and hopefully pregnant) by the end of the week.

But maybe that's not what you wanted? Maybe you wanted to just enjoy these days of playing hooky, and once it ended, never speak of it again.

Before fully spiraling, Frankie felt your hand on his chest, grounding him. He looked at you, and even though you were glaring at Santi (much like a sibling would), he knew that this was in no way, as Santi put it, just fucking.

"Santi, I love you like a brother. And because of that, I'm going to politely ask you to leave before I start throwing things. Particularly at your head." The smile on your face was radiant, but Frankie knew the look was dead serious.

Santi barely started, "But I-"

Still with the brightest smile spread across her face, Cielo picked up a plate and stared at Santi.

Santi squints, “You wouldn’t?”

You pull your back, ready to throw. “Try me, pretty boy.”

Seeing she means business, Santi lifts his hands up in surrender and makes his way out of the house.

Before the door closes, you yell out, “Bye, Santi!”

Frankie chuckled and turned to her, “Were you actually going to throw it?” to which she only answered with a shrug before continuing with the dishes. Frankie couldn't help but let out a booming laugh, with tears of laughter.

Once the laughter ends, there's a calm silence around them; the only noise is the sloshing of water from washing dishes and the clinking of plates as they're put away. Frankie knows what he wants, and part of him believes he knows what Cielo wants… but the voice of doubt still lingers in his head. Once again, Frankie is unable to keep his thoughts from spilling out.

“You want this right? You want us…” There's another pause, but this one feels less calm. In the silence, all Frankie can hear is his own heartbeat, slowly starting to rise. He puts the cup he was holding down on the counter, worrying that his sudden clammy hands will fumble it. Frankie sees you stare at your reflection within the sink. As he stares at you, waiting for a response, he sees a tear drop roll down your cheek and hit the water in the sink, making a small ripple.

Without even thinking, Frankie's hands are on your cheeks, wiping the silent tears with his thumbs and turning you to face him. Your brilliant eyes, which he loves so much, are glassy and red from the tears. Frankie sees your throat bob as you swallow hard. Frankie's voice can't help but come out as a beg, “Mi amor, ¿qué es?”

Cielo takes a very shaky, deep breath, and you responds barely higher than a whisper. “I'm scared.”

Another shaky breath was taken before she continued, “I'm scared we're moving too fast. I'm scared that we’ll ruin our friendship. I'm scared you'll fall out of love with me. Im - Im -I'm scared I’ll lose you!” You couldn't help but sob at the last statement, and your knees finally gave way.

Frankie immediately scoops you so he's on his knees, and you're clinging to his chest. He doesn't care that your hands are wet and soapy from the sink, he doesn't care that his shirt is wet from your tears, he doesn’t even care that he landed on his knees so hard he’d probably be sore for weeks. All he cares about is you. Taking care of you. Being there for you. Whatever you need. All that he did was for you.

Unconsciously, Frankie starts to rock you in his arms, whispering “I love you’s” in Spanish and English. The snobs eventually turn into much smaller cries. Frankie is still rocking but now humming a song that he didn't know the words to. Cielo finally looks up at Frankie, and he wipes your tears. “You’re humming my dad's song. He'd sing it to me when I was little.”

“It's also what you sang to me after my nightmare.”

“...I just wanted to help.”

Frankie nuzzles his nose against her cheek, “I know.”

This silence now felt like home. He could only hear their heartbeats, their synchronised breathing, and the song he continued to hum.

“I know you're scared, but being with you is all I’ve ever wanted. And I'm never changing my mind. I want everything with you, big or small,”

Frankie cradles your cheek in his hand and looks into your eyes. “I want to get married and have kids, but I also want to hold your hand when we walk side by side. I want to buy you flowers whenever I think of your smile. I want to have a picture of you in my cap. I want to hold you when we watch Princess Bride.” Taking a breath, he continues, “I want to wake up beside you every day for the rest of my life.”

Frankie leans down to kiss you, and the kiss contains multitudes. Frankie kissed you with a promise of your future together. As he pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours. “I promise. Nothing could ever take me from you.”

As You looked at Frankie, he knew, in his heart, they would be together for the rest of their lives.

-The Next Last Friday of the Month-

“Hey, Fish were here!”

“Hey guys! We’re in the kitchen!”

As Santi, Benny, and Will enter the kitchen with armloads of beer and chips, they are greeted by both you and Frankie, who are making popcorn and grabbing cold beer from the fridge.

Benny hugs you, lifting you up off your feet. “Oh my god! You're here first? You never beat us!”

“Oh, you know they let me off early today because it was so quiet.” You have a small smirk when Frankie catches your eyes, which he can't help but return. You actually arrived first because you and Frankie had been driving to work together for the past month.

Frankie glances at Santi to see if he's kept his word and not gossiped with the boys about the two of you. The two of you swore him to secrecy because they wanted to tell them together, which he begrudgingly agreed to.

As the five of them head to the living room, you and Benny continue to argue.

“It's Fish’s turn to pick! Those are the rules!”

“But no one showed up last month! All you fucks canceled!”

“It was your pick last month, and Fish’s pick this month. ‘thems the rules!” Benny shrugs nonchalantly.

You land in the middle of the couch with an indignant “Ugh!” as you cross your arms. “This is so not fair.”

All the boys chuckle, Will sits beside you, Benny sits in the armchair, Santi spreads himself over the loveseat, and Frankie goes to the DVD shelf to pick a movie.

Since Benny never knows when to call it quits, whispers under his voice as he takes a sip of beer, “Everyone cancelled because we couldn't stand to watch The Princess Bride again.”

Frankie can hear you gasping behind him, and then he hears what he can only imagine as pillows being pelted at Benny. Everyone starts to laugh again.

Benny starts to scream in defeat. “I'm Kidding! I'm kidding! I'm kidding!”

Frankie puts the movie in the player and turns to see you standing over Benny, who is on the ground trying to dodge punches, pokes, and tickles. Frankie chuckles and sits down on the other end of the couch to Will and presses play to the movie.

“Admit defeat Miller! And I’ll take mercy on you!”

“Uncle! Uncle!”

“Say it!”

“The Princess Bride is the best movie ever!”

Satisfied, you stand and take the middle seat between Will and Frankie.

Out of breath, Benny crawls back into the armchair before asking Frankie, “So what are we watching, Fish?”

“The best movie ever.”

You look at Frankie with a touch of shock and he can't help but smile. Benny lifts his eyebrow in confusion until the movie tile screen comes up.

Benny groans and everyone laughs. You kiss Frankie on the cheek and cuddle beside him. Frankie kisses you on the top of the head. “Cualquier cosa por ti mi amor”

There's approximately 1 minute of silence before Will speaks up. “What the fuck?”

Benny is still staring at the two of them with a blank face of confusion.

Will once again, “Are we missing something?”

You shush Will “ssssshhhhh the movies starting!”

Benny, this time, stands up and blocks the TV. “No, no, no, explain.”

Frankie glances at Cielo to which she answers with a shrug. “Fine if it gets us to watch this movie quicker. Fish and I are together” Benny goes to interrupt but she stops him “Uhp! Uhp! Uhp! We've been together for a month, we are happy, and we will be taking nobody else's opinions.”

Benny and Will finally look at Santi, who has been playing on his phone the entire time.

Santi turns his head, “What?”

“Do you have anything you want to add?”

Santi thinks for a moment before throwing some popcorn in his mouth. “We should all start knocking because I walked in on them basically having sex in the kitchen.

This made both Frankie and you yell, “Santi!” and for good measure, you threw another pillow, adding, “We were just kissing!”

Hearing giggles from the Miller brothers behind you, you whip around “Anything else?”

Almost immediately, they leaned back in their seats like nothing had happened.

Frankie pressed play, and they started watching The Princess Bride when Benny quietly whispered, “It's about goddamn time.”

To which they all can't help but laugh.

[magicshopaholic]

The Wedding (Seokjin x OC)

Summary: After deciding to keep your distance from each other, you and Seokjin meet at a wedding. Amidst tents and fairy lights, you get a reality check and Seokjin says something he's not sure he means.

Pairing: Seokjin x OC

Genre: Best friends; angst

Word count: 8.5 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: language, alcohol

A/N: Less action, more introspection. A ton of angst. Set a little over a month after On Call.

Tagging:  @bbl32 @quarter-life-crisis2 @dreaming-with-happiness @meirkive @faearchives @margopinkerton @kflixnet  (italics could not be tagged; drop a message if you want to be added)

Listen to: “shiver” by coldplay

seokjin masterlist | main masterlist

Pristine. Everything is pristine. The freshly mown grass that’s no longer damp, the thin white sheets of the tent that make it seem like it’s floating, the accents of green in the linens and place settings - everything is, as planned, perfect. The guests milling about look lovely as well; everyone is in pastels and florals with flowers and corsages, looking very light and summery.

Seokjin surveys the scenery critically, mentally ticking items off in his mind. Everything seems like it’s mostly turned out the way his brother and the bride wanted it to - except for one thing. When Seokjin spots it, making its way through the wedding lawn in a floaty dress, delicate heels and a duffel bag, all he focuses on is trying not to laugh.

Nari catches his eye from ten feet away and her face breaks out into a tentative smile. Seokjin returns it and starts walking towards her, meeting her halfway by one of the tables.

“Wow,” she says, looking around before her gaze lands back onto him. “Everything looks beautiful. Including you,” she adds playfully, tugging lightly on his collar. “Very dapper.”

“Thanks. You look…” Pretty. Beautiful. Lovely. “... nervous.”

Her smile fades slightly and she exhales. “Is it that obvious?” she asks anxiously.

“I mean, you seem a little winded,” he amends, brushing a wayward strand of hair off her shoulder. “Do you want to sit down? Maybe have some water or something? What’s with the bag?”

“Oh, that -” Nari heaves it on one of the chairs. “I had to leave straight from the hospital. Got changed on the train.” She smoothes the leaf green dress self-consciously. “I didn’t know if I’d make it in time and I didn’t want to hold everything up…”

“Don’t worry about it. You look great,” he tells her honestly. Her smile of relief makes his stomach unexpectedly flip and Seokjin winces, hoping that this won’t be the rest of the evening. “I’m glad you came, Nari.”

She nods, and the pause after it is enough to tell him she understands what he means. “Of course I did. I’ve known your family for a long time. And besides,” she adds, her voice suddenly drier, “apparently I have a job to do.”

“Ah, yes.” Seokjin claps his hands and nods, stopping a waiter passing by them and taking two mimosas. Handing one to Nari, he gestures to her dress. “Ready to be the ultimate bridesmaid of the year?” He snickers when she rolls her eyes and takes a large gulp of the drink.

“Wow, I needed that. Are you sure Hyorin couldn’t find someone else to fill in?” she whines. “I feel really out of place in a dress this fancy.”

“Nari, you look amazing. Don’t worry about -”

“It’s not just the dress. It’s the whole carrying of the flowers and the walking down the aisle…” She sighs dramatically. “I can single-handedly ruin this wedding without meaning to.”

Seokjin frowns, bewildered. “How?”

Nari gives him a look. “Uh, hello? I’m a very clumsy person,” she informs him.

“Always a great quality in a surgeon.”

She slaps his shoulder lightly, ignoring his snicker. “Not in the OR. When I’m at work, I have great dexterity, balance and fantastic hand-eye coordination,” she says icily. “But when I have to be pretty and choreographed? It’s going to be a disaster.”

“If it helps,” says Seokjin gently, “I don’t think anyone’s going to be looking at you.”

“One can only hope,” she mutters, adjusting the breezy folds of her dress again. “What if I do trip, though? I’m not used to wearing heels.”

“That’s why you feel so much taller!” he exclaims, clicking his tongue at his own stupidity. He holds her shoulder with one hand and takes a step closer to her, the top of her head brushing his forehead. A flowery scent - lilies or something - hits him suddenly and settles somewhere in his abdomen, knocking into every nerve ending on the way. 

“Come on, don’t make me feel more ridiculous than I already do,” she admonishes him, stepping back and downing the rest of her drink at once. She seems too nervous to feel awkward, and Seokjin tries to gather himself.

“Look, you’re overthinking this,” he tells her, silently handing her the rest of his drink that she takes gratefully. “It’s a few steps down the aisle, stand, cry, walk back. That’s it.”

“Cry?”

“Yeah. But, like, in a pretty way.”

“Got it. I should probably write this down,” she says wryly, as a gentle breeze blows her hair back.

“I can count you in,” he offers. “I’ll already be up there next to hyung - just watch me, step on my count. You’ll be fine.”

“How is counting going to help?”

“Counting always helps. I am an idol and I dance for a living, so I know these things now,” he says loftily, smiling when she finally, finally laughs. The faint pink spots on her cheeks are suddenly visible and she looks beautiful.

“What would I do without you to count me in?”

“I know, right?”

Nari’s phone pings then and she fishes in the side pocket of her duffel bag. “Imagine life with pockets, right?” she jokes, swiping through the screen. “Okay, Hyorin says I have to go get my hair and make-up done next to the bridal suite.” She exhales deeply. “It’s getting real.”

“Top floor of the hotel,” supplies Seokjin preemptively. “Dude, what are you so nervous for?” he asks, spotting a cousin over her shoulder and waving absently. “You’re a surgeon. You cut bodies open. How is this more stressful than that?”

“That’s different,” she tells him, now having finished the rest of Seokjin’s drink as well. “I’m not a surgeon right now; I’m a bridesmaid. I’m on the other side of the door now,” she adds.

Seokjin pauses. “What’s that now?”

“It’s just something we say at the hospital,” she mutters, waving a hand. When he frowns deeper, she sighs. “When we’re in the OR, we’re surgeons. The patient isn’t a person; it’s a human body that we need to fix. Everything is dictated by logic and science. But when we go out the OR door,” she explains, “we have to talk to the family, talk to the physio, to the lab - sometimes the pathologist. So we’re not surgeons anymore.”

“Right…”

“And then when we go out the hospital doors, we go back to our personal lives, to our families, our friends - we’re not doctors anymore. We’re people,” she finishes. 

“You’re on the other side of the door,” repeats Seokjin.

“Exactly. Everything’s different on the other side.” Nari tilts her head, apparently satisfied that he’s understood her convoluted metaphor.

“Mhm. So if someone dropped dead at this wedding, you’re not going to go over and help?”

“Trust me, Kimbap,” she says, picking the duffel bag up. “If someone’s already dead when they drop, there’s nothing I can do to help.” With that comforting thought, she pats his shoulder and starts walking past him to the hotel building. “Wait.”

“Top floor.”

“No, I know.” Nari bites her lip, looking just a bit embarrassed. “No one’s going to be looking at me, right? You promise?”

Seokjin is hit, once again, by the same urge to laugh. But he holds himself together and shakes his head, hoping to keep the collective anxiety of the wedding at a minimum. “Absolutely. I promise.”

— 

To no surprise of his, Seokjin breaks his promise the moment he gets the chance.

Maybe it’s the hair and make-up, maybe it’s the fact that once she’s made it down the aisle without incident, her face is calm and relaxed. Or maybe it’s the fact that after over a month of deliberate distance, something has finally forced both of them under the same roof with nowhere to run or hide. It’s just good to see her again.

Nari seems to be concentrating on Seongjook’s speech, smiling occasionally. She’s the tallest of the bridesmaids, standing right at the end, loose curls falling down her collarbone as she laughs politely at a joke. It’s a gimbap joke; he waits for her to catch his gaze and grins when she does.

She frowns slightly, suppressing a smile. Did you write that joke?

He shakes his head an infinitesimal amount, silently scoffing. No way. My puns aren’t that subtle.

Nari rolls her eyes and looks away, but Seokjin doesn’t. It’s so good to see her again.

“Congratulations,” he says after a while, coming up behind her at the bar. “You did it.”

Nari turns immediately and her face relaxes with relief. “All thanks to you, of course. What will you have?”

“Oh, nothing for me, thanks.”

“Really?” She frowns, taking in his appearance. “You look a little… frazzled. No, your hair is fine, Kimbap,” she adds, rolling her eyes when he immediately goes to check. “I’m talking about your expression.”

“Oh.” Seokjin’s shoulders slump slightly. “The caterer screwed up. Two extra chicken dishes in place of vegetarian ones and the dessert seems to have been switched with another order.” He shakes his head forlornly.

“Damn.” Nari is quiet for a moment. “What is it?”

He frowns. “I just told you. Not enough vegetarian orders and the -”

“No, I meant, what’s the new dessert?” she interrupts patiently.

“Oh. It’s crème brûlée.”

“I like crème brûlée.”

Seokjin scoffs. “It’s overrated.” When Nari gasps from next to him, he rolls his eyes. “Fine, I like it, too. But Hyorin doesn’t, and that’s what matters.”

“Maybe she won’t mind,” suggests Nari. “I just met her - for a bride on her wedding day, she seemed pretty laidback.” When all Seokjin does is drop his head on the bar and groan, she frowns curiously. “Were you in charge of desserts or something?”

“No, I wasn’t in charge of anything,” he replies, lifting his head up heavily. “We’ve been touring for half the year and travelling for something or the other. My own brother’s wedding and I showed up in the last two weeks,” he laments. “The least I could do was promise that I would take care of today. You know what? Maybe I will have that drink.”

Nari pats him awkwardly on the shoulder and requests two shots of soju. “Cheers, Kimbap, to what will still be a great wedding despite the dessert disaster. The dess-aster,” she adds, clinking her glass with his and grinning when he snorts.

They down a shot each; Nari’s insides feel like they might melt and she emerges from a coughing fit to see Seokjin wiping his eyes. 

“Thanks for that.” He nods. “You did good, too. You know what I remembered when I saw you standing up there in that dress?”

Something races in Nari’s chest. “Um, no. What?” she asks, pretending to be busy stirring her drink.

“You remember back in high school when we all did that play?” Seokjin begins, and she doesn’t know if she’s imagining his eyes softer than before. “Snow White?”

“Yeah?”

“Remember how you really wanted to be Snow White? You said you finally felt pretty enough to be a princess,” he adds knowingly.

“Oh, God, I really said that?” she asks, cringing slightly. “Wow, I was lame.”

“No, it was cute. You were always pretty enough to be a princess,” he says casually.

Nari’s cheeks grow warm and she hopes it’s the drink. “Anyway. You were saying?”

“Yeah, uh… so remember when you were planning to audition for the lead but then the casting got posted on the notice board anyway? And when you searched for your name, you saw you were -”

“A tree?” Nari’s jaw drops. “That’s what I remind you of today? Because I’m wearing a green dress and these - stupid - heels?”

Seokjin guffaws, although whether it’s at the memory or her reaction, Nari doesn’t know. She stares at him coldly until he finally catches his breath.

“They only gave me that silly part because I was tall,” she mutters, feeling her mood sour. She finishes the rest of her drink and gestures for another. 

“You were waving your arms in the air and everything,” he remembers fondly, pinching her cheeks affectionately.

Nari swats his hand away. “I hate you.”

“My point is, you killed that role,” he informs her, “so you should have a little more confidence in yourself.”

She squints. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Seokjin taps the bar. “I should go. Maybe if my brother gets Hyorin drunk enough, she won’t care about the desserts.”

“You’re a great best man.” Nari’s attention is diverted when the bartender places a drink in front of her. Picking it up, she frowns. “Uh, I asked for a white wine, not a… is this a Negroni?”

The bartender gestures to the end of the bar. “That gentleman over there sent you a drink.”

She peers around Seokjin while he turns around to see a young man, maybe slightly younger than them, smiling awkwardly and raising his glass.

Nari waves back, a little belatedly. “Isn’t it an open bar?” she mutters. The bartender simply shrugs and nods, a little too knowingly for her liking.

Meanwhile, Seokjin is still staring and doesn’t turn back around until she taps him on the shoulder. “It is an open bar,” he answers uselessly. “Oh, I was just - I was just trying to figure out if he’s from our side or the bride’s side. He doesn’t seem familiar. Do you know him?”

Seokjin sounds strange, but it’s lost in favour of the dread settling in Nari’s stomach. “No, I don’t. But I don’t need to.” She scans the crowd and locks eyes with exactly who she was looking for, her suspicions confirmed when the person immediately averts her eyes and turns away. “I know my mother.”

Realisation dawns on Seokjin’s face and he lets out a bark of a laugh, even though Nari herself can find nothing amusing about the situation. “Well, this was bound to happen, wasn’t it?” he exclaims wryly, sounding remarkably less worried than before.

“Why is she doing this?” Nari mutters, suppressing a groan and taking an absent sip of her drink. “She’d gotten so good over the last few months, telling me to work and get enough sleep and stuff. What - she sees one wedding dress and suddenly gets worried about my single arse?”

“Seems like it,” he chortles. “Are you going to talk to him? You should at least thank him for the drink.”

“Don’t you have some catering crisis to attend to?”

“I bet I’m looking forward to it more than you are to your crisis.”

“Fuck me.” Nari shakes her head and hops off the stool. “May as well get this over with.” Forcing a smile on her face, she hops off the stool, adjusting her dress. “Wish me luck.”

“Go snag yourself a husband, champ.”

Whacking him on the shoulder and ignoring his exaggerated gasp, she makes her way over. When she turns around to look at him one last time, he winks at her. His confident stance, his elbow resting on the bar, his jet black hair catching the light; for a moment, Nari wishes she were walking in the opposite direction.

“Nari, right?”

She stops abruptly when the sender of the drink appears before her. “Yeah, um, thanks for the drink…” She raises her eyebrows.

“Oh, Seokmin.”

Close enough.

—

Seokmin, as it turns out, is quite alright. He’s polite and nice, works as a stockbroker (Nari can almost picture Seokjin going “Score!” with a straight face) and seems good at holding his liquor. That being said, he’s not the best at holding conversation.

Fifteen minutes and a Negroni later, Nari stomps over to the tables. The music is upbeat and lively, and the sky is beginning to set.

“Mother.”

Dressed in finery and holding a cocktail with immense precision, Nari’s mother turns to her. “Oh, Nari!” she exclaims with exaggerated surprise. “How good to see you!”

“Don’t,” she warns, looking around for a chair to slouch in. “Who is -”

“Oh, this is Jaehyun,” she interrupts, her gaze shifting to someone behind Nari. On cue, a deep voice sounds in her ear, making her jump.

“Hi,” he says, towering over her. 

“Um -” An uncommon occurrence for Nari, feeling this short, she digresses. “How - who -”

“Jaehyun. Our mothers know each other from pottery class,” he explains.

“Our -” Nari looks around, murderous, but her mother has disappeared. She turns to Jaehyun, who looks like he’s just walked off a runway, with his hair achieving a wet look hers could never, and his shirt unbuttoned to somewhere near his diaphragm. 

He frowns. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” she says automatically. “I’m sorry - how can I help you?”

It’s her Hail Mary question; most men her mother sends her way are easily startled by it and stutter an excuse. But not Jaehyun, apparently.

“I was hoping to buy you a drink,” he answers smoothly.

She stares. “Isn’t it an open bar?” she asks for the second time today.

He chuckles. “True. Maybe I can bring you a free one now and actually buy you one tomorrow? Or whenever you’re free,” he adds, smiling good-naturedly.

