#the first time i got swimming at the beach in ten years and this shit happens💔💔

[embersofhope-if]

my poor meow meow

[bigification]

Beach Bears

The cold water felt good on my feet as the waves washed in and out. The sun warmed my skin as I stood at the edge of the beach. It was finally summer, the season where the ladies pull out their bikinis and I get to show off all the hard work I put into my abs over the winter. I finally got to wear my new orange speedo, it was a little big but the drawstring made it so it wouldn't fall down. It still showed off my ass well so I didn't care. I tried to convince my friend Leo to get a speedo too but he was hesitant. Although he did get a short pair of swim shorts, so he'll still be able to show off for the ladies.

"C'mon Leo, let's go already!" I yelled, waiting for my friend to join me in the water.

"Ya ya I'm coming!" He yelled back as he ran towards me.

We both slowly walked into the water together, it was cold but refreshing. We stopped just as the water reached our upper thigh, working up the courage to go deeper. In the meantime, I looked around to see if we had any catches nearby.

"Bingo!" I said to Leo as I tapped his shoulder. "Right there. Red bikinis." I pointed at two ladies swimming nearby.

"Slow down man, they're like ten years older than us. No way they want us around." Leo hesitated.

"Dude, were like almost 20, were basically adults. Just follow my lead." I said as I dragged towards the two women.

"Hey ladies. Need company to keep you warm?" I said, trying to lower my voice to sound smooth.

The women looked at each other and giggled quietly. One of them slowly walked up to me and put her hand on my shoulder.

"Why don't you two go a little deeper. We're gonna get some sunscreen and we'll be right back." She said as she softly slid her hand down my arm. She then brushed her hand across my cheek and over my mouth. It left a sweet taste in my lips. I saw the other woman do the same to Leo as they started to swim back to the shore.

"Holy shit! Holy shit!" I said excitedly to Leo. He smiled back at me and we both went deeper to wait for the ladies to come back.

I laid on my back, floating on the surface of the water. My head was turning with all of the things I should say, or the things I should do when they come back. I didn't even notice myself mentally drifting away. It was getting harder to think, it was hard to tell how much time had passed. I felt comfortable as a warm sensation filled my body.

As I was floating, I turned my head to face Leo. It looked like he was mindlessly floating like I was, but something seemed off. His belly is sticking out a bit. At first it just looked like he took a big breath in, but then it never flattened back out to his normal abs. In fact it just kept growing. It swelled until it looked like he ate a basketball. I could even see fat love handles spilling over his waist, acting as floating devices for his growing body. I should have been terrified, or at least curious about what was happening but something about it felt normal.

I continued to watch Leo change, I felt mesmerized and paralyzed at the same time. His flat pecs grew into a pair of strong but soft pecs that complemented his gut. His once skinny and defined arms ballooned into strong biceps, and thick man hands. His legs and his ass plumped a lot too, making it look like his swim shorts were about to burst. Even his feet looked like they grew six sizes.

I started to feel butterflies in my stomach. Like the feeling I get when I look at a hot woman, but I couldn't take my eyes off Leo. Finally, I watched his lovely hair fall out, leaving a bald head behind. Then his clean shaven face quickly grew a thick and bushy beard that covered the double chin that had formed under his face. His features seemed to roughen up, giving him the appearance of a tough man in his late thirties.

As I stared at Leo, I noticed I was struggling to stay afloat. My body was sinking and my head was barely above water. I usually have no trouble floating, why is my body sinking like a rock all of a sudden. I go to stand up, and something doesn't feel right. I could even touch the bottom before, now the water only reaches my chest when I stand up straight. I looked down, feeling the scruff of my beard rub against my chest. Wait... I don't have a beard, why do I have a beard. When I looked down, I noticed my chest sticking out much further than it usually does. My pecs were thick and padded, and my stomach had a thick layer of muscle but it was hidden under a layer of fat. My arms were massive, It made me feel so strong. My biceps were so thick that I had to spread my arms so they don't rub against my sides. My hands had gotten so thick, I felt like I could grip a basketball with one hand.

I started to walk towards Leo, as my mind began to feel less foggy. My memories started to come back to me. I had to stop and undo the strap on my speedo, because it felt like it was squeezing me to death. I think I'll need a new one anyway, this one felt like it was crushing my dick with every step. It also shocked me how much I had to spread my legs while walking, leg day has been paying off with these thick thighs but man is it annoying sometimes.

"Wake up, babe." I said to Leo as I shook him. He snorted a bit before jumping awake. "You look so cute when you wake up." I said as I leaned in for a kiss. I loved the fuzzy feeling of his beard rubbing against my lips. He always asks me if I'm okay with him growing out his beard but I'm always adamant that I love it, I don't think I'll ever let him shave it off.

I saw his cheeks turn a bit red from the compliment. He was always so easily flattered.

"We should go back and put on some sunscreen before you burn your head again." I said as I dragged him back to the shore.

I grabbed his hand as we got to the shore, Leo always had trouble with his balance with the waves hitting his feet. His balance gets worse the bigger his belly gets, not that I mind his belly though. I've made sure to feed him well ever since we started dating. That metabolism of his will give out one day and it'll be easier for me to fatten him up.

As we got to the beach, I heard a couple of girls giggling nearby. "You guys are so cute together!" One of them yelled out. Leo blushed and looked away, and I just gave them a wink as we walked back to our beach towels.

[moth-related-inquiries]

moots gonna find me crazy for this one, but Eric Cartman and Babysitter! Reader ‼️‼️‼️

i love when cartman acts like an actual child and not a war criminal *chefs kiss* like if he wasn't a little evil dickhead I'd totally babysit him 🫶

-♡ he absolutely DESPISED you at first. He got really upset with his mom for leaving him with some random person.

-♡ After like a month of basically torture, Eric started to go easy on you after realizing he actually enjoys the time you guys spend together.

-♡ This turned into him trying to take you literally everywhere.

-like you will take him to school and walk him up to the entrance, and he will literally drag you through the building.

-Genuinely enjoys showing you off like you're some grand prize and bragging about how cool you are compared to everyone elses babysitters.

-He cried and squealed at Mr. Garrison's door because you couldn't attend class with him.

-♡ Despite loving showing you off, Eric HATES sharing you.

-He thinks you guys are best friends so he would genuinely feel upset about you babysitting anyone else (especially Kyle) and make up some elaborate plan to get you fired.

-It backfires terribly.

-literally wont even share you with Mr. Kitty. 😭😭😭

-♡ Yall have sleepovers literally every week.

- Matching Pajamas. Say no, and he'll throw a tantrum in front of EVERYONE.

- Hear me on this one!!!!! Skincare routine. You suggested it as a treat one night after he brushed his teeth on his own, and he immediately picked up the routine.

-♡ You take him to your house every now and then (literally almost every week) just so Liane can have some privacy.

-This little asshole will literally raid your entire fridge and pantry in a matter of one day if you do not specifically tell him you bought a meal for him.

-he has his own designated minifridge now in order to encourage him to not raid yours 😭

-Yall will fr play dressup and pretend you're vogue models.

-And then play Thunder Cats (he wins everytime because he beats the shit out of your hand with his figure.)

-he basically adopts your cat (if you own one)

-♡ You're basically his other parent figure.

-Has accidentally called you mom or dad multiple times. 😭

-yall only talk about it when he's upset about not knowing his dad or upset about Liane potentially not wanting him anymore.

-♡ For this reason he literally adores being carried like a little baby.

-he gets SO upset if you can't carry him anymore.

-will literally cling onto your leg crying about you being fatphobic because he's just too big to carry now.

-if you give him the mom glare, he will give it back to you with even more hate-filled energy.

-♡ If yall go to big or crowded places, you literally have to put him in one of those backpack leashes. 😭😭

-ten years old, and he will still try his damndest to reach around and unclip it while you're not looking.

-"stupid bitch thinks I'm not gonna-"

-he pinched himself on it and immediately started bawling his eyes out like someone just cut his finger off.

-yall got ice cream afterward, so it's ok, but he's gonna try and do it again if he gets bored.

-♡God forbid you take him out to swim.

-he will call you the most vile names if he thinks your swimsuit is too revealing or your swimtrunks don't hide anything.

-will literally tell you to cover up and forcibly wrap his towel around you. 😭

-sends the meanest most hateful glares to anyone looking at you or checking you out while you tan.

-will literally walk up to some random unattended beach towel, bury it in the sand, and pretend like nothing happened.

-actively kicks down sand castles for fun but gets so pissed off if his are messed up.

-"cmon, y/n, let's find this fucking hippie" "that's not very nice, Eric" "girl."

-will side eye you so hard if you just lay under an umbrella reading a book.

-"Why are we even here if you're gonna be reading porn the whole tim-" "ERIC THEODORE CARTMAN!"

this was really fun ngl I might write one with Butters cause he deserves a parent figure more than Cartman 🫶 either way I wanna put them both in my pocket.

[bengiyo]

get to know me ask game

Thanks for tagging me @telomeke

RULES: bold the ones that are true & tag 10 people to do it.

APPEARANCE

blonde hair // I prefer loose clothing to tight clothing // I have one or more piercings // I have at least one tattoo // I have dyed or highlighted my hair // I have gotten plastic surgery // I have or had braces // I sunburn easily // I have freckles // I paint my nails // I typically wear makeup // I don’t often smile // I am pleased with how I look // I prefer Nike to Adidas // I wear baseball hats backwards

Growing up the way I did gave me a few complexes about my appearance. It's something I'm still working through.

HOBBIES & TALENTS

I play a sport // I can play an instrument // I am artistic // I know more than one language // I have won a trophy in some sort of competition // I can cook or bake without a recipe // I know how to swim // I enjoy writing // I can do origami // I prefer movies to tv shows // I can execute a perfect somersault // I enjoy singing // I could survive in the wild on my own // I have read a new book series this year // I enjoy spending time with friends // I travel during work or school breaks // I can do a handstand

I played Academic Games for most of my academic career and finally won a first-place trophy in Propaganda in my final year at Nationals (Hilariously, one of the games I used to hate). I was also part of a pickup team that challenged the reigning champions in 3 of our 4 games. I can make a lot of our regular meals without having to refer to recipes much. I am actually a strong swimmer. As much as I love series, I find it's easier to share a movie with a friend, and I love my friends! It's why I got a huge sectional! So many of my friends don't live near me, so I travel a lot now.

RELATIONSHIP

I am in a relationship // I have been single for over a year // I have a crush // I have a best friend who I’ve known for ten years // my parents are together // I have dated my best friend // I am adopted // my crush has confessed to me // I have a long distance relationship // I am an only child // I give advice to my friends // I have made an online friend // I met up with someone I have met online

I realized I was ace-spectrum about a decade ago, and so I haven't really dated someone in a long time. I'm a slow starter, and haven't gelled with someone who was okay with that in a very long time. I've had many an old friend, though! I have lots of best friends of more than 10 years! My parents are still going strong at 36 years and are having the best time as retirees. I've dated a best friend; it didn't work. I give advice to friends, but it's usually because they ask. I am mostly made of online friends, and I even met some last week!

AESTHETICS

I have heard the ocean in a conch shell // I have watched the sun rise // I enjoy rainy days // I have slept under the stars // I meditate outside // the sound of chirping calms me // I enjoy the smell of the beach // I know what snow tastes like // I listen to music to fall asleep // I enjoy thunderstorms // I enjoy cloud watching // I have attended a bonfire // I pay close attention to colors // I find mystery in the ocean // I enjoy hiking on nature paths // autumn is my favorite season

So, I was a Boy Scout, so I have done a lot of these just by happenstance.

MISCELLANEOUS

I can fall asleep in a moving vehicle // I am the mom friend // I live by a certain quote // I like the smell of sharpies // I am involved in extracurricular activities // I enjoy Mexican food // I can drive a stick shift // I believe in true love // I make up scenarios to fall asleep // I sing in the shower // I wish I lived in a video game // I have a canopy above my bed // I am multiracial // I am a redhead // I own at least 3 dogs

I'm an American in the South. If you can't sleep in a moving vehice you will suffer. I'm like the dad friend, in that I get asked for help with the most specific shit. I live by the quote: "Be brave enough to be kind." Who doesn't like Mexican food??

I think the whole squad has already been tagged, but tag me back if you do this!

[gwydionmisha]

A Trip to the Lake, Jet Ski Rich Asshole Crutch Thieves, and the Uncleaner Stole Some Stuff.

Sunday I took some of the Millennials for swimming/picnic at the Lake for the first time this season.  I got to watch New Millennial fall in love with the PNW landscape exactly the way I did more than thirty years ago.

You can really tell which of us grew up with cold Northern Ocean.  Me: wading steadily deeper and deeper once I'm far enough in to keep my balance by my self on the rocks and the bottom gets a little smoother, then slowly swimming out a little deeper in search of the warmer tide.  (It's a run off fed lake, and the mixing of the cold inflow with the water that's been in the lowlands long enough, makes these weird little temperature striations you can very much feel even after you cold adapt).  Everybody Else: Wading crotch deep and thinking for a while about whether they want to swim after all, then going way slower and stopping a lot to rethink.

I love my Millennials.  The other two each had one of the newest Millennial's arms to help them over the rocks because the rocks suck and I'd forgotten to warn them.  Me, urging them on:  Keep coming!  I found the warm current!  New Millennial: Looking concerned this might be hazing, followed by the moment of delight and surprise on finding I was not.  Look, it's only like ten or fifteen degrees on a good day, but it does make a difference and the activity of swimming or treading water and the adaptation once you go up to your neck and then duck your head, all add up.  You just need to get into a sweet spot.

I discovered on the way back that my fucked up arms really, really don;t want to do backstroke.  I managed a lopsided curve towards shore until I was far enough in to pull along the rocks with my hands and kick.  So Goth Millennial is hanging close on the way to the shallows, because I can't really get out safely by myself and need help getting up onto my feet and staying there until I'm reasonably sure they are working, at which point either Goth Millennial (or Techie Millennial, who couldn't come), would grab my crutch so I could use it and their arm to get out onto the "beach."

My crutch was not where I left it.  My crutch was not anywhere nearby where someone might have moved it if it were in the way of say launching a jet ski from the wrong stretch of "beach"  instead of the boat and jet ski launch area.  I mention jet skis as their were two anchored in the swimming area where they were not meant to be we we arrived, one of which way out past the swim buoys where it was meant to be, and the other parked on the "beach" where it emphatically should not be, surrounded by mostly kids, obscuring view of the corner where the "beach hits the cit off with the higher land and grass.  But I hadn't gone near that, and I needed the crutch to get out to look to see if the crutch was there.

I am still angry about that fad a decade or so ago when asshole able bodied art students would steal poor people's wheelchairs for shitty "art projects" and then brag about it on line as if stealing an expensive thing someone couldn't afford to replace and stranding them somewhere like a park or a bathroom or an inaccessible public building was something virtuous and clever instead of an incredibly cruel things to do to someone, as if their crap project was worth more than someone else's independence.  My crutch is basically one of my legs.  Someone's wheels are their legs.

Every time I go into the water anywhere, I know there is a chance someone will steal my crutch.  This is the PNW, and I think someone leaving a mobility aid next to the water makes sense to the ableds, whereas someone leaving a wheelchair on the pavement in a park doesn't for some asshole shitty lack of empathy and imagination neurotypical reason, I guess.

So I'm starting to get really upset and Goth Millennial is really worried and we are having a loud conversation along the lines of Me: shit!  I can you see my crutch anywhere?  I left it right there. I think someone may have stolen !it! Millennial standing up and going to look across the bad rock stretch craning their head around to see if some asshole maybe put it on the grassy bit above the cut:  I can't see it!  It's not there!"  Middle School age, glaring resentfully at one of the younger kids, stomps around to the other side of the illegal parked jet ski, where we had zero chance of seeing it, retrieves it and hands it to me.  Me: you're very kind!  Thank you!  Goth Millennial hoists me to my feet while I use their arm and the crutch to just barely get my balance.  This is a complicated and painful procedure, returning to gravity after freedom, and I need to stand their awhile like two or three feet away from Asshole Jet Ski Extended family.  These kids just stare at me the whole time we are doing this.  It is very, very obvious that my normally invisible disability is very, very real.  Grumpy teen in charge to a younger kid:  You better go apologize.  No one apologizes.  They keep staring at us hobble slowly and carefully up the shallow stairs.  After I went to pee and wash lake water off my hands before eating, I went to set my crutch down by my chair and all this water poured out of it.  I'd left it on dry land.  

Asshole Family who was too privileged to use the boat and jet ski launch who thus had to drive their jet skis through the swim area had stolen my fucking crutch to play with in the water and the missing adults and the grumpy teen in charge had let them, and then they hid it behind their angled jet ski so no one could see it afterwards.  They could have lost it in the lake.  They could have kept it.

We found out when our friends came out of the water that they’d also stolen and hid our blind friends flip flops, which they grudgingly had returned when it was clear they were hers.