Nari nods absently, for he’s so, so very tall. “Let’s start with the free one now, I think,” she suggests. “And we’ll see how it goes.”

Jaehyun is less boring than Seokmin, she decides. He works as a manager in Conde Nast and his stories about his work are fun. He seems incredibly impressed with Nari’s career as a doctor and lightly touches her hand when she brings up how much death she sees at work. His segue out of the conversation is commendable as well, and she gives him the spiel about being on the other side of the door. 

“That’s so healthy,” he remarks, and Nari warms up to him slightly. The breeze makes his hair blow elegantly and she sips the wine he got her, observing it. “Great evening, huh?” He fishes around in his pocket and retrieves something. “Would you care for a - oh. I’m guessing you don’t smoke?”

Nari squints. “I don’t,” she says after a moment. “Did my story about the pneumothorax patient give it away?”

Jaehyun laughs weakly. “Do you… do you mind if I…?”

“Knock yourself out.”

Ten minutes later, Nari is back inside the tent, having abandoned Jaehyun to smoke peacefully with a few others to whom he’d lent a lighter. The secondhand smoke is bad enough, but Nari has simply had it with the impromptu blind dates. She grabs a champagne flute from a passing waiter and guzzles it down rapidly, her gaze darting around for her mother.

By the time she does spot her mother, it’s to see her talking to yet another young man. The alarm bells go off in her head immediately and she spins around on the spot, ready to be anywhere but here.

Seokjin, she thinks, and stumbles over to the bar to get a better view of the tent. Her phone is still in her duffel bag in the make-up suite next to the bridal one, the unfortunate reality of a dress with no pockets, so she looks around while trying to stay out of her mother’s sight and finally hears his worried exclamations before she even sees him.

Nari finds him behind the stage. “Kimbap!” she cries, realising a moment later that she’s interrupted a heated conversation. “Oh - sorry. I’ll just be -” She points vaguely and steps away, but Seokjin frowns and follows her anyway.

“Just get him on the phone for me,” he instructs the man he was speaking to, before turning to Nari. “Nari? What - are you drunk?”

“Not really.” She sighs and leans against a pole wrapped in satin. “Can we talk?”

“Uh, now’s not a good time,” he says uneasily, checking his phone. “Too much is going wrong at the same time. The car’s broken down and apparently one of the cheques hasn’t cleared -” He breaks off. “Is everything okay?”

“No,” she answers at once. “My mother is driving me crazy.”

Seokjin frowns and checks his phone. “Alright, I have, like… five minutes,” he says almost apologetically.

“That works.” Before he can change his mind, she steers him outside near the entrance. “Need some fresh air like you wouldn’t believe,” she informs him, running a hand through her hair. When the cool breeze hits her face, she’s suddenly aware of how hot her skin is.

“What’s wrong?”

She turns. “What?”

He raises his eyebrows. “What’s wrong?” he asks urgently. “You said you needed to talk?”

“Oh, yeah. It’s just my mom,” she says dismissively, rolling her eyes. “Setting me up with guys like she’s finding them on a conveyor belt. And they’re all the fucking same,” she adds scathingly, “with their jobs and their can I buy you a drinks and their smoking.” She shudders. “Fucking nightmare.”

Seokjin is quiet for a moment. “What’s wrong with them?”

Nari frowns, not sure she’s heard him correctly. “What do you mean? Were you not listening?”

“No, I was. You said they were talking about their jobs and offering to buy you drinks.” He slips his hands into his pockets, his face unmoving. “What’s wrong with that?”

“I mean, they -” Nari breaks off, wondering if she’s too drunk to understand him. “What do you mean? They’re going along with it, aren’t they? With their moms setting them up and shit?”

“So are you,” he replies calmly.

“Not by choice,” she shoots back.

“Maybe it wasn’t their choice either.”

Something’s wrong. Nari suddenly feels as though she’s speaking over a chasm in between them. “Well… then they didn’t have to do it, did they?”

“Maybe they did,” he reasons, voice still calm but an odd stillness in his eyes. “And in their defense, they aren’t whining to their friends about it.”

Nari feels like she’s just been slapped. “Excuse me?”

Seokjin shrugs, hands still in his pockets. “Am I wrong? Or is there something else you’re not telling me? Because all I ever hear you complain about is that you’re going to be alone forever because your whole life is at the hospital, but when you actually get a chance to change that? You don’t even try - and for some reason, I have to listen to you bitch about it.”

“What - what are you talking about?” She can hear her voice shake now, but whether it’s the inebriation or the cold or the shock of Seokjin speaking to her with such disdain, she can’t tell. “I don’t always complain about it - and I’m not - I’m not asking you to -”

“God, Nari, this is my brother’s wedding,” he interrupts, sounding frustrated now. “I’m dealing with arrangements gone wrong and arguing with the hotel manager - and you dragged me away from that to whine about how too many men are chasing after you? Are you serious right now?”

“How is that -”

But Seokjin interrupts her again, his irritated expression throwing Nari for a loop. He looks like a stranger.

“I can’t do it anymore, Nari, okay? If you want to actually be with someone - like, truly be with someone - you have to actually get off your arse and do something about it, alright? All these guys actually seem okay. And if they aren’t, then tell your mom to stop. I mean, I don’t know what it is you’re looking for or if even you know what that is, but I’m - I’m getting a little sick of it. It’s exhausting having to deal with your problems all the time.” He shakes his head. “I have so much else to deal with tonight, Nari. I really don’t have time for this.”

The lump in her throat seems to have appeared out of nowhere and it takes her by surprise, so she says nothing when he sighs, when he pinches the bridge of his nose like he wants to say something else, and when he apparently thinks better of it and brushes past her to go inside. 

Nari doesn’t move, however, the shame and guilt and bewilderment welling up inside her at the thought of Seokjin being this annoyed with her. It takes a lot for Seokjin to lash out; she knows because it’s never happened before, not with her. 

She wonders if everything he’s said is true and her cheeks burn with embarrassment. How long has he been feeling this way? A year? Longer than that? Suddenly, she cringes at every memory of calling or texting him in their adulthood, squatting in his house, eating his food and sleeping in his bed, all the while unknowing if he really wanted her to be there or not.

What about everything else? A small voice brings forth what she hopes hasn’t played a part in this sudden twist of events. But, no. Seokjin wouldn’t lie about that. He wouldn’t touch her under false pretences, she tells herself. They were adults and their slips in judgement probably had less to do with this and more to do with the fact that… she doesn’t know. Lowered inhibitions? Stress? She doesn’t want her mind to go beyond that.

Nari swallows a dry sob and immediately shakes her head, wiping a stray tear of shock that seems to have escaped, and slowly turns to walk back inside but stops. Seokjin will be in there, and she’s not sure she’s ready to face him right now. She sits on the low ledge and drops her head into her hands, wondering where she went wrong. 

His face haunts her, cold and sickened. I’m getting sick of it. She slips off her heels and sighs softly when her soles touch the cool grass. She’s not used to walking in these; the last time she’d worn them to an event this formal, she’d taken them off and walked back barefoot. Alongside her, Seokjin had taken off his shoes as well, claiming he didn’t like being the only one wearing shoes.

It’s like being the only person drinking, he’d said.

“Fuck,” she whispers, her stomach churning painfully.

“Sorry,” says a voice behind her.

Startled, Nari turns around, her heart in her mouth. For a wild moment, she imagines Seokjin is back. But it’s not him, not even close. “Oh,” she utters, unable to hide her disappointment. “Wait, I know you. Summer camp?”

“Close,” he says, moving closer to her but not sitting down. “Our families were on a group vacation once. We played football together.”

“Right.” She remembers now, vaguely. “You can sit,” she says after a moment, noting how he’s awkwardly hovering. He, thankfully, does not seem to have a drink with him. “Did, uh… did my mother send you?”

He looks vaguely confused. “Send me… where?”

Unlikely, but technically possible. “It’s nothing. I’m Nari, by the way.”

“Jinho.”

The silence is loud and awkward, and Nari makes no move to change it. 

“So… do you still play football?”

“No,” she answers. “I’m a doctor.”

“Wow. Impressive. You were a good player, though.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You and your friend - Seokjin, I think? He was the best man today.”

Nope, I’m out. Something feels close to snapping inside Nari and it takes all her strength not to take it out on a complete stranger. 

“I’m - I’m really sorry,” she stutters, hating how her voice trembles, “but I really have to go inside. I need to - I need to find my mom.”

“Oh, okay. No worries. Do you want me to -”

But Nari is already halfway inside, hopping from one foot to another to slip her heels back on before gathering the floaty material of her dress and entering the tented area. She spots the person she’s looking for instantly - and this time, they’re both alone.

“Nari, you look… pale,” says her mother, vague concern spreading across her face. A moment later, she procures a plate of sushi and places it in front of her. “Eat.”

“I’m fine, mother,” mutters Nari listlessly, dropping into the chair beside her. Despite her protests, she picks up a piece and pops it into her mouth.

Her mother’s face brightens considerably. “Are you having a good time?”

Nari gives her a look. “How could I not, when you pass me around from guy to guy like we’re window shopping at a mall?”

“Nari!” Her mother admonishes her. “How uncouth. And besides, they’re all very nice young men.”

“Really? The first one told me that while he thought being a doctor was valuable, he still preferred his partners to have less demanding jobs so there isn’t any unnecessary competition at home. It’s like he was interviewing me,” she adds in disgust.

“Oh.” Her mother grimaces. “Well. That one’s a bad apple then. What about the others?”

“Mom, what does it matter? Why can’t we have one social event where we just act normal?” she asks, shoving another piece of sushi into her mouth.

“We are normal. I just know you don’t have the time, honey,” she explains calmly, brushing back her daughter’s hair. “I don’t want you to wake up alone one morning and have regrets.”

“I won’t,” says Nari, more firmly than she’d intended. “God, I was so happy that you’d stopped this. I thought you’d finally come around to the fact that my life is worthwhile just the way it is.”

“Of course I think your life is worthwhile,” says her mother, now sounding a bit offended. “And I stopped because…” She trails off, looking slightly uncomfortable now.

“Because what?”

“Well…” She sighs and tilts her head. “I thought you were seeing someone. And I was so happy for you, honey.”

That catches Nari off-guard. “Why would you think that? Did you hear it from Seokjin’s mom or something? Because she’s probably mistaken if she thinks -”

“No, no, she didn’t tell me anything,” interrupts her mother. “I thought you were seeing Seokjin.”

There’s a moment of extremely confused silence. 

“You - you thought I was dating Seokjin?” In light of everything that’s just happened, it seems like a horribly cruel joke. “God, mom… there’s no way that…” She swallows, replaying his harsh words in her head again. “There’s just no way,” she mutters, shaking her head.

“I - are you sure?”

Nari’s head snaps up. “What? Am I sure I wasn’t dating him? Yeah, pretty sure, mom. Why would you even think that?”

“Well, because you were always talking about him,” replies her mother, now sounding more like her usual self. “And you would tell me how he picked you up or how you were at his house and he was making you dinner. He helped get your car fixed,” she reminds her.

“Yeah, but… mom, that’s because we’re friends,” says Nari weakly, her heart sinking, for another part of Seokjin’s outburst has suddenly come to mind - I don’t know what it is you’re looking for - but she can’t bring herself to deconstruct it right now. “There’s nothing else there. Believe me.”

Her mother says nothing more, and Nari wonders if she’s picked up on her tone. It’s pointless, she thinks, because there’s nothing like being paraded around by your mother for dates, combined with an unforeseen reality check from your best friend, to bring forth an ill-timed realisation - and answer to his question.

“I’m sorry, honey.” Her mother’s apology, equally unexpected, brings Nari out of her thoughts. All of a sudden, she feels guilty.

“No, mom. You - it’s not your fault.” Her gaze falls to her lap. “You were just trying to help.”

“Yeah… but I didn’t realise those men would make you this unhappy.”

“It’s not them, mom,” she confesses, hating it when Seokjin is right. “They’re all fine. Not perfect, but okay. They’re just not…” Here, she trails off - not because she doesn’t know the word, but because it’s right there on the tip of her tongue. The answer is so easy but even the mention of it is enough to make her start crying and if she starts crying in front of her mother, there’s no stopping it.

They don’t speak about it anymore the rest of the night. Nari sits with her mother through the toasts and the dances, too nauseous to eat but not wanting to sit empty-handed, so she keeps a steady supply of champagne coming to her table. The entire time, she simply hopes she doesn’t run into Seokjin again, for while she has no idea if his problems have been solved, it’s not something she wants to risk right now.

She needn’t worry, however; Seokjin is bustling around at the family table for the most part, and on the face of it, the wedding seems to have made it through perfectly. Hyorin looks tired but still radiant, while her husband just looks as though he’s accomplished something incredible. Seokjin… she tries not to look at him as he poses with the family for pictures, looking more handsome than ever. He doesn’t even seem to remember their incident; he laughs and converses easily with the people around him, and not once does he look in Nari’s direction.

When the night finally comes to an end, Nari follows her mother with haste. The bride, the groom and their families stand near the exit, seeing their guests off. Seokjin is there, too, naturally, and he greets her mother and father, who had been with his friends for most of the wedding. Nari says goodbye to everyone but hangs back here, not knowing what she might say if she’s face-to-face with him - or worse, what he might say.

There’s a moment, a fraction of a second before they’re about to leave, when she catches his eye. His smile fades slightly and Nari feels an invisible force pushing her to talk to him. This is Seokjin, says a voice, slurring a bit. Nothing is so bad that you can’t talk to Seokjin.

But the next moment, his face from earlier swims back into view and her face burns with humiliation. She averts her gaze instantly and shuffles behind her parents as they leave the wedding, trying to ignore the sickening feeling that she’s forgetting something.

The feeling doesn’t go away, not when she reaches her parents’ house, not when she drags herself to the kitchen to hydrate before she passes out, not when she falls into bed with her leafy green bridesmaid’s dress still on, drunk and alone.

—

The next morning, Nari wakes with a jerk, her head pounding and the immediate continuation of the feeling that she’s definitely forgetting something. 

She forgot to change; that much is apparent when she stumbles into her bathroom to see her dress still on, hair still partially pinned but dishevelled. Even her make-up is still on, smudged and messy. Groaning, she begins wiping it off, hoping this horrid feeling will go away before she has to take the train back to Seoul today.

Her parents aren’t in their room, but morning walks are part of their routine. Nari makes her way slowly down the stairs when the first wave of nausea hits and she hurries to the guest bathroom, only to throw up what feels like a week’s worth of champagne. The doctor in her knows she needs to eat, but there’s nothing that seems less appealing than that at the moment. At the moment, water and fresh air is about all she can stomach right now.

Grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, she peers out the window and sighs in relief to see a cloudy sky. Still in the stupid dress from last night, Nari opens the front door and warily takes in a breath of cool air, only to come face-to-face with Seokjin.

For a moment she thinks she might be hallucinating and hopes she won’t hurl right here on her parents’ front porch. Seokjin looks far better than her; his skin glows and hair is as thick and lush as ever, a frown on his forehead as he stops at the bottom of the steps. Behind him, his Range Rover stands parked on the street.

“Whoa, are you okay?” The concern in his voice is the same as Before, but it feels so much harder to hear. “You look… are you hungover?”

Nari doesn’t open her mouth, too afraid she might throw up again. She nods jerkily and gulps another mouthful of water, her gaze falling to the ground. She doesn’t want to think about what a mess she looks like; her chest is already beginning to hurt again.

As though he can tell, Seokjin’s expression fades slowly from confusion to guilt. “Nari -” He swallows and climbs another couple of steps, still keeping his distance. “I tried to call you. Last night, I did. But I can understand that you didn’t - you didn’t want to talk. And I don’t blame you,” he adds hastily. “I was - I was such a jerk and I’m really -”

“Wait, what did you say?” Her voice is hoarse, but something he’s said has just made sense. It’s right there, just out of reach.

“Um… I was a jerk?”

“Before that.”

“I know you probably didn’t want to talk to me and I know -”

“No,” she interrupts, frowning deeply. She replays his words in her head, trying to concentrate through the hangover as much as she can, before it clicks and she gasps. “Oh, my God. I forgot my phone!”

“You - “

“Holy shit!” The feeling of forgetting something has now been replaced with full-blown panic. “My - my phone! It’s still in my duffel bag, at the hotel! And my - and my wallet and all my IDs and - oh, God, my pager!” Her heart starts racing now and she barely feels Seokjin’s hand wrap around her own and gently steer the water bottle towards her mouth.

“Calm down,” he says, but she can barely hear him. Clumsily taking another sip of water, she shakes her head.

“All my stuff is in there,” she says anxiously, and she finally meets his gaze. “I have to get it back. I - I have a train in a few hours.”

“We’ll get it,” he assures her calmly. “Come on, I’ll drive you.” Fishing his keys out of his pocket, he’s halfway down the porch before his words can be processed. When she doesn’t move, he stops and turns. “What’s wrong?”

Nari bites her lip, for this - this - is exactly the issue. It’s exhausting having to deal with your problems all the time. She gives him a small shake of her head. “I’ll call a cab. You - you don’t have to drive me.”

Seokjin holds her gaze for a moment. “Yeah, I kind of do.” The heaviness in his voice makes it clear that he’s not referring to her current predicament. “Come on, you don’t have your phone. How are you going to call a cab?”

The mention of the landline dies in her throat. She hadn’t realised it before, but it feels equally exhausting going to him with all her problems. Or maybe it feels that way now that she knows how he feels. The guilt is transparent on his face and in his words, but the shame is still raw in her and she takes a step back.

He doesn’t miss it. “Nari, you’ll miss your train.”

After a moment, she nods. “Let me, um…” She awkwardly fingers the folds of her dress. “I need to change…”

“I’ll wait.”

Not wanting to prolong this any more, she nods silently and goes back inside, hurriedly changing into the first thing she finds. Even Seokjin can’t help but raise his eyebrows at her outfit.

“Shut up,” she mutters, climbing into the shotgun seat. “I don’t have a lot of clothes here.”

“Still. It’s a pretty fancy hotel for a Hello Kitty t-shirt and sweats.”

“I’ll be out of there before anyone can even see me,” she tells him as the car starts, trying to ignore how hideous she probably looks in comparison to him. “I just need my stuff. I’m waiting for an update on a patient…” She sighs and runs a hand over her face, feeling disgusting. “God, I need a shower.”

“Are you going back to the hospital today? After you reach?” he asks.

“Yeah, I think so. I’ll take the night shift, probably,” she says, hoping the hangover will have subsided by then.

“Make sure you -” Seokjin starts to say but then breaks off, glancing at her briefly before looking back out at the road. They don’t say anything else until they pull up at the hotel and head inside. The gardens look remarkably different from last night, with none of the floaty tents and pretty lights. They pass by the spot where they’d had their spat last night, neither of them acknowledging it, until they reach the lobby.

“I’ll check the lost and found,” he tells her, but she goes with him. The concierge tells her to go up to the concerned suite where the bag still is, apparently.

“One of our staff here will escort you,” she says, gesturing to a tall bellboy with a key card in his hand.

“Great, thank you. And… thanks,” she says to Seokjin. Before he can do more than nod, she turns and follows the bellboys to the suite, where she dives for the bag when it’s handed to her.

“Please check that all your belongings are intact,” he advises her, before stepping out of the room and shutting the door.

Nari nods and begins unpacking right there, emptying her bag on the freshly made bed. Everything seems to be in one piece; there’s nothing on her pager and no update on her patient. Sighing, she unlocks her phone for any other notifications, only to see four missed calls from Seokjin and several messages.

Her thumb hovers over the screen, suddenly anxious. This is Seokjin, says the voice again, annoyingly persistent. She clicks on the messages, only to see apology after apology, words that normally would have needed nothing more than an I’m sorry, too, but don’t be an arse again, Kimbap.

Just then, the door opens and Seokjin walks in.

“The bellboy let me in,” he says, slowing down when he sees her stuff. “I’m guessing you have everything?”

“Yeah.” Nari nods, hearing the automatic change in her tone now that she’s read all the texts he’d sent last night. Despite the reality check, she’s glad that he at least seemed to have been as troubled about fighting as she was. “Thanks again.”

He waves a hand before taking a hesitant step towards her and eventually sitting next to her on the bed. He smells of fresh soap and laundry detergent. “Look, Nari, I’m -”

“Seokjin -”

“- really sorry about last night,” he continues. “I didn’t mean any of that, okay? I was just frustrated with everything going wrong and having to run behind a bunch of people to fix it when all I really wanted was to chill and drink and have fun with you. Like at Hyuna’s wedding.”

Nari says nothing. Hyuna, their older neighbour, had gotten married five years ago and both of them had had to squeeze out a precious few hours from their schedules to make it. It was completely worth it, though, meeting all their friends after years but ending the night with each other, carrying their shoes in their hands and drinking until dawn on the swing set in Seokjin’s parents’ front yard. Everything had been much less complicated back then, she thinks.

“I guess I took all of that out on you and that was not okay. I was…” Seokjin exhales, “... way out of line with what I said to you. “I’m so sorry, Nari. I felt so terrible last night, you have no idea. I thought about saying goodbye when you were leaving but you left so fast and I was so ashamed…” He trails off, shaking his head and running a hand through his hair. “When you didn’t respond to my messages, I really thought I’d messed up for good. I’m sorry, Nari,” he repeats, gently bumping her shoulder. “Forgive me?”

Her heart skips a beat at the contact. Sounds about right. All his texts were a variation of this, each one sounding more genuine than the next. They’re also very Seokjin, all sounding as though he’s been up all night, ruminating on his unfortunate slip of tongue.

“Seokjin, it’s okay. You were right, about everything,” she murmurs, feeling embarrassed all over again. “The moment I leave the hospital I become this super needy person and I - I guess you’re the only person I don’t feel self-conscious being that needy around.”

“When you’re on the other side of the door?” he asks after a moment.

Nari cracks a smile after what feels like ages. “Exactly. You remembered.”

“Of course I did. And… that’s not true,” he says, just like she knew he would. “You’re my best friend; of course you can be needy with me. It’s kind of cute sometimes.”

But she shakes her head at that. “Maybe it was cute when we were younger,” she says, standing up and starting to re-pack her things, “but now that I’m almost thirty, it’s… it’s kind of sad.” Part of her hopes he’ll refute her again, but he simply sighs. 

“You were right, Seokjin,” she repeats after a minute. “About - about the other stuff, too. It sounds like a nightmare but I’m - I’m going to do the whole… taking risks thing,” she says unconvincingly. “I can’t keep bitching about it for the rest of my life. Because at this rate, it’ll be me at forty-five, still alone, with turtles for pets and complaining to you over email while you’re trying to live your life with your wife and kids.” She shakes her head in disgust.

Seokjin squints. “Gets really busy in that head, huh?”

Nari gives him a look but says nothing more, zipping her bag but leaving one outfit out. “I’m going to change,” she informs him.

“Now?”

“Yeah, I’m not going to reach Seoul wearing this atrocity.” Shutting the bathroom door behind her, she strips and begins changing, her limbs suddenly feeling heavier than before. Her stomach rumbles and she realises she can’t remember the last time she ate anything, save for those two pieces of sushi last night.

“Hey, Nari?” Seokjin’s voice is clear and soothing from the other side of the door.

“Yeah?”

He pauses. “You know you can still call, right? Even if I’m living my life with my kids or whatever?”

Nari smiles, feeling a bit endeared. “Gotcha.”

“Good.”

As she pulls on her clothes, there’s something else, another viable option that suddenly becomes visible.

Well, that’s a lie. It’s not sudden. It’s sudden in the context of the last twenty-four hours, but in the grand scheme of things, it’s something that’s occurred to her more than once. But there’s no way she can bring it up, for once she does and it’s out there in the universe, the chances of it ending well are far too risky.

This is Seokjin, says the voice again. If she can’t say this to him, who will she ever be able to say this to?

“Seokjin?”

“Yeah?”

It’s now or never.

“Um… in the spirit of not wanting to die alone and taking risks and all that,” she begins slowly, pressing her back to the door and trying to regulate her heartbeat, “I thought I should ask.”

“Yeah?”

She has no idea what his face looks like and it feels like the biggest blind spot in the world. Her hands feel clammy and she wishes she hadn’t started this thread of conversation at all.

“Nari?”

“Yeah, um…” She shakes her head. She has to know, or it’s going to eat her alive. “Do - do you maybe have feelings… for me?”

The silence on the other side of the door is stifling.

“Seokjin?” She realises now that this is the longest she’s probably ever gone without calling him Kimbap.

“Yeah, I’m here,” he says immediately. “I… Nari, are you asking me if I have feelings for you?”

The confusion in his voice makes her cringe. “Um… yeah. Given recent events, I thought it was a valid possibility.”

He’s quiet for a moment. A muffled sound makes it clear that he’s probably leaning against the door as well. “Nari… I’m not supposed to have feelings for you.”

Something jolts in her stomach. “That’s not an answer.”

“Even - even if I did… it would be… complicated,” he says after a moment. “I shouldn’t have feelings for you,” he repeats.

“But if you did?” she asks, her heart in her throat now. “Hypothetically?”

“If I did…” The pause that follows is heartbreakingly long. “... I wouldn’t do anything about it. We’re not supposed to have feelings for each other,” he says yet again, his voice cracking on the last word.

It’s done, then. The leap was taken and apart from the crushing sensation in her chest, Nari has survived. She resists the urge to scream into her t-shirt; if she’d just kept her mouth shut, this door would never have been opened. It was bad enough that she was the needy friend whose messes he needed to keep cleaning up - why would he ever want to convert that into anything more?

She needs to go back to Seoul, back to her life, back to a city big enough that she can avoid him without much effort. Taking a deep breath and picturing her Chief of Surgery’s stoic and unrelenting face in front of her, she slows her heart down as much as she can before turning around and opening the door.

“God, I hope I don’t miss the train,” she chirps, hurrying over to her bag and hastily repacking her old clothes. “We still get Ubers here, right?”

“I can drive you -”

“Oh, no, that’s okay,” she says, forcing a brief smile as she fumbles with the Uber app and strides out of the room. “I’m sure you’re busy.”

“No…” His tone hasn’t quite caught up to hers yet and she hopes he’ll hurry up before she breaks in front of him. “I have to go pick up some stuff for my brother anyway and the station’s on the way. Let me drop you.”

Nari swallows before turning to him and nodding wordlessly, calculating the number of minutes she’ll have to continue being in his presence as the elevator reaches the lobby.

“Car’s out front,” he says, just as they pass the hotel coffee shop. “Have you eaten anything today? You should probably -”

“I’m good. I’ll pick something up at the station. Don’t want to be late.”

Seokjin falls silent but nods, and they wait in silence as the valet brings the car in front of the hotel. Nari hurries to the shotgun seat without a word, already fumbling in the side pocket of her bag for her charger. Outside, Seokjin is speaking to the valet while she plugs in her phone. As she deposits the adapter back into the bag, she catches a flash of something else that makes her blood run cold.

The drivers’ door opens almost a minute later. “Okay, I know you said you didn’t want breakfast,” says Seokjin, sliding into the seat and turning on the car, as Nari hastily shoves the box of tampons in the bag and zips it up, “but you can’t go completely hungry.” He drops a chocolate covered protein bar on her lap. “In case your train is early or whatever.”

Or it's late. Nari can’t bring herself to fight him right now so she nods mutely and takes the snack, even though eating feels like the last thing she wants to do. As the car starts moving and the radio softly comes alive, she steals a glance at him, her heart hammering.

This is Seokjin, the voice says again. For the first time ever, it doesn’t help.

—

Thank you for reading. Don't forget to drop a review :)

[sombersynth]

STEDDIE FANFICTION REC MASTERPOST PT. 4

We Should Just Kiss Like Real People Do by OonionChiver, 88.4 k, explicit ‘Please?’ Eddie stops him again, this time by holding his face. Steve feels Eddie’s thumb moving over his cheek, he feels the cool metal of his rings. He feels everything except what he needs. ‘I’ve never loved anything the way I love you, Steve Harrington,’ Eddie says, dark brown eyes moving between Steve’s own. ‘This isn’t the moment, sweetheart.’ It’s not a rejection, but it’s not a kiss. Steve quietly cries, insides cut up on the broken shards of his stupid little heart and Eddie holds him, he holds him all night until they fall asleep together.

A Sign of The Morning by ToEdenandBackAgain, 86.8 k, mature Vecna is dead. The Upside Down is cut off from Hawkins yet again. Steve is trying to go back to normal, whatever that is. He's also trying to figure out exactly how Eddie Munson has managed to fit so easily into his life.

Sub-Culture by Pamviolet, 60.7 k, teens and up “Is he whining about Eddie being mean to him again?” Robin is leaning in the doorway, eating a leftover slice that’s probably cold by now. “You talk about him more than you talk about girls, Steve, it’s getting concerning. Anyone would think you had a crush.” Or, steve is pretty convinced eddie now hates him. turns out eddie has the opposite problem.

Put To Death, Therefore, Whatever Belongs to Your Earthly Nature by Judasofsuburbia, 8.5 k, explicit Preacher's Son! Steve Harrington is Eddie Munson's newest obsession. Steve thinks God has some sick jokes.

Falling Off The Edge Of The World by Coeurdeleo92, 7.3 k, explicit Steve is rapidly discovering that Eddie Munson has zero concept of personal space. He isn’t exactly complaining though.

The Lathe by Pamviolet, 82.5 k, Mature "This time, do it right. This time Eddie won’t bleed out in his arms, in anyone’s arms. This time, Steve will do it right." — or, steve relives the day they try to kill vecna over and over, and eddie just can't seem to stop dying. steve finds this totally unacceptable.

Hold Me Now, I Need Relief by ToEdenandBackAgain, 25.8 k, mature It’s probably going to go down in history as the worst kiss Steve Harrington ever got, but Eddie doesn’t give a fuck. He isn’t going to get another chance so he’s working with what he’s got. It’s less of a kiss, and more of a slide of lips, wet with blood and tears but he feels Harrington’s grip tighten on the back of his shirt and he pulls back. He reaches up with the hand he can still feel and pushes back a strand of hair that had fallen in Steve’s face, smearing blood along his temple as he does.

“Sorry. Couldn’t die without knowing what that felt like.”

To A World Where Madness Craves, by Judasofsuburbia, 7.1 k, explicit Steve decides to go back into the Upside Down to look for Eddie two days after his death. He doesn't find Eddie where they left his body. Instead, he finds something much scarier

The Most Remarkable Thing About You Standing in the Doorway Is That It’s You by Greatunironic, 34.9 k, explicit Sixteen years after the world didn't end for the last time, Max Mayfield showed up on Steve’s doorstep and said, “You gonna walk me down the aisle in May or what?” Or, it’s 2002 and Steve Harrington attends a wedding, a funeral, and a birth.

Are You Flagging? by Soidade, 40.9 k, explicit “Look, I’m just asking, okay? Not– I don't mean anything by it. But, uh.” His eyes darted back and forth, then he leaned in close to Steve. Steve had gotten used to that, kind of. The guy had no concept of personal space. “Are you flagging?” Eddie finally finished. Steve shook his head slowly, eyes narrowed. He had no idea what that meant. He had no answer. “What?” Eddie leaned away from Steve, facing forward again and nodding. “Okay, got it. That answers my question. Carry on.”

Whole Lotta Love by Stereobone, 9.6 k, explicit Steve scoffs. "I think if I was dating someone, Robin, I would be the first to know about it." "Would you, though?" Robin says.

[stuffnonsenseandotherthings]

Castaway Diva - Wrap Up Review

I'm not quite sure what it was, but something about Castaway Diva felt like something of a throw back to the K-drama golden age of the early 2010s. Perhaps it was the plot(s - there were a lot of them), perhaps it was the characters (who were both deeply traumatised and wonderfully carefree), perhaps it was the way it was a simply just very fun watch (as long as you didn't think about it too hard, once you started asking questions things got a little holey).

Overall I did have a good time watching this; I liked the characters, I enjoyed their different dynamics, I even liked some of the songs, which is not normally the case for me with musical dramas but Dream Us is now on a playlist and I've looked up a few of the other songs too. The story itself was a relatively fun ride too, although it did suffer from being, for lack of a better phrase, very over stuffed. Domestic abuse, identity theft, the politics of the Korean entertainment industry, a social re-intergration plotline, a love triangle, and more all jostled for screen time and dominance and there were definitely times when it felt like were two completely different dramas going on at once, ones which just happened to be sharing sets and a cast. That feeling only grew as the drama progressed, unfortunately, along with the suspicion that, because Castaway Diva couldn't decide on what it wanted to be, both major plotlines suffered as a result.

One thing I did really enjoy the whole way through was the cast. Park Eun Bin was as stunning as always (although for the first 2 episodes it did sometimes feel like she was trying to shake off the last vestiges of Extraordinary Attorney Woo); it was great to see Chae Jong Hyeop in a lead role again; and Hakyeon impressed a lot as the second male lead with an actual heart of gold. I also really enjoyed Kim Hyo Jin as Kim Ran Joo, it was my first time seeing her in any role and she definitely left a very positive impression, so positive that I'm planning to keep an eye on what she does next.

Equally impressive as the adults were Lee Re as young Mok Ha and Moon Woo Jin as young Ki Ho, both of whom put on such compelling performances that I almost wished we could have had a drama solely dedicated to their lives on the island. Their performances and plotline were some of the highlights of the entire show for me and perhaps therein lies the main problem: the first episode was so impactful but so different from everything that came after it that my mind kept drifting back to those first 60 minutes and wanting more, wanting it so much that the fact that there wasn't more felt like a genuine loss, the loss of a very different, much darker, much more serious drama-that-could-have-been.

TLDR Stats

🎧 Music: 7.5/10 - Dream Us is on repeat and the other songs weren't skipped.

🎭 Acting: 8.5/10 - They carried the many plots and they carried them well.

📑 Story: 7.0/10 - The writers should have picked one story to focus on instead of trying to shoehorn two very different it's into one drama. The bits we got of each drama were pretty good and would only have got better if the focus was solely on them.

👩‍⚖️ Overall: 7.5/10 - I enjoyed it while I was watching it but I doubt I'll be watching it again.

🙆‍♀️ Rec for: People who are looking for a relatively light, uncomplicated watch with highly enjoyable chemistry between characters although be warned the first episode is anything but light.

🙅‍♀️ Wreck for: People who like to ask the question "why?" when watching dramas.

[handspunyarns]

You Were Marked: Day Six point Five.

pairing: din djarin x fem!O/C   

word count: 8.5 K 

chapter summary: Din still hates vomit, Marathel suffers a great loss, and Grogu gets the hiccups. 

warnings:  illness, angst, allusion to past SA, allusion to suicide ideation, enmeshed misogyny, Mando'a and English cursing  

You Were Marked: Masterlist   

<- You Were Marked: Previous Chapter 

Din awoke to two tiny feet pushing into the side of his stomach.  This neither alarmed nor surprised him anymore.  He’d long come to realize that not only was Grogu a Master Blanket-Stealer, he was also a pro at Bed-Crowding.  Din would automatically allow the little one wide berth to keep him from rolling over on the boy, which allowed Grogu to take up at least four-fifths of any bed.  Grogu had also far surpassed Din in the ability to sleep anywhere, if that time Grogu managed to sleep draped across Din’s neck — and shoving his little foot up under the lip of the helmet, practically up Din’s nose — was any indication.  Din sighed and stretched his arms above his head.  He held aside a curtain to look at the sky.  It was just before dawn.  He looked over and noticed that Marathel was no longer in bed, but he could hear movement over at the table.  Carefully moving Grogu into the center of the bed tick, Din got up and stepped outside the curtains. 

Marathel was at the table, wearing fresh clothes in shades of grey as well as a heavy canvas apron, her hair tied up in a knot on the back of her head.  She was straddling the bench with her hand inside one of Din’s boots as she brushed tallow into the leather.  One boot sat at her feet, apparently finished.  Marathel stopped brushing and ran her hand over the leather.  Not satisfied with the finish, she added some more tallow with a cloth and began brushing again.  Din felt like a voyeur; he had never witnessed anyone performing such a personal service for him, such a wifely duty.  The sight of her polishing his boot seemed so … right.  He was also amused that someone who ran continuously barefoot was so skilled at shoe maintenance, until he remembered her off-hand comment about boys’ shoes going missing in the Hold.  It would not surprise him in the least if girls were not allowed shoes in the Hold but were responsible for the upkeep of the shoes the boys and men were allowed to wear. 

He believed he despised that Hold, as much as he could despise a place he’d never been. 

Marathel tucked a wayward lock of hair behind her ear and said, “You need to take better care of your boots.  The leather is very thirsty.” 

“It’s one of those things I keep meaning to do.” 

“The first boot took up most of the tallow I rendered last night from the gwyrlan birds.  Lucky, I had some extra.” 

“Thank you for doing that.” 

Marathel waved it off.  “No bother.”  She gave the boot one more look-over and held it out to Din.  “I think these are done but let me know if they are not to your satisfaction.” Din took the proffered boot, thinking it looked practically brand-new.  He took a peek inside and noticed that she had also repaired the torn lining.  Marathel noticed and said, “I added insoles I made from sea plant fiber.  They will help keep the insides fresher.”  She handed him the second boot. 

“I am very grateful.” 

“Take care of your boots, they will take care of you.” 

“We Mandalorians say the same about our armor and weapons.” 

“I doubt you strap a boomer to your feet, though.”  Din’s head snapped up to look at her, the word blaster on the tip of his tongue, when he saw her smirk.  “You may keep the socks, if you like.” 

“I couldn’t keep these fine socks.” 

Marathel shrugged.  “I can always make more.  I don’t wear socks very often.  In fact, I can give you a couple more pairs.”  She got up and pulled her curtains into the hanging strap, smiling at the still-sleeping Grogu.  She dug out two more pairs of socks from a basket and held them out to Din. “Go on, take them.”  He took them from her, grabbing onto her hand as he did so.  Surprised, she met his eyes.  Her eyes were marked by dark circles and a look of distress.   

Din tilted his helmet. “How long have you been up?” 

“A while.  I couldn’t sleep.” 

“Why not?” 

Marathel sighed, pulling her hand away.  She pulled off her apron and began folding it.  Looking down at her hands, she said, “Some Dahls are beginning to lay.  A few are still sad that they have no eggs.  A few have never laid before, and they are confused and frightened.  There are also some who are egg-bound, and they are in pain.” 

“What happens to the egg-bound females, if they cannot lay?” 

“They die.”  She stared at the apron in her hands.  “Sometimes mothers die.” 

“Yes, they do,” said Din softly, thinking of his mother as well as the sad-faced woman before him, the one he’d be leaving behind tomorrow.  At least I won’t be leaving her pregnant, he thought, before he decided that was crude thinking on his part.   

Marathel took a quick breath and said, “What would you like for breakfast?” 

Din blinked at the sudden change of subject.  “Anything you make is fine.” 

She smiled indulgently.  “I’m not concerned with what you think is fine, I’m asking what you would like.  It occurred to me that I’ve been giving you meals with no thought about what you may or may not prefer.” 

“Everything you have fed us has been delicious …” Marathel began to roll her eyes. “But, since you ask, traditional Mandalorian food is spicy.” 

“Spicy?  Peppers and such?”  Din nodded.  “That is good to know.  I do grow peppers, but I honestly use most of them for medicinal purposes.  They are tasty, though.” Marathel went to the kitchen and picked up her gardening basket.  “In fact, I’ll go pick some now for today’s meals. I’ll be back shortly.”  She hopped off the back of the platform and was heading off into the morning light before Din could respond.  He looked over his boots again, impressed by her skill, noticing that the insides did indeed smell clean and fresh.  He sat down and pulled them on, stamping them on the floor.  They felt good.  He looked over at his armor, wondering if he should wait to put it back on, remembering Marathel’s disturbing dream.  He felt uneasy without both the armor and his weapons but decided that he might upset her if she returned to find him wearing it.  He didn’t quite believe that her distress was caused merely by the Dahls.   

Din heard Grogu making squeaks in his sleep.  He went over to Marathel’s bed tick and sank down to his knees on the edge.  “Hey, little bub, you wanna wake up?”  Din leaned over, rubbing Grogu’s back.  “It’s morning, kiddo.”  Grogu responded by grumbling and burrowing into the blanket.  Din chuckled.  “Okay, you’re off the hook for now.” He left Grogu where he was and filled Marathel’s kettle to make tea.  He also stoked the fire and rearranged some of the wood within.  He wondered if Marathel needed more wood chopped, or if there was some other chore he could do, something he could do to please her and thank her for her kindness, her hospitality … and for her companionship, something Din hadn’t known he needed until Grogu came into his life.  He went to the edge of the platform to wait for her. 

Marathel was kneeling in her garden.  She had picked her few pepper plants clean, hoping that she could come up with dishes that the Bounty Hunter would enjoy.  So, these Mandalorians like spicy food.  It occurred to her that she knew very little about the Bounty Hunter, which seemed to be by design, considering his armor, full- body coverings, and helmet.  She assumed he had some sort of name, but he’d never offered it, so she had left it at that.  Every now and again, he’d release some tidbit about himself, the most surprising and confusing of which had to do with what he called his religion.  

The word religion meant nothing to her.  Marathel understood rules, that was an easy concept to grasp.  He couldn’t remove his gloves, except when he could; he was not allowed to remove or lift his helmet before her, yet he could behind her; obviously using a woman was allowable — him being a man, of course it was — but she felt reasonably certain that her laying him out mostly naked the other night was an indiscretion, as he called it. 

Then on the other hand, last night, he was insistent on her pleasure, her experience … and her permission.  Never had she heard of such a thing. His apology to her baffled her, even upset her.  He was desirous enough of her body to want her, to have her, wasn’t that all that was needed?  Yet if the use of her body also required her pleasure … then why hide his face?  

Leave it alone, Marathel, you both had too many dreamberries last night. Surely, he regrets having touched you in such a way. 

Then why his insistence on touching her hand this morning? His concern over how she slept following her nightmare? 

It is nothing, he is leaving tomorrow.  Tomorrow, nothing will matter anymore.  He will be gone.  And so will you. 

Marathel slowly stood, picked up her basket, and started back down the path to the hut.  Along the way, she shifted her thoughts back to the Dahls.  Her young females seemed to be okay.  The four who could lay eggs would be laying that night. None were egg-bound.  Old Rodanthe was long past egg laying, but she was very sad today, and Marathel was unsure why.  Rodanthe was the only Dahl who truly mirrored Marathel’s feelings, as if they shared the same heart.  

Marathel’s original plan for the end of her life was to no longer bond with new Dahl kits, but to suffer the loss of the ones she had, and then … decide how to go on from there, if to go on from there.  Now, she didn’t have to concern herself with that.  That decision was out of her hands. 

She looked up to see the Bounty Hunter leaning against her post, waiting for her.  The early morning sun glinted off his helmet, but he still had not put on the rest of his armor.  Somehow, she had accepted the helmet as his face, just as she had accepted his name as “Bounty Hunter.” She wondered if he would allow her to learn the truth about either … or if it even mattered, really. 

He’s waiting for you.   

He just wants breakfast. 

Of course, he wants breakfast, he’s a man, you silly gochgoch.  That doesn’t mean he can’t have …  affection for you. 

The idea warmed her soul and brought a smile to her face. 

Din smiled under his helmet at the sight of Marathel’s smile.  The sun was behind her, making the stray strands of hair that floated away from her head glisten like sparks from a welder.  He was trying to memorize her walk, the way her hips swayed, how her bare feet turned out slightly with each step, the swing of her arm not holding the basket.  He stepped forward as she came to the edge of the platform.  He took the basket from her and offered her his hand to help her up.  Marathel noticed that he was wearing his gloves again as the Bounty Hunter pulled her to his level.  He was still holding her hands, thinking about kissing her, when she suddenly looked down to her feet; Marathel had felt the grasp of tiny, clawed hands around her ankle.  “I appear to have grown a Grogu again.” 

“He loves you.” 

“He’s just hungry.” 

“He’s capable of both.” 

Marathel laughed.  “I suppose he likes spicy food, too?” 

“He has a stomach of beskar.” 

“Well, then I suppose you should try each of these peppers; tell me which ones you like.” 

Din stepped back while Marathel turned to pick up the basket.  She had four or five varieties that went from a large berry-looking thing to a shriveled tiny claw-shaped thing.  He picked up the tiny pepper and turned his back to put it up under his helmet, eating the pepper, stem and all.  “Hm.  Almost but not quite bland.” 

Marathel’s eyebrows shot up.  “That was my spiciest pepper.  You must also have a stomach of beskar.” 

“I wouldn’t be a proper Mandalorian if I didn’t.”  He reached down to pick up Grogu.  “Hey, buddy, let’s get out of Mahr’s way.”  He took the child to the front of the hut.  Marathel took the basket to the kitchen to cook something that hopefully wouldn’t set her head on fire.   

What Marathel came up with was a pan-fry-up of tubers, both sweet and spicy peppers, and sliced sausage in a white sauce over her toasted bread.  It burned her mouth, but she thought it was quite good.  If she had known the combination would be so tasty, she would have tried it long ago.  Grogu, of course, inhaled the contents of his bowl.  She was wiping Grogu’s mouth clean when she heard Rodanthe calling for her.   

Marathel looked up and saw the Dahl standing alone at the edge of the yard, just out of the tall grass.  Confused, she stood and went towards the animal.  Rodanthe sat on her haunches, eyes whirling. “What is it, pet?  Where are the others?” Marathel went to one knee and stroked the Dahl’s head.  Rodanthe made a quiet keening noise as she looked deeply into Marathel’s eyes.  Marathel felt a sense of great loss.  “What are you doing, Rodanthe?” The Dahl remained still, and the whirling of her eyes came slowly to a stop. Marathel gasped.  “No, please, Rodanthe, why would you leave me?  You’re not dying, I know you’re not.”  Marathel put her forehead to the Dahl’s broad face.  “I don’t understand; why are you doing this?” Her voice began to grow shrill as she felt Rodanthe pull herself from Marathel’s heart.  “No, no!  Stop this!  Don’t leave me!  You can’t, please!” Rodanthe escaped Marathel’s grasp and ran off into the tall grass.  “Noooooo!” Marathel screamed as she gave chase. 