Rich people are the worst.

So we go get dinner stuff at the grocery store and drop a Millennial off and I'm in my kitchen searching for my reusable straws, of which I own four.  I have one I was using for lemonade which I put in the refrigerator last night.  I had assumed the other three were in the wash or something up until now, but I searched the dishwasher and they weren't there.  All the flatware are in the dishwasher except the chopsticks and some specialty use items, since we didn't know which the Asshole Cleaner hadn't cleaned properly before putting back.  we’d emptied the trays.  I search there and around there anyway.  There are no reusable straws in the kitchen except the one I was drinking out of Friday when Asshole Stoner Cleaner was uncleaning the apartment.

The time she was here high as a kite she kept wiggling them and shouting "Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle!"  She was obsessed with them.  They were a gift from Goth Millennial.  I don't think they were that expensive, but they were cute and had a nice texture and are earth friendly.  (Some people can't use reuseable straws for a bunch of reasons and we have emergency plastic straws here.  This is not any sort of judgement on people who use single use.  Let's ban fishing industry plastics which are most of the ocean plastic pollution before going after disabled people's straws, okay?)

I think the only reason she didn't steal the forth straw was it was right next to me so I could poke it up under the mask for brief sips.  I'd left it and the cup in the fridge because I don't like to put them to wash until I see a new clean straw I can use in situations like this or when my arms are bad, and it's easier and safer to hold the cup low, or sometimes just because.  They are reusable!  It hurts nothing.  I wanted a straw because my body wasn't working and I wanted to drink the juice I'd bought for dinner while lying down and waiting for things to stop hurting so much. 

There is zero chance the other three are still here.

I had checked my bedroom right after she left for small, easily stealable things missing from the bookshelf where I put curios right after she left because the comment about my interesting things felt like something a person might say anyway, but also a things someone who might pocket once would say and I was already upset and wary of her because of everything.  There are things it would be hard to check, like my BPAL Collection, but odds are she wouldn't steal those.  She'd have had to climb on the bed and go through the little boxes and she was only unsupervised in there for a few minutes with the sweep and mop.  I will need to see if she stole the bottle where I keep a few tramadol in case I wake up unable to get out of bet or occasionally, even roll over without an hour or more of slow, excruciating effort.  While they clean, I'm sitting at my desk right next to the bottled meds collection that mostly feed assorted pill organizers, and the shelf above where the things I need to grab quick in an emergency are not surprisingly untouched.  If anything had been stolen when I got up to go to the bathroom the parent tramadol bottle would be easiest to raid and the only really attractive thing to steal except throat pearls, and you'd have to know what they were and they are not recreational, just a little expensive and perscription.  The altar and display shelf over the sofa seems fine, and she definitely didn't go in grabbing distance anyway.

When I went into the bathroom to bathe the lake water away, I noticed some small things missing.  One of them I'd assumed was in the wash, but I have done a bunch of laundry over the weekend since the Ajax tainted clothes get washed separately and I don't want the dye to be leached by cleanser by letting them sit unwashed, and we have to wash the mop head by itself between uses to get all the ajax out.  It's not in the wash.  It's gone, a small, very useful thing.  Nothing expensive is missing that I've noticed yet, but I haven't properly inventoried all the otc things and the prescription ointments and such, but I'm guessing those wouldn't be attractive.  I doubt she'd steal books.  She didn't strike me as a reader, but when I am in less pain and less exhausted, I'll inventory them better.

Asshole.  Fucking asshole.  

I know it could have been worse.  Every little curio and most of the art except some things in the bathroom that are there because of the risk of steam or water damage have a story.  They were given to me by friends or lovers or made by me when my hands still worked right or purchased at particular events or on particular occasions.  These are memories and irreplaceable regardless because they are mostly hand made or limited edition from conventions.

We don't have money for replacing straws right now.  They haven't paid Goth Millennial for a month and a half, not even for the supposedly paid training sessions.  I owe money to the Honest Mechanic for the third time in three months and am about to burn two thirds of my bill money tomorrow on that, because you never ever fuck over a small business, just like you never ever fuck over another poor person.  (I don’t steal, but I think ethically, stealing from a big chain to feed your kids is okay, and very much better than letting you kids starve, especially given the wage theft and lobbying against the social safety net and minimum wage those chains do.  They steal from the poor, particularly their workers and if they hadn’t paid politicians to do things that prevent people from having enough to eat, then which is the bigger evil?  Mom and pops?  Family Businesses? Little micro businesses and artists and what have you?  Never, ever okay.  Small businesses are the life blood of a community online and RL, and letting me defer payment is a major fucking favor, so they are next after housing, whatever happens to my other bills.  The other few things I spotted are replaceable if we had money for it.

I am so fucking angry anyway.  I already felt my home was desecrated by her uncleaning it and distressing Tavy and the all over fuckery of it, but this small thing, this thing that wouldn't matter if I were a little better off or they weren't a gift, but feel like a big thing when added to all the rest.  

It takes a lot to make me hate someone.  We are not there yet, but if I do find something important I overlooked gone, I will, much like I still hate the ex-friend from first college who took three important things with sentimental value that were/are irreplaceable when he dropped out.  This is how he became an ex-friend.  He knew that the plaque was the last thing the artist my first freshman lover bought it from made and that it had a bunch of layered meanings in what was written on it.  The things he stole from me and another friend were like that.  Very personal and chosen with surgical precision to cause the most distress.  (He did other, worse things, then made sure everyone thought, I’d done them and I was a monster.  none of this we found out until he’d gone and we none of us could figure out why.  Okay, the terrible things he needed someone to frame, but the rest... Sociopathy was the best guess for all of it really.  Last I checked he was still working with children and there was fuck all provable we can do about it, but he really, really shouldn’t have been working with children). These things the Uncleaner stole were small, replaceable things, not something where there is no other one even if memories weren’t attached. 

All the things missing I've looked for off and on since the time she was here high, under the belief they were misplaced or in the wash.  I wouldn't be surprised if that's when she took them and that's part of why she was so embarrassed the second time, but if she were really embarrassed she could have brought them back then and I'd never have known.  Like, she could have tossed them into one washer or the other, or tucked them around the sink, and I'd have just thought that was where they were.

I know the Asshole Agency will do fuck all, but I'm going to call them anyway.  Goth Millennial said before we knew about the theft that she was the one who was a class traitor, because you don't do shit like this to another poor person.  I have no idea when my apartment will actually be clean again.  I'm doubting that an extra two hours this week even if someone turns up will do it.

We are still baffled by the thought process.  

If she'd put the dishes into the dishwasher like I'd asked, it would have been fine and not tons of extra time and work cleaning everything.  I still need to sit on the kitchen floor in the Ajax to go through all the pots and pans in case the extra cleaner does come.  If she'd rinsed and dried them before putting them away, it would have been not ideal, but likely fine.  She did neither for no reason we can understand.  Putting them away wet and soapy was actually more work than racking them in the dishwasher like I asked.  

Not only was the bottle of liquid all purpose cleaner right in front when I opened the cabinet under the sink to hand it to Goth Millennial Saturday when they decided wet mopping wouldn't be enough, there was a literal second full bottle behind it because I hate running out of things so I tend to buy two at once if I have enough cash for it and the trip to get the one I like that is effective but doesn't make bad smells is annoying if I don't want a big mark up.  It was right there.  couldn't have missed it if she'd opened the compartment.  To get at the Ajax I use only for the toilet, she had to go past the dish soap for the sink and tub and the shampoo and conditioner I bought before the engine light went on last month.  She could have used the dish soap and it would have been not ideal, but fine except for all the extra water.  A wet mop after she left would have solved it.  She had to go on her hands and knees and move things to get the Ajax.  Following directions was Easier.  Asking me to get it if she somehow couldn't recognize it as a bottle of liquid cleaner was easier.  Getting about a third to a half of a big cylinder of Ajax out of those small holes was definitely harder than doing it properly.

WTF!?!

I get that stealing small stuff you don't need is actually a symptom of mental illness that requires therapy she likely can't afford, and given how high she was she really had no observable impulse control I could see, hence her repeatedly stopping work to pet a cat I'd warned her not to, and the 'wiggle, wiggle, wiggle, and all the many other things.  This is the only explicable part of it.  Like I get it.  If that's all she'd done I would have been mildly miffed and reported and blocked her because I don't like people stealing my stuff and she might take something from someone else they couldn't eventually replace, but I wouldn't be this kind of furious.  A compulsion to steal and/or walking away with something because one is borderline incoherent high and then going oops later are pretty easy to understand motivation wise.

Doing all this extra work to do so much damage to someone you barely know makes zero sense.  I was nice to her!  I sent her home with a big bag of food each time!  We none of us think this was malice.  It can't be laziness as this took so much extra work than not doing damage would.  so seriously WTF, with the dishes and the Ajax?  This question haunts us all.

[harrison-abbott]

Travel Poetry - Greece

GREECE

Every account I’ve written thus far about

My experiences in different countries has

Been positive. In mood, I mean. [At least

I hope they’ve come across that way.]

My experience in Greece was very different.

But I thought I’d write about it anyway.

I went to Corfu, Greece, in the summer

Of 2017. With my old girl, who I’ve also

Mentioned several times so far. Basically,

As you have probably already guessed:

Our holiday in Greece was supposed to be

A relationship-saving trip; but, it signalled

The downfall of our thing. I wont bore you

With the details of the mortal romance.

I’m sure many of us have stories of

Relationships in decline. It can be rather

Like a drawn-out fever, when you know

That the bond is dying, and there is little

You can do to try and resuscitate it, and,

For some bizarre reason, you stay with

The other person, even though the deal

Is deteriorating right in front of you.

Suddenly her gold hair and green eyes

Weren’t as magic anymore. Anyways.

Physically – there was nothing wrong

With Corfu. It was exquisitely beautiful.

I remember on the first night going down

To the beach, and the sun went down across

The sea, in a seismic celestial show, with

All kinds of reds and oranges, mixed with

The wispy final-clouds in the sky; was like

Some Impressionist classic, or the climax

Of a movie, following a happy ending.

And, on the horizon you could see the

Hills from the other side of the island.

This was proper, rural Greece: and you

Could see right here why this nation had

Been a cornerstone for Western civilisation.

I had read the philosophy classics back,

Of Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, etc etc etc,

In my first year at university, and loved them.

And, coupled with the splendour of these

Surroundings, I understood why those

Men were inspired to try and make sense

Of the sheer wonder of their planet:

The Grecian islands were that pretty.

But, perhaps ‘rural’ was the incorrect word.

Because we were basically living in a resort

For seven nights. And, I found it total Hell.

There were lots of fat, middle aged people

Walking around. And there weren’t any

Museums in the nearby town. It literally

Only had a pair of supermarkets and that

Was about it. … I hung out at the pool one

Night and I got speaking to this man who

Was from Yorkshire. I was just speaking

About various things since he could speak

English as well, and we were both drinking

At the bar. I mentioned I was from Scotland.

And, he responded by saying, “Oh, yeah,

My grandfather was from Scotland. So,

I’ve got a bit of the Scottish poison in me

As well.” I shit you not – that’s what he said.

The fact that he chuckled after saying it,

As if I would take it as casual banter as well,

Was doubly unsettling. So I went back to

My room after that. … Across the week,

There, I did do a bit of writing, too.

But, man, the heat was 35 degrees, non

Stop, and it was hard to concentrate on

Just about anything. There were a few rare

Moments with my old girl, when she

Was in a brighter mood. We sat by the

Pool and she told me some stories. From

Her girlhood. Not every story was cheerful,

But at least she was speaking to me, still.

She recanted one about when she was

A girl, on holiday with her parents, and

She tried to jump on a floating bed in the

Pool, from the poolside. And, the bed

Buckled under her and she sank right

To the bottom of the pool, in the deep end.

And, because she was only six, she didn’t

Know how to swim, or get back up,

And was basically submerged in the pool

For tens of seconds, inhaling water.

Her parents hadn’t noticed her fall in.

And it was only another guy, a stranger,

Who happened to notice this odd shape

Under the water. He jumped in, and lifted

Her out. She threw up chlorine pool-water

For several minutes, coughing and spluttering.

She had very nearly died. She said that

When she was underneath the surface

She was scraping at the tiled walls of the

Pool and hollering for her mum and dad.

But they couldn’t hear her.

And, it was insane to think how she might

Not be here right now, as a twenty something

Year old woman, telling me this, if it hadn’t

Been for that stranger man who rescued her.

[And, I still loved her, by the way. With

Her tinkly, musicbox voice, and Polish accent.

You must think me a loser to still be

Writing about her after such a long time.

I suppose that’s what love does to some people.]

There aren’t many other stories about Greece.

I would like to go to Athens in the future,

In order to re-try the nation. I’m sure if

I experienced it in a cultural way, I would

Dig it a lot better. From the week I spent

There, it was largely a long, heat-addled

Nightmare, full of unhappiness.

But, the supermarkets did sell really cheap,

Voluptuous fruit and vegetables. As in,

Proper foods that were grown locally.

I remember the olives and the tomatoes,

All ripe and proper. They didn’t taste like

The stuff I knew from Morrison’s

Back home – they tasted proper. And I

Would go swimming in the daytimes.

And there would be a tremendous thrust

Of the waves coming inland from the sea,

That, as I floated on my back, would lift

Me up in steady half-violence. And by

The evenings my hair would be all thick

With the pure seat salt that’d gotten into

The strands. … And, do you know the whole

Irony of the holiday? I regret not making

The most of it when I was there, and

I wish I could go back in time and do things

Differently with that full week I spent there.

I suppose notions like regret can be

Important teaching methods.

[arvinsescape]

A one shot where you and Tom are spotted by paps at the beach, and they take many videos of you. And you are just being cute. Like you take Tom's cap, playing with each others hands, kissing, hugging, looking at each other in awe, laughing, and then ofc in the water, your legs around his torso as he walks around in the water, you splash water at each other.

A/N: This idea is pretty cute. Thank you so much for sending it in!! I hope I covered everything and I hope you enjoy!💕

You thought your social media may have blown up after yesterday but you had no idea that it would blow up so much. You and Tom had had a day off together and the weather was just too good to pass on an opportunity to go out together.

You'd both decided on a beach day, it'd been a long time since either of you had been to one and Tom thought it'd be a good idea. You'd been together for almost two years now and neither of you cared much anymore if you were caught enjoying each other's company. Not like when you'd first gotten together and you'd spent a lot of time sneaking around.

The paps had of course found the two of you and taken many pictures an videos that had, naturally, landed themselves on the internet. Your phone had been going mad since you'd gotten up, you'd decided you needed a coffee before you dealt with it, so here you were coffee in hand, scrolling social media as you looked at all the moments that had been captured from the day before.

But why do they have to be so cute? You smiled at the comment before looking at the pictures attached. The first picture was a picture that looked relatively intimate.

"You look so pretty." Tom said, he was almost led on top of you, the backs of his knuckles running over your cheek as he stared at you.

"So are you." You said as you smiled at him, you were always glad to get days like this with him.

"No where near as pretty as you are darling." He mumbled, leaning down to kiss your forehead. You giggled as he moved his kisses around your face before finally landing on your lips.

The paps had caught the moment at some point during the interaction and it had the fans going insane. You scrolled across as you looked at the second picture. You were sat with your back against his chest, his arms slung round you as he evidently said something into your ear.

"I missed you this month." Tom said, pulling you closer into him. He'd come back two days ago and after some much needed sleep, this was your first outing since then.

"I missed you too." You said as you kissed his forearm, running your hand along the veins that had seemingly made a home there. He placed his cheek on top of your head as you played with his fingers, tracing your fingers over his palm every so often. His fingers intertwining with yours after a good ten minutes of playing with them.

You smiled thinking about it, he made you so happy and you could see just how much in the pictures that had been captured. You moved onto the next set that had been taken, you were sat on a towel as Tom was talking to someone he knew that you'd bumped into, you couldn't keep your eyes off him. Admiring the fact that you had him here with you but the look of love and admiration was clear.

The next picture was when a dog had approached you and you're attention had turned to it as you stroked it. Tom was looking at you like you were the only person on the planet, mirroring the same look of love and admiration you'd had in the previous picture. You smiled as you read the caption.

It's not just the fact that they look at each other like that, they do it when they don't know the other is even looking at them.

It was true, no one had ever made you happier than Tom Holland. You moved onto one of the videos that had been captured, this one was seemingly one of the favourites. I feel like Y/N is the only person who can get away with that!

Tom had his cap on now, you were both stood as he gave you a sweet kiss before pulling back.

"What?" He asked, he'd taken note of the mischievous glint in your eye. You bit your lip before reaching up and grasping the cap in your hand before swiftly transferring it to your own head. "You little shit." Tom said before he went to take it back from you.