Din had finished eating and was replacing his helmet as he heard Marathel’s cries.  He looked up to see her run into the tall grass.  He grabbed a blaster and ran after her.  Marathel continued to cry out for Rodanthe as the Dahl outran her through the grass and up into the mountain pass.   

“NO!  Please, please stop!  Don’t leave me now, I beg you! ONE MORE DAY!  Rodanthe, please!” Marathel stopped running, put her hands over her head, and shrieked, the same shriek Din had heard in his dream. It was soul-crushing, heart-destroying, the shriek that Marathel uttered as she felt Rodanthe unbind herself, removing herself from her heart, mind, and soul, and Marathel screamed, “DON’T LEAVE ME ALONE!” as Din reached her, putting his arms around her, but she broke free of his grasp, crying, “Don’t touch me!  Oh, it HURTS!”   

Din stood back, surprised, but did not approach her again. Marathel rocked on her feet, holding her head in her hands, crying out, “Why, Rodanthe, why?!”   

Din wondered why himself. Why would Rodanthe leave Marathel now, of all times?  And why would Marathel say ‘one more day’?  Did Rodanthe see me as Marathel’s new protector? 

Din didn’t know.  He didn’t know much of anything, other than Marathel’s heart was broken and there was nothing he could do for her.  Grogu came running — making Din feel like a right heel for leaving him behind — crying himself as he hugged her ankle tightly. 

Marathel stood with her face in her hands, sobbing, and it was some time before she got some hold of herself.  “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s all right, cyar’e.”  Din reached into an inner pocket and found one of the cloths he’d taken to carrying since Grogu appeared on the scene.  Damn kid would leak from all ports on occasion.  Stepping to her side, he pressed it against the back of her hand, and she took it, holding it to her face.   

After another long while, she wiped her nose and looked out over the landscape.  Her shoulders slumped and her face fell.  Din recognized that look: defeat.  “It’s so quiet now,” Marathel murmured.  She looked down at Grogu and silently removed his hands from her ankle before she turned and started to walk back.  Din picked up Grogu, who whined and buried his face in Din’s neck.  He let Marathel walk ahead of him for a while before he followed her. 

Marathel stood in the yard, staring at her hut.  She’d lived here alone for so long, with only the Dahls for company.  Now it seemed she was truly alone.  Rodanthe must have been her lifeline to hearing all the other Dahls, and now there was almost silence, just the slightest of background noise to remind her she still had some contact with them.  She sighed and stepped up into the hut, picking up the empty breakfast bowls from the step.  She deposited the bowls in the sink, intending to clean the kitchen, which now seemed pointless.  An ocean breeze came through the hut, and her shaking hands stilled.  She turned to the corner post, where she had spent so much of her time since coming here, leaning, thinking, wishing, hoping for some slight elevation to her life from the dreary path she knew it would ultimately take regardless.  She pulled her hair down from its untidy knot and let it fall, then sat down and leaned back against the post, staring off into the distance, hugging her knees with her elbows.   

Din set Grogu down and joined Marathel on the floor, sitting behind her, taking a lock of her hair and curling it around his gloved finger.  “Has a Dahl ever left you like that before?” 

“No.”  Marathel sighed.  “When they’re ready to die, they come to me and let me hold them as they go, so they don’t have to be alone.  They just slip away from me.  But this … it hurts so much worse.  She’s unbound herself from me, and I don’t know why.”  Marathel went quiet for a while.  “I feel like you’ve seen nothing but the worst of me since you’ve been here.” 

Din thought about that, but the only images that came to mind were of her smile, her eyes, the gentle curve of her lips and jaw and shoulder, her strong hands holding Grogu so tenderly, the swells of her breasts and generous hips, and the look of her face in climax – the way she held her mouth, her eyes almost closed but not quite, the flush spreading across her cheeks, the way her eyebrows knitted together.  “If that’s what you think, Marathel, then you should know that your worst is better than the most people’s best.”  Marathel was silent.  “I’m sorry she’s gone, mesh’la.” 

Marathel took a deep breath, but still said nothing.  Grogu toddled to Marathel’s side, placing a hand on her hip.  She looked down at him, and he looked at her cautiously, as if afraid she would reject him again. Marathel lifted her hand and stroked the child’s face.  “My sweet, my dear, my darling child, soon you’ll be far away from me,” she sang.  Her voice was sweet and clear as a Naboo lake.  “Forgive me, little one.  Mahr is very sad.” 

“Sad Mahr?” crooned Grogu, startling Din. 

“Yes, sweet, sad Mahr.” 

“Marathel …” breathed Din.  “He said sad.” 

“Yes, he did, Bounty Hunter.  Clear as day.” 

“No, you don’t understand …” Din rolled up to one knee behind her, reaching for the boy. “He said sad.  He’s never said actual words before.”  

“He says Patu and Mahr quite well.” 

“Well, fine.  Understandable words.” 

“You are Patu and I am Mahr. I think he’s quite understandable.  I am not happy that his first Newtalk word is sad, however.”  Marathel drew her legs under her to stand.  “Still … such a momentous occasion should be celebrated.”  She stood and sighed.  “Who likes clams?” 

Minutes later, they were walking towards the lava flats.  Din had donned his armor — he didn’t feel right about leaving it unattended, despite Marathel’s assurances no one would bother it — and he carried Grogu in a bag and the wooden rake, while Marathel had a large shallow basket.  Marathel kept looking out over the landscape, trying to hear the Dahls.  Without Rodanthe’s connection, she could barely hear them now.  The ones that she could hear were currently laying, and she made a mental note of where the Dahls’ clutches were.

Din looked towards her.  “Are the Dahls laying?” 

“Yes.” 

“What of the ones who were egg-bound?” 

Marathel didn’t know any longer. Finally, she said, “They are quiet.”  The Bounty Hunter nodded, which she took as acceptance.   

“I can help you find eggs tonight.” 

Marathel shook her head.  “That won’t be necessary.  I know where the clutches are … and it’s only proper I do it myself.” 

“This is the way?” 

“Just so, yes.”  They went past the lava flats to a low-tide beach that was flat as far as Din could see.  “The clams we want are in the shallows.  It would be about hip-high on Grogu.  But the sand is solid, and he won’t sink in like you did in the mud.  The only thing out there to worry about are sand fleas.  But they only bite if you stand on them for too long.” 

“I suppose that would be okay,” said Din, as he removed Grogu from his bag, and took off his tiny robe and beskar shirt.  “Off you go, you little nudist.”  He set Grogu on the ground and the boy immediately ran for the water.  

“Oh, I wasn’t thinking, Bounty Hunter … you shouldn’t come into the water with us.  Your boots are waterproofed, but they haven’t cured yet.  I’m sorry.” 

Din looked at her, and then saw a large boulder close the the water’s edge.  “Fine.  I can sit there and keep an eye on you two.”  He hoisted himself on the boulder, and Marathel went to join Grogu in the shallows. She had rolled up her pants legs over her knees and was showing Grogu how to find the clams by looking for little spouts of sand in the water.  She dug up the clams with her hands, placing them in the shallow basket she had floating beside her.  She tied the basket to Grogu’s wrist with a tether, and began searching for clams herself, dragging the rake across the sands.  As Marathel dug out the clams, she tossed them into the basket.  She had the basket about half filled when a pair of sock-covered feet waded into view.  She straightened up to see the Bounty Hunter, resplendent in armor, standing in ankle-high water with stockinged feet, looking back at her.   “Oh, for the love of Frith,” she said, rolling her eyes. 

Din shrugged.  “I got bored.” 

“I have seen your hands, but bare feet are out of the question?” 

“Feet are more … intimate.” 

“Don’t tell me you’re going to pew-pew-pew the clams out of the water.” 

“That would be inefficient.  Now, if I had my net launcher … what the shab is biting my foot?” 

Marathel sighed.  “Step back.”  He did, and she bent down and outdug a white crawly crustacean-type critter, about the size of his palm, with an articulated shell.  She held it up before his visor. “Sand flea.” 

She flicked her arm, and Din watched the ugly thing skip half a dozen times on the water’s surface before disappearing under a wave. “Some flea.” 

Marathel went back to raking the sandy bottom.  She brought up a number of clams, and she bent over to pick them up, unintentionally giving Din quite a view. He shifted to one hip and tilted his head before she realized what he was doing.  “Are you staring at my backside?” 

“Of course.” 

She sighed and straightened, tossing the clams into the basket.  “You are infuriating.” A little smile belied her words, however, and Din was stepping closer to her when Grogu squawked in pain.   

Marathel was closer, and she plucked Grogu out of the water with one hand and a sand flea out of the sand with the other.  She held it in her palm before Grogu, saying, “Nasty, mean, sand flea!  Show me how you throw it, Grogu.” Grogu grunted and the sand flea flew from her hand, skipping across the water’s surface and far out of sight.  Marathel laughed.  “Show-off.” She looked at Grogu’s foot where he had been pinched by the sand flea.   “So brave in the face of mortal danger!  But I think you’ll live, little one.” She nuzzled his nose and began to hum her tune again, swaying back and forth, twirling in big circles in the water.  As she passed by the Bounty Hunter, he slipped his arm around her waist and joined her in her lazy spins, which made Marathel laugh.  The basket tether entangled around their legs, pulling them tightly against each other.   Din lifted his other hand to her face, stroking her cheek with his thumb, leaning down to keldabe kiss her on her forehead.   

After a few more slow spins, he said, “Come with me.” 

Marathel stopped moving and pulled back to look at him.  “What do you mean?” 

“Come with me.  Don’t go to the Hold, forget the Aurodium.  Just come with me and leave this planet.” 

Her brow furrowed.  “No … No!  You have to get those coins.  The Elders have no use for them!” She tried to push herself away from the Bounty Hunter, but the basket tether was tangled around both of them.  “You must receive that reward, you are bound to take it to your people, for the foundlings, for ransoming your beskar!  Otherwise … it’s all pointless.” 

Din felt his stomach drop.  “What is pointless, Marathel?” 

“I … you have your path you must follow.  I have mine.  Your path is to take the reward and help your people.  And I remain here.” 

“Then I will come ba …” 

“NO.  Don’t say it … don’t make that kind of promise to me.”  She untied the tether from Grogu’s wrist and gave him to the Bounty Hunter as she untangled the line from their legs.  “You won’t be able to keep that promise.  I will be …” She gestured vaguely, her back to him.  “I will be nowhere,” she said, indicating the land around her. “I am far, far away from anywhere you need to be; I would be nothing but a burden to you, a woman who is useless and ignorant of everything you know so well.  You have to protect Grogu, be with your people, follow your Creed.  This is the way, yes?” 

“This is the way,” Din responded automatically.

“Then we understand each other,” said Marathel as she picked up the basket.  “You take me to the Hold with the Dahl eggs, you get your reward, and you leave.” 

“And happens to you in that Hold, Marathel?” 

“Nothing.  I only deliver eggs.”  Marathel began to walk back up the sandy flat to the path. 

“Stop lying to me, Marathel.  Horrible things happen to the women there.  The children, too.”  He followed her, placing Grogu in the carry bag over his shoulder, quickly stripping his wet socks and pulling his boots on.  Hurrying to catch up with her, Din demanded, “Tell me why you have a brand on your leg.” 

Marathel misstepped just enough to prove to Din he’d touched a nerve, then carried on walking.  “You are mistaken.  I have no brand.” 

“Yes, you do.  It’s on your inner thigh.  And it’s been there since you were a small child.” 

She whirled around to face him.  “That is a scar from when I was jumping over rows in the Hold garden, and I fell on a stake.  And I was not aware that you were … studying my body so closely.” She turned back to continue down the path.  “When were you doing that?  Before or after you begged my permission to touch me?  With your helmet that lets you see in the dark?”

“Marathel …” 

“You were quite eager to have me those other times.” 

“Those other times were not exactly consensual, Marathel.” 

“I didn’t hear you complaining.” 

Din sighed. “You didn’t consent. Your bond with the Dahls forced your actions.”  Marathel continued to walk before him on the path.   “Are you angry with me again, mesh’la?” 

“I don’t know.  Are you staring at my backside again?” 

“Of course.”  Marathel scowled at him over her shoulder.  “What is a Whyn, Marathel?” 

“Frith save us,” she muttered. “A Whyn is … it’s nothing more than a woman who is come of an age that she can be matched to a man.  That’s it.” 

“I don’t believe you.” 

“I can’t help that.  And I also don’t understand your religion.” 

“I don’t expect you to.” 

 “I suppose that’s good, then.” Marathel stopped on the path and turned to the Bounty Hunter. “Why are we even arguing?” 

Din shifted to one hip and crossed his arms.  “Lucky for you we are not at the covert.  Arguments there are usually fought until first blood.” 

“It is good we did not follow your example in the Hold.” 

“You didn’t argue with anyone?” 

Marathel started back down the path. “We had enough to be worried about.” 

“Marathel,” said Din, reaching for her arm, stopping her.  “What happens tomorrow?” 

“As I said.  You take me to the Hold, I deliver the eggs, you get the reward, and you leave.” 

Din put his hands on her jaw, forcing her to keep eye contact with him.  “What happens to you?” 

Marathel put her hands over his, trying to remove them from her face, but he held fast.  “Nothing happens to me.”  Din shook his head in disbelief.  “They may …” She swallowed and averted her eyes.  “They may want me to stay close, for the hatching, to make sure bonds happen.  That is it, that is all. I have no other use there.” Not anymore. 

Din did not believe her, but he also knew that she would not tell him the truth.  He released her, and she headed back down the path towards the hut.  Grogu took hold of Din’s thumb, and they looked at each other.  Grogu’s face told Din he didn’t believe Marathel either. 

Finally, back at the hut, Marathel set the basket of clams in the stream, placing rocks in the basket to weigh it down.  She climbed up into the hut and sat on the counter to wash her hands and feet in the sink.  Din stepped up after her.  “Give me those wet socks, Bounty Hunter, I will wash them.  I repaired your other clothing.  If you will change, I will wash and repair what you are wearing.” 

“Grogu needs a bath as well.” 

“I can do that.  I have some new clothes for him.  I’ll take him; you can bring your things to the washtub out back.” Din handed Grogu off to Marathel. Stepping off the platform again, she said, “Your clothes are on the table, Bounty Hunter.  I will give you privacy.”  She disappeared behind the hut. Din followed her example and sat on the counter to wash his feet in the sink, thinking to himself he had lied to her as well … feet were not exactly off-limits: he just thought his feet were ugly.   

Once his feet were clean of sand, and his boots shaken out, Din took his stack of clean laundry behind his curtains.  He looked over the topmost jacket and found that Marathel had indeed repaired his clothing.  Every seam was tight, every rip sewn closed with extra reinforcement. The thread she used was almost an exact match to the fabric of his flight suits, and he had not noticed it before, but the thread matched the fabric of the curtains that surrounded him.  Even the fabric of the bed tick he stood on was the same color.  And then he saw, inside the jacket, on the inner pocket that would be over his heart, he saw his signet, the Mudhorn, carefully embroidered in the same thread, almost invisible.   

He removed his glove with his teeth so that he could touch with his fingertips the threads that she had placed there.  He pulled up his helmet and pressed his lips against her handiwork, overwhelmed by even this small gesture of hers. 

“Bounty Hunter?” Marathel called. 

Din snapped out of his reverie.  “Yes?” 

“Is the clothing repaired to your satisfaction?” 

“Yes, yes, it is … I’ll be just a moment.”  

Behind the hut, Marathel frowned.  She could have sworn that his voice was different, somehow, not as … flat.  She shook her head and returned her focus to the little child.  “I know, my little Godynferth, two baths in as many days is such an insult.  So is getting pinched by a sand flea.”  She vigorously soaped up Grogu, who squirmed and giggled, and then hiccuped a soap bubble, making Marathel giggle as well. She massaged both of his sweet ears, and Grogu purred.  She bent down to look into his lovely eyes.  “I am going to miss you so much, my little one.  Thank you for letting me be your mam for a little while.  Thank you for letting me borrow you from your da,” she whispered. Grogu reached up to touch her cheek, and his tiny hand caught the tears there, and she felt a warmth where her tears had been. She kissed his head, and then laughed as she managed to sniff some soap suds up her nose.   

Din came around the corner just then to see Marathel laughing and choking on the soap suds in her nose, and Grogu hiccuping another soap bubble.  “Problems?” 

Marathel sneezed.  “No, just …” she sneezed again.  “Soap up my nose.” She sniffled and scrubbed her nose with her hand. 

Din sighed and rinsed off Grogu, who continued to hiccup.  “A hot mess, both of you.  C’mere, kid,” he said, lifting the boy out and wrapping him in a towel.  “You said you had new clothes for him?” 

Marathel held up her finger, her face contorted, and then she sneezed again, the loudest one yet. “Frith, that one felt good.” 

“Try that again, Marathel, I don’t think they heard you on Nevarro.”  She laughed, and Grogu hiccuped again.  “I don’t know how to get rid of hiccups, little guy, I’m sorry.” 

“Just rub his back, Bounty Hunter.  Give him a couple little thumps; he’ll be fine.”  She took the Bounty Hunter’s flight suit and wet socks and dumped them into the washtub while he bounced the boy and tapped on his back.  “Oh, for the love of Frith, you are far too timid with him.”  She took Grogu back and swung the boy upside down and then up, catching him roughly and giving him a solid thump on his back.  Grogu made one last belching hiccup and then squealed, wanting more horseplay.  “There.  All better.”  Marathel plunked Grogu back on Din’s arm, then deftly fed his little legs into a pair of soft knitted underwear with a smocked waist.  Before Grogu could squeak, she grabbed both his arms and flipped a little tan-colored shirt over his head.  Next, Marathel took Grogu and set him on his feet on the bench, wrapping him in a cunning overall type of dark grey pants that had shoulder straps.  The pant legs were open on the sides, much like a backwards apron, but she ran the fabric through his legs, tying the whole affair around his waist.  Grogu was fully dressed in less than half a minute.  Din generally had to both wheedle and coerce the kid to wear any damn thing, and it often took forever. 

Din crossed his arms.  “Again, I’m impressed.  That might have taken me half the afternoon.” 

Marathel shrugged and fastened the little ties at Grogu’s ankles to hold the pants’ legs closed.  “Sometimes you just have to show them who’s boss.  Especially when you’re trying to dress over a dozen little squirmy boys by yourself.”

“What are these — pants things you’ve got on him?” 

“We always just called them jump-ups; they are easy to make and put on little ones.  Easy access, too, for the necessary.” 

Din realized that everything Grogu was wearing was new.  He looked at the stack of tiny clothing; there were several more items that he had not seen before.  “When did you make all this, Marathel?” 

Marathel started to agitate the laundry in the tub. “Yesterday and last night.  Early this morning.” 

“Did you not sleep at all?” 

“I had much to do.  There will be time to sleep later.” 

Din lifted Grogu — who seemed quite taken with his new clothing — into his arms.  On the hem of the right shirtsleeve, Din saw a tiny embroidered Mudhorn.   Again, Din felt overwhelmed by what this woman was willing to do for a man and a little boy she only met a few days ago.  “Thank you, mesh’la … thank you for what you have done for us.” 

“It was nothing, Bounty Hunter.” 

“No, cyar’e … you have shown us such a great kindness.”  Din reached for Marathel, turning her away from the washtub.  He cupped her jaw with his free hand before wrapping his arm around her and pulling her against him, Grogu tucked between them.  It took her a while, but she embraced him back, tucking her face against his neck, their heights almost equal, and Din had never experienced such a perfect fit against him before. 

She is so soft. 

He is so strong. 

I wish I could hold her forever. 

I must ask him before I lose my nerve. 

“If … if I …” Marathel stammered, her forehead against the Bounty Hunter’s throat. 

“If you what, mesh’la?” 

“If I … give myself to you, fully as myself, for tonight … would you remove your helmet, so that I may have a memory of your face?” 

Din was not surprised that she asked, only that it took this long for her to do so.  “You know I cannot, Marathel.  My Creed forbids it.” 

“Not even … not even in the case of affection?” 

Din sighed.  There were ways around the helmet, he knew.  But blindfolding her, forcing her to face away from him – especially since he would be leaving her behind -- seemed as tawdry as how he only bared just what was necessary for a quick bang in a brothel.  And Marathel deserved better.  So, there was only one answer he could give while he still possessed a thimbleful of honor.  “If there were someone for whom my affection was stronger than my devotion to the Creed, then yes, I would. But …”  

But that person is not you, Marathel, she thought.  She had expected a rejection such as this, and it did not devastate her as much as she had anticipated; she only felt a weariness that was all too familiar to her.  Yes, he had been putting his hands on her for the past few days, holding her, caressing her, but not for any kind of fondness, but only as a preamble for him to use her as he wished, while maintaining his anonymity.  Even his request for her to come with him when he left was nothing more than a solicitation for her to be his concubine.  She had known better than to ask, but she had held out hope that for once, just once in this miserable life of hers, that she could ask for more than what she apparently deserved. 

She pulled away from Din, but Grogu held on to her tunic.  She looked down at the boy.  “Forgive me for asking such a thing in front of the child.  It was cruel of me to ask you to break your Creed.  Of course, that honor should be bestowed on the one you love best … and that should be Grogu.  Your son.”  Marathel peeled Grogu’s little fingers off her tunic, turned away, and went back to turning the paddle in the washtub to clean the Bounty Hunter’s clothing. 

“Marathel, I …” 

“Would you be so kind to pull the basket of clams out of the stream?  They should have spit out all the salt and sand by now.  Chuck out the ones that didn’t open.  They are bad and shouldn’t be eaten.” 

Din stood there a while, knowing that he’d not handled that well, limited as he was to what he could do within the rules of his Creed.  And now he’d been dismissed.  “Of course,” he said, and headed back around the corner of the hut, Grogu reaching for Marathel over Din’s shoulder.  Marathel managed to keep her tears in until the Bounty Hunter was out of sight, and then she quietly sobbed into her hands. 

Too much had passed between them to allow them to ignore each other.  Marathel was civil and formal, with vague smiles for the Bounty Hunter and loving cuddles for Grogu.   For dinner she made a fragrant and spicy clam stew that she served over cooked grains with the ubiquitous bread and soft cheese.  Din held the bowl in his hands as he sat behind the dark curtains, watching Marathel and Grogu play in the yard.  The stew smelled delicious.  The bread, of course, was Marathel’s bread, so Din naturally inhaled it first.  The only problem was … Din hated clams.  But he decided he would eat every last one of the slimy fuckers in this bowl before he hurt Marathel’s feelings again.  Making her mad enough to chuck eggs at him was one thing, but he’d heard her crying behind the hut and Grogu had looked at him with all the reproach a fifty-odd-year-old toddler could.