You dodged out of his way before setting off running down the beach, laughing as you heard Tom huff slightly, you knew you couldn't outrun him, but you could try right? It didn't take long before you felt his arms around your waist as he lifted you easily from the ground, a slight squeal leaving you.

He planted you back on your feet before turning you around, taking the cap and placing it back on his head.

The second video captured was from when you'd actually gone into the sea.

You'd been swimming around for a while and your legs had grown tired as you tried to keep yourself afloat. You watched Tom who did not seem to be having the same issue, you swam towards him before climbing onto his back, his hands catching your thighs.

"You okay?" He asked as you kissed his cheek.

"Yeah, my legs are just tired." You laughed and he grinned.

"One sec." He said before letting go of your legs, you furrowed your brows before he turned around to face you. "Come here." He said as he reached out for you, you smiled as you wrapped your legs around his torso, his hands placing themselves on your waist.

He pulled you in for a kiss, it was sweet and innocent as he deepened it slightly, it wasn't full of anything other than pure love for each other, no lustful thoughts behind it. His hand reaching up to cup your cheek as you both smiled into it.

After a while Tom had started walking around in the water with you, you were still clung to him, head resting on his shoulder, completely content with the moment.

"I like this on you." Tom said suddenly as he squeezed your behind, making you gasp.

"Tom!" You laughed, pulling back from him slightly before splashing him with water. He looked at you, mock shock on his face.

"Well excuse me for admiring my beautiful girlfriend." He grinned and you felt the water hit your face as he splashed you back. He was much stronger than you so the force and amount of water that hit you was more than had hit him. He laughed as you regained yourself, water had gone up your nose.

"Tom!" You shouted and once the water had cleared from your eyes, looking at him he had the biggest grin on his face. You moved away from him completely, swimming away on your back, using your foot to splash water back at him, hearing him laugh in response.

"Baby, I'm sorry, come back." He grinned at you after you'd stopped a safe distance away. You knew that look in his eyes, you were done for. You squealed as he eventually got close enough to use both hands to cover you in water. It spurred on a whole two minutes of the two of you splashing each other.

You were about to splash him again when you felt his hands grasp your wrists, pulling you closer to him. You felt as his lips collided with yours.

"I love you." Tom said.

"I love you."

The video was longer but it captured most elements of the fun side of your relationship. You were smiling as you watched it, it completely captured the love you had for each other and for once you weren't too bothered that the paps had caught you.

"Morning." You felt as Tom wrapped his arms around your shoulders from your spot at the dining table. You grinned as you locked your phone, turning to kiss him. "Not that I'm complaining but what was that for?" He grinned.

"I just love you so much."

[delicrieux]

☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 10: BIG DICK IS BACK IN TOWN

y/n is back in brooklyn for the holidays. thinking that a stream will make her feel less homesick for cali, she starts working on her famously titled hentai.free.srv. what was supposed to be a relaxing stream turns into a special delivery about two hours in.

─── corpse husband x reader ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: 2.2k ─── ❥ req: Here's one... You know those apps for delivery like Domino's or whatnot... What if reader is streaming Among Us with Corpse, and reader mentions they're hungry and Corpse offers to order them food, and readers like no no it's fine... Then there's delivery at the door (Corpse ordered beforehand) 

author’s note: fucky format is also back in town baby!!! also if you find any mistakes - no u didnt <3 thank u everyone for enjoying this story sm i literally cant believe how feral yall going strawberry cow was a nuclear explosion im still recovering tbh. got an ask a while ago and decided to incorporate it into myso. happy holidays everyone! myso will continue on monday!

ultimate masterlist.  ҉  myso masterlist   ҉   previous.  ҉   next.

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Indeed, being soft on any social media platform was the biggest disgrace and needed to be eliminated post haste. Moreover, it was a slippery slope - once you start flooding your timeline with cute imagery and heart emojis, what will stop you from posting inspirational Facebook quotes? Disgusting. If Rae were here, she would chide you (not you thinking about her as if she’s dead or something). For once in your life, you feel like you deserve it. 

Alas, you hope this little chaos you’ve caused is enough to throw everyone off. The stans, especially. You know the hashtags, you’ve seen ARMY scourging for info online with the same fervor and ruthlessness 1 Direction fans hacked airport security cameras just to spy on the boys. If you had any dirty secrets online, they are out to the public now - thankfully, besides the Harry Styles stan account (with edits and all), you have nothing. Though, now that you think about it, exposed nudes would have been better than your Punk!Harry edit receiving almost a million views. God, your life’s a fucking mess.

Your fans aren’t the only ones out for info - you, too, are trying to decipher Rae’s message. Code: Barbecue Sauce. The two of you had come up with it roughly two years ago, around the same time when you promised that if you didn’t find significant others by the time you’re 40, you’ll just marry each other. It was one of the many rules found in your friendship codex. Barbecue Sauce signifies information - an exchange of information. And depending on how it ends or begins (”So I’m sitting there” alludes to Rae, “On my titties” alludes to you), secret data on that person is given away, usually free of charge. 

But why? And to whom did Rae give away what? You had pestered her mercilessly and even sent some voice messages where you were crying. You were only crying because of a video of a grandpa smiling you saw on TikTok, but you are a snake, and so you put those tears to good use. If streaming doesn’t work out, you’ll just become an actress. Hollywood would love you. Your PR firm sure as fuck wouldn’t, though.

Rae was having none of it. She said you’ll figure it out eventually. Told you to channel your superior puzzle skills. You were quick to remind her that you can barely count to ten without having an aneurysm. Oddly serious, she admitted that she worries for you sometimes. Why only sometimes?! you demanded. She merely sighed. uttering under her breath something that sounded closely to “Boke.”

You leave her for barely a week and she’s already neck deep in the gay volleyball anime, hoodie and cardboard cutout and everything. Your life is falling apart.

But Brooklyn is nice. It had snowed when you stepped off of the plane. Thousands of snowflakes sprinkling into your hair, dotting your cheeks and nose. You missed this sight back in Cali. You missed your parents, too. 

Home cooked meals, old sweaters, your old room and about 40GB worth of old high school pictures on your computer. You went through them all one night. Some were stomach churning, cringe inducing nightmares. You were especially fond of those. Texted some of your friends that were still in Brooklyn, met up, decided to bake. Bad idea, Rae was the resident chef back in Cali. Besides laughing till your stomach hurt, and almost burning down your kitchen, nothing all that significant happened. Somewhere down the line, at about 3 am, half-way through a cheesy rom-com you had the overwhelming urge to text Corpse.

That’s where the problems really started. God, you missed California, missed being in the same timezone with a guy you hadn’t even met yet, how embarrassing is that?! You missed skating around and taking pictures of the beach in the setting sun, sending it to him, silently wishing he was with you to admire the view. 

You really want to call him. And to hang out with him. But for some reason, the thought of that springs up immediate anxiety and you shy away from asking. Him sending you cute good morning texts doesn’t help, either. Maybe it’s better he doesn’t know that you’re a blushing, stuttering mess each time you read “baby”. 

Late evening. Your stream is already set up, people are slowly trickling in and you greet them with a grin and a soft “Hello! Hi hi!”. You did your best to make your room a perfectly chaotic backdrop - led lights, an embarrassing amount of anime merch and plushies. You always try to balance out your weeb side by dressing hot as fuck for your streams - today’s inspiration just so happens to be egirls. Mostly because you watched one too many egirl make-up tutorials on TikTok, and also because you’ve been listening to Corpse’s song all day.

Yeah, no, who are you kidding, you dressed up this way because you were hoping Corpse was watching your stream. You didn’t forget your cat headphones, either. You know he likes them. You want to make him suffer. Perhaps then, finally, he will ask you out, so you wouldn’t have to.

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“I feel like,” You start when you put away your phone, staring idly at the chat, “I feel like I need a new name for you guys. Calling you guys after two years of streaming is just... weird, no? I also don’t respect men so I don’t want to call you guys. Like, so many creator’s have, like, a name for their fans. Uhm, Cody Ko has the chodesters, Kurtis Conner has, uh, folks? Kurtis Town? Citizens! Markiplier has mommy issues--” You can’t help snorting, “So, I’ve been, like, thinking - I know, shocking! - so I was thinking I’m gonna name you cockroaches. Because you’re grimy little shits impossible to kill. And also then I can use the legendary Minaj meme ROACHES!”

Your stream enthusiastically echoes ROACHES, making the chat swim. Yes, if anyone would enjoy such a name, it would be your audience. You’re as equally proud as you are disturbed.

“Well, anyway.” Leaning back into your chair, you throw your arms out with a bright grin, “Big dick is back in town, baby! If you noticed the backdrops different, it’s cuz I’m in Brooklyn now. Don’t ask me when I will return to Always Sunny, I don’t plan that far ahead.”

While Minecraft boots up, you decide to answer a few questions.

r u dating sykkuno?

You want to smack your head into the keyboard, but as it is, you can’t exactly afford a new one, so you refrain, “No, Sykkuno and I are not dating, we are just good friends. Uhm, I’m not sure how much I’ll have to repeat this, but, we really aren’t, so if the roaches could chill - Oh my God, that sounds so stupid, I love it - uh, yeah, if the roaches could chill that’d be great.”

the roaches lmao sounds like we’re a sports team

“Oh shit, yeah it does, uh-- maybe I can make like, jerseys or something. That’d be cool, I think.”

how disappointed are your parents with the way your life turned out?

“My parents are actually not disappointed at all!” You say with a cute little smile, “Uhm, they’re both really proud, actually. They’re glad I found something I love doing and made a job outta it. Dad finds my Youtube videos endearing. Yes, they watch pretty much all of my videos, unless I explicitly tell them not to. And yeah, with all the fucks and thirsting for anime characters. Uhm, it was very embarrassing at first, but I mean, after a while, shame just...doesn’t exist anymore, I guess? Funny thing about my parents, actually, when they watch my videos-” You eye catches a comment, “Oh! No, they only watch my Youtube videos. They don’t know how to use Twitter, thank God. Uhm, anyway-- when they hear a name they don’t know, like, I dunno, Dabi, or something, they google--” You’re grinning by now, eyes crinkling, giggling softly, “--who that is, and buy me like, merch and stuff. It’s really cute. 

can i be adopted by ur parents plz

will you and corpse ever collab?!

You were about to answer, though the man of the hour himself decides to do it for you.

Corpse_Husband: yes.

Okay, not to say your heart skipped a beat, but it totally did. With a pleased smile, you nod, like one of those bobble head toys sold at the dollar store. The motion is oddly reminiscent of Sykkuno’s own nod. Perhaps you had picked it up from him. The chat seems to notice.

pack it up, sykkuno

More questions pile about this mysterious collab you and Corpse are planning. Yeah, you’d like to hear more about it, too, since he single highhandedly decided one was happening right now. Corpse remains silent. Fine, keep your secrets. 

“Okay, guys, oh, I mean, roaches, Oh my God--” You’re covering your mouth, giggling, “-calling all roaches, calling all roaches, calm down. Everyone grab a snack and a blanket I’m turning up the music volume so we can all chill. Entering chill zone. Entering chill zone. Roaches, prepare.”

we are prepared

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An hour or so passes and you grow hungry. It shows with the amount of cakes you had baked in your server. Currently, you find yourself throwing eggs at the wall of one of the renovated houses, your face scrunched in concentration and slight frustration. 24 of the 50 eggs have been wasted. “What’s a girl gotta do to get some chicks around here?” you had uttered under your breath, until, finally, a screech - the egg finally spawns a mob. Your mouth falls open, “Aww, look!” You approach it, so small, walking in zigzags beside you, “It’s a baby chicken! Die, bitch.” The baby chicken is no more as you swing your bedazzled (you have mods) diamond sword. You’re cackling by the time the dust settles.

y/n is a child murderer

“Roaches,” You address your fan-base, spurring another fit of laughter - you can’t get over the name, “I think I’m like, forgetting that eating in Minecraft won’t actually make less hungry in real life.”

take a break and go eat queen <3

“Fuck no, we starve and die like men. Now I actually really need another chicken.”

Another twenty minutes trickle by and you’re trying to lure back a panda from the jungle when there’s a knock on your bedroom’s door. Whipping your head to the side, you slide down your headphones. At the same time, your mom pokes her head through the ajar door, “MOM!” You scream, “Get OUT of my room I’m playing Minecraft!” But your yell has no actual bite to it, as you don’t manage to hide your smile. Your mom laughs, doing some sort of sign language and motioning for you to follow her with her head. That or it’s some sort of performative dance. 

“I’m live right now,” You tell her, pointing at your screen. She knows this already, though, “do you want to say hi?” 

The roaches spam the chat with friendly hellos. You mom, quite impatient now, waves you over. 

“Sorry, roaches, mom needs something. Be back in a bit!”

Stopping the stream, you rush out of your seat and pleased she slinks into the hallway. “What’s this about?”

“Your pizza came.”

“My what now?” You echo, confused.

“Domino’s. You ordered pizza?”

“What? No? I was busy with the stream, I never--”

Thankfully, you had managed to grab your phone from your room before you exited. You almost choke on spit once you read the messages.

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You decide that it’ll be impossible to stream after experiencing what you had just experienced. You tweet out a quick apology to the roaches (God, that fucking name) and say that you had a breakdown but you’re okay. That is as a close to the truth as you managed to muster. It’s a sad sight, chewing and crying; your mom winced when she saw your state - disheveled hair and rundown eyeliner and everything. “D’aww,” She had muttered, caressing the top of your head, “don’t cry my little raccoon.”

If anyone was ever to ask you where did your chaotic nature come from, you’d answer with my mom. To make yourself feel better, you took a selfie - duck face and peace sign and the horrible 2000′s angle. Sent it to Rae. 

looking hot, her message read. 

thanks, was all you replied with.

You couldn’t just leave things as they were. Once you calmed down, you wanted to text Corpse, but how would you follow up the ungodly caps lock and screeching? Impossible. An idea sprung to mind, one that was brave. Taking the first step.

Instead of sending a text, you sent a voice memo.

“Thank you for the pizza, it was delicious.”

You voice still sounded a bit raspy. His reply was instant. Your heart skipped a beat. He sent a voice memo back.

“Glad you liked it, baby.”

He was going to be the death of you.

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tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos - @fairywriter-oracle - @tsukishimawh0re - @ofstarsanddreams - @bbecc-a - @annshit - @leahh19 - @letsloveimagines - @bellomi-clarke - @wineandionysus - @guiltydols - @onephootinfrontoftheother - @liamakorn - @thirstyfangirl - @lilysdaydreams - @pan-ini - @mxqicshxp - @tanchosanke - @yoshinorecommends - @flightsandfantasy - @liljennyx3 - @slashersdream - @unknown-and-invisible - @sinister-sleep - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat - @mercury–moon - @peterparkerspjsuit - @unstableye - @simonsbluee - @shinyshimaagain - @ppopty - @siriuslystupid - @crapimahuman - @ofthedewthesunlight - @mythicalamphitrite - @artsyally - @corpsesimpp - @corpsewhitetee - @corpse-husbandsimp - @hyp-oh-critical - @roses-and-grasses - @rhyrhy462 - @sparklylandflaplawyer - @charbkgo - @airwaveee - @creativedogs - @kaitlyn2907 - @loxbbg - @afuckingunicornn - @fleurmoon - @yeolliedokai - @truly-dionysus - @multi-fandom-central707

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

[bubblyhoney]

sandy cheeks

warnings: language of course, nipple talk??, dream being a fanny pack dad for .2 seconds, an admission of Love

tags: sapnap x gn!reader

words: 1115

A/N: wrote this in like an hour.. not sorry!

-

“Jesus Christ,” you breathe, shoulders tensing as you pull your hands up to your chest. The water is fucking cold. Like, shrink-your-balls-cold. Like, my-pinky-toe-fell-off-cold.

“Come on,” He teases, grabbing your wrist and tugging you towards him. You just stumble like a newborn deer, slamming into his chest and gasping at the splash of water rising to your hips. “It’s not that bad.”

“Tell that to my rock-hard nipples,” you sputter, crossing your arms tight on your chest and letting yourself get swayed by the current.

It’s a surprisingly windy day in Florida, sun out every once and a while to warm up the scattered groups of people on the beach. Sapnap insisted you two go down to the beach (“we don’t even have to swim!”) for dinner and to waste some of the day away. It’s summer, so you can do that. You still put on a swimsuit, deciding that relaxing would be more comfortable in less clothes anyways.

“Tell your nips to chill, then.” A large hand catches you around the waist and tugs you forward. His chest is surprisingly warm on your skin and you shiver. You press even closer, hiding your face in his neck to steal some of his warmth. “You are cold,” he murmurs, in awe, and slides his hands up and down your biceps that prickle with goosebumps.

“No shit,” you whine and shuffle closer. Gravelly sand works its way in between your toes and makes you shuffle your feet, disgusted look pulling at your face. “I hate the beach.”