Marathel and Grogu were playing their running game, the rules for which escaped Din.  Sometimes they hopped on one foot, sometimes they had to walk backwards, and sometimes Marathel pretended she had no bones and lay there like a lump while Grogu tried to move her.  Din was no good at dissembling, telling stories, or making up running games.  At that moment, Marathel was lying on her back, balancing Grogu on her upraised feet.  Her loose pant legs slid down to her hips, exposing her long legs, still sporting bruises.  Grogu stood up on one of her feet, and balanced there, motionless, for an impossibly long time, as stones began to rise all around them.  Din could feel the air crackle with power as he watched Grogu harness more of the Force.  Slowly, the stones returned to the ground, and Grogu lost his balance on Marathel’s feet.  He tumbled into her arms as she sat up and praised the boy.  They both stood up and the running game began again, this time ducking in and out of the tall grass.  Din finished the stew with a grimace.  It was spicy and had wonderful flavor, but those clams left a bad taste in Din’s mouth.  He hoped he wouldn’t be revisiting them later.  He replaced his helmet and stepped out to locate Marathel and Grogu. 

Just then, the two came tearing out of the grass, Marathel carrying a pile of small sticks, Grogu holding a stick like a spear.  As they passed Din, Marathel called out, “You’re just in time for another round of poosticks, Bounty Hunter!” 

“Poosticks?” 

“The floating stick race, of course, you silly gochgoch!”  They bounded up into the hut, finding the yarn and tying the yarn around their respective sticks.  “I’ll pick a good one out for you, Bounty Hunter,” called Marathel.   

“Okay,” Din called back as he felt his stomach turn over.  Oh, those clams were already rebelling against him.  Looking for an escape, he dashed into the tall grass, dropped to his knees, and ripped off his helmet just in time to hurl his dinner across four feet.  He didn’t think Marathel had noticed, or heard, but then he heard her feet hitting the ground as she ran across the yard to the edge of the tall grass. 

“Bounty Hunter?  Are you all right?” 

Din dry heaved, and called out, “Yes.” 

“But you’re throwing up,” said Marathel, noticing that his voice was lacking that flat quality again, same as the voice she had heard earlier.   

“It … I’m sorry, it was the clams.” 

“The clams?” 

“I hate clams.  They make me sick.”  Din sat down and tucked his head between his knees.  He hated throwing up as much as he hated seeing others vomit.  He took a couple of deep breaths before he realized that Marathel was laughing.  “Yes, go ahead, laugh.” 

“I’m so sorry … but why didn’t you just say you hated clams?  I would have made something else.” 

“I didn’t want to be a bother.” 

“Foolish pride, Bounty Hunter, and now I have to live with the fact that my cooking made you sick.”  Her tone was more amused than vexed, however.  “Are you feeling any better?” 

Din lifted his head from between his knees, and Marathel just caught the top of his head moving in the tall grass, and she noticed his brown hair.  He has brown hair.  Brown hair and brown eyes and tanned skin.  It was a pretty brown too, brown as the shells of the tree nuts she liked to make a dense flour out of for cookies.  “I’m fine.  I’ll be a few minutes.” 

“I’ll make you a cup of tea to help settle your stomach.  I can also make some broth for you.” 

“Please don’t make a fuss.” 

“Toast?” 

“Yes, please.” 

“Thought so.”  Marathel went back to the hut, where Grogu was levitating the little sticks.  Din took another breath and spit a couple times before putting his helmet on again.  On a good day, breathing his own exhales was tolerable, but having to breathe in recycled clams was not enjoyable in the least.  He stood up unsteadily and went back to the hut, straight into his curtained cubicle, and stripped off the helmet again.  He laid down on the bed tick, put his arm over his eyes and felt his stomach rumble.  After a few minutes, he heard something sliding on the floor.  He looked over to see a tray sliding under a curtain.  “I’ve closed my eyes, Bounty Hunter, I’m not peeking, I promise.”  On the tray was a mug of weak tea, another mug filled with cool water, a clean cloth, and a plate with toast soldiers and crackers. 

“Thank you, mesh’la.” 

“You’re welcome, ma’mwsh ha’laa.”  Din chuckled.  “Is your helmet off, Bounty Hunter?” 

“Yes, it is.” 

“So that’s what your voice sounds like?” 

Din was not accustomed to hearing his voice outside his helmet, and he wasn’t fond of his voice in the helmet.  “Yes, it is.” 

Marathel was quiet for a moment.  “Your voice is very nice.”  She collected Grogu and went back to play in the yard for a while as it began to get dark.  Din rested until his stomach decided to calm down, sipping the tea, nibbling the crackers, watching the woman and the boy gambol about the yard, just like the first day they arrived.  Six days.  Six days on a hunt normally would have pissed the living shab out of him ten times over, but he would have been willing to wait here sixteen days.  Sixty.  Anything to extend the time he could remain here in this little hut with Marathel and this idyllic life.  Din put on his helmet and stepped back out in time to find Marathel coming back to the hut, holding a sleepy Grogu.  “Feeling better?” 

“Yes, thank you.” 

“I truly am sorry about the clams.” 

“You didn’t know,” said the Bounty Hunter.   

“No, I didn’t, because a certain Bounty Hunter is a twmffod.”  Marathel set Grogu down on the table and deftly undressed him from the shirt and overalls and into a soft-looking set of pants and shirt to sleep in, something Din never bothered with. 

Din tilted his helmet.  “I’m assuming a twmffod is similar to an osi’kovid?” 

“I suspect so.”  Marathel lifted Grogu and put him into his pram.  She gave him a goodnight kiss, and stroked his ear while Din whispered his nightly Mando’a to the boy before snapping the lid closed.  “What is it that you say to him each night?” 

“It roughly translates to sleep, little soldier, in the morning we will battle and draw first blood.” 

“How charming.”  Marathel gently placed her hand on his arm between his pauldron and elbow.  “You are feeling better, yes?” 

“Yes, thank you, mesh’la.”  He lifted his hand and stroked her cheek with his gloved finger.  “I’m sorry … sorry I can’t give you what you have asked of me.”  What you deserve. 

Marathel dropped her chin and slid her hands up her sleeves, a move Din hadn’t seen her make in days.  “It is nothing, Bounty Hunter.  I was in the wrong for making such a suggestion.” 

Din slid his hands down her arms and drew her hands out of her sleeves.  “Would you, though … would you allow me to lay next to you again tonight, and let me hold you?”  Marathel’s eyes remained downcast.  “I promise you, Marathel, on the honor of my people, I will only hold you.  Nothing else.”   

Marathel looked up at the Bounty Hunter’s face, furrowing her brow, wishing that she could see some expression that matched what was in his voice.  He had brown hair; he had brown eyes, but this knowledge did not alter the dark visor set in the middle of an expanse of metal.  She nodded and said, “Okay.” 

Din stepped back, pulling gently on her hands, asking wordlessly for her to follow him to her bed.  Marathel followed, and Din pulled aside the curtains and handed her through, and then got down to one knee to assist her down to the bed.  He lay beside her on his side, Marathel on her back, and he slipped his arm underneath her head, reaching his other arm across her middle, his hand resting on her ribs.  “My mesh’la, my cyar’e,” he whispered. 

Marathel did not respond.  She lifted her hand to hold the Bounty Hunter’s gloved hand that lay on her.  She felt cold and alone.  He had pretty words, but they were spoken from behind a wall of  protective fabric, leather and metal.  His hands were strong and warm, but they were only revealed to her when he wished to fondle her skin.  She offered him everything she had, which was little to be proud of, being plain, fat, and dumb, with only the request that he allow her all that he had as well, to be equals, but he denied her. But, being a man, that was his privilege, after all. 

You are less than, Marathel, you always will be. 

But not for much longer. 

Marathel lay still, listening to the Bounty Hunter's even breathing while she waited for him to fall asleep. 

You Were Marked: Next Chapter

[sunskate]

lake placid- iamo -

the new programs from IAMO that debuted here -- Dozzi/Papetti's Nessun Dorma FD is going to be gorgeous - i always really enjoy them. the ending where the lift goes up on the music is chills, and the choreo slide is beautiful. it didn't go up the way it was supposed to here, so they couldn't exit the straight line portion of it as planned- i'm guessing she's not supposed to be so behind him-

their RD is to Diana Ross and Earth Wind and Fire, and it's suave and smooth, but reminds me how last season Haley and Nik had a similarly mid-tempo RD and had to rework it before Nationals to make it higher energy

Ritter Brykalov's FD is good and shows them off so well- there are a lot of details and gives them a lot of story to play with.

the two Azerbaijani teams going head to head first thing this season was interesting-- Carhart/Kolosovskiy had the stronger RD and were ahead by 8.5 points, which felt insurmountable, but then C/K had a rough time with their James Bond FD ⬇️, and Ritter/Brykalov were 11 pts ahead with theirs ⬆️, so came out ahead overall

C/K are only 21, but her hair and dress read a lot older, like mother of the bride - i know they want sophisticated, but hopefully they'll go a little edgier and younger. she's doing so well for having ice danced for just over a year

(there were several James Bond programs in this competition - it takes polish and swagger to make one work - like Lolo and Nik could pull one off really well. Carol Lane had a junior team doing so many finger guns it was like watching little kids running around playing 😅 less is more, like Lolo and Nik and their finger gun twizzles in Bonnie & Clyde were amazing, Olivia and Adrian and the sword fighting moment in their Zorro FD also - it's a fine line to creating a moment)

[everydaydg]

44. Pokemon Crystal (GBC, 2000)

Huh! Didnt expect to get back into pokemon this year! Ive only played 3 games before tackling this one.

X, Sun and Ultra Moon.

I enjoyed them quite alot!

I was expecting something that was a little rough in some corners but was still enjoyable but to my surprise, it holds up really well!!

Im going to be fully transparent and just tell you to try it out if you want a fun RPG. Its great!!

So where do I begin!

Uhh. Johto is super fun to explore! They made it in such a way that going back to previous areas is quick and easy. Once you get the bike you can go zooming all over the region in little to no time!

Going back to previous towns to gather items, do daily events and fill the pokedex is not tedius at all!

It also makes exploring the region for secret goodies a whole lot of fun.

Johto has such a unique flavor compared to every other region in the series, its just a treat through and through!

even crazier is that they put the entirety of kanto as post game!! thats nuts! you get a whole new area to explore which will take you 18-30 hours to check ever corner of it and you get the WHOLE REGION OF THE PREVIOUS GAME

Pokemon Crystal provides so much content its impresive! I was always in awe at how they managed to fit such a big game into such a small cartridge!!

Especially considering the game has sprites for so many differnt types of pokemon- with animations!! This was the game that introduced the animated sprites!!

(This was played on the 3DS virtual console release)

They look so nice!! the sprites are super charming in general! the upgrade to gameboy color makes the game a treat for the eyes, the spritework is just really really nice.

I know im the thousanth person to suck off pokemon for being... pokemon. An international sensation but what can I say! its fun!

Alright combat... yeah its pokemon alright, its pretty basic working on a rock paper scizor weakness wheel... well like three wheels but you get the idea.

Its simple but engaging enough and you have some liberty in how you make your team with TMs... I say that but they are one use items here... that sucks ngl.

Actually I think thats a good place to start with a couple of areas the game could be better.

To start, walking. The areas are small enough so walking isnt bad, the speed is manageable but it might test the patience of some players.

It takes a solid bit to get the bicycle (jeez idk if I want to play red and blue knowing theres no bike)

Again, one use TMs.

why. The only thing that acomplishes is limit how the player can build their team greatly.

VERY easy to miss things. You can miss the radio chip and map chip easly (I was REALLY CLOSE to missing them), exploration would be way more annoying without the map

Those are some of the mayor complains I have, other than that... yeah I dont have alot that I hate! its a lovely time.

L A N C E I S H A C K A N D A F R A U D

W I T H T H O S E F U C K I N G D R A G O N I T E S

8.5/10

[purplesurveys]

1863

Do you remember what colour the street sign was at the house you grew up in as a kid?     If I remember correctly, it was white on green. I could also absolutely be wrong, though.

Before this one, when was the last time you took a survey? Did you rate it, and if so, how many stars?     I took it the other night. I'd give it a solid 8.5/10, it allowed me to be more insightful than other less intense surveys would make me be.

How old are you?     26.

Have you ever done an escape room? What was your opinion?     I haven't done one because I know I will be atrocious and have no contribution at all to the teamwork. I've never been good at puzzle/problem-solving stuff.

Do you own any antiques? Where did you get them?     Nah, not my taste. I'd rather see them from a museum hahaha.

What board games do you like?     Not really a fan.

How did you celebrate last Christmas?     We mainly attended family gatherings although it was more than our usual since everybody decided to throw something, lol. We must have gone to like 5 different sides of family in total.

Do you still live in the same city or town you were born in?     No. We moved away from Manila when I was around 1 or 2, which I'm guessing is because the place is just not conducive for a child to grow up in. Super polluted and can be dangerous if you find yourself in the wrong crowd.

What's your favourite kind of pasta to make?     I've never made pasta, but my favorite type to eat is fettuccine.

What did you want to do as a job when you were a kid?     I wanted to be an author, then a news reporter/journalist. So definitely not far off from where I ended up in as I still do a lot of writing in my day-to-day. :)

What was the last item you had to return to where you bought it from?     I don't think I've ever returned an item.

Are you expecting any phone calls soon?     Nope.

Have you watched Succession? What do you think?     I haven't.

Do you watch The Golden Globes? Do you even care?     I used to watch it before but tbh I didn't care much for it as I looked forward to the Oscars a lot more. If anything, I pay attention to it these days mostly to see what everyone's wearing.

When was the last time you saw your best friend?     A little over a week ago.

What room of the house are you in right now? Do you spend most of your time in this room?     I'm in my room, and yes I do spend lots of time here.

What was your least favourite class in high school?   Chemistry. Didn't understand it in high school, didn't understand it in college.

Have you ever tried vegan bacon?     I probably have at least once...? Hard to remember exactly though.

Do you have a storage area separate from your main house, like in a basement or parking garage?     Nah. Our main storage area is under the stairs between the 1st and 2nd floors.

When was the last time you lit a candle? What scent was it?     Close to three years ago; I eventually shifted to reed diffusers. The last candle may have been vanilla.

Have you engaged in negative self-talk today?     I don't think so.

Do you have many plans for the next week or so?     Not much besides work. My dad is coming home next weekend though, so we might do our routine visit to his side of the family by then.

Are you close with your cousins?     I am quite close with the cousins on my mom's side, yes. With my dad's, I can only think of one that I take a liking to. The rest are either too shy and hard to relate with; have differing political opinions; have drastically different personalities and upbringings; or are too aloof.

Have you ever been to a kids birthday party as an adult?     I've been to a handful. Usually of a much younger cousin or family friend.

Do you use a slang word for cigarettes?     No, I just say cigarettes.

What was the last app you downloaded on your phone?     A marble game, hehe. Similar to Zuma.

Do you keep your apps organised or categorised in any way?     Yes, I have 4 main tiles – one for K-Pop; one for all my online shopping/food delivery apps; one for social media and work group chats; and the last is for the iPhone basics like camera, calendar, settings etc. I like keeping it to 4 because my wallpaper is BTS and I like to be able to see the full home screen whenever I'm on it haha.

What did you have for lunch yesterday?     I skipped lunch yesterday, but today is my cousin's birthday so we had quite the feast with Filipino-style spaghetti, fried chicken, takoyaki, cake, and halo-halo.

Have you ever had to block a friend on social media?     Nah. I've blocked people I'm not very close with; or if I've stopped being their friend and the fallout had been messy. I've never blocked a friend while still being their friend lol.

Where in the world would you like to travel to?     I've been hooked to Q's Greenland lately and she's been making me want to visit Greenland.

Did you play The Sims when you were a kid?     I played The Sims 2 everyday like it was my last day on Earth.

How often do you eat fast food?     At least once a week.

Do you own a pair of gumboots?     Nope.

Have you ever been to any supposed haunted locations? Did you experience anything weird?     Sure. Most recently we stayed at a hotel that, well, my co-workers got the spookies from. Some of them apparently felt some kind of presence but given my apathy towards the paranormal, I couldn't say the same.

Do you know anyone who's had gastric bypass surgery?     I don't think so. I could be wrong, but right now I can't think of anyone.

When was the last time you wore a striped top?     Yesterday.

Are you a paranoid person?     Usually.

Do big dogs scare you?     No.

What actors do you really dislike?     Tom Cruise is one obvious one that gives me the ick.

How long does it take you to fall asleep? I kind of cheat because what I like to do is to doomscroll to the point of exhaustion, so it usually takes me less than 5 minutes. If I didn't have that option, it could take me 30 minutes to an hour.

[pineforphantompain]

2022 Drama Year in Review

My 2022 in Asian Dramas + Film

As usual starting with the movies: (HK) Come Drink With Me (1966) Rating: 6.5/10 (HK) Mambo Girl (1957) This was assigned viewing, but is very much the sort of thing I enjoy watching anyway. Rating: 7.5/10 (HK) Centre Stage (1992) A woman-focused movie combining film history and personal tragedy!? Yeah, I loved it.  Rating: 9.5/10 (HK) Police Story (1985) I would not have likely watched if I didn’t have to for school, but it was surprisingly quite fun and I can now say I’ve seen at least one Jackie Chan movie. Rating: 8/10 (HK) PTU (2003) Rating: 6.5/10 (HK) The Big Boss (1971) Rating: 6.5/10 (HK) Chungking Express (1994) Rating: 7/10 (HK) Durian, Durian (2000) Rating: 7.5/10 (Australia/HK) Floating Life (1996) Rating: 7.5/10 (K) Kongjui and Patchui (1978) So, I stumbled across this while working on a paper and knew I had to watch it once I finished. I have no idea if it is a masterpiece or total garbage, but it has a certain charm and was oddly quite enjoyable. Rating: 8/10 (C) Never Said Goodbye (2016) I had high hopes for a sad love story with a terminal illness plot starring an actor I really like, but alas, it was kinda disappointing. Not bad, just not great. Rating: 7/10

Now onto the dramas: Money Heist: Korea Part 1 (2022) 6/6 eps watched  I was just here for Hyunwoo, but it was good. Rating: 7.5/10

Anna (2022) 6/6 eps Excellent vibes and Suzy (*-*). Honestly cannot tell if it was actually good storywise, but it was exactly what I watched it for. Expectations were met, no more and no less. Favourite drama of the year. Rating: 8.5/10.

Remarriage and Desires (2022) 8/8 eps I like Kim Hee Sun and it had the right vibes, but was mostly just meh. Rating: 6.5/10.

Money Heist Part 2 (2022) 2/6 eps watched (I have now finished it. Rating: 7.5/10)

Green Mothers’ Club (2022) 5/16 eps I started watching when it was airing, got behind and put it on hold, but I have just revisited it and hopefully will finish this year. (Update: I’m now 10 episodes in so making progress!)

(Rewatch) Judge vs Judge (2017) 32/32 eps Surprise, surprise I’m rewatching the same things again. What can I say about this drama (too much actually). It has such a hold on me and I desperately wish more people watched it. I considered watching PEB’s new legal romance drama, but instead I just watched this again. Must a show be “good”? is it not enough to permanently alter my brain chemistry? Rating: 7.5/10

(Rewatch) SUFBB (2012) 16/16 eps I have rewatched the first two or three eps many times, but this is the first time I have rewatched the whole drama. On my initial viewing I had to force myself through pretty much the entire second half, but I enjoyed it so much more this time around. Over the years I had realized I was too harsh, stopped considering Ji Hyuk one of my most hated male leads (he truly dropped from fifth place to probably not even making top ten, maybe not even fifteen). So I decided it was finally time to not be unfairly bitter and revisit the rest of the show, at least for the elements I did like (and turns out there was even more of that than I remembered!). Still don’t care for the romance (the main couple especially, but I’m not into the other two either) and did skip through some scenes.  Also the mentor figure of the teacher/manager still bothers me. The end is basically the perfect narratively satisfying ending, but getting there was a little rushed in the final episodes. I’ve always liked the OST, have a soft spot for the cast, the set up is phenomenal, and it is just a solid show overall. Previous rating: 6/10. Updated rating: 7.5/10.

(Rewatch) My Lovely Girl (2014) 16/16 eps This is my new rewatch obsession, not because it is good (far from it), but it fills a particular desire for me and just really takes me back to 2014 (and in a (mostly) good way!). I love the music and the cast is filled with my faves. Also Shi Woo is so so special to me I do not care. (Still upset by Dal Bong’s storyline, the last several episodes are so bad especially the very end, and also the male lead is reprehensible). Same rating: 6.5/10.

Welcome (2020) 6/24 eps If it wasn’t obvious (see the rewatches) I was kinda on a Myungsoo kick (I love him and playing an actual cat is an even more perfect role for him than Angel’s Last Mission was). The cat stuff is fun and cute, but once I saw him sit in a box I didn’t feel an urgent need to continue. I’m sure I’ll return to it eventually. (Would be better in my opinion without any romance between the leads; let it be slice of life roommate hijinks and maybe a romance subplot with the second lead please!).

Plans: How did I do on last year’s? (Not great) I didn’t do any of the extra ones, so I’ll just ignore those. 2/3 movies watched (not for class - if only I hadn’t set that criteria, I watched plenty…) Kongjui and Patjui and Never Said Goodbye. 3/3 dramas from 2022 watched (YAY). They were all short, so feels a little like cheating, but oh well. Rewatched Judge vs Judge (that one was easy). Did not watch F4 Thai or anything from the backlog (unless I can count Remarriage and Desires since I did leave it on-hold for months lol).

Hope to watch 2023: Watch at least 5 dramas including: 1 or more from 2023 1 or more J-drama 1 or more from the partially watched backlog. Watch at least 3 movies. Complete some episodes of my Nail Shop Paris rewrite (yeah, that’s a thing I am doing, but since I was mostly planning and watching clips instead of sitting down and watching from the beginning I didn’t count a rewatch this year, but it’s something I’m working on and being normal about).

[kdpinterior]

Discover our awesome Student Planners Printable PDF File & Ready to upload. Size 8.5 x 11 inches (and can also be printed on A4 size paper) Clean, nice and modern design. The file was created with good resolution to ensure clear print. You can also use it as an interior on Amazon Kindle Direct Publishing: Self Publishing . ORDERING PROCESS: This is an Instant Download - no physical product will be sent. Once your payment is confirmed you will receive an email from Kdpinterior (to your registered email address) Or Here https://kdpinterior.com/my-account/downloads/ LEGAL INFORMATION These prints can be used For commercial purpose in print or digital form. You can't sell this item on Etsy or other third parties Like Creative Fabrica…, except Amazon Kindle Direct Publishing: Self Publishing, You are free to use it on amazon KDP only. QUESTIONS? If you have any questions about this item, please use the “Ask a Question” button next to the price and we’ll get right back to you as soon as possible. There are a lot of advantages to self publishing over traditional publishing, To be a successful author, it needs hard work! Self publishing requires you to have knowledge of every aspect of the publishing process, like designing, formatting, and marketing. Platforms like Amazon Kindle Direct Publishing make self publishing accessible to everyone, but it can feel overwhelming to independent authors. What do you need to use Amazon KDP? What technical skills do we need to meet Amazon KDP requirements? How to promote our book? Here are seven tips and tricks to hack Amazon’s self publishing platform and be a successful author. 1. Make Your Book's Title and Description Perfect: Student Planner Weekly A good Amazon book title and description are important for your book to rank well on Seo. Your book description gives readers a taste and overview of your writing skills and tells them exactly what to expect when they buy your journal or planner . Your journal title and description should look professional. A poorly written description have huge impact on sales. Run your blurb through a grammar checker to check for mistakes and readability. Aim for a genre-appropriate, specific set of rich keywords. Student Planner Weekly We’ll talk more about keywords in the next section. Amazon will allow you to use HTML formatting on your descriptions, so get the benefit of this awesome feature. You will be able to organize your keywords. 2. Use long-tail keywords like Student Planner Weekly. One of the most important aspects to getting ranked on Amazon self publishing is the seven keyword boxes. They allow you to add up to forty-nine characters. A keyword is a word or phrase that people type into the top search box on Amazon to find a specific journal or planner... You need to focus on specific long-tail keywords. Instead of a broad, short-tail keyword, you might enter Student Planner Weekly (a specific long-tail keyword). You can research these using a keyword research tool like Google Keyword Planner Tool, hire an expert in KDP categories and keywords, or simply search for them manually by yourself. Look for keywords that give you only a few results, not thousands, to beat your competition. 3. Choose Extra Categories Amazon KDP has preset categories for books, and it’s hard to choose the best one for your work. When you upload your journal or planner interior, you can select two Amazon categories. Your book might fit into multiple categories. You can also increase your chances of being a bestseller in a category when you choose less competitive categories. A little secret : you can add additional categories with these simple tips : If you can call KDP customer service, KDP will allow you up to eight more categories, for a grand total of ten! 4. Purchase a High-Quality Designed Cover The first thing that Amazon visitors see is your book’s cover. A high quality cover can make a big difference and impact your sales numbers. There are a ton of elements that impact whether a book cover is engaging.