Sapnap reaches to brush your windswept hair out of your face and his hand drops to thumb at your pout, brows pulled together.

“No you don’t. You just hate being cold.” His hands tug at your elbows and lift your arms to loop around his neck. “Just hug me,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. Your pout softens and you silently agree. He is warm. He also smells like sunscreen and something musky you attribute to that cologne he says makes him “smell like David Beckham’s butler”. Whatever the hell that means.

Your attitude shifts as soon as you stop trembling. The sun peeks out of the clouds and warms your shoulders. The water lapping at your abdomen seems calm and warm instead of rough and piercing. And the boy in your arms is patient instead of the devil reincarnate who wants you to become a human popsicle.

“Better,” you decide, sliding a hand to the nape of his neck and tracking your fingers through his silky hair. He just hums, content. The arms slung around your waist grip tight as you two sway together to no tune in particular.

A gruff voice shouts from the shore and you peel yourself from his chest, turning. It’s Dream. Waving like an idiot from the place where your bags and towels lay in the fine sand. He must’ve just got here after finishing up a plug-in at home, too busy to come with you guys when you left but apparently not too busy to leave ten minutes after. You just lift a hand, grinning at his excitement. Everybody likes beach day.

“You hungry?” You ask, voice quiet and sweet, and Sapnap just stares back at you with a blissful expression. You blink. He shakes his head, licking at his bottom lip.

“Uh, yeah.”

You pass him a weird look.

“Is the heat getting to your head?” You suggest with a mocking tone and lift a hand to press to his forehead. He bats you away with a smile.

“I will hold you under,” is all he says before he’s letting go and walking back up to the shore. You just gape, pausing, before wading after him.

“You wouldn’t.” You sound scandalized and he just laughs, waiting until you’re shoulder-to-shoulder with him so he can take your hand in his.

“Try me.” His lip quivers with a held-back laugh. You just roll your eyes and shove his shoulder. Brat.

The sandwiches and fruit he packed are well-needed replenishment. Well, however much fruit you get—Dream is a cantaloupe fiend. And he steals like half of the bag of jalapeño chips. This is why you can’t have nice things.

But the rest of the late-afternoon swings by quickly. The wind dies down with no protest and the beach gets less and less crowded as time drags into sunset territory.

“Go stand over there,” you order, gesturing to a lump of sand right next to what used to be a sandcastle.

“I don’t want a picture, Y/N,” Sapnap complains, not very go-with-the-flow.

“Too bad, baby.” You lift your phone and snap a few pictures of a grumpy looking Sapnap in front of the beautiful sunset.

“Smile like you love me,” Dream suggests, standing to the right of you with his hands on his hips. This feels like two parents forcing their eight year old to take pictures with the Mickey Mouse statue at Disney World. Your boyfriend pulls his face into what looks like halfway between a grimace and grin, but it’ll have to do. A smile stretches your lips subconsciously at his cute face.

“So cute,” you coo, and step forward to squeeze at his cheeks. He can’t help but chuckle and lean to press a kiss to your mouth. Okay, two. Would be three if Dream didn’t make a vomit noise and stomp back to your things like a petulant child. You just shake your head.

The ride home is perfect. Sapnap has the windows down, allowing you to lean your head out and feel the wind in your hair with closed eyes. Music different to his usual modern taste drifts lazily out of the speakers and makes you uncharacteristically sleepy for 9 pm. The second he parks in the driveway you jerk awake, blinking wildly around in the night air. A yawn splits your face and you lift a hand to cover it, turning to Sapnap with watery eyes. He just gazes at you, looking somewhat in a trance.

“I love you.”

You freeze, palm dropping from your mouth. The water in your eyes stills.

It’s the first time.

First time he’s said it.

And he doesn’t sound nervous. No shake in his inflection, no quiet tone. He says it like it’s the easiest thing, deciding to love you.

You love him too. Of course you do. Who wouldn’t?

“Really?” You ask, shy grin creeping onto your lips. He just nods, cheeks pink. You wait a beat, still processing. The wind slides gentle and easy, lifting the hair up off your neck. “I love you too, you know. You have to know.”

He just nods.

Of course he knows.

-

A/N: ask or send me some stuff!! requests, rants, anything. :D let me know what you think in the comments!

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

If I Fell For You (Part 14) - Keep Close

Summary: The Ackles have the Padalecki’s over for dinner and let it slip that they’re engaged. Things seem to be going well but the anniversary of the accident is coming up and the reader comes up with the Ackles taking their first vacation together as a means of distracting Jensen as well reconnecting with Ray...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x nanny!reader

Word Count: 4,800ish

Warnings: language, mention of sex, mention of a dead parent/spouse, anxiety

A/N: Please enjoy and let me know what you think!

________

“I’m stuffed,” said Jensen that night, the kids running around playing soccer in the yard after dinner. 

“I need that chicken recipe,” said Jared.

“I’ll write it down for you guys,” you said, sitting back in your chair. “You can do it with breast too if you like that better.”

“I want exactly this like, everyday from now on,” said Jared. Gen rolled her eyes and Jensen pulled out his phone. “Want me to take a pic?”

“I don’t need your freakishly long arms just yet,” chuckled Jensen. He turned around and took one of the four of you at the table before handing off his phone. “Mind getting one of us?”

“Your mom harassing you for engagement photos already?” asked Gen.

“By the time we were leaving they were both asking for photos and being obnoxious. Better than they were though,” said Jensen, smiling beside you. Jared took a few more and handed the phone back. 

“I still can’t believe your parents would act like that,” said Gen. “I mean obviously I’m super happy it got fixed but that’s so unlike them.”

“They made a mistake is all,” you said with a smile. “I don’t know about you guys but I’m going to finish this beer in the pool.”

“I think I’ll join you,” said Jared. He stood up and had a look on his face you caught too late. Before you knew it he had you picked up and was jogging over to the deep end and jumping in with you.

“Jared!” you said when you popped up. He giggled and swam off to the shallow end. “After I helped pick up the plates ya big lug.”

“We got it,” said Jensen, carrying over two beer cans and handing them to you. “We’ll join you guys in a few.”

About ten minutes later Jensen was leaning against the side of the pool in his bright red swim trunks, handing you the other half of his cookie cake piece.

“So any big plans for the wedding?” asked Jared, sat on the pool steps with Gen.

“I have a thought,” you said, turning to Jensen. “I haven’t discussed it with Jensen yet.”

“Vegas. Shotgun wedding,” he laughed. You shook your head and he grinned. “You’re thinking the farm, aren’t you.”

“What do you think? It could be outdoor or indoor, whatever it needs to be depending on the weather.”

“I’d love that,” he said, giving you a squeeze. “That’d be perfect for us.”

“You own a farm?” asked Jared. 

“Yeah, ten minutes from the brewery.”

“Dudes. You can open bar with your own beer. Oh and dibs on being a groomsmen.”

“Like that wasn’t gonna happen,” said Jensen.

“I don’t know on that,” you said. Jared’s face fell and you shook your head. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that you wouldn’t be one. Of course you would. I just don’t have a lot of close girlfriends. I think it’d be weird if Jensen had a ton and…”

“I don’t think it’s weird,” said Gen. “We didn’t have an even number at our wedding.”

“We got time to figure that stuff out,” said Jensen, holding your waist. You finished the last bite of cookie and hummed. 

“So you two having a kid?” asked Jared. Gen whacked his chest and he shrugged.

“Jesus, Jare. Don’t ask that.”

“They’re our best friends and godparents to our children...although I guess Y/N didn’t know that she inherited that until now but come on, I know you’re wondering too.”

“Shut up,” said Gen, crossing her arms. “Obviously if they decide, they’ll tell us when it happens.”

“Yeah, I think there’ll be at least one,” you laughed. Gen lit up and turned to Jared.

“Last time they said they were having a baby guess what we did? I can’t handle no more babies,” said Jared.

“Can you even get that thing up anymore?” teased Jensen, sipping on his beer.

“You’re one to talk, old man.”

“That shit still works just fine.”

“Just fine?” shot back Jared.

“Oh my God. You’re both good at sex. Y/N be grateful you’ve missed this same conversation over and over for the past sixteen odd years,” said Gen. 

“I’m still taller,” said Jared with a smirk.

“I can last longer,” said Jensen with one of his own. They narrowed their eyes at one another and Jared stood up.

“Go wrestle on the grass,” groaned Gen. They both huffed and got out of the pool before starting to playfully wrestle. “See, what you may not realize yet is you have another child right there.”

“Yeah but he’s hot,” you said, Gen laughing while you sat beside her. “Do you guys really talk about sex with each other?”

“Yes and no. The boys are you know, boys. They’d combust if they didn’t tease each other. I wouldn’t say there’s like, intimate details or anything ever shared. They’re both pretty private about that sort of thing. Dee and I would talk but more so say we had fun the night before. Shit we probably talked about sex toys more than anything.”

You stopped mid sip of your beer and she laughed.

“When your guy is thousands of miles away for that long out of the year, you gotta get off on your own. You get pretty good at phone sex too. You’re lucky. Jensen won’t be staying away so long ever again he said.”

“No, no. But uh...before Jensen I’d had the same boyfriend forever and he was as vanilla as could be. We didn’t do that stuff really together.”

“I can text you some links to stuff. It’s not like you have to go in some scary store or anything. It’s discrete and I think a small vibe would be great to start with. You can use it during sex or foreplay or whatever. Just you know, have fun.”

“Jensen and I kinda got busted by the cops a week or so back for...activities in the backseat,” you said. She started to laugh and you groaned. “Thankfully it was his friend that caught us so he let us off the hook but...it was kinda fun.”

“Good,” she said, sighing as Jensen pinned Jared down. “Hey so yeah about that wedding thing. Jared had two more groomsmen than I had girls. It doesn’t have to be matchy, matchy, you know?”

“I know. I don’t know if…” you trailed off. “I lost my friend group when I broke it off with my last boyfriend. We’d been together for over ten years and I kept turning down his proposals and they didn’t like that. I have some nanny friends but not a lot and no one I’m really close to. I don’t know if I’d even get more than five people to come for me. Everyone else is his family and friends and I didn’t think about that until just now. I mean what would they think, seeing that? I don’t know if I even want anyone there now.”

“I think what they’d see is someone they care about marrying someone he loves. Just because we’re Jensen’s friends doesn’t mean we’re not your friends too. I know we’re still getting to know each other but we’ll be as close as those two eventually. Ruthie was texting me and we’re having a girls night the next convention in Dallas. You literally have a built in crew ready to go from the show, the girls and the guys. You are so coming with me to the next night I have with my local girlfriends and you got our family. You even got Dee’s parents. You have more than you know, sweetie.”

“I never had a best friend growing up except for my mom. Until Jensen,” you said. “I’ve never really been good at the friend thing.”

“Were you bullied in school?” she asked quietly.

“Don’t tell anyone besides Jared but my dad wasn’t a good person. He hurt me and so I was afraid of getting in trouble so I didn’t talk to other kids all that much until I got old enough to understand what he was doing was wrong and that’s how I ended up being adopted.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Can’t do anything about it now. But I can have it not control my life too. I’ve been pretty good since I was nine in that department. My mom dying sucked and things have been up and down but I like where I am now. This is easily the happiest I’ve ever been in my life.”

“Jens’s not perfect.”

“I know. But he’s good enough. He gave me a certain confidence to live my life, like really live it.”

“He’s alright,” she smiled. “You know I have an idea about this bridesmaids thing you might like.”

“You?”

“Oh I would for sure but I meant more so I know two little girls that wouldn’t mind. Maybe there’s a boy too,” she said.

“I’m gonna need you to be my wedding planner at this rate,” you said.

“Job accepted,” she said. “I say we go farmhouse modern style.”

“Gen. I got engaged like two weeks ago. We have time,” you said. “We don’t even have a date.”

“At the very least can we go dress shopping?” she asked.

“I’m going to regret this,” you sighed as Jensen stepped back in the water.

“Get yourself a stronger man, Padalecki. That one is weak,” he said. Jared followed him right after and went to tackle him when Gen caught his arm.

“Boys, not in the water,” she said.

“Chicken?” asked Jensen.

“Losers pick up the tab for when we go out this weekend for dinner. Deal?” asked Jared.

“Well in that case, you’re on.”

Two Weeks Later

“Jensen,” you said, carding your fingers through his hair while he absentmindedly burnt some eggs. “You okay babe?”

“Yeah. We ought to pack up the kids, get on the road soon if we’re gonna hit the beach.”

“I’m gonna drive, okay?” you asked. He nodded and you got out the eggs again, making up a new batch. “Do you want to talk to Ray?”

“Why?” he asked quietly, leaning back against the counter.

“Anniversaries of traumatic events can be triggering,” you said. “My mom died two days ago. Well, you know what I mean.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked.

“Because it doesn’t trigger me anymore. But it did and this is the first time...the first one is the roughest.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I ought to talk to him.”

“Eat your breakfast. I’ll give him a call and get the kids ready while you guys talk, okay?” you said.

“Thank you,” he said. You kissed his cheek and hugged him before you went upstairs for your phone. It rang a few times but Ray finally answered, noise in the background.

“Y/N. Everything alright?” he asked.

“Hey. Yeah. We’re...we’re pretty good. Today’s the first anniversary of Jensen’s-”

“Ah. I understand.”

“Listen, I know it’s a Sunday and you don’t work the weekends but would you mind talking to him for a few minutes? We’re going down to Galveston for the week in a bit but he’s off this morning.”

“I’d talk to him even if he wasn’t your fiance but especially because of that. You know we’re actually down here ourselves for a few days. Just got down yesterday. If you guys are around...maybe we could get together for that swim.”

“I’d like that. You okay?” you asked.

“I always get a little down on the day but Sarah understands. You understand.”

“Yeah. I’m gonna put Jensen on and um, maybe we can meet at Arillo’s for dinner?”

“We got a reservation there ourselves tonight. How many in your crew? Five? I’ll call and ask for an update.”

“Yeah there’s five of us. Um, Ray?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry for being so horrible as a teenager after mom. You loved her as much as I did.”

“Thank you but you don’t have to apologize for that. You got too much pain in your life. I’m glad you found the good stuff too.”

“Are Geroge and Taylor there?” you asked.

“Yeah kids are here. Taylor’s got some internship but she does it online half the day and George is some research assistant thing for one of his professors but same kinda deal. We leave them to work in the morning while Sarah and I have some fun. Want me to let them know you’re coming?”

“Probably a good idea. Not sure how they’ll react,” you said, Jensen poking his head into the bedroom. “Here’s Jensen.”

“Okay, sweetie. We’ll see you guys soon.”

You handed the phone to Jensen and finished up packing while he sat on the bed. You tried to leave him be but couldn’t help listening in.

“Yeah I’m anxious...I don’t want her to drive down today...you know why...I guess...probably...I don’t want to be freaking out for three hours in the car...because it’s today...I know...I know...so I have to suck it up...I don’t want to have a panic attack in the car with the kids...no I haven’t...I’m scared I will though...yeah...I understand...dude that sounds so stupid...that’s not medically anything...no I don’t have my doctorate...I don’t wanna ask her...I said I don’t want to, not that I wouldn’t...I know...I will...maybe I’ll try that too...yeah, Y/N said the first year is the roughest too...I’ll let her be in charge until we get down to the beach today. I think I’ll feel better after the car...yeah I kinda figured out what she was doing planning a trip on today of all days...I need it...really? Yeah, I’m looking forward to meeting up down there too...thanks Ray.”

You finished with your suitcase and had his open for him when he walked into the closet. He swallowed and handed your phone back.

“All good?” you asked.

“Ray thought it might be a good idea if I had something of yours with me on the way down, to keep on me since I’m...anxious this morning about being in a car.”

“Something of mine…” you said, looking at your side of the closet. “Why don’t you pack up and I’ll get you something before the road, okay?”

He nodded and twenty minutes and about three bathroom trips later the SUV was packed up. You hopped behind the wheel, Jensen tapping the arm rest from the passenger seat. 

“Here,” you said, reaching into your pocket, pulling out a bracelet. It was fabric, the kind made from craft string, white, rusty orange and a light tan color mixed together. 

“I’ve never seen this,” he said as he held it between his fingers.

“I got it on vacation with mom and Ray. Last one we went on,” you said, tying it around his wrist. “You have it.”

He stared at you as you turned the engine on, watching you backout. 

“This is too important for me to take,” he said quietly.

“It’s fabric. I want you to have it, okay?” you said, pulling onto the street and closing the gate. He nodded and you turned the radio on low. “Coffee run?”

“Yeah. Coffee sounds good right about now.”

You were only about fifteen or so minutes away from the beach house you’d rented. The kids were either taking naps in the backseats or watching a movie on the ipad. You risked a glance at Jensen, his fingers absently toying with the bracelet while he looked out the window, the radio on low. 

“How you doing big guy?” you asked as you pulled off to the exit ramp. 