Various classifications have different expectations. A basic cover does not take into account genre trends and expectations. A nonfiction book should not look like a kid's activity book or vice versa. Unless you’re an experienced graphic designer, avoid using tools offered by Amazon. Find an experienced designer who is familiar with your theme and check their portfolio. Try to reach out to other authors for recommendations, or browse Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter to find a freelance designer who works with other authors. 5. Emphasize covers and interior design. The quickest way to a one-star review is an ugly book cover or interior. When your print book format is a mess, Amazon's visitors will move on to the next competitor. Don’t gloss over this step. There is a lot of software, like Canva, Photoshop, or Illustrator, that allows you to format your book and make it look professional. You can also outsource your formatting to an expert. In our case, the Student Planner Weekly is already formatted for KDP, so you will save a lot of time and money. 6. Adjust Prices for International Markets When you publish a journal or planner on Amazon KDP, make sure that you adjust the price accordingly .99 : This is a marketing psychology that works on any markets. If KDP adjusts the price automatically for other markets, You can manually change it to international prices, however. You can add a .99 to the end of each price for each currency. And keep your eyes on royalty rates. You should also monitor the pricing boundaries for 30% and 70% royalties for each currency. 7. Becoming an Affiliate for Your Own Book Promote affiliate links for your own book and earn 70% royalties! Use your Amazon affiliate link on social media, website links, and anywhere else you can think of. Your amazon affiliate link allows you to earn additional 4% on the selling price of your book. It seems like not much, but that additional 4% can add up quickly with enough sales. Keep in mind that you only get this income when someone buys through your affiliate Amazon link, not from Amazon's search box. Finally, make Amazon KDP your friend; Using tips and tricks like these can assist you in succeeding on Amazon KDP.

[stil-lindigo]

beachside bonzoes

AN: hello everybody! this is something different to what i usually do so uh. please be kind. I was going to post this yesterday but with the cancelling of dirk gently i decided to put it off to today. i thought we might all need some fluffy rowdy time.

summary: the Oh No van’s AC breaks down and the rowdies terrorise a tourist beach. there’s family, anarchy and just the slightest bit of drummerwolf. also, the universe being super passive aggressive.

beachside bonzoes

Squinting against the bright, burning, sun, Amanda Brotzman downs the last of her water from her water bottle and groans.

‘Ugh,’ she mutters as she slumps back into her tattered passenger seat. ‘It’s like I’m drinking my own sweat.’

‘Ewww, boss!’ Vogel yelps in disgust from the backseat. ‘Now I’m roastin’ and grossed out.’

 ‘Gross-ting,’ Gripps’ voice is croaky from where he’s splayed out on the red seats, arm slung over his face. Cross lies beneath him, diligently fanning both Cross and Vogel with old magazines.

 ‘Toasting,’ he adds with a tired chuckle. Nearby, Beast emits a low growl.

 ‘We’re fucking burnt, boys,’ Amanda sighs and glances over at their shitty air conditioner chugging out metallic-smelling but cold air. Martin grunts at her from the driver’s seat before she can get a word out.

 ‘ ‘s on the highest setting, drummer. Ain’t nothin’ gonna make it work harder.’

 Amanda groans louder and rolls the grimy window down, staring out at the passing landscape with a tangible irritation. This suffocating heat had been plaguing them for a few days now and the new, thinner clothes they’d managed to snatch at a roadside op shop were already filthy from sweat. The Disney shirt Vogel had been so excited about had been the first casualty and was now operating as a bright, pink sweat rag.  

 Martin, strangely enough, didn’t seem to be too affected by the heat. In saying that though, the boys had basically stripped down to their boxers the moment the temperature went over 40 degrees. Amanda still held a sneaking suspicion that the one reason they weren’t going commando was because of her and Beast.

 At her millionth deliberating sigh, Martin taps her on the shoulder and silently hands her a cigarette, gesturing to the window.

 ‘Do I look that bad?’ she mutters wryly and he shrugs, a small smirk gracing his features.

 Without any preferable option, Amanda leans out the window and breathes in the addicting scent of smoke. Martin uses a pretty shitty brand but it’s all she’s got and right now, it tastes like heaven. Like something akin pathetic fallacy – a big word she learned in high school that she never used again after graduating – a miraculous cool breeze sweeps by, ruffling her tied up hair so that strands break free from the hair tie and swirl around her face.

 ‘Thank you, universe,’ she breathes blissfully and then immediately regrets it because, as always, the universe just loves to mess with people. The moment the words leave her mouth, their air conditioner makes a horrible, sputtering grate of a sound and wheezes out a foul-smelling cloud of smoke. Martin smacks it with increasing severity and, after the third strike, knocks the grate clean off. The air conditioner does not restart.

 ‘You have got to be fucking kidding me.’ Amanda could cry. And she only cries at dogs dying and beautiful canyons. From the backseat, Vogel whimpers out a long exasperated groan that, with Beast’s help, quickly devolves into a strung-out growl.

 ‘The hell.’ The short, plaintive word is the only indication that Gripps isn’t dead.

 Cross is already clambering over the others and pushes in between Amanda and Martin in the front. For a second, he squints at the smoking mess of an AC.

 ‘Yep,’ he grunts. ‘That’s busted.’

 ‘Fuck,’ Amanda drags her hands down her face and then snatches up her phone. As always, the battery is dying but it’s got enough. ‘Google maps, don’t fail me now. There better be a mechanic close by.’

 Within a few minutes, she’s found one only a few miles away. It’ll mean a detour from their usual, instinct-driven route but if it means a working air conditioner, they’re more than willing. It’s when they’re only a few minutes away that Amanda stops mid-instruction at the sight of a sliver of blue.

 ‘It’s the ocean!’ Amanda bolts upright and sticks her head out the window, watching as a sandy bay sneaks into view.

 ‘What is that?’ Vogel, marginally less comatose, leans over Amanda and squints at it. From behind him, Gripps does the same and suddenly all of the rowdies are tumbling into the front and Martin’s screeching to a stop.

 ‘That’s one big lake,’ Gripps says. ‘Where are the giant ducks?’

 ‘That’s a lotta…’ Vogel fumbles for a word. ‘Yellow. What’s it doing there?’

 ‘It’s sand,’ Cross grins. ‘It’s wannabe dirt.’

 ‘That’s cool! I wanna touch it!’ and with that, Vogel’s out the door and running down to the bay. Whooping, Cross and Gripps follow, towing a confused and disoriented Beast behind them.

 ‘C’mon, Boss!’ Vogel shouts back around halfway down the hill and Amanda glances back at Martin. He shrugs.

 ‘Why not? It’ll cool them off.’ He says. ‘Go on and join ‘em. I can take the van myself.’

 ‘Really? We can always take it later.’

 ‘Sooner the better, right? Also-’ Martin pauses and runs a hand through his hair. ‘Don’t do well with sand.’

 ‘How Skywalker of you,’ Amanda smiles at his confused expression as she hops down to the ground.

 ‘I don’t get it.’

 ‘Yeah, sorry. It’s a reference,’ she says. ‘But don’t go alone. At least take Beast with you.’

 Ever since Blackwing separated the rowdies, Amanda’s felt wary of letting any of them go anywhere alone. It’s a paranoia that she’s just a little bit embarrassed by but she would be perfectly happy if she was never separated from this family – her family – ever again. Conveniently, Martin is an emotionally-aware vampire and, maybe its because of that that he lightens the mood with a low chuckle.

 ‘Don’t think I’m scary enough to get a discount on my own?’

 ‘You?’ Amanda laughs. ‘Scary? Absolutely not.’

 ‘Oh?’ Martin produces a cigarette and lights it, fitting it snug between his lips.

 ‘You’re too lovable. Like a big dog.’

 He stares at her for a second, his jaw working around the cigarette, then shrugs, puffing out a wispy cloud of sweet smoke.

 ‘I can live with that.’

 ‘Boss! Look!’ Amanda turns at the sound of Vogel’s voice and comes face to face with a giant inflatable duck with some unfortunately drawn features.

 ‘Did you steal this?’

 ‘Nah, some guys threw it at us when we came near so we’re keeping it!’ Vogel’s face splits into a wide toothy grin. ‘It’s super cool!’

 Behind him, Gripps comes into view, wearing a wide-brimmed sunhat and glasses with blinds on them.

 ‘Drummer! There’s a clothes shop here! It’s crazy!’ he yells, gesturing down at a small shack down by the pier. ‘Look at this!’  And with that, he pulls the cord on the glasses and snaps the blinds shut. ‘My world is broken!’

 ‘Okay, please tell me you paid for this,’ Amanda pauses as she takes in the sight of the curtain glasses. ‘Actually, don’t. Don't tell me you used real money to get that.’

 ‘It’s a cash bash!’ Cross jumps in between them, smiling wide as he gestures to his new baseball cap that reads ‘Money Maker’. Amanda knows her face is wearing an expression but she has no idea what it is.

 ‘Why,‘ she says.

 ‘We paid, boss! Don’t worry, we used the money we stole from those bad suit guys before!’ Vogel shoves a handful of $50 notes in her face and bounds away like a hyper kangaroo. ‘Let’s go fight a fish!’

 Cross and Gripps whoop and bellow out their grunts of agreement and skid down the sandy bank. From behind her, Martin lets out a content chuckle and grabs a few notes from the bundle.

 ‘Guess I’ll be going then,’ he says. ‘Beast?’

 The rainbow-haired creature scurries up and leaps into the passenger seat with palpable relief. Beyond her, Martin sits back, turns the ignition and the van purrs into life. Amanda’s about to join her boys down at the beach when-

 ‘Oi, drummer.’

 ‘Yeah?’

 ‘Woof,’ he winks, deliberately, his smirk matching the quiet intensity of his eyes, and then the van’s gone, barreling down the road.

 It’s hot out, Amanda reminds herself as she makes her way down to the ocean. Flushed cheeks don’t mean a thing.

 --

 The beach-side clothes shop actually had a pretty decent selection, Amanda finds as she peruses their clothes racks.

 More than decent, in fact. Some strange few could say that it was in tune with the universe.

 After a few minutes, she emerges from the shop’s air conditioned depths wearing a worn-down ‘Mexican Funeral’ top and some skin-tight swimming bottoms. The top is thin and soft from age and the lettering is a bit cracked but, as Amanda flaps it to let a cool breeze in, she finds that it’s completely what she’d expect. The store clerk’s face had lit up when she’d handed it over for him to ring up – apparently the band was ‘super obscure’ but ‘totally underrated’ and it wouldn’t even be stocked if the guy hadn’t insisted to ship some in.

 Damned universe. Too nosy for its own good.

 I get it, she thinks to the universe as she sprints down to the water, picking up speed. Call your brother. But not right now. Right now-

 And here, she kicks off her boots, her socks and jumps –

 -right now, I’m cooling off.

 With a thunderous splash, she’s underwater and the change is instant - the water is shockingly cold, biting into her skin like a knife before her body catches up with the plunge in temperature. Bubbles foam around her in clouds and she grins, giddy off the relief of the sea on her burning skin and watches water rush past her as she boosts herself to the surface. She breaks into open air to the whoops and cheers of her boys. They’re all around her, wet and dirty and sweaty and hers and she bundles them into a tight, slippery hug, laughing and shouting with them as they drag her into their rhythm. It’s dumb, this is so dumb, playing like toddlers seeing the sea for the first time but then she remembers the years she spent in fear in her dim, crusty room and – even more than that – the boys, for them, this might be their first time so she lets the world go and blows raspberries into the air. Cross squeezes their inflatable duck ring around her and he and Gripps haul her up and carry her towards the horizon, like she’s a queen on a yellow plastic throne.

 ‘We’re fucking insane!’ Cross howls over the crash of the waves and they roar, together, with their squeaking inflatable duck and handfuls of seaweed and wet sand. High off exhilaration, Vogel dives underneath and pops out of the water with a starfish in each hand, giggling.

 ‘You’re a star, kid!’ Amanda speaks like a talk show host and Vogel beams.

 ‘I don’t know what that is!’ he hollers and in an instant, the starfish are chucked back into the water and he’s leaping at Amanda, arms outstretched. ‘Capsiiiize!’

 They go down like bowling pins, splashing back into the water. Amanda resurfaces, spitting out saltwater and picking seaweed out of her hair but she laughs and splashes Vogel right in his mischievous face.

 ‘You dick!’

 The plunge doesn't seem to slow down Cross and Gripp’s momentum and they drag up Vogel from under his armpits, slapping him on his back good-naturedly before they promptly dunk him back into the water. Instantly rebounding, Vogel flaps around his wet hair like a dog and smacks a clump of wet sand into Cross’ hair.

 It’s pretty dumb how much fondness she feels for these mud-slinging idiots. But she doesn’t think she’ll ever get tired of their reckless energy, their chaos that pumps life through her veins. Friends, family - they’re her boys and Amanda doesn’t think she could love them more. For a moment, a weird anxiety finds her (an attack? no, although she hates that she still feels a stab of fear at the thought of them) and she wonders if they know – she hopes they know how much she loves them.

 Suddenly, the ground is falling away and Amanda’s abruptly torn from her thoughts as Gripps unceremoniously chucks her onto his back.

 ‘Get yer head out of the clouds, drummer!’ he yells as he charges into the fray of the mudfight. ‘We gotta get some dirt on ya!’

 With bellows and laughter thrumming in her ears, Amanda leaves behind her cloudy thoughts and shrieks out a giddy battle cry.

 --

 Grant Brantley has worked at his little garage for a little over a decade. And maybe its because his business is right next to a tourist-magnet beach that brings in weirdoes from all over that makes his new customers a bit more normal. The man’s fine (even though his disproportionately-coloured hair is a bit odd). It’s more his friend that puts Grant off. She’s got brightly dyed hair and kind of a-a pale sort of complexion and he thinks she’s shaven off her eyebrows which makes her scurry-walk a bit more off-putting. Also she keeps on sniffing his tools. He just hopes she doesn’t start licking them.

 ‘Hey, um – ‘he turns to the man who said his name was Martin and then did not give a surname which makes Grant’s job a bit more difficult because usually he refers to the lads as misters but now he’s just gotta say ‘sir’ which makes him feel like a chimneysweep or a needy orphan and in fact, he’s pretty sure he’s older than Martin but what can you do? ‘-sir, your uh…could you please ask your friend to stop sniffing the merchandise? I swear they haven’t gone off.’

 It’s supposed to be a joke – an icebreaker, you know- but Martin nods, seriously, as if it's a legitimate concern.

 ‘Hey, Beastie,’ he clicks his fingers and the woman happily scuttles over, abandoning the outdoor display of wrenches. Grant thinks she’s talking to Martin but – god, she’s gotta be foreign, right? He can’t even understand what language he’s speaking. It sounds like she’s imitating a chain-smoking frog but – c’mon, Grant, don’t be mean, it’s not as if you’re a well-travelled bloke in the first place, what would you know about foreign culture. He chances a friendly smile at her and she returns it with a mouth of sharp teeth and a high whistle. Oh boy.

 ‘So,’ Martin clears his throat a bit awkwardly as he shifts on the step he’s sat upon. ‘How long will it take to fix the AC?’

 Thank god, familiar territory.

 ‘Oh, it’s a simple fix, really. An hour or so,’ Grant scratches his head thoughtfully as he takes in Martin’s hulking van. He thinks those are bullet holes peppered into its graffitied hide but honestly, he’s dealt with weirder.

 Upsell, he reminds himself, like those persuasive kids at the fast food places. ‘I could easily spruce up some stuff. She’s a bit of a clanker. And it won’t cost much more.’

 ‘Nah,’ Martin says not unkindly, and produces a battered pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his loose jeans. ‘Gotta get back soon.’

 Grant politely flicks out a lighter before Martin can and holds the flame steady for the other man. Martin nods appreciatively and, miraculously, Grant feels a bit less wary round the guy.

 ‘Got someone waitin’ for you?’ he says as he unlatches the car door and begins to work. From the corner of his eye, he sees Martin smile to himself.

 ‘Yeah, a few guys.’

 ‘And a girl, I bet,’ Grant replies. ‘Or a guy,’ he adds, catching himself at the sight of Martin’s odd expression. ‘Either is fine. Or none. I don’t mind. Love is love and all that.’

 He’s babbling now but Grant tends to get that way when he’s nervous. ‘Sorry, don't mean to impose. You looked mighty happy there is all. And don’t get me wrong, you can look happy about friends – I ain’t the type of guy to think we lads can’t have good, non-sexy relationships – but also, you know-’

 Martin laughs a small laugh but it’s got some mirth behind it so Grant trails off and hopes his furious backpedalling worked. The white-haired man puffs on his cigarette and leans his head to one side in a bit of a conceding shrug.

 ‘Yeah,’ he allows, after a second. ‘Yeah. I guess it’s a girl.’

 Martin doesn’t seem like he’s going to say any more on it so Grant doesn’t push it. Mentally, he breathes out a sigh of relief. Gosh, his big mouth has gotten him into problems in the past – he’s just glad that this time the weird guy seems alright. Might be the cigarettes. Hey, it might be a good idea to keep his supply stocked then, right? Right. Okay, good thinking, Brantley. Now suggest it without also implying he’s hooked because god knows you’ve come across some kooks who were adamant about their independence, honestly -

 ‘Hey, we’ve got some more cigs inside,’ Grant blurts out and gestures towards his little shop. ‘They’re right next to the cash register.’

 Martin looks surprised for a second.

 ‘Don’t think I’ll steal them? I’m just a stranger.’

 Grant shrugs.

 ‘They’re only $5. I’m not that hung up on money,’ he pauses. ‘Also I can see you through the window.’

 The white-haired man huffs out a chuckle. ‘Mm. Smart building design.’

 He stands up, stuffing his hands into his pockets and gives an appreciative nod to Grant.

 ‘Thanks, Mr Brantley. Might take you up on your offer.’

 ‘Might?’

 ‘Gotta check the brands first,’ he grunts jokingly and he makes his way into the service shop.

 Grant turns back to the van and mentally dances a happy jig. He knows the type of guy Martin is – he’s met a wide bunch of people in this job – and that exchange was good, as in it was a Big Deal in its goodness. The guy feels less intimidating now that they’ve had that conversation. In fact, now he thinks he shouldn’t watch through the window in that half-looking-but-also-could-just-be-engrossed-in-the-rear-view-mirror way he’s cultivated.

 The choice of whether or not he spies on Martin, however, gets thrown to the side at the sound a familiar revving engine. Grant groans and puts his head in his hands. Really? Now?

 With a screech, a sleek, scarlet sports car rounds the corner and skids to a stop directly in front of the workshop. Its occupants, a group of four, tank-top wearing young men, clamber out with whoops and guffaws. Grant sees that one of their shirts simply reads ‘You Suck’. Another, who he knows has not served, is wearing dog tags on a necklace. One of the men, the shortest, steps forward and leers at Grant.

 ‘Hey, Mister Brantley,’ he sneers. ‘What’s up?’

 ‘Hello, Sherwood,’ Grant steps away from Martin’s van and approaches the teenager with a palpable reluctance. ‘Are you drunk again?’

 Immediately, Sherwood’s smile is replaced by a snarl and he jabs an accusatory finger at Grant.

 ‘Yeah? And what the fuck are you gonna do about it?’ he hisses. ‘Don’t forget my dad owns these parts. You complain and I’ll kick your ass out of here. You’re already on thin ice with your asshat son.’

 ‘I’m –’ Grant sighs. This is the worst. ‘I’m not going to complain.’

 ‘Good,’ Sherwood sneers. ‘Go get me n’ my boys some smokes.’

 Grant is about to go in when he remembers – Martin. The white-haired man is staring at him over the countertop, a new pack of cigarettes in his hand, and from where he’s standing, Grant can see he’s put down a $5 bill next to the till. The older man shrugs, overcome by embarrassment, and brushes past Martin apologetically. With a sigh, he begins piling boxes of cigarettes into a plastic shopping bag.

 ‘They ain’t gonna pay for those, are they.’

 It’s more of a statement than a question really and Grant grimaces.

 ‘No. They’re not. But what can I do?’ He ties off the end of the bag with a forceful twist. ‘Charlie – that’s my boy, really smart kid, he’s gonna do great things – Charlie’s gotten into a fight with Sherwood over there. His dad owns this land and money ain’t real consistent – this is a tourist place, you know.’

 Grant doesn’t completely know why he’s telling Martin this stuff.

 Something about him makes you wanna spill your beans, he thinks to himself. Whether in fear or not.

 A striking yelp jolts him out of his thoughts and his gaze whips to the boys standing in his parking lot who are currently fending off a rainbow-haired woman. He sprints out of the shop to find her – Beast – circling them on all fours and forcing them back with intermittent snarls.

 ‘Ma’am!’ Grant calls out, a bit lost. ‘Uh-ma’am please uh-’

 Sherwood’s head shoots up at the sound of Grant’s voice.

 ‘Oi, Brantley!’ he shouts, furious. ‘Is she yours?!’

 ‘No! Sherwood, she’s uh – a customer- ’

 ‘A customer?’ one of Sherwood’s friends shrieks out. ‘Are you fucking kidding me?’

 ‘Bullshit!’ Sherwood screams and Beast answers with an even louder growl that sends the boys backing away towards their car. Sherwood levels an icy glare towards Grant. ‘Look at you, using this bitch to chase us off. You could’ve just given us the smokes, you dick!’

 ‘Sherwood, wait-’

 ‘Beast.’

 Martin steps out beyond Grant who is currently fumbling for words and approaches the woman. She whips around at his footsteps but immediately softens at the sight of him. Grant’s close enough to hear that she says something that sounds like ‘meanie’. Meanwhile, Sherwood and his friends have already slipped into their sleek car and with a round of middle fingers, they’re hurtling away at breakneck speeds.