“Pretty good now,” he said softly. 

“Mind navigating for me?” you asked. He hummed and picked up your phone from where it sat in the console the past few hours. About twenty minutes or so you were stretching outside of the car, Jensen opening the front door of the house with the code you’d been given. The kids climbed out and were good about each taking their own backpacks while you and Jensen gathered up the rest. 

“Come here,” he said, leaving the bags by his feet and kissing you against the side of the car. You grinned and he picked you up in a big squeezing hug. “I love you.”

“I know,” you said. He set you down and kissed you again. “You seem like yourself again.”

“I needed that push, get over that fear. But now, I can enjoy my day with my girl and my kiddos and apparently we are having dinner with Ray and his family tonight?” he asked.

“If that’s alright,” you said.

“One hundred percent,” he said, Arrow jumping up and down nearby. “Honey, go use the bathroom in the house if you have to go.”

“No I’m excited!” she said. “Can we go play on the beach? Pretty please?”

“Hm, give daddy fifteen minutes and then we can go?” he asked. She turned to you and grinned.

“We’ll go really soon sweetie. I promise.”

“Hey guys,” said Jensen an hour later, the five of you down on the beach and mostly watching them build a sandcastle together. “Y/N and I want to tell you something.”

“Is it that you guys are getting married?” asked JJ, patting some sand with her shovel. You glanced at Jensen and he shrugged. “You were talking to Aunt Gen and Uncle Jared about it last night, right?”

“Well, yes we were,” said Jensen. “I suppose we were a little louder than we thought. But yes, Y/N and I have decided to get married. We’re not sure when exactly but in the next year I can say.”

“So we have a mom again?” asked Arrow, fixing her corner of the castle that kept caving in.

“Well you guys are kinda lucky. You’ll get two moms,” he said. “How’s that sound?”

“We missed mom’s day,” she said with a sigh. “Right?”

“We’ll catch it next year, promise,” said Jensen. “Do you guys have any questions or anything you want to say?”

“Do we call you mom now?” asked JJ. 

“You guys call me whatever you want,” you said.

“Can we call you mom?” she asked. You nodded and she went back to playing in the sand. 

“Anything else guys?” asked Jensen.

“Can I get a giraffe?” asked Zeppelin while he figured out how much water to add to the sand to get it to stick together.

“No sweetie. They wouldn’t fit at our house,” said Jensen. 

“Darn it,” he said.

“I can tell you’re all so invested in this topic,” chuckled Jensen.

“Oh! Can my flower girl dress be purple?” asked JJ. 

“Your dress can be whatever color you want it to be,” you said.

“Awesome,” she said. “Or black and purple. With lightning stripes.”

“Ah, I knew the classic rock would finally pay off,” said Jensen.

“Maybe Daddy’s suit can be black and white stripes, like a tiger,” you said.

“Like a White Snake music video more like it,” he laughed. “We’ll figure all that stuff out. We wanted to make sure you guys knew was all and if you have any questions or were nervous or anything you know you can ask either one of us.”

“Mom makes you happy again. Of course you gotta marry her!” said Arrow. “Oh and get her a pony. Girls like that.”

“Would you care for a pony, sweetheart?” asked Jensen as he shook his head. 

“Are we talking mustang kind of pony?” you asked.

“That’s my girl,” he said, wrapping an arm over your shoulders, kissing your cheek. “Let dad get a picture of you guys. We’re on vacation after all.”

Five Hours Later

“Jensen,” you said, changing into a light summer top and a pair of denim shorts after your shower. He was standing by his suitcase undressed, trailing his finger over his scar. “Honey?”

“A year ago was the worst day of my life and today was a really great one. I get to meet Ray more and even Sarah and the kids who all sound great and...I’m really happy I’m still here to see all this.”

“Me too,” you said, wrapping your arms around him. “Wear your red underwear.”

“Is that a request?”

“I like how you look when you take it off,” you said, gently smacking his ass as you went to go fix your hair.

“I am so grateful I found you,” he said to himself. You smiled and brushed your teeth quickly before checking yourself over and taking a selfie. You sat up on the counter and opened instagram, still silently grateful you’d always had it on private. There was nothing bad on it but Jensen and Jared had tagged you before and all of the comments always seemed to be negative.

“How do I look?” asked Jensen, walking in wearing a short sleeve navy button down and his red underwear.

“So sexy,” you giggled, Jensen digging through his other bag and finding his khaki shorts. 

“Can I get away with sneakers and a backwards baseball cap at this restaurant?” he asked.

“Totally. We always eat outside. It’s near the pier,” you said, putting up your post.

“Taking more pictures I can show off of you again?” he asked, grabbing your brush and getting some control of his damp hair back.

“Nobody even sees my instagram hardly,” you said.

“You know the internet knows we’re dating, right.”

“I’m pretty sure your fans still aren’t okay with that fact, even if they know.”

“Oh you’re mistaking the nutjobs for actual fans. The real ones, those guys are cool and nice. I actually got a lot of care packages and things from them last year. Still do. They really are good people. Those other ones that leave nasty comments? Fuck them. That shit don’t bother me anymore.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying family and friends know. Can I show off the woman I love to the world?” You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him in front of you, his head cocking. 

“Yeah,” you said. “Better late than never.”

“Okay,” he said. “For now though, I’m looking forward to this dinner.”

“I hope it goes well. It’s George and Taylor I’m more worried about. They were kids when I decided to stop coming around. I only knew them maybe two years, if even that. I know they were upset.”

“Give them some credit. Ray raised them too after all.”

“I’m all set!” said Zeppelin, walking into the bathroom with his paw patrol shirt and nothing else on.

“At least I was gonna wear underwear,” chuckled Jensen. “Little dude. Get some undies on and shorts in the next two minutes or else…” he trailed off as he came in and hugged Jensen’s leg. 

“I love you, daddy,” he said.

“I love you.”

“Can we get a giraffe now?” he asked. Jensen rolled his eyes and you released him.

“Let’s go finish getting you dressed, buddy.”

“So you guys were Sarah’s fosters?” asked Jensen towards the end of dinner, all three kids passed out asleep in the stroller or on the bench besides you while you picked at your shared dessert. Neither George or Taylor had said much aside from introducing themselves. 

“Guys,” said Ray, nudging Taylor. “I’m sorry for our children’s rudeness. I was afraid of this.”

“Shut up,” they both said, Sarah sighing.

“The kids were both big fans of Supernatural. They grew up watching it with me. It was something we bonded over at first in fact,” she said. 

“Oh,” said Jensen, a smirk forming on his face. “Sam or Dean girls? George come on buddy, it’s okay.”

“This isn’t happening,” said Taylor, her eyes squeezed shut.

“So you guys don’t want to hear about the movie, gotcha,” he said, both of them snapping their heads up.

“He really is a dork,” you said. 

“Movie?” asked George.

“Someday. You can count on it,” said Jensen. “Maybe I’ll go easy on you guys and ask what mom was?”

“You boys are a little young for my tastes but honestly the guy who played John was very attractive,” she said.

“Even I’d hit that,” said Ray, Sarah laughing to herself.

“You can see Ray wins his ladies over with his charm,” you said, glancing at Taylor and George. “Like you guys could literally ask anything you ever wanted about the show and get an unfiltered answer if you want.”

“Did you really keep the car?” asked George. Jensen nodded and held up his finger.

“When we’re back in town, you guys come over and you can take a spin in it,” he said.

“Okay, he’s cool with me,” said George. You cocked your head and he smiled. “That was the car from the show I always told you about.”

“Oh. I thought you were talking about batman or something,” you said, pursing your lips. “Sorry I wasn’t…”

“You always sucked at pretending to be happy,” said Taylor. You looked down and nodded. “We get it. You had to do your own thing.”

“Don’t hate me for leaving?”

“Maybe when we were little,” she said. “But we’re older and we get that you probably felt like a fifth wheel.”

“Yeah. A lot really,” you said. “It worked out though.”

“She’s a Dean girl by the way,” said Ray, cracking up as Taylor whacked his arm.

“Dad! Oh my God no I’m not! I like Sam!” she said.

“Want to talk to him?” grinned Jensen. Her face went red and you heard a quiet chuckle at the table. “You’re right, we’ll save that for in person.”

“You basically are marrying Dean Winchester without like, the trauma,” she said. Jensen tensed up but kept a smile on his face. You knew Ray caught it when he gave him a simple nod.

“Trauma’s not inherently bad,” said Ray. “Everyone at this table has gone through some.”

“I know, dad,” she said quietly. She looked at George and he nodded. “Our parents were in a house fire. So were we. I was five and Georgie was four.”

“She carried him out and went next door for help,” you said.

“I was in a car accident last year,” said Jensen. You turned your head. It wasn’t public knowledge that he was in the car. He’d flat out told you that aside from family and a few friends, no one besides you knew. “I almost died. My wife did but for other reasons. You can still have trauma and a really good life.”

“Very good point, Jensen,” said Ray. “You two rugrats wouldn’t be around if mom and I had moped around in our misery forever.”

“Was he always such a sap?” asked George.

“From the day I met him,” you said, Jensen grabbing your hand under the table. “Would you mind watching the kids for a second?”

“Not at all,” he said. You excused yourself and brought Jensen along with you, walking out to the beach area, the breeze cool but light.

“You alright?”

“Yeah. I can talk about it now. I went from having the worst year of my life to one of the best. Nothing bad’s gonna happen for saying what really happened. I want to let all that shit go and have the rest of that really good life I was talking about.”

“For someone who keeps a lot inside I sure have noticed a difference in you the past few weeks.”

“To quote both of the loves of my life, I gotta let that shit out more regularly,” he said. You smiled and wrapped your arms over his shoulders, giving him a kiss. 

“You know that’s what we call growth, babe.”

“I very easily could have gone the opposite way this year.”

“But you didn’t, cause you tried even though it sucks sometimes. I love you but I extra love happy you and you’re definitely a happier guy now than when I met you.”

“So are you, honey,” he said. “Must make a pretty good team or something.”

“Oh yeah, maybe that’s it.”

“We should honestly get like, married or something, you know?” he teased.

“First I have to know though, are you willing to do cookie cake for a wedding cake?”

“I’m willing to make that sacrifice,” he said. “The real questions is, are you willing to deal with the eventual dad bod that will happen as a result?”

“I love this bod, but I don’t love you for this bod,” you said. 

“Thank you for today,” he said softly. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you said. He grinned and kissed your cheek, hugging you tightly. “What are best friends for?”

“Everything?”

“Hell yeah they are Ackles.”

_______

A/N: Read Part 15 here!

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

a kiss from the moon | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: All these years, all these summers, Jeon Jungkook has loved you. His problem? You have no idea. Mostly because he has always said it far too platonically and thrown up in your lap after saying it. Drunk. Fuck. Oh, yeah, and you're also Park Jimin's best friend since preschool. Shit.

warnings: language; alcohol consumption; pining; JK gets distracted by (your) tits during his quest, typical; non-idol!BTS - purple-haired!Jungkook x sleepy af, noona!reader, ft Park Jimin and Kim Taehyung radiating big soulmate energy; childhood friends-to-lovers

yes, it's JK from the 'Butter' beach photos

--

“I love you!”

You lifted your head out of the mountain of pillows, groggy and hazy, squinting at the moonlight filtering through the floating curtains. The night breeze was warm, drifting in softly with the low hum of cicadas. But what was that other sound? That other sound was familiar, wasn’t it?

You heard your name being shouted, followed by, “Wake up!”

You made a face and stumbled out of the bed, sticking your head out of your bedroom window, your own hair flying back and smacking you in the face.

“Yah! Jeon Jungkook, are you trying to wake up the whole damn neighborhood?!”

“Get down here!”

You put on your best disgruntled expression and peered down at the form on your front lawn, shoving your own hair aside.

“What are you going on about?” you muttered, seeing Jeon Jungkook looking up at you, puffing his cheeks, long wet purple hair fading to gray because of the chlorine from swimming all night at that party Park Jimin had invited you to earlier today, to which you had responded, no thanks, I’m going to sleep all day, I worked three double shifts in a row and I have zero desire to be flung into your family’s swimming pool at this time, but I will acknowledge that your offer is very generous, and then promptly passing out for a good – you glanced at your phone with the pink bunny case Jungkook had given you two summers ago – ten hours and it was still not enough for you to comprehend why your best friend’s best friend was standing on your front lawn yelling at your parents’ house that you were watching for a month while they were in Italy getting drunk on far too expensive wine and eating cheese they probably couldn’t pronounce.

Jungkook was shirtless, clad only in orange swim shorts and sandals like a fucking hooligan. He was clutching a plastic red Solo cup and he threw it at the house, yelling your name again.

“Oh my fucking God, don’t litter, you idiot!” you bellowed back, throwing yourself away from the windowsill and crawling on the floor to your bedroom door like the evolution of mankind, making it from all fours to two legs by the time you got to the stairs – good thing too, you might have broken your neck if you were still disoriented – and you dragged yourself downstairs, yanking your white slip dress straight. Not your choice of pajamas. Your mom’s, who told you to be more ladylike, whatever the fuck that meant, and who also informed you in the same breath that it was your only choice of pajamas since they donated all your clothes from high school.

Awesome.

You go to university and your parents yeet all evidence that they had a child and go vacationing.

Good for them.

You wrenched your front door open and shoved your feet into your dad’s giant brown sandals and clapped your way over to the pink-faced, mildly drunk, shirtless man in swimming trunks on your front lawn.

“It’s two in the morning. Why are you standing here drunk and professing your love like some kind of deranged Romeo?” you sighed, rubbing your eyes. “Why aren’t you at Jimin’s?” You spied the red Solo cup and picked it up, whipping your head back to Jeon Jungkook.

He was staring at you with his mouth open.

Charming.

He didn’t say anything for a good ten seconds.

“Alright, fine, let me call my loser of a best friend and tell him to pick up his loser of a best friend, so I can go back to sleep,” you muttered, about to turn around.

Jungkook seemed to sputter back to life. “Wait, um, noona–”

“He speaks! He’s not dead.”

“A… Ah… Um…”

You squinted at him and reached up to knock the side of his head. “Hello? Anyone in there?”

Jungkook blurted out, “I love you.”

His breath smelled a lot like alcohol.

“Yeah, I got that. You also said that when I got you through your Chemistry and World History exams. Both times. You also say that to like, what, six of your guy friends? Don’t get me started on the amount of times you’ve said it and thrown up in my lap right after. Don’t do that this time,” you added sternly, prodding at his chest. “I’ve got one set of pajamas because my mom forgets that human beings change clothes, so throw up on the grass.”

“Uh… that’s pajamas…?”

“Lady pajamas,” you grumbled sarcastically, lifting the lid and chucking the crumpled Solo cup into your parents’ trash can. “Since I’m not lady enough apparently according to my mom, even though I’m ninety-nine percent sure giant band t-shirts are completely unisex but, whatever, it’s just a dress, not a big deal.”

“Um.”

You looked at Jungkook, who looked back at you, who put your hands up and gestured him to say something, who in response rose his hands and flapped them in confusion, giving you absolutely zero helpful communication. The movement reminded you he had gotten his right arm and hand tattooed in the last couple years, the black ink standing out against tan skin. You hadn’t seen him too many times during your university years, too busy completing research papers and staying late nights in laboratories, only to now end up working on hospital software and sitting on your ass all day. Life, eh? These past three days were spent on working through bugs for the next software update and you had maybe lost all social skills as you attempted to unravel lines of code that you stared at for forty-eight out of the past seventy-two hours.

Fun!

“Do you need a cookie? A shower? The Bible?” you offered, waving your hands. “Maybe tell me why you’re here, yes?”

He was staring and you realized you were slightly bent over in your gesture, your breasts firmly pressed into the cups of the slip dress. You straightened and Jungkook’s wide dark brown eyes went back to your face.

“I… I didn’t realize you had come back, noona.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking about? I told Jimin last week. He said he was hanging out with you and Taehyung. I figured he’d just tell you guys then.”

Jungkook shook his head quickly, gray-purple hair flying about. He pointed to the left, where Jimin’s house was several blocks over. “He only mentioned it just now, when he was throwing up in the bathroom from doing eight shots in a row because Taehyungie dared him.”

“…. Maybe he needs the Bible…” you muttered, shaking your head.

Then the realization hit you.

“Did you walk here from Jimin’s and straight up abandon the party?”

Jungkook tilted his head and thought about it. “Yeah.”

You looked around to find the camera and see if you were being pranked, but there was no camera because this life wasn’t purely for entertainment, right? Nah, this wasn’t The Matrix.

Mhm.

“Hah, well, what’s wrong? Are you upset I didn’t go to the party or something? I had three double-shifts this week, I wasn’t going to be any fun passed out before actually drinking–”

“Yoongi-hyung was passed out before drinking.”

“In some ways, I swear that guy and I are the same person,” you laughed, shaking your head. “Anyway, I’m sorry I didn’t go and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I really banked on Jimin not being an airhead, but once again he is, so maybe I should reconsider him as my best friend…”

“Noona, I…”

You looked up from your mental consideration of Park Jimin’s pros and cons, the first pro being he punched that ex of yours that cheated on you with some Tinder hookup and that was already enough to stop contemplating, so you blinked at Jungkook curiously, looking into wide brown eyes, long strands of ash-purple floating around his handsome face from the night breeze, brushing against his parted lips, highlighting the mole underneath them, placed perfectly in the center like a kiss from the moon itself.

“Can I take a shower and sleep it off here?”

You tilted your head. “Yeah, sure. You can borrow my dad’s clothes. You should call Jimin though. You don’t want him to panic that he lost you.”

“Y… Yeah, okay…”

-

Jeon Jungkook really thought he could say it this time.

Collected all his courage and ran, ran as fast as he could, couldn’t believe Jimin had neglected to say she was coming home over the summer for more than a day, days without her reminding Jungkook that he was a coward for not saying it when he could have, having lost his most important person in the world because he was too afraid of telling Park Jimin that he was in love with his best friend.

He remembered that smile wearing nothing but a large t-shirt, sitting on Jimin’s bedroom floor, crushing all of them at UNO and cackling as Jimin blew up for ending up in last place for the third time in a row, yelling that the game was rigged, and Jungkook remembered thinking, I should tell her tonight.

And he didn’t.

He remembered her saying to Taehyung that she just wasn’t into girly things. They were having this argument over pizza and Taehyung was waving his around saying she should at least try a dress on every once in a while, never know, might actually like it, and her rolling her eyes as she shot back that she didn’t have to do anything just because it was stereotypical for her gender. Taehyung told her to stop using big words and waved his hands, accidentally flinging his pizza slice into her lap, and Jungkook remembered thinking, I should tell her after we clean up.

And he didn’t.

He remembered seeing her prepare to leave for university once again, holding a small package from the internet and handing it to her, a small but practical belated birthday gift, both of them surprised when she opened it, not the matte black phone case he had ordered, but somehow mixed up with a pink bunny phone case that had no business being owned by someone who didn’t like girly things.

“Oh, shit, I’m so sorry, I didn’t order this–”

And she laughed, shaking her head. “That’s okay, I gotta go, thanks anyway, Jungkook!”

The years went by and every year Jungkook told himself, this is the one, and every year he just couldn’t say it.

He thought he could say it now, drunk and furious at Jimin for not preparing him for this moment, but on his way here Jungkook figured that perhaps this was preferred, that maybe it was better that he couldn’t sit around nervously overthinking what to say.

But, of course, the problem was…

He had already said it in a platonic way.

Shit.

He really fucked himself throughout the years.

Jungkook sighed, now wearing borrowed clothes, holding the note of her handwriting as he rubbed his hair with the towel.

I washed your shorts and they’re hang-drying now. You can sleep in the guest room. I left a glass of water and some hangover meds. If you need anything, I’ll be asleep but you can attempt to wake the dead if you want.

He walked down the hall, towel around his shoulders. Her bedroom door was open. He stood outside the entrance, sighing, seeing her sleeping form and her bedside table, her phone sitting on the charger.

His breath caught in his throat as he recognized that pink bunny phone case.

-

“Where’s Jungkook?”

“Probably at her parents’ place, confessing his love,” Kim Taehyung snickered, picking up the beer bottles left behind next to the pool.

“Hah, of course he would leave without cleaning up,” Park Jimin grumbled, pushing the recycling bin along as Taehyung tossed each bottle inside.

“You think he’s gonna tell her?”

“He didn’t even tell me,” Jimin muttered, shoving used napkins into the bag hanging off the side of the recycling bin that he was going to toss into the trash later. “I had to find out from you. I think he’s hopeless. Why does he like her anyway? She’s fun to be around, yeah, she’s good at school, yeah, knows a lot of random facts, yeah, if you get into philosophy with her like Namjoon-hyung does, you begin to question humanity and reality, yeah, but other than that…”

“You hitting on your best friend, dude?”

“I mean, she’s kinda hot, she wouldn’t say no to me.”

Taehyung snorted.

Jimin smacked him in the ass with the recycling bin.

“Anyway, he’s probably just standing in her bedroom creepily watching her sleeping.”

-

Jungkook stared down at her sleeping form.

He looked up, looking out the window into the late, late night. He was tired, and yet he couldn’t sleep, too busy wondering.

I don’t deserve her if I’m not brave enough to say it.

“Jungkook?”

-

You squinted at the large form in your bedroom.

“Why are you just staring moodily out the window?” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes. “Is something wrong? Are you hungry? I can make you a snack…”

“Noona, do you know what the worst feeling in the world is?” he asked softly, still looking out into the warm night.

You grunted and scrunched up your face. “Stepping on a Lego?”

You heard Jungkook laugh and you smiled a little despite your groggy state, hearing a little bit of his old self, the younger Jungkook hanging out with you, Jimin, and, later, Taehyung, the four of you getting up to no good. Somehow, in the past few years, he had gotten quieter and quieter, at least around you, but then again you only came home to visit for a day or two before going back to university.

“Have you ever been in love, noona?”

“Yeah, with the red bean popsicles they used to sell at the ice cream trucks, but then they stopped, those assholes, I’ve never been so heartbroken in my life,” you grumbled, remembering the day where the ice cream man told you they were sold out and your young teenage heart shattering.

“I love you, you know.”

Was this a fever dream? Why did he keep repeating himself? You looked over to his back, still looking outside onto the street, the street where you all used to run and laugh every summer, pretending you were surviving in the wild and not in the middle of a suburban neighborhood, sitting around sipping lemonade and complaining about the heat even though you all could have gone inside, lighting sparklers at night and seeing whose would last the longest even though such a thing was only based on chance anyway.

“Is that the worst thing you’ve ever heard?” he added quietly.

“The worst thing I’ve ever heard was accidentally hearing Jimin jacking off. Twice.”

Jungkook finally turned around, giving you a disgusted look. “What?”

You placed a hand on your face and sighed heavily, trying not to remember. “For some reason he thinks the bathroom isn’t echoey or something, like, at least do it in the shower, so the water masks the sound…” You chuckled, shaking your head. “Anyway, I would much rather hear you say you have love for me than listening to Jimin getting off.”

“I don’t have love for you.”

You raised your hand from your face and shifted your gaze to him, half-smile lingering on your lips from remembering Jimin’s carelessness. You made eye contact the second the words left his mouth, those brown eyes shrouded in shadows, but still so clear, a little helpless, a little sad.

“I’m in love with you,” Jungkook whispered softly.

Your eyes widened.

A soft breeze swept through the window, lifting the purple-gray strands from Jungkook’s face, revealing his lost, desolate expression.

The cicadas hummed.

A car alarm honked loudly, screeching through the night.

Both you and Jungkook jerked to face the window. You bolted out of bed and you both threw your hands onto the edge of the window, yanking it shut, wincing at the loud noise.

“Ah, jeez… what the hell…?” you groaned, slumping to the ground.

“What’s with people…?” Jungkook muttered, falling to the floor beside you, yanking the towel off his shoulders.

-

“Fuck, I pressed the wrong button!”

“Taehyung, what the hell, turn it off!”

“I was just trying to put the tangerines your parents gave me in my car!”

“I don’t care what you were doing, turn it off!”

-

“Anyway, sorry, you were saying something important and you got interrupted by some dumbass,” you sighed, nudging Jungkook with your shoulder.

“Uh… well, that was it…”

You blinked at him, tilting your head. “What, that you’re in love with me?”

“Y… Yeah?”

You blinked some more.

“Not the, want to go to the arcade and see who can get the highest score in PAC-MAN or go watch shitty action movies and rate the unrealistic plot lines or dare each other to eat whatever expired delicacy is in Taehyung’s fridge, kind of love?”

Jungkook made a repulsed face. “I regret eating that tofu. Don’t think I can ever look at uncooked tofu without gagging a little now…”

You leaned over and caught his eye.

“Do you mean the… want to date and get married and make babies, kind of love?”

His lips parted and the moonlight lit the small mole placed perfectly underneath his lower lip.

A delicate kiss from the moon itself.

Then you realized he was staring at your tits.

You yanked the neckline up a little and Jungkook started, looking back up at you with wide eyes.

“Sorry, I’m just not used to you in a dress, sorry, I’m being really rude–”

“It assures me that you’re at least interested in the making babies part,” you chuckled.

His ears turned red and he reached up to cover them, trying not to look down. “S… Sorry…”

“So…?”

He chewed on his lip, messing with his earrings with his fingertips. “Um… yeah, that kind of love. The latter kind.”

You lowered your hand. “You’re not messing with me, right? I swear, if this is one of Taehyung’s elaborate ideas to mess with me, I’m going to ki–”

Jungkook shook his head quickly, purple hair flying about. “I’m not joking around. I wanted to tell you for a long, long time, but…” His eyes darted about, panicking a little, before looking back to you helplessly. “You’re Jimin’s best friend, besides Taehyung, and what if… what if you thought I was gross or something and then I don’t think I could hang out with you guys anymore, but then you went to that prestigious university far away and I thought, I’m so stupid, I should have said something, anything, but every time I could even think about it, I didn’t know what to say, nothing seemed right…”

He let out a big sigh and tapped his head against the windowsill, closing his eyes.

“Also, I said it before and threw up in your lap right after, so that kinda fucked me up.”

“Can’t say I was really feeling the romance, yeah.”

He groaned and covered his face with his hands.

“I’d date you though. For real.”

Jungkook removed his hands and blinked at you. “What?”

You chuckled. “Why are you acting so surprised? I’m not going to date Jimin, blergh, I’ve known that guy since I was in preschool. I’m not dating Taehyung, I’m pretty sure he’s on a different brainwave than other human beings.”

You smiled at him and turned around to pick up your phone, holding it up.

“I don’t like girly things or cute things very much, but I kept your gift because it was from you and, funnily enough, I think it made me realize that I was rejecting femininity because society puts such a negative connotation on things young women like and because my friends growing up were primarily male, thus I wanted to seem cool or relatable so I rejected stereotypically feminine concepts…”

“… What?”

Now it was a confused what.

“Uh, never mind,” you laughed awkwardly, putting your phone back on your nightstand. “Anyway, Jungkook, you made me realize things about myself, and I love being around you, but I thought a handsome guy like you would want to date a pretty girl, and I’m not really that.”

Jungkook furrowed his brows. “What are you talking about? You’re the prettiest girl in the world. No one could ever be prettier than you.”

You felt your neck heat. “Yo, don’t inflate my ego when it’s not the truth,” you chuckled sheepishly, waving a hand. “You’ve been drinking anyway. Alcohol makes everyone prettier.”

“It’s the truth.”

Was he drunk or were you drunk? Why was Jeon Jungkook getting closer?

“Would you really date me?”

You stared into those chocolate eyes and smiled.

“Yes, I would.”

And you leaned forward and kissed him.

His eyes widened, staring at you and you closed your eyes, pressing your lips to his, inhaling his scent, memories of hot summers and mirthful laughter filling your head, standing beside Jungkook and kicking Jimin and Taehyung’s ass at table tennis even though Jungkook was doing most of the work, finishing a movie together after Jimin and Taehyung had passed out on the couch on top of each other and talking excitedly about it until you both fall asleep, getting lamb skewers after Jimin and Taehyung went off to eat ramen in a huff, unable to agree on the same meal as a foursome, but it was fine, no, better than fine, perfect even.

Because you were with Jungkook.

You broke the kiss and opened your eyes, smiling at him.

He blinked slowly, looking down at you.

“Noona…”

His hand raised, fingers spreading out longingly. You quickly reached up and pushed it back down.

“Jungkook, I swear, I do want to touch you in a less than holy way, but maybe not when you’re wearing my dad’s clothes, including his underwear, because that’s really fucking weird.”

Jungkook looked down at the brown t-shirt and beige shorts. “Oh. Yeah. Right.”

“You know, come to think of it, I feel like Taehyung has slowly stolen Jimin from me over the years, so maybe this was fated…” you mumbled, remembering at the moments you had shared with Jungkook were because your other two friends had abandoned you.

“I feel you, sometimes I feel like a third wheel…”

-

“I’m so sleepy.”

“I’ll tuck you in first, but I’m going to get us some water so we don’t die tomorrow morning.”

“Ugh, Jimin, bring another pillow please.”

“Hah, fine, but you’re buying breakfast tomorrow…”

--

masterpost

[appleciders]

Rachel + Leah + Water, the Director’s Cut!

Okay, so I made this gifset exploring Rachel and Leah and the ocean, but because there’s a ten gif limit and a major point of gifsets is for them to look nice, I had to sacrifice a lot of the behind the scenes thoughts and initial versions that came along the way. I still wanted to talk about them though, because I found a lot of them really cool, so I figured I’d stick all that in this post. It’s gonna get long, so you can find the rest under the cut!

So first up, we have Leah as we first see her in the water. (I’m using shitty screenshots because tumblr has a 2mb limit for gifs on text posts and I don’t feel like compressing these down lmao.) Here, she’s face-down, unconscious, floating on a fragment of the plane. This is the first time we see any of the girls in the water.

As Leah gives her dramatic speech talks to the detectives, we see flashbacks to the girl’s lives pre-island. There we see that one of them already has a very strong relationship with the water already, in her before-life: Rachel.

Rachel, as we know, is a diver. We see her take a magnificent tumble into the pool, but when she surfaces, her coach is sternly head-shaking. She corrects Rachel’s form, and after she walks away, Rachel echoes the correction, clearly frustrated with herself. 

Back to Leah. We next see Leah waking up on her lil chunk of flotsam. When she realizes what the hell’s going on, she does what we all would do and starts screaming in terror.

Her panic gets interrupted by Jeannette’s classic Raise Your Glass ringtone. (This was my alarm for two years in high school, and when I watched this for the first time I did have an out-of-body experience). She swims her way over to the Hello Kitty suitcase and—irrationally—unzips it, but we’ll cut her some slack because she’s in some serious shock. As she tries to get the phone, it slips through her fingers and starts spiraling down to the bottom of the ocean. She dives after it.

Unfortunately, she quickly runs out of air and has to give up. She then spots Jeannette floating nearby, checks her out, judges her to be “just a little roughed up,” and then sees land and has a big oh-thank-fuck moment. Because we saw Gretchen’s team placing all of the girls, we know that Linh and Leah were the only two that were put out in the open water. The other girls were put in the beach, or, in Martha’s case, near the shore. This was probably done to quell some of Leah’s suspicions about the crash, but it does give me a couple questions about how they got the other girls wet—did they hose them all down? Pour a couple buckets over their heads? Bob each of them up and down a couple times in a big net like fries in a fryer?? 

Anyway, not important. 

Next that we see, Leah has pulled Jeannette/Linh in from the water. (My Australian parents, who can never pass up an opportunity to give ocean safety tips, chimed in at this point in our first watch to say “See how she’s doing it! You always want to hold someone from behind and pull them in that way. Good job, well done.” So there’s some approval for you, Leah.) As Leah nears the shore, Dot and Toni come tearing in and they help pull the two of them out. 

The rest of the episode after that really only concerns fresh water—Toni and Shelby set out in search of it, to no avail, and Nora helpfully plugs Diet Coke reminds us multiple times that sugar’s heavier than water, so “sugar sinks.” We do set up a goal for the next couple episodes, though: Rachel says, “I'm gonna swim out to the plane tomorrow. See if I can find anything,” and Leah volunteers to come with. Rachel gives her a nod of respect.

Moving on to episode two, we have Rachel and Leah’s (iconic) first real conversation. Rachel says she’s still going out to the wreckage. Leah looks out and looks back at her, incredulous, and says, “Rachel, the water’s insane.” Here’s a big recurring association—the water and “insanity.” (I use insanity here because that’s the language they use, along with psycho/crazy. In no way does that reflect my actual beliefs about their behavior nor am I condoning the way they use those words.) Leah points out the rip current (“well done,” said my mum), and explains her very brief stint as a norcal surfer. Rachel still looks set on going, but then Leah says:

Turns out, Leah can be as ripe with foreshadowing as Fatin. This marks the appearance of their second main association with the ocean—death. After she says this, Leah turns Rachel’s attention inland, and the two agree to climb a big hill to scope out their situation.

Episode two is also obviously Rachel’s episode, so we see a lot of her relationship with diving. 

We see her plunge over and over and over again, drilling technique and form, but despite all her hard work, we learn her coach advised her to quit the team. Instead, Rachel throws herself in twice as hard, and ends up with an eating disorder. By the time the nationals come around, she’s too physically weak to dive safely, and she ends up hitting her head as she goes down. She surfaces in the pool with blood flowing around her.

She refuses to see that as the end of her diving career. She says she’s gonna “get back out there” and “be fucking great again” and she tells Nora at the end of the episode that she needs her to let her believe that.