 Grant still doesn’t know what just happened.

 ‘Oh boy,’ he whispers to himself and his legs fold under him. Martin looks over with a placated and somewhat remorseful-looking Beast beside him. ‘What a shitshow. Pardon my language.’

 ‘Sorry,’ Martin says.

 ‘Don’t trouble yourself, son,’ Grant gestures offhandedly as Martin takes a seat on the concrete next to him. ‘This was comin’ sooner or later. In fact, I wish I could’ve done it myself instead of your friend obliging.’

 ‘Mm,’ Martin hums in agreement. ‘That’d be a sight to see.’

 ‘You know, Sherwood really ain’t that bad either,’ Grant chortles at Martin’s expression. ‘Yeah, I know. He used to be an okay kid, though. I think he got messed up in something shady a while back and now he feels invincible. He just needs a bit of a wake up call.’

 Martin wordlessly picks at his teeth, as if attempting to dislodge a morsel of food. Beside him, Beast swings back and forth on her haunches.

 ‘You scared, Mr Brantley?’ he asks, quietly. ‘Sherwood’s probably gonna go tell his pa.’

 ‘Oh yeah, I’m a little fearful,’ Grant sighs. ‘But you gotta roll with these punches.’

 ‘Damn straight,’ Martin claps him on the back and gets to his feet and stretches, yawning wide.

 ‘Tired?’

 He shrugs.

 ‘Just ready for a meal.’

 --

 It’s around when Vogel’s finishing up on burying Cross in sand that Amanda notices the ice-cream.

 ‘Hey!’ she yells from where she’s floating on the inflatable duck. ‘Look! People have ice cream!’

 At her shout, a number of people give them weird looks but she’s used to it by now. Weird is good when it means you get a strip of beach all to yourself. Gripps arises from the shallows where he’s arranged seaweed on his forehead like a wig and scares a nearby unwitting couple.

 ‘We’ve got ice cream here?’ he says. ‘Why aren’t we eating it then dying from brainfreeze?’

 As if to demonstrate, Vogel flops to the ground in mock-unconsciousness, letting his tongue loll out of his mouth with carefree abandon.

 ‘Brainfreeze!’ he echoes and from underneath, Cross fist bumps his way out of his sandy casket.

 ‘Waffle cones!’ he yells and somehow produces a sun hat to slap over Vogel’s head. ‘They’re good crispy.’

 Amanda’s already wading up to meet them, dragging her loyal duck behind her as she approaches the still partially-buried Cross.

 ‘You still got the money, Money-maker?’ she asks wryly and he slings off his cap to show the notes stuffed into the seam.

 ‘You know it, boss,’ he flashes a toothy grin. ‘Get me a bubblegum.’

 ‘Sweet tooth,’ she pokes him on his nose and he laughs, loud and mischievous. Suddenly, Vogel drops into Cross’ lap and grabs Amanda’s face by her cheeks.

 ‘Pineapple for me, boss!’ he grins from ear to ear. From nearby, Gripps adds ‘And boysenberry!’

 ‘Boys-enberry!’ Vogel repeats and giggles at his own joke. ‘Boys!’

 Rolling her eyes, Amanda pecks Vogel on the forehead and revels in the brief silence that follows as he blinks up at her, beaming.

 ‘We get it, Vogel,’ she says then slinks out of his grip even as he laughs and whoops with the other boys.

 ‘Love you, boss!’ he calls after her and even though she groans from embarrassment and waves them away, Amanda can’t help the grin the creeps across her features.

 Surprisingly, the ice cream stall doesn't have a very long queue – probably because Amanda and her boys only noticed it after the big crowds left - and she gets to the front sooner than anticipated.

 ‘Cool shirt,’ the girl serving her comments and smiles at her. ‘They’re a great band.’

 ‘Yeah,’ Amanda slaps the dollar bills down on the counter and thinks passive-aggressively to the universe to chill. ‘I like your septum piercing.’

 ‘Oh! Thanks,’ she giggles and flicks her long aqua-blue pigtails over her back, revealing her own shirt that bears a faded illustration of a Rorschach symbol floating in an eyeball. Unbidden, Amanda feels a smile spread across her face. Good times.

 ‘Do you want these in a box?’ the girl asks, unaware of Amanda’s thoughts.

 ‘Yeah, that’d be great,’ Amanda says and then, just for good measure, she winks and adds in a secretive tone, ‘As good as I am with my hands, four at once is a bit much.’

 At that, ice-cream girl laughs, really laughs, and her tanned cheeks tinge with red.

 ‘Nice,’ she says and hands Amanda the holder full of ice cream cones with a smile. ‘Come again soon!’

 She doesn’t even get a block away from the stall before Amanda’s already licking her own salted caramel ice cream cone. The taste of it is sweet and relieving after a day of fish and chips and trashy oil-soaked food. Also, she got a strawberry cone and flavoured ice cream cones are one of the better inventions of humanity. The slap of her store-bought flip flops on the burning pavement and the cold creeping through her body from the ice cream leads her into an almost-mesmerising trance. As she walks, she makes up a tune to hum and its like merging a few of her favourite songs together, a mashup of the metal radio station the Oh No Van tunes into from time to time. For some reason, Amanda wonders what Martin would’ve chosen from the ice cream stall.

 Is there a nicotine flavor? she thinks to herself, wryly. But the thought brings back a memory from earlier that day – when Martin had given her the cigarette. And it’s as Amanda’s licking her rapidly melting ice cream that she remembers that it had already been lit and halfway done by the time he’d handed it to her. Which means -

 ‘Fuck!’ Amanda saves herself from tripping just in time and steadies the ice cream cones in their respective holders. There’s melted ice cream all over her hand now but there’s enough still in the cone that the boys will be happy. ‘Jeez, get yourself together.’

 From behind her comes a piercing wolf whistle.

 ‘Hey! Sweet cheeks! Bend over again!’

 Amanda’s eyes shoot open wide and she turns around excruciatingly slow to come face to face with two burly guys coming up behind her.

 ‘Excuse me?’ she’s trying to inject as much disgust as she can into the words, but apparently these idiots have skulls made of steel because nothing’s getting through it. They snort and guffaw at her expression. One air-thrusts at her.

 ‘Jesus Christ,’ Amanda mutters to herself then faces the two guys directly. ‘What is this, 2005? Get a hobby, you walking troglodytes.’

 The men make mockingly awe-struck gasps. The air-humper steps forward to close the distance between them.

 ‘Oooh, you know big words! Doesn’t make you better than us.’ he says in a sing-song tone. Amanda considers stuffing her icecream down his throat and decides it’d be too kind. ‘And we were just being nice. Jesus, learn how to take a compliment.’

 ‘It doesn’t take much to be better than you,’ Amanda replies coldly. ‘Knowing big words like ‘troglodyte’ should immediately put me out of your league.’

 The man’s smile falls instantly and he makes a grab for her shoulder but she’s already dodged and is considering kicking his incredibly kick-able groin when the familiar growl of an engine roars up behind her.

‘Drummer,’ Martin says in acknowledgement. Beyond him, Beast waves furiously with a new wrench which still has its price tag stuck on. ‘Nice ice creams.’

 ‘Thanks.’

 Martin glances at the two men standing before them and his gaze instantly cools by a few degrees. Even though they’re obviously wary of the newcomer, the two guys have stuck around which either makes them even more idiotic than she originally thought or – nope, they’re just idiots.

 ‘ ‘s there a problem?’ he asks, his tone icy.

 ‘I don’t know,’ Amanda turns back to look at the pair of walking examples of toxic masculinity and raises a questioning eyebrow. ‘Is there?’

 The two guys mumble something incoherent – probably an insult of some kind – but they hurry past, their pace quickening the longer Martin stares after them.

 ‘Troglodytes,’ she mutters.

 ‘Nice insult.’

 ‘I learnt it off a TV show.’

 ‘Even better.’

 ‘Oi! Boss!’ Vogel comes barreling up the hill and it’s only Amanda’s quick reflexes that save the ice cream cones from being toppled onto the pavement. He steers around quickly, leaping up onto the hood on the van in one swift motion and waves at the occupants inside. ‘You found Martin and Beastie!’

 ‘And you got my Bubblegum!’ Cross snatches his cone from the box quickly and immediately bites into the ice cream. His ensuing expression is somehow triumphant and regretful at the same time. For some reason, Gripps does the exact same thing for his cone and does not get different results.

 ‘Hey, drummer,’ Cross manages to say as he recovers. ‘What was up with those brickheads that were here just now?’

 Martin clicks his tongue in disgust and taps the steering wheel with the palm of his hand.

 ‘They were peacocking, boys,’ he says grimly and the resulting wave of disapproving growls is deafening.

 ‘Way old school,’ Gripps mutters. ‘Way crusty.’

 ‘Damn tail-flickers,’ Vogel seconds.

 Cross licks his lips and glares after the retreating forms of the two men.

 ‘Anybody else hungry?’ he hisses and the other rowdies bellow in agreement, already moving to chase after them.

 ‘Boys.’

 And like that, they halt, shifting to Martin for direction even though Vogel’s foot still taps away on the concrete, impatient.

 ‘We got a bigger meal waiting for us,’ he smirks dangerously and the rowdies erupt in cheers and congratulatory roars, already clambering into the hollow depths of the van. ‘Ready for dinner?’

 With a fond lick and snicker, Beast vacates her seat for Amanda and leaps into the back to curl up on the red velvet floor. Amanda settles herself into the leathery front seat, slams the car door behind her and turns the AC up to the max setting, whistling appreciatively at the blast of cold air sweeping through the van.

 ‘You’ve been busy, haven’t you?’ she grins at Martin and he answers with a toothy chuckle.

 ‘I get around,’ he replies then slams on the ignition, lurching forward and bellowing over the growing howls of their rowdies.

 ‘Now who’s hungry for take-out?!’

 --

 Amanda wolfs down the last of her Chinese food from its plastic box and sinks back into the sand with a content sigh. At her left, the six-pack of beer she bought at the convenience store remains submerged in a blue plastic bucket Vogel had stolen and filled with cold seawater.

 ‘Beer over sandcastles,’ he’d reasoned as he handed it to her. She couldn’t really argue with that.

 It’s cooled down now that the evening’s creeping in and she appreciates the cool breeze. It’s a bit of a relief to relax after pummeling those frat boys into the hood of their own car. Amanda’s hand automatically twitches at the memory of swinging Beast’s wrench into the headlight and laughing as the glass had showered over her.

 Kind of dangerous, now that she thinks about it. But she made it out unscathed. So it was probably universally predestined to happen. Amanda grabs a beer bottle and lifts it up to the sky in a toast.

 Rest in peace, car, she thinks to herself then downs a mouthful. I barely knew thee.

 Quietly, she reflects on the pit stop they made before returning to the beach: a garage owned by a Mr Brantley who she only knew from overhearing Martin’s brief conversation with him. Seemed like a sweet guy. Owned a decent brand of smokes. And he’d patted Martin’s shoulder like he was his dad, despite them seeming to be around the same age. Weirdest thing about it was that Martin let him.

 The sun peeks out from behind a purple-pink cloud and she squints. Nearer to the horizon, her rowdies are still splashing in the ocean with their boundless energy. They’re the only ones still there seeing as most of the beach-goers had left around an hour ago but they make enough noise that it would be easy to mistake a crowd still remaining. The stragglers still tend to give them a wide berth and it suits them just fine. Struck by inspiration, Amanda sits up and she howls, letting her voice taper off into the sky. To her utmost joy, her family answers with matching enthusiasm.

 One of them breaks off from the pack and lopes up to sit on the bank next to her. Wordlessly, she hands him a bundled-up dry shirt she’d been using as a pillow to dry off his sopping wet hair with.

 ‘How are you still wearing your glasses?’

 Martin grunts and points at the green band tying the legs together behind his head.

 ‘Rubber bands. Versatile.’

 ‘Uh huh. But you still can’t see with all the droplets on them.’

 He shrugs and ruffles out his semi-dry hair into a comically fluffy-looking mohawk.

 ‘Survived through worse. Remember the red goggles?’

 Amanda laughs at the memory but the reminder of Wendimoor sends her thoughts towards someone else. She sinks back into the sand with a low groan.

 Todd.

 They’d parted ways after the Wendimoor escapade a few weeks ago and she’d promised to check in from time to time. But, somehow, the prospect of a first phone call after recently making up with him is scary as shit. The stupid thing is that she can’t even put her finger on what is so terrifying about it. They’d sent each other little dumb texts (mainly pictures of the new detective agency and then games of ‘Spot Mona in this messy workplace!’) in the first week and a half but even that mode of communication had died out. Yeesh. ‘Died out’. Bad choice in words, considering the trouble they got themselves into.

 Speaking of that, Todd could be on a new case right now. Todd could be in trouble.

 And yet, she still doesn’t want to call.              

 Amanda sits herself up, shaking sand out of her hair, to find Martin staring at her out of the corner of his eye.

 ‘What?’

 ‘I can hear you thinking there, drummer,’ he mutters softly. ‘What’s goin’ on?’

 She runs a hand through her hair sheepishly.

 ‘I’ve gotta call my brother.’

 ‘Toad?’

 ‘His name is Todd. But Toad totally works. He’ll love it.’

 Martin looks out thoughtfully towards the horizon.

 ‘You’ve got time. Phone’s in the van right now.’

 Amanda chews on her lip for a second.

 ‘I mean. I could always do it tomorrow.’

 ‘Putting it off isn’t very punk.’

 ‘Oh, fuck off,’ she snickers and punches him in the arm good-naturedly. She’s 90% sure he doesn’t even feel it.

 ‘C’mon, drummer,’ he continues. ‘What’s keepin’ you?’

 Her smile falters and her eyes dart down, away. It’s personal, this stuff, family stuff. But she’s gotta face this at some point, doesn’t she? And here, in the dying sunlight with a fresh pack of beer…

 She knocks her head back and gulps down the rest of bottle’s contents, hissing as it burns on the way down. On her left, Martin watches her with a half-cocked eyebrow.

 ‘Okay, so,’ she slams her hands down as she starts but they kind of just disturb a sand pile which irks her a bit. ‘Me n’ Todd have technically made up but like, there’s still a lot of weird boundaries here and I don’t know, my head’s still not the greatest and I-’

 She trails off as she looks over at Martin. He’s listening, really listening, with his eyes trained directly on her and his genuine intensity makes an irrational guilt rise up in her.

 Stop sidestepping the issue, she tells herself and sighs.

 ‘I’m scared of getting close to him again,’ she says finally. ‘Old Todd was a complete shithead built entirely on lies. And New Todd is…new. And I know he’s trying. But I don’t know how New Todd is going to be.’

 Amanda looks out towards the horizon. She feels tired, for some reason. There’s something else she wanted to say, something about her not wanting to get hurt again, but that seems a bit too cheesy. And, as she looks over to gauge Martin’s reaction, she finds her eyes meeting his and she feels like he already knows.

 Damn emotion-sensing vampires.

 He releases a gravelly sigh and looks out at the sea as well. His glasses have dried off somewhat and now they shine, reflecting the weakening sunlight onto his well-defined features.

 ‘You won’t know until you try,’ he says after a little while. ‘Give it a shot. It’ll be better than nothing.’

 ‘Will it?’

 ‘You don’t let opportunities pass you by, drummer,’ at this, he turns to her and grins. ‘You tie a note to a brick and throw it at them.’

 ‘…sweet talker,’ she mumbles because it makes her smile, as dumb as it is, and she props her elbows on her knees, trying to hide the dusting of red spreading across her cheeks.

Dammit, he’s right. Or she’s right. At some point, her wariness had lessened and now she thinks it’s the only course of action really left for her. The fear’s still there, simmering, but it’s tolerable. And god, she’s faced down psychopathic shape witches and, even worse, dudebros so what the hell. With a purposeful exhale, she dusts the sand off her knees and gets to her feet.

 ‘Okay. I’m doing it,’ she announces and Martin nods in encouragement.

 ‘It’s in the cupholder,’ he says and turns away, giving her privacy as she makes her way up to the van parked behind them.

 Amanda’s grateful he doesn’t follow. This is something she needs to do alone. Desperately, she remembers what she’s about to do and her brain races to formulate a plan but, goddamnit, the walk to the van really isn’t that long and then she’s there, the phone is in her hand and she’s punching in Todd’s phone number.

 Amanda breathes out a shaky exhale, her other hand clenching into a fist at her side, and then hits the green call button.

 --

 ‘Dirk, there a lot of black cats out there,’ Farah explains exasperatedly. On the opposite side of the diner table, Dirk stops shoveling his strawberry pancakes into his mouth and looks up, eyes twinkling with inspiration.

 ‘Maybe we can make an ad specifically catered to black cats associated with a range of disappearances or gorey murders!’ After a second, Dirk’s beaming expression falters. ‘Wait, actually –’

 ‘Why are we even using our resources on this?’ Todd interrupts as he picks at his own scrambled eggs and toast. Farah gives him a pointed look.

 ‘Because it’s a liability! We’ve got to take care of loose ends!’ she explains. ‘And, maybe we can harness its-its sharkness and use that for ourselves!’

 ‘I don’t know, Farah,’ Todd mutters. ‘I don’t think it’ll be that easy to control kitten-shark. Because, you know, it’s literally a shark in a kitten. Like, what if we forget to take out its litterbox one day? Do we just get chomped?’

 Dirk lifts up his maple-syrupy fork in his I-have-a-point-to-make way.

 ‘But Todd, I should say this,’ he says. ‘The kitten-shark did seem to like me. Maybe I’m the key!’

 ‘Yeah and what a shocker that would be,’ Todd says wryly and moves to pick up his fork so that he can eat more of his meal. Immediately, Dirk slaps him hard on his shoulder. ‘Whoa, what the hell?’

 ‘That’s. Mona!’ Dirk states deliberately and holds up an identical fork. ‘This is your fork!’

 ‘How can you even tell?’

 Dirk blinks at him, wide-eyed.

 ‘It’s obvious!’

 Before Todd can succinctly point out why that is such bullshit, his phone buzzes loudly from its place by his plate and he nearly forgets how to breathe when he sees the caller ID.

 ‘Holy shit!’ he says, snatching it up. ‘Oh my god, it’s Amanda!’

 ‘Oh, amazing!’ Dirk claps his hands together giddily and reaches for the phone. ‘We haven’t spoken to her in ages!’

 ‘Wait what? No-I-just let me-’ Todd hits the answer button quickly and gets out of their booth, striding into a quieter, more private area. ‘Amanda? Amanda, are you okay?’

 ‘Uh. Yeah. Just calling to check in with you,’ It’s thin and tinny but it’s her voice, not the voice of some would-be kidnapper, so Todd breathes a sigh of relief. ‘I call for things other than disasters, Todd.’

 ‘Yeah,’ he laughs, a bit nervous. ‘Sorry. Habit, you know.’

 ‘Right,’ she says and it’s kind of awkward but a background noise catches his attention.

 ‘Are those…waves?’

 ‘Yeah, I’m at a beach. It was super hot today and our AC broke so we’re hanging out here now.’

 ‘And how are your uh-,‘ Todd fumbles for a word for her gang. ‘-your friends?’

 ‘The rowdies? Oh, they’re loving it. They’re like, half naked and just fucking around in the water,’ Amanda’s voice gains a conspiratorial tone. ‘I’m including Beast in this description by the way so you can report back to Dirk.’

 Todd sniggers as he imagines how Dirk would react to the insinuation.

 ‘Sounds like you guys are having a good time.’

 ‘We are! Well, most of us. Martin doesn’t like sand.’

 ‘Wow, very Skywalker,’ he replies and smiles at the sound of Amanda’s laugh.

 ‘Yeah, that’s what I said!’ she says and, yet again, there’s a short, tense silence. ‘So uh, how’s it going on your end?’

 ‘Oh, well, we’re at a diner right now: me and Dirk and Farah. Dirk got a huge stack of strawberry pancakes that he’s definitely gonna regret soon.’

 ‘Pancakes? Isn’t it kinda late for that?’

 ‘Yeah, Dirk says evening pancakes are a thing. Mona’s here too but I’m still not entirely sure what she is,’ Todd squints back at his booth from which Dirk furiously waves with a fork that could or could not be Mona.

 ‘Sweet. So no new case yet?’

 ‘Well, you know how it works. A case’ll come when it wants to.’

 Amanda snorts.

 ‘Soooo you guys are just sitting on your asses?’

 ‘No! We-we’re trying to find the kitten-shark right now. Farah says it’s a liability we’ve gotta take responsibility of.’

 ‘Dude, it’s been ages. That kitten is long gone. Although, I guess you can’t really argue when Farah’s in charge,’ she adds sympathetically. Todd nods in agreement then realizes she can’t see him.

 ‘Yeah, she can be really scary.’

 ‘But also scary hot.’

 ‘Amanda!’ he splutters and over the line she breaks into laughter. Again, it devolves into a strained sort of silence before Amanda coughs a bit self consciously.

 ‘Um. How have you been feeling, Todd?’ she says. ‘The attacks, they-’

 ‘Yeah, uh,’ Todd continues. ‘You know, they’re a thing. But the pills help. Yep.’

 A pause.

 ‘This is weird,’ Todd says.

 ‘So weird,’ Amanda seconds. ‘I need to be like, 200% more drunk for this.’

 ‘You’re drunk?’

 ‘How do you think this phone call is even happening?’

 ‘True. I should’ve guessed that.’

 ‘You’re part of a detective agency, man.’

 ‘Technically, the detective part is all Dirk.’

 ‘Doesn’t mean you can slack off, slacker.’

 The ensuing silence is marginally less awkward. Todd counts that as a win.

 ‘I think I need to go soon,’ Amanda says quickly and Todd rushes to respond.

 ‘Oh! Okay!’ he says. ‘Um. Stay safe! And uh – wear protection?’

 For a second, there’s just the sound of waves coming in from Amanda’s end then-

 ‘What. The fuck, Todd.’

 ‘I-I don’t know what you guys do so-!’

 ‘Are you fucking kidding m-’Amanda makes a soul-crushing groan. She kind of sounds like she’s dying. ‘We’re not, like, having orgies 24/7 or something, Todd! Jesus Christ!’

 ‘-you never tell me what you do! I’m just trying to cover all bases, here.’

 Another silence, this one more weighted than the others.

 ‘Was that a fucking pun.’

 ‘What?’

 ‘I can’t believe you!’

 ‘That was not – I mean, I guess it was – ’

 ‘You made a pun about - ’

 ‘- it was absolutely not intentional – ’

 ‘Okay, I am definitely leaving right now. Bye.’

 ‘Wait, Amanda!’ Todd exclaims and exhales in relief as the sound of the ocean doesn’t immediately cut off. Amana breathes out a despairing sigh.

 ‘Yeah?’

 Todd swallows down his nervousness.

 ‘I love you, Amanda. Thank you for calling,’ he says quietly. On the other end, the sound of waves. He’s getting used to the silences now. ‘You don’t have to answer or anythi-‘

 ‘Love you too, Todd,’ she blurts out. ‘Bye.’

 And then she’s gone and Todd is left feeling oddly satisfied with what was, all in all, a very strange conversation.