In episode three, we finally see Leah and Rachel’s trip out to the plane! Nora comes along with them, her relationship with Rachel smoothed over after the events of ep two. “Nora’s a good swimmer,” Rachel explains as she invites her, “We were both water babies.” Water’s clearly been central to Nora and Rachel’s identities since they were really young. 

The three of them make their escape from the rest of the girls as the topic of building a shelter comes up. “Not interested in putting down roots!” Rachel calls. In keeping with the elements theme, Rachel isn’t looking to be grounded. She climbs super high into the air and she dives deep into the water, but earth isn’t her thing. (See: the quicksand scene. Whoops.)

Anyway, the three of them paddle out into the water. Rachel dives down, scopes out the plane, tells Nora she doesn’t expect her to “fucking free dive in open water,” and then looks to Leah and asks if she’s ready. Leah reluctantly agrees. 

We get our first shot Rachel swimming down into the ocean and our second shot of Leah (first the phone, second the plane). In the wreckage of the plane, they discover the black box, affixed to the wall. They keep trying to wrench it free, but it’s stuck, and Leah—who’s primary activity is, like, reading—keeps having to surface for air. Rachel gets frustrated and grabs her leg, holding her down. 

Leah screams and fights, but Rachel doesn’t let go. We cut away, and when we see them again, they’ve emerged victorious (Rachel) and drowned as dogs after a bath (Leah and Nora) with the black box in hand. Later, Leah mutters the above line to Fatin, calling Rachel a “psychopath.” For those keeping score at home, here’s where we refer back to the association between water and “insanity.”

In episode four, the ocean benevolently bestows a bag of takis upon Nora, and we have our whole shelter-building shebang. It’s all very land-based until Leah and Fatin go head to head, which ends with Fatin smearing her blood all over Leah’s face. Leah, with her usual flair, strips off her clothes as she walks into the ocean. She stays down there, passively letting the water wash the blood from her face.

This shot parallels a couple things. First, the drifting blood visually parallels Rachel in the pool after her diving injury. Second, we have Rachel staring out at the water where Leah’s disappeared and going, “Man, that is some real Virginia Woolf-type shit.” Dot has no fucking clue what she means, so Fatin interprets: “It means that bitch is crazy. She said you were the psychopath of the group.” Now it’s Leah who’s done something in the water that’s been deemed insane. The water and “insanity;” the water and accusations of insanity within their relationship. 

Those accusations pop up in episode five, but the episode is pretty focused on the inland search for Fatin, and revolves around fresh water, not salt water. (That could be a whole nother post lol.) It’s in episode six where we again see these two return to the ocean. 

Rachel is diving in the ocean! For fun! She’s picking up pretty shells (which granted isn’t the safest thing to do in the pacific, cone snails are not our friends), and she’s grinning, and she’s generally enjoying herself. With the, uh, finale situation, we’re probably not gonna get to see her smile for a bit, which is sad, because she should get to do this more often! This shot visually echoes her diving for the plane and Leah diving for the phone, except she can be in a better mood because there is no end goal. 

So she goes diving, ends up finding a bunch of mussels, gathers ‘em up, and brings ‘em back to camp. They all chow down, but wind up with serious food poisoning. Martha and Toni ring death’s doorbell a couple of times. Rachel blames herself—she’s the one that went swimming out there, she brought the mussels back. Again, we see that connection between the ocean and death.

And that association comes back bright an early in ep seven! The tide surges higher than they’ve ever seen, taking down their shelter and leaving them all scrambling. 

While Leah convinces Fatin that her life is more important than her suitcase, Rachel is left with a decision: help Nora, screaming to her from where she’s clinging to a rock for dear life, or grab the black box. In a move that contrasts Toni’s immediate and unquestioning aid of Martha, Rachel picks the black box. 

After, when they’re debriefing, Nora’s quick to bring it up. She doesn’t hide her hurt. “It happened so fast,” she says, “we all acted irrationally. Like Fatin, who jumped into a rip current to save her toothbrush. Or Rachel, who left me for fucking dead.” I think this counts as a double whammy for the “insanity” and death count—I think “acted irrationally” is as close as Nora gets to calling anyone crazy, and is honestly a better descriptor of all the other instances of “insanity” that we’ve seen, and the ocean was the source of the very real risk to Nora’s life. 

(Honestly, I think Rachel thought she was making a rational choice here—just with some grim fucking calculus. Still, given that nobody’d responded to the black box by then, I think it was a decision fueled by the need to keep hold of hope more than actual rationality.) In a fun contrast to the rest of the episode, it’s Leah that keeps a level head in this situation. 

The rest of the episode is low on water scenes, though Leah’s paranoia about Shelby is fueled by her sneaking off to the water, which could fall under the “insanity” category. It also marks where Nora begins to take an active role in breaking apart Rachel’s fantasy about diving again. 

Ep eight has one of the best montages in a series of great montages, with the playing in the water scene! A plane has seen them, they’re gonna be saved, and they all get to get high and act like kids. 

I have this lingering and probably irrational concern that the entire water play scene is choreographed and that it’s chock-full of foreshadowing. Like I know to some extent they likely were just like “yeah guys go goof off in the water,” but like...the wave pulling Rachel and Nora apart here...I mean.... (Rachel is probably gonna get more blood on Dot in the near future, too. ) That aside, their horseplay gets interrupted when Leah notices some blood on Dot, which Rachel realizes is her own period blood.  

Fatin then chimes in with her ever-gleeful foreshadowing: “Shark week for Rachel.” So while this whole encounter with the water actually seems mostly good for a change, it’s colored by the tie-in to what we know is coming.

In ep nine, reality has set in that rescue isn’t imminent. Everyone’s starving, Leah has started to spiral, and Rachel’s unusually skittish. By the tide’s edge, Nora asks for her help fishing, but Rachel refuses, saying that she’s weak. Nora flicks water at her, and Rachel flinches, clearly scared.

Starvation seems to have triggered Rachel’s trauma around the water leftover from her diving accident. In response, Nora reaches out a hand and says, “Let’s go for a walk.”

Meanwhile, Leah’s spiral has reached critical. She starts ranting about the ocean and the water and pushes past Dot, sprinting into the waves:

And so she’s taken to heart the way they think Jeannette’s body “escaped” the island—the tide—and it’s been spun like cotton candy in her head. She’s right, technically—Jeanette/Linh’s body was moved off the island by boat, and there’s definitely an argument that if they really did all swim out Gretchen’s team would save them, or at least try to. This is also a very real suicide attempt. So it’s kind of a culmination of the threats of death and mental health issues that’ve been wrapped up in the ocean since the start.

On Rachel’s end, Nora has taken her up to a cliff. Rachel calls the whole thing “borderline insane,” walking up when they’re so low on energy, but Nora tells her she needs to make a truce between herself and the water. 

“You’re afraid of it now,” she says, and Rachel replies that, “All it ever did was make me sick.” Nora immediately surges forward to say “That’s not true!” Rachel, incredulous, says, “Isn't this what you want? For me to hang it up? For me to forget the whole fucking diving game?” Nora says, “No. I don't know. I don't want you to forget you.” She then tells Rachel she should dive off the end of the cliff, that she marked it to make sure it’s safe. Rachel says she can’t.

There’s a lot here. First, there’s the first time we’ve seen of Rachel explicitly call herself sick. In episode two, even in a treatment center, she still denies it, says she’s just an athlete who knows what it takes. But now she’s reached a place where she acknowledges her eating disorder—and also probably her recent illness with the mussels—and ties it directly to the water. It’s the reason she’s sick.

Nora’s fear that Rachel will forget herself also just hammers home how central the water has always been to Rachel’s identity. Cutting herself off from the water would be cutting off a core part of herself. (...whoops) And we’ve seen that it does bring her actual joy, when she’s allowed to relax with it, but she’s had such traumatic associations rolled up into it now. Nora doesn’t want Rachel to do diving as a sport anymore, because of how badly it’s hurt her, but she does want Rachel to keep diving and swimming as like, a form of unevaluated personal expression.

At the moment that Rachel’s refusing to jump, she and Nora hear shouts from the mainland. They see Fatin and Dot screaming after Leah. Confused, Nora asks, “Where is she going?” but Rachel understands immediately, with absolute certainty, without needing to be told—“To fucking drown to death.” Seven episodes after Leah called heading into the water a death wish, she’s finally proving it true. Rachel squares her shoulders, takes a few deep breaths, and sprints into a dive. 

Unlike all her other dives high altitude dives we’ve seen her do, this dive isn’t qualified based on aesthetics. This dive matters because of what it will do, not on how it looks. And what it does do is bring her into the ocean, where she needs to be for her friend. So with strong strokes, she swims out towards Leah.

When she reaches her, she takes hold of her, pulls her into her chest from behind. She begins to swim with her back to shore. This rescue directly parallels Leah’s rescue of Linh that we talked about above. It also, as the Out in the Wilds podcast insightfully pointed out, really calls Rachel and Leah’s relationship back to the beginning. Whereas Rachel had initially held Leah down in the water, putting her in danger of drowning, Rachel here pulls her out of the water, saving her from drowning. Together, they make it all the way back to the shore.

Finally (and, like, if you’ve made it all the way down here? bless you. thank you), we have episode ten. The ocean doesn’t really figure into episode ten until the very end. Rachel has had a long episode of healing—she’s happy to be full and she’s in a good place with her sister and things seem to be going pretty okay. She decides to heal her relationship with the water, too. She heads out, telling Nora that she’s “Just gonna float, Nor. Just float.”

Just floating. After all the times we saw her plunging into the water, purposefully, with frustration, with drive, with so much to prove and with so much sacrifice and self-abuse to prove it with, Rachel finally just wants to float. She wants to let herself relax. She wants to let the water carry her.

Of course, that means there has to be, like, a massive marine carnivore waiting to mistake her for a seal.

Visually, this shot really parallels the opening shot of Leah on the fragment of plane. Instead of being face-down, though, she’s face-up, and she’s conscious, just not of the threat from below. 

The shark bites.

In a horrible parallel to Leah’s Virginia Woolf moment and Rachel’s diving accident, we see blood pool in the water. Rachel is pulled under. The girls on the land start screaming and running toward her. We know Rachel doesn’t die, but this is still a near-death experience, one that probably cost her her arm. Leah, covered in dirt and her own blood after crawling out of the pit Nora led her into, can only stand and watch, shocked and horrified.

So that got! Way longer than I meant it to! And honestly most of this was condensed into very concise tags in a post I made a few days ago! But if you made it all the way down here, you’ve now seen everything I wanted to fit into that gifset but couldn’t. Thanks for sticking with me, friend <3

[trashmouthkid]

It's been ten years since Eddie's seen Richie shirtless. He knows because it was the summer following junior year that he started wearing shirts to the pool, after an absurd growth spurt left him tall and gangly and...well, that's all Eddie could make out over swim trunks and a t-shirt. And he was too young at the time, too preoccupied keeping his towel beneath him, to quietly protest it. Or at least to notice the itch under his skin that did. 

Ten years later, and it's summer again. Sometimes it feels like it never left. But Eddie is older now, busier, and he doesn't live within biking distance of his friends anymore. None of them do. Instead, they've rented two stilt, modest beach houses along the shores of South Carolina for a week. A week was the most mutual free time they could all hope to get for a vacation, and even that ends up a stretch because Stan decides on detouring to spend the first couple nights with Patty's family, last-minute flight cancellations leave Bill stranded at a London airport, Mike isn't coming until tomorrow morning, and Ben and Bev not until Wednesday, leaving Richie and Eddie to check in on time and hold down the fort until then. 

A small part of Eddie wishes he was still unaware of his own restless urges, if only to shake the nagging worry that this was all somehow deliberate. 

Richie's car is already parked in the driveway next door when Eddie arrives, and he hobbles his things upstairs to the room closest to the other house, needing only a nearby bathroom and caring very little about ocean views and balconies. It's a small space, fitting a nightstand next to a bed, and a drawer on the adjacent wall. Eddie hefts his suitcase up by the pillows and starts unpacking. He's got a couple of t-shirts refolded and tucked into a corner of the mattress when he notices commotion out of the corner of his eye and turns to the window across from him—a straight shot into a bedroom next door, where Richie is doing his own unpacking in a pair of threadbare jeans and nothing else. 

Eddie should have known what this was all about back when he was fourteen. That he could give a shit what Ben or Stan or Bev looked like, didn't have to keep track of how long he looked at Bill, never lingered on what they were wearing or not wearing when the lights were off and there was no one around to check him. 

He wonders if it would have done any good. Richie is tall and warm and real in the window now, thin but soft, young but always aging with Eddie's fixed gaze. And Eddie wonders about his shoulders, about the hair on his chest and where his hands have been since they last touched him. When they might touch him again, and how. He wonders what his skin tastes like in all of these places. 

Eddie finds himself again when Richie abandons a t-shirt mid-fold and starts tugging on his belt. He shakes his head and starts patting down the mattress for his phone. 

It rings twice before Richie seems to hear anything, and Eddie watches him search both his front and back pockets before finding his phone, making a funny face when he looks at the caller ID before finally picking up.

"Yellow?" 

"You know your window's open?" 

"Huh?" Richie pauses. Looks over at the window where Eddie is watching him. "Oh." He grins, waving obnoxiously when he sees him. "See something you like, Eds?"  

Eddie huffs. "Yeah, I think I saw some mints on your pillow," he says. "Do you always unpack like this?"

Richie throws his hands up and shrugs theatrically, in case Eddie can’t see. "I can't find the thermostat." 

"You're hopeless." Eddie bites down on a smile. "Come over." 

"Yeah," Richie agrees, and there's an edge in his tone Eddie can't decipher. "Yeah. Let me get decent and we can order in." 

"Close your fucking blinds." 

Richie hangs up and Eddie falls back on his bed with a groan. Richie's blinds are closed the next time he peaks over at the window, and he throws an arm over his face and tries not to think about what's going on beyond them. 

[thiswasinevitableid]

for the meet uglies, sternclay 60 sfw? OwO

Here you go!

60 Sterncly SFW. we’re both on a reality show (like the queer bachelor) where we’re told to be friends but the first time we met, you were incredibly rude and judgmental and I don’t know if I can do this for the damn cameras

“So, Barclay, now that we’re a few days in, what’s your impression of the other contestants?”

“They, uh, they all seem like great guys. We come from a lot of different backgrounds, so that’s kind of interesting to be around but, uh, I live in a place that’s like a big, chosen family, so being in a house with a bunch of types of personalities is kinda, uh, homey.”

“There’s no one you think you’ll struggle with?”

“Uh. Well. I, uh, I don’t like Joseph too much. He came in and he’s so, like, phony from all the years in the FBI. It’s like he’s trying to be polite and charming but really he thinks we’re all idiots for being here. Which, like, buddy, last I checked you signed up for this the same as the rest of us.”

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

“Joseph, any worries about the other contestants?”

“No. I mean, we’re competitors on a dating show, not enemies. I think we’re all trying to show Vincent the best versions of ourselves.”

“There’s no one you’ve had conflicts with?”

“........I, um, Barclay and I got into a small argument earlier about the house rules. But I’m sure if we both stick around long enough we’ll come to an understanding.”

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

“Gentlemen, this cannot continue.” Ned, the producer, sits on the couch across from them. Barclay glares at Joseph, but the other man keeps a cool demeanor. Great, he’s making Barclay look like the big, angry mountain even off camera.

“I thought reality shows needed conflict to thrive.” Joseph cocks an eyebrow.

“They do, but about big things, like love and rivalry. Not how to properly load a dishwasher.”

“I’m just trying to be efficient.”

“My way is perfectly fine.” Barclay snaps, “jesus, I worked in kitchens for years, I know how to get clean plates.”

“That doesn’t make it optimal.”

“Do you have to be right about everything?”

“Gentlemen, you recall we have a housekeeping staff, right?”

“It doesn’t matter” Barclay doesn’t take his eyes off Ned, “we’re supposed to all get along, not all try and prove we’re the smartest guy in the room.”

“See, this is your problem, you need everyone to like you, to see you like a big brother, but you’re missing the fact that at least three of them have decided your gentle giant persona is a threat and they’re trying to oust you.”

“It’s not a persona, it’s just how I am. We aren’t all government shams disguised as men.”

Joseph’s facade cracks for a moment, blue eyes trying to light Barclay on fire.

“Enough.” Ned shakes his head, “you may despise each other as much as you please behind the scenes. In front of the cameras, please try to act as if you’re not ten seconds away from coming to blows. Agreed?”

They trade a final, furious look.

“Agreed.”

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

They’re a little over three weeks in; Vincent is still doing lots and lots of short, individual dates between the group outings, so the contestants have ample time to hang around the house and get on each others nerves.