 ‘Yes!’ he hisses to himself and skips back over to his booth. Dirk and Farah look at him expectantly.

 ‘Well?’ Dirk asks. Todd grins mischievously.

 ‘Amanda wants you to know they’re at a beach and Beast is half naked.’

 ‘Oh for god’s sakes – ‘

 --

 Amanda nearly cracks her screen with how forcefully she ends the phone call and throws the device unceremoniously into the glovebox. Jesus Christ, her face is still red and she buries it in her hands for a good few seconds, desperately willing away the embarrassment.

 ‘Wear protection’. God.

 Still. That end part. That was okay.

 With a sigh, she closes the car door and climbs down the sandy slope. Martin doesn’t seem to have moved but now he’s smoking a fresh cigarette and he gestures for her to sit down.

 ‘I’m guessing it went well, then,’ he says as she slumps into the ground beside him.

 ‘Well yeah but you are an emotionally-conscious vampire,’ she says, rolling her eyes. ‘No need to guess.’

 ‘You’re smiling, drummer. Doesn’t take my abilities to know,’ he chuckles as she sputters in embarrassment. ‘Aaand there it goes.’

 ‘You’re so...’ Amanda grumbles, turning away. ‘May sand eternally plague you.’

 ‘Mm. Very ‘celestial punishment’. I like it.’

 In response, she kicks a wave of sand over his legs. Annoyingly, he doesn’t even move.

 ‘C’mon, drummer,’ he hands her a fresh bottle of beer from the bucket. ‘Truce.’

 She squints at him suspiciously and then snatches it out of his hands. Appeased, he leans back on his haunches and puffs out a cloud of smoke, content. For some reason, it strikes her in that moment as she sips from her bottle how bestial he really feels. Not savage, not like that. It’s more like he embodies the slow grace of a natural hunter, a predator. Eternally watchful.

 Amanda wonders, in her stupor of silent contemplation, if he came to her because she howled for him.

 ‘Somethin’ wrong, drummer?’

 She didn’t even notice that he’d moved to look back at her.

 ‘Just wondering if we’re leaving soon.’

 He shrugs and inclines his head towards her.

 ‘It’s your call. Remember, drummer, you’re the boss.’

 She laughs, shortly.

 ‘The boss? It took me a whole day to hype myself up for a phone call. With my brother.’

 ‘You did it, though. That’s something.’

 From him, the phrase somehow doesn’t seem like an empty platitude. Amanda stares at him for a second then sighs, conceding. And maybe it’s the beer, maybe it’s how she’s so emotionally vulnerable after that phone call that she started waxing poetry. All she knows is that she suddenly feels very tired and she leans into Martin, her head sliding into the crook of his neck. His skin is still damp from the sea and the water seeps into her hair like cool, massaging fingers.

 ‘This doesn’t feel real,’ she whispers, her voice barely audible. ‘Any moment now, I’ll wake up in my bedroom and go through my list of pills to take and walk around my dumb, tiny house with the door that’s always locked and-’

 Amanda trails off as she feels the comforting weight of Martin’s fingers stroke through her hair.

 ‘It’s real, drummer,’ he says gruffly. ‘We’re here.’

 On any other day, this would seem impossible. But today, Amanda smashed a car, broke a frat boy’s nose, drank two bottles of bucket beer and made a phone call to her brother. So she can’t really help herself from leaning up and kissing Martin lightly on his cheek, smiling at the feeling of his bushy beard scratching at her skin. And then she’s on her feet and running down to the waves, joining her rowdies who welcome her with shouts and cheers, desperately affirming to her that this is her life, this is real, and she captures each one’s face in her hands and kisses them on their forehead, their nose, their cheeks.

 ‘I love you,’ she whispers into them and they hear and celebrate with whoops and laughter and glee and there’s no more silence. No more empty, cramped house in her mind, no pills, no lies.

 It can’t be a dream. She knows this now. Her mind couldn’t have even imagined this, much less force it onto her in her sleep.

 And then Martin is there, picking her up and swinging her around, his hand solidly placed on her back to hold her close and she’s wrapping her arms around his neck and laughing into his skin. She makes a deep happy sigh and giggles.

 ‘I am so drunk,’ she says and she falls back, knowing with an unfailing certainty that her family will be there to catch her before she hits the water.

[kngcrms]

La Squadra baking a cake/dessert(for you).

(GN!Reader,fluff,crack,SFW)

Risotto

Knows what he's doing.

Still follows a recipe tho.

Probably doesn't even bother using an oven.

Makes something like a cheesecake or tiramisu.

Zones out when mixing ingredients.

Probably acts as if he's murdering someone.

Really good cake tho.

Pink,sparkly apron.

When it's time for cleaning it's a whole other story.

Especially when you're on your way home.

The vacuum is his only hope.

9.5/10 cake, probably put too much sugar.

Prosciutto

Lord help him.

Used to watch his mother bake cakes,but never really had the chance or time to bake one himself.

Especially for you.

Wants to make something grandiose.

Gets angry over too many ingredients.

"It's just a cake!Why does it need so many thing?!"

Calls Pesci over for help.

Ends up making a red velvet cake.

Lost all hope and doesn't decorate it.

The whole house smells like burnt cake mix.

If Pesci wouldn't have come to help, Prosciutto would most likely cry from stress.

6/10,quite bland.

Formaggio

Learned to bake from his nonno.

Actually really skilled.

Doesn't really bother with decorating,but it still looks good.

Memorized a few recipes.

Probably bakes a panettone since it's easy and cute.

The house smells so good aw lawd.

Some neighbours pass by to have a glimpse of this man's baking.

You get that old grandparents house nostalgia.

Old Italian songs play in the background.

Even if he has 100 cats in his house,there is no fur in anything.

Bakes early in the morning.

10000/10 you beg him to bake everyday.

Illuso

If there was an award for having no clue how to bake, Illuso would have plenty.

Can't follow a recipe.

Makes tiramisu but puts too much coffee.

Woke up at 7 to make it but it's already 5 pm and he's still attempting.

Somehow,one ended up burnt.Don't ask him how.

The kitchen is a mess-there is tiramisu cream on the wall,the fridge is full of sad attempts and the sink filled with cups.

Makes a successful cup for the first time and drops the cup on his way to your room.

Cries.

Hard.

Ends up stealing a cup of tiramisu from a bakery and hives it to you.

3.5/10 for trying

Pesci

The only one who truly knows how to bake.

Makes you cannoli's.

They turn out d e l i c i o u s.

You cry from how good they are and Pesci thinks you don't like them.

P a n i k.

Cleans after himself so bonus points 👏😔.

Probably teaches you how to make them.

Inherited his baking skills from his mother.

Kind of fed up with Prosciutto calling him to help him with baking or cooking something.

Lives a few blocks away from the base so like the rest smell his masterpiece and run to his place like wild animals.

And of course they eat everything,but leave some for the two of you.

∞/10.

Melone

Mediocre skills.

Cheesecake maybe.

Follows a simple recipe and maybe gets some of his juniors to help him out.

They don't.

Really happy with the final results but the juniors somehow got biscuits and jam smeared on the floor and walls.

Instant regret.

Has no idea what to do so he tries to wipe it off but it gets even dirtier.

You scold him but forgive him since the dessert is good.

Never gets his stand and food together ever.

I'f you're at work, he'll drive there and deliver it to you <3.

8/10 too much jam but it's nice.

Ghiaccio

Do you... actually...trust him in the kitchen..?

Like fr?

Really?

Saw some cooking shows,assumed they were easy and that he could make something for you.

He couldn't really because he didn't know how to use your oven.

Calls you for instructions.

Will make a strawberry shortcake but once it comes out of the oven,if looks so burnt omg.

Goes berserk and starts rage cooking idk how to explain it.

So angry he doesn't even see what he's cooking but somehow it looks ok and he's like all relieved and stuff.

You can see a spark in his eyes he's so proud.

8.5/10,needs a little more sugar.

The kitchen is trashed and he won't clean after himself </3.

Sorlato

Power rangers.

Start baking a whole ass bakery.

But half of it is kind of burnt so they try to make small cakes.

Gelato almost set the kitchen on fire two times already.

Sorbet can't use a mixer even if he was threatened with a gun.

They somehow nail it and still get everything right.

They get distracted and the second layer of the cake gets burnt.

"OHHH NOOOO!!"

If you're away,get ready to come to a table full of desserts and the kitchen smelling like burnt rubber.

Everything turns out good,but you have to tell at them for burning the kitchen ceiling and destroying your oven.

A rough 9/10

[actuallysaiyan]

Sasuke Uchiha Spicy/N-S-F-W alphabet!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Sasuke isn’t very into aftercare like some other people might be. He’ll probably just get himself cleaned up, and he’ll give you a washcloth or something like that. Afterwards, he just goes back to doing what he normally does. He might give you a sweet, little kiss and if you want to shower with him, he won’t say no. Don’t expect too much from Sasuke after sex.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Sasuke would probably say his eyes are his favorite body part. It’s kind of an obvious answer, but that doesn’t bother him one bit. His eyes have an amazing prowess and he’s not going to let anyone tell him otherwise.

On his partner, he hates to admit it, but it’s always going to be their smile. It’s warm, sunny and makes him feel wanted and loved. It’s his one weakness in a partner, and it has to do with the fact that people who love and care about him always smiled at him.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

All Uchihas have a breeding kink, and that’s the hill I will die on. Sasuke definitely wants to pump you full of his cum, and he’ll definitely hope you’ll get pregnant so that he can continue his clan. He needs you to help carry on the Uchiha name, and he’s not afraid of fucking you for hours and pumping you full of cum.

As for you, he’s going to enjoy overstimulating you. Just the thought of you whimpering and whining as he fucks you over and over, making you cum for the umpteenth time...it’s just something that absolutely drives him insane. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He would absolutely never admit it, but he’s interested in maybe having a threesome with you and Naruto. The idea of the two of them dominating you is something he fantasizes about more than he’d like to say so. It’s not like it’s something he’s going to beg you or Naruto to do, but if the situation were to arise...well, let’s just say he wouldn’t say no.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Sasuke isn’t experienced, but he is quite the prodigy with almost everything else. He’s very naturally talented at so many things and he enjoys practicing and training until he gets insanely good at something. So, he’s definitely going to know what’s going on before he even gets to try it. He’s just that good.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

This is a toss up between cowgirl or the mating press. The man wants to fuck many babies into you, but he also enjoys watching you ride him like crazy. Just seeing you bounce up and down on his cock, he’s going to be watching you with intent.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Sasuke is hardly ever goofy or humorous, but he might make a dirty joke. It comes out very sarcastically, but it’s very sexy when it’s coming from him. He’s very serious about sex and life. You won’t see him joking around much, but he may crack a smile from time to time while having sex.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Sasuke is clean-shaven down there. He doesn’t like the way it feels when he has sex, and he also doesn’t have a whole lot of body hair. The body hair he does have is very dark, and so the carpet definitely matches the drapes.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Sasuke is very serious during the moment, and sometimes he can be very sweet and caring. Most of the time, he treats you a little bit like a sex slave that’s basically an incubator for his children...which is something you both agreed to when you got into the relationship. He will show you he cares often, but it’s not always what you need to hear or what you need to see. Sasuke has a hard time being romantic, but he does try as best as he can.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

This isn’t something he does that often, but if you aren’t around and the mood strikes him, he’ll find a nice quiet place to do this. It’s just not his favorite thing to do, as he’d rather be doing the act itself.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

What kinks does he not have? ^^’ He loves creampies, breeding kink, tying you up, BDSM...the list goes on and on. He very much enjoys dominating you and showing you a very good time. One of his all-time favorite kinks is overstimulation, in which you are just a moaning and whimpering mess beneath him and you’ve drenched him in your own cum.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Sasuke prefers doing it on the bed, but he’s not against doing it in other places. He enjoys taking you on almost any surface that he can, and he’s not opposed to having semi-public sex. It makes him so aroused to have the risk of almost getting caught by passersby. It’s something that really fuels him on.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

As stated above, Sasuke likes being fueled on by being almost caught by someone. He also will get so turned on if you whisper in his ear...but something that really gets him going is if you show him lots of affection. He likes to pretend he hates it, but in reality, nothing turns him on more than you showing him how much you truly love him. It makes his heart race!

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Sasuke is pretty much into almost anything, but he does like to have your consent before trying anything new. He doesn’t seem the type to want that, but he is that kind of guy. If it doesn’t fly with you, it’s not going to happen. He loves you and cherishes you, so he needs to make sure you’re enjoying yourself as well.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Ohhhh Sasuke absolutely adores oral. He actually loves giving it, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like receiving it. If you get on your knees in front of him and start sucking him off, he’s going to basically crumble in your hands and turn into putty. If you look up at him with your doe eyes as you deep throat him, he might actually cum right then and there.

As for giving, he enjoys licking and sucking you until you cum all over his face and chest. He’ll keep stimulating you until you’re basically fighting him off of you. It’s just something that he enjoys, and if you whine and whimper, it adds to the whole act of course.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Sasuke loves being rough but also teasingly slow. He loves switching it up on you, and he doesn’t hesititate to switch up the pace during sex. Seeing you gasp in surprise or moan in confusion if he tries to change the pace on you. It’s always surprising, but you absolutely adore it. It’s something you admire about Sasuke, and it never gets old.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Sasuke enjoys quickies and if it’s all he has time for, he won’t say no to them at all. It’s actually one of his preferred methods of having sex. Having you bent over a desk, a sink or even in some crummy bar bathroom, he’s going to take you to pound town ;) He loves how aroused you get quickly for him, and it spurs him on.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Sasuke gets motivated to fuck by the idea of taking risks with sex. Whether it be getting caught or getting you pregnant, it drives him crazy. He will be consumed by lust if you let him take risks during sex. He loves to finger you while other people are around or even using a pair of vibrating panties on you while you’re in public. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Sasuke can go for quite a few rounds and his refractory period is AMAZING. This man can fuck for hours and make you cum so much, and he’s barely broken a sweat. This is how he enjoys fucking you anyways.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Sasuke has tons of toys, for the both of you. He likes to get off by having a vibrator strapped to his cock, while he presses a vibrator to your clit. He’s not opposed to toys and it’s actually one of his favorite ways to get off.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Sasuke adores to tease you. If you whine and whimper, he will call you a brat and pull away from you. Sometimes, he likes to tie you up and tease you for hours. Hearing you beg for him to do something is like music to his ears. It doesn’t get old and he’s not going to stop doing it.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Sasuke loves it if you’re loud, but he’s not overly loud himself. He will make little noises to let you know he’s enjoying himself, and he’ll curse and swear if it feels really good, but he’s not super loud.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Sasuke likes to be babied if he’s not feeling well. He’ll come seek you out and ask you to play with his hair and make his favorite food. He may seem like a completely independent person, but he does need love and affection most of the time. He’s just not going to show it always.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Sasuke has a big dick. All Uchiha men have big dicks. It’s curved a little and the girth is amazing, but the length is where it’s at. He’s a good 8.5 inches ;)

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Sasuke has a high sex drive, but it doesn’t distract him from his everyday life unless he absolutely lets it. It’s something he enjoys doing with you a lot, but he’s not going to drop his passions to have sex whenever he can. He likes to plan out his sex with you, or be spontaneous when you least expect it.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He likes to watch you sleep after sex. It soothes him to watch you cling to him, telling him you love him and then you drift off to sleep. It’s one of the only times he gets true peace in his heart...so it takes a little while for him to fall asleep.

[octania]

Nicolas Brown x Reader HEADCANONS

Word count: 1.7 k

Warings: smut, nsfw

Short description : How Nicolas would treat his s/o. His experience with women and ways of dealing with them in general. His way of seducing, falling in love, fucking... all the beautiful and sexy parts that come with this man.

______________________________________________________

His behavior has unfortunately often been misinterpreted because of his deadly abilities and sharp exterior, so it is no wonder that there are opinions of him not being able to understand and gain something like tender woman’s touch. His predatory gaze, strong hands mastering the katana as if it was a part of his body, movements of the speed of light that the prey does not even know it was mutilated the first few second... are not credible descriptions of his true personality.

From a young age, Nicolas knew nothing more than suffering, his body only knew multiple tortures and his eyes absorbed only barbarism. But instead of such an environment resulting in the destruction of his benevolent feelings, it only made him lock them deep inside, because feelings are a weakness, an Achilles heel, and someone in his kind of business can’t afford it.

 Even the biggest problem lay not in his reluctance to show his warm side, in fact, his constant concern for the weaker and going out of his frames of personality, which he normally shows only to cover those in need with his steel body, but his vast belief is that he is worth nothing, that he is just a killing machine and nothing more. He does not present his deepest sufferings and low opinion of his worth in front of others, he does not seek attention, because who could see anything more than a beast, when he himself sees nothing else?

Therefore, when his dark eyes would finally show interest in someone in a way that had been marked as impossible for him, the Pandora's box of his torments would open. Nicolas would watch you from afar, calm, curious, absorbing your every move and words from your lips, drowning in an unfamiliar sea of ​​feelings rising in his strong chest.He wouldn't understand what was going on, why you aroused so much interest in him, but he knew he enjoyed every moment when you were in front of his eyes.  

It is interesting that from the beginning he would not look at you lustfully as men otherwise do. Not because he has no desire to run his big palms along the lines of your body, to cross along the soft parts that would wake up a different kind of beast in him, no, but because your personality is more interesting to him than your naked body for now, after all, that's what made you different from everyone else and made him come out of his darkness that dwell in his mind and approach the light he had believed for so long that it would not shine for him. 

You would have your own private body guard, and you wouldn't even know it. He would follow you when he was able to, merging with the shadows of the roofs in his black suit, footsteps as light as a cat's, eyes glued to you. But Nicolas isn’t a stalker, he doesn’t do this because he needs to feed his deranged desire to watch you, he just wants to make sure you’re safe. The city you live in has claws on every corner, and you wouldn't even be aware of how many times he stopped the scum lurking from the dark corners with his massive body, going straight for the throat, his katana slicing every danger that dared come near you. 

The progress of your relationship would go painfully slow due to his “low value of his life” philosophy. Also, Nicolas would never ask for help from others around him, he keeps his problems to himself. Furthermore, he doesn't even need advice, he knows how to approach a woman, he knows better than anyone how to treat one, even though he the list of his lovers was not long because no one showed the deeper side to him that made him feel the way he feels for you, how a drop of water on his palm is nothing compared to how he would treat you if he managed to expresses his true feelings.

A person who never had a gentle touch on his cheek, when finally given the opportunity, becomes devoted to his partner for life. You would literally become his reason for living. The power you would have over him was unexplainable. He would run to you like a wounded puppy every time you two are apart, showing only to you his true colors. And those are a kind, loyal, caring man that desires nothing more than to hold you glued on his muscular chest, his broad shoulders and strong back like a mountain leaning over you to protect you from the world, closing his eyes and absorbing the soft touch on his skin like dry ground absorbs the water.  The only problem is, he didn't see how someone as perfect as you would even look at someone like him, a wild animal.

His distorted view of himself is what creates the problem, and once you finally realize what the obstacles are in the way of your relationship and decide to give him signs that make it clear how you feel, you would hit the jackpot, but again, in time.

Why isn’t the list of his lovers long? Believe me, it is not because Nicolas did not have chances. Even thought he is a high ranked Twilight, his sharp jaw line, tempting deep dark eyes, muscular torso that is not so well hidden under that white shirt that expresses his stone hard biceps even more, and the mysterious vibes he radiates, makes him more than desirable. Women would love to have him between their legs to feel all that might, drain him from his passionate and sexual gifts. But Nicolas does not find the pleasure of taking on one night stands, doing something meaningless just for the cheap pleasure of the body. Far from the fact he does not have that needs, he does, deep and wild  ones actually, and that is the pure reason why he does not indulge in them with strangers for a quickie. He wants a woman who will give as much as he gives her, and make him feel more than just his blood hitting his lower body. The mixture of passion and desire is what he wants, and the one who will get it will discover just how crafty he really is in the sheets.

 After approaching you slowly, being there first as an acquaintance, making his way up to “a friend” when he always was there when you needed some help, acting like he is doing it just because, nothing more, but his act would fall as a house of cards every time you would smile and thank him, then he would nervously scratch the back of his head, wave his hand at you to show you “it was nothing” then leave. But surprise, surprise, he would be there the next day, “by coincidence” passing by places you are at, because he has a job nearby.

The thing that would push him to finally make the crucial step , would probably be jealousy or quarrel. Seeing you getting hit on by other men and fearing he would lose you, made him act on instinct, hunt down the thing you need, but this time with your heart. But, the most likely, he would seal the deal when you two would have a first argument that included your safety. When he politely tried to talk you out of (sign you) something that seemed dangerous to him. When you would not listen and the argument would started to heat up and you would just try to leave, he would grab onto your forearm, firmly but with caution, pulling you back and crashing his lips on yours. His heart pounding in his ears, body tensed as his warm lips finally give away his state of heart and mind. The cutest thing would be, when you actually return the kiss, pushing your fingers into his raven hair, his eyes would open in shock, like he did not expect it, but soon would close again in delightful feeling that he did not know till now, and he locks you into a hug that radiates safety and devotion.

 When it comes to sex, Nicolas is the man who’s talents make you believe he has a gift of God. Not only that his other senses got sharper because of his inability to hear, so his eyes and hands find the sensitive spots you even did not know you had, feeling how your body reacts, from the vibration of your moans and tensing and shivering of your body to his huge dick reaching the points inside you that no one else before him did.

 His hands would rest on your throat, absorbing your moans through the waves of your voice on your skin. They would travel from your tits to your ribs and abdomen, so he can feel the pleasure consuming you and pouring out of you through the movements of your body.

He would explore your every inch with his lips, to find all of the sweet sports that he will use to make you insane. His fingers would fill your mouth so he can feel when you bite on them from the raging satisfaction when he fucks you, so he learns what gets you crazy fast, using it against you every time.

Needless to say, his dick matches his body, so you better believe he is big. His thick delight about 8.5 inches long, the veins popping out, filling his tip with blood, making it pulsate and ready for action. And once he is in, believe that no one will be able to fill you the same way as him.

There is one tricky thing. Nicolas likes it rough, but is aware of how strong he is, so he stays careful, holding back sometimes so his insanely strong thrusts do not break you. But he is a slave to your teasing, when you ask him to speed up, shaping his name with your rosy lips and licking them to show him just how much you want to be fucked like his little whore. His hands crush upper part of the bed as he grips it with his full strength, speeding up his slams, but still being on guard. It is just a matter of your provocation to see how far he will go.

Another cute thing about Nicolas is, he uses protection, well at least he tries to before you demand his bare meat in you. Why he does it? Because he is caring and wants you to always be protected, even in this way, to show how much he respects you and your decisions. Also, he will not argue when you show him that you want his flesh naked on yours, his thick cock buried inside your warm cunt without any rubbers to fuck up the feeling.

So, to sum up, Nicolas Brown does not lack experience or knowledge how to treat or please a woman, in fact, he is a golden ticket to a train of guaranteed happiness. But to find that valuable pearl of his emotions you have to go through the hard surface of that shall of his, made of his believes that he is not worthy of a happy ending. But hay, to win a priceless treasure, it is worth the hard work.

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