Case in point: Joseph was right when he warned Barclay that others saw him as a threat. Chad, Alex, Nico, and Rich have all decided to go after him. Just this morning he’s been told he’s not man enough for Vincent (he shooed a wolf spider out of the kitchen with a broom instead of squishing it), too girly (he offered to make cupcakes if people wanted), and too big (who'd want to fuck a six foot tall puppy).

His mood is not helped by Joseph chatting away on the couch about his former job with the FBI. Barclay swears it’s all the asshole knows how to talk about. Maybe it’s time for Barclay to play a game of his own.

“Hey, Joseph.”

The other man turns, black hair perfectly slicked back like he thinks he’s some kind of movie star.

“I bet you ten bucks you can’t make it until eight tonight without talking about your job.”

The other contestants in the room snicker, several even giving Barclay a thumbs up.

Joseph adjusts his shirt sleeves, “You’re on.”

Ten hours later, Barclay is forced to get his wallet. The other man never mentioned the FBI once. In fact, he did Barclay an even bigger favor; he didn’t talk at all.

He finds the agent sitting on the back steps leading into the garden. Stays standing as he holds out the cash, “you win fair and square.”

Joseph looks at the money, then looks away, “I did it to show I could, not for the bet.”

“I mean, you didn’t have to go, uh, quite so hard on the silence thing.”

“I didn’t mean to. But, um, every time I was going to open my mouth, I realized it was somehow related to work. So I kept quiet.” He sighs, stretches out his legs. He’s in slacks, because of course he is, “I must have been so tedious to listen to, no wonder I was driving you up the wall.”

“Joseph-”

“I really am married to my career. I guess it’s not surprising my last chance for love is on a T.V show.”

“Hey, I get it.” Barclay sits down next to him, “when I was first working in commercial kitchens my hours were crazy; I barely saw my apartment, my friends, my boyfriend who pretty quickly became my ex. But it was what I needed to do to build the career I wanted for myself. To do what I loved.”

Only the crickets and the distant waves reply. Then, “You said you were a private chef now, right? Along with writing cookbooks?”

“Yeah. Kinda surprised you remembered.”

“Listening is a major skill in my profession. Besides, it’s polite to pay attention to what people tell you.”

“What’s your job now? You only ever talk about the FBI stuff?”

“Paranormal investigation. I never bring it up because people assume I’m out chasing Bigfoot with a shaky-cam or trying to communicate with haunted dolls.”

“So...what is it instead?”

“Helping people figure out they’re homes aren’t haunted or the monster on their property is just some owls. I like the challenge of solving the mystery, and I like helping people feel safe in they’re homes.”

Loud voices form inside; the caterers must have refilled the bar. He doesn’t really want to go in. It’s too nice out here.

“You wanna hear about the restaurant my coworkers swore was haunted?”

Joseph perks up, turning to face him, “Yes, please.”

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

He’d been really looking forward to beach day. Six guys are already gone, and Vincent has taken his fleet of suitors to the sunny San Diego shores. Barclay is dismayed to find all but three of the other guys have waxed their chests. Joseph hasn’t, but his happy trail is nothing compared to fucking black forest on Barclays torso. Nico’s gotten half the guys to call Barclay ��bigfoot.”It makes him feel like he’s back in high school P.E freshman year, and his body image is rapidly sliding into that of a shy fourteen year old.

“Barclay!” Joseph comes jogging out of the surf towards the towels they lay down side by side when they arrived, “you should come in, it’s really the perfect weather for swimming.” He drops onto his towel, black hair a bit mussed. The swim-shorts that he thought were blue with green spots turn out to have not dots, but tiny UFOs on them.

“I, uh, I’m good. I, uh, I burn easily and I don’t think anyone wants to rub sunscreen on my hairy back.”

“Hey, Bigfoot, what’s wrong? Scared of what’ll happen if the cameras get a load of your gut?”

Barclay growls, stares at his toes. Joseph tracks Nico as he finishes jogging by. Then he calmly picks up a frisbee, aims a throw, and knocks his snapback off his head. He’s sitting down before the other man can work out who threw it. Barclay chuckles, but doesn’t get up.

“Bigfoot’s my favorite cryptid.”

“Uh, thanks?”

“And who gives a shit if you have a stomach.”

“Easy for you to say, you’re cut.”

Joseph grabs his sunglasses, “because I like that for my body. I happen to like yours just as much. Um I, I mean, it seems like Vincent likes it.” He tips his head towards the Bachelor, who gives them both a long once-over.

“...Will you do my back?”

“Of course, big guy.” The nickname sounds so right on his tongue it makes Barclay want to set his head in his lap and ask him to pet it.

It’s late afternoon when Ned herds them all onto a boat which promptly steers towards some cliffs. Joseph stays close to Barclay, pleasant expression noticeably tightening the closer they get to the rocks.

“I’ve been dreading this. Cliff diving is not something I’d pick to do on my own.”

“Heights?”

He shakes his head, “Deep water. I know it’s not rational, and I even checked to be sure there hadn’t been large shark sightings in the area, but I can never shake the feeling there’s something waiting just out of sight, ready to surge up and eat me.”

They all climb up together, Vincent staying on the boat to watch them jump (this is technically a friendly competition to show off how brave they are). As they’re turns get closer, Barclay sees Joseph doing deep breathing exercises.

They hit the edge. The agent freezes.

“Shit. I don’t think I can do this.”

“C’mon, where’s my daring special agent?”

Joseph still doesn’t move.

“You, uh, you wanna jump together? Maybe the megaladon or whatever will eat me instead.”

“Megalodons are extinct; we’d know if they weren’t, same as we know Whale Sharks aren’t.”

“They you are.” Barclay murmurs, smiling.

Joseph manages a smile back, “On three?”

“Yep. One, two” he grabs Joseph’s hand “three”

The water rises to swallow them with terrifying speed, but nothing is waiting for them except one very startled fish. They surface together, Joseph laughing triumphantly, hair plaster to his head and sun shining in his ocean eyes.

If Vincent doesn’t pick him, he’s out of his mind.

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

“Ohmylord, we have to play this.” Joseph cannot believe his luck; he figured the barcade group date would mean a lot of solo time, but here’s his favorite game in the whole wide world.

“Monster Hunt?” Barclay laughs as he lets himself be lovingly shoved down into the seat of a cut-out Jeep, “very on brand.”

“They had this at the bowling alley near my house. I’d play when my parents had league night but couldn't get a sitter. I never could beat the Mothman level without a player two.”

He doesn’t have that problem tonight, even with Barclay distractingly delighted and handsome in the seat beside him. After that, they make it their mission to find every two-player game in the thrum of flashing colors and tinny music. He finds they both like the Bowser Bourbon Smash, and somewhere around their fourth, heated game of air hockey they each polish of one too many of them to stay upright without the support of a game, a helpful show staff member, or each other.

When they get back to the house (their fellow contestants all in a similar state to themselves) they manage to make it to Joseph’s room before collapsing into a giggling heap on the bed.

“That, hic, that was fun. Games are, hic, fun.” Barclay blinks at him, “what’re you laughing, hic, at.”

“You, you got the hiccups. S’funny because you’re so big, like, like watching a, a pitbull with a, um, a” he makes a squeezing motion that his sober self would recognize as “squeaky toy.”

“M’not big” Barclay pouts, “I, hic, maybe everyone else is, hic, just small. Ever think of th--hic--at.”

“S’not a bad thing.” Joseph shifts so they’re facing each other, “like how big you are. Makes you sexy.”

Barclay blushes, “you’re, hic, one to, to talk. You’re hot, so, hic, so fucking out. Got, got those eyes. That, hic, that face” He touches Joseph’s cheek, “love your face.”

“Love yours too.” Joseph says, stroking his beard. Then they’re moving in inelegant tandem, grabbing at each others shoulders and faces as their mouths find each other. Barclay is so warm, whimpering when Joseph rolls him on top, nipping his lips and pawing at him like a puppy hoping for a treat. Joseph is going to hold him close and let him have it.

A clatter from below, one of the other men knocking something over in the kitchen, breaks the spell.

“Wait, wait” Joseph reluctantly slides his hands of Barclays ass, “we, drunk, we’re drunk, too drunk.”

Barclay blinks down at him, pouting a little even as he groans “fuck, you’re, you’re right. Wanna, gotta remember this. Don’t wanna” he yawns, “regret it.” The instant he flops onto his back Joseph climbs into his arms and falls asleep to the slow rhythm of his breathing.

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

After that night, they agree to be more careful; they’re here for Vincent, to see if one of them is his true love. That’s what the contract they signed says.

“More careful” turns out to mean watching their alcohol intake around each other and only touching platonically (including falling asleep on the couch together. They wake up to cameras recording their nap. Barclay isn’t sure what Joseph threatens Ned with, but the footage never sees the light of day).

But unless they’re on a solo date with Vincent, they’re by each others side. Barclay teaches Joseph dominoes and how to make biscuits. Joseph introduces him to terrible old horror movies that they watch on his laptop and compliments his cooking every chance he gets.

They must be doing something right, because they move to the next round week after week, Vincent clearly enamored with both of them. Barclay certainly understands the feeling. Just not for the person who he’s supposed to.

“Joseph? If, uh, if neither of us win, what are you gonna do after this.”

“Go back to work. Maybe pitch my book about U.S cryptids.” Joseph’s smile goes shy for a moment before recovering, “but I wouldn’t worry, big guy; I think you’re the front runner for sure.”

Barclay knows for a fact that Joseph is a fan favorite and the suitor most people think will win. Which is why, when Vincent selects his final four, he’s not surprised Joseph gets the first rose. Then everyone but Barclay is holding one and Vincent is touching his shoulder.

“Barclay, please don’t take this as a sign I’m not deeply fond of you. This wasn’t an easy choice but I, well, I feel like your heart may not be in this anymore.”

He takes Vincent’s hand and squeezes it, “It’s okay. It was wonderful just to get to know you. All of you.” He looks at the final four, at Joseph’s calm, polite expression. He meets blue eyes as he says, “I hope you find someone who makes you happy.”

With that he turns, all too aware of the cameras tracking his exit, his face, how he’ll have to do a final interview and not reveal that he’ll hate Vincent forever but not blame him in the slightest if he marries Joseph.

“Wait!”

Every eye, lensed or no, turns back to the gazebo. Joseph is at the edge of the steps, poised to run. When he sees Barclay stop, he turns to Vincent.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t accept this.” He hands the bachelor the rose, “I hope you understand.”

There’s no soundtrack on set, but strings swell in his ears all the same as Joseph descends the stairs and leaps into his arms, kissing him so hard he still has stars in his eyes when he opens them.

“It’s not a marriage proposal” Joseph whispers, kissing his cheek, “but I do have a question for you.” He pulls back, all cameras on them but his attention for Barclay alone, “would you like to be my boyfriend, big guy?”

Barclay rests their foreheads together, “Yeah, babe, I really, really would.”

[silverbyuls]

( lee hyeri, cis female, muse i ) oh snap! is that SHIN EUNBYUL they work over at high volume where some of the other employees have labeled them as THE AVERAGE JOE. that’s probably because they can be a bit ( optimistic. ) but also pretty ( dishonest. ) they’re TWENTY TWO and they’ve been living in woodstock for TWENTY TWO YEARS. it must be their shift because i totally hear THE CRANBERRIES blasting from the record store. ( a little tikes piggy bank tucked under the bed, clothing label sticking out from the back, snap clips with varnish peeling off, jelly shoes with the strap taped together, leaving lisa frank stickers along record crates ) @volumeupdates

BIO

the luke hemsworth of the family but middle child

goes by byul

tried to go by ‘e.b.’ but her mum went berserk because she’d reduced her name to two letters for the ease of her yt friends and her brother bullied her for being e.t’s ugly sister so now she tries to go by silver star (her name translated into english) but it doesn’t quite stick

claims that her older sister and younger brother stole all her beauty, brain cells and height

family invested everything into older sister so she could go to college in new york: savings, loans, moved to smaller house which is even further from the town centre

brother requires all attention as he has high hopes of getting into college on a baseball scholarship and she lowkey can’t wait until he’s far away from woodstock

her grades have always been average so no one expects her to leave – her parents talk about how nice it is that she’ll be with them forever but she knows that’s because they want her to take care of them when they’re old … which she would! if they didn’t live in woodstock

she tells them she’s going to move to california, but they think she’s as serious about that as she is about wanting to go to college, or becoming supermodel of the world, or an olympic swimmer, when she has average grades, of average height, and can’t even swim

if her life was a movie, she’d have fallen asleep in the first ten minutes – it has always been so boring and uneventful, so she lives up in her head with her fake scenarios to keep things interesting – most of the time, they’re taken straight from a book or magazine

sometimes these thoughts spill over into reality because she can’t fathom the idea of people realising she’s as plain as she is, and her little white lies give her a bit of sparkle to stand out (in her opinion)

but she will get to california!

she even has a plan:

she’s been working at freddy’s diner since she was fifteen, escaping to high volume whenever she can, a place where she can pop her headphones on during her breaks and pretend she’s getting ogled at on venice beach, but she’s terrible at saving so seven years later she’s still grinding

once she graduates high school, she has enough time for a second job and she’d dropped enough hints in front of jerry for him to kindly offer her a job. after all, she spends as much time in high volume as she does at freddy’s so there’s not much of a difference once she becomes an employee -- still floating around the place, sipping on her coke can, either people watching or people chasing -- except now she has access to the register

after a big argument with her parents, she ended up moving out into a place in the middle of town. that was never part of the plan because saving was easier when she lived at home. she’ll say things got really bad but really, she was just getting closer to her target and she wanted a valid reason to put it off for a bit longer

she was only supposed to do it once – stealing from the cash register. it was just right there, no one was around, and she thought it was going to be her last shift because jerry was angry at her for being late again (granted, he hadn’t actually been mad, but it was one of those days when everything felt personal)

besides, she’d overheard a group of girls she’d idolised in school talk about how they stole some underwear and they made it sound so cool

she felt like everyone could hear her heart thumping against her chest as she walked out of the store but the day after, no one said anything about it, no one even noticed, and she wasn’t fired. so she did it again, and again, and again, and eventually she didn’t even bat an eyelid

the extra money was supposed to help her reach her goal faster but, again, she’s terrible at saving and her parents are so hardworking, she can’t help but feel guilty and buy nice things for them every once in a while and when they ask where she got the money from, she lies and says jerry gave her a bonus for being a good employee

on the other hand, if they’ve had an argument, or they’ve forgotten about her again, she’ll have a full on les-mis-i-dreamed-a-dream episode then splurge out on a cute jacket because it’s hers and it’s new! rather than worn out hand-me-downs from her sister or brother!

started her own side hustle called the separation agency – inspired after a customer at high volume asked her to help him break up with his boyfriend. so she’s the messenger for people who have things to say but don’t have the balls to say it to someone’s face themselves. usually they’re horrible messages, like break ups. she’s had like three customers and tries to promote her side hustle whilst on her shift at high volume

she thinks her “business” could actually thrive in a bigger city which is just another reason why she needs to get out of woodstock – it’s holding her back!

anyway, jerry’s missing, which is perfect for her because she gets to come in late and not get told off, and maybe steal a little more than she usually does

PERSONALITY:

when she’s around people, she seems like an extrovert: bubbly, talkative, dramatic ... which uses up a lot of her energy and her social battery is weak, so needs her own space often, and likes doing nothing by herself so sometimes she’ll lie to get out of plans or bail last minute 

she has big dreams, and talks about all her big plans, but has leaving anxiety which is why she’s shit at saving and makes up excuses as to why she can’t leave just yet 

has main character syndrome -- likes to live her life as a romcom, most of her lies revolve around her love life because she wants to be seen as desirable, but also will overanalyse everything 

sensitive, passionate, immature, sympathetic, fickle, clumsy, dramatic, caring, head in clouds

will pretend to knows things to fit in like ~hipster~ bands or anything really, depends on the crowd

could gladly spend all day talking to customers at work then the next day she’ll prefer to day dream in the storage room

rides a bike to and from work and almost everywhere else too -- the only one out of her siblings who had to bike to school because small car and siblings took up all the space -- she’s had the same bike since high school 

loves spice girls but feels like she’ll be judged so keeps quiet and plays it when she’s closing

honestly could hate you one day and have a crush on you the next but you wouldn’t even know it -- a vicious cycle 

collects stickers and leaves them everywhere and on everyone - often passive aggressive through them, basically uses them like emojis

will try to order food and get others to pay for it - especially kfc, never gets to eat the drumsticks at home so will honestly cry if people steal the drumsticks from her

buys lottery tickets and scratch cards because she has a 50/50 chance of winning

WANTED CONNECTIONS: (current connections)

start up: stolen str8 from a kdrama that ruined my life hehe her parents set her up with a pen pal to keep her busy out of guilt because they’re so busy with her siblings and work and obviously she romanticises it !!! her parents would’ve asked to lie a little bit, just so she’d be writing to someone she’d easily obsess over -- love island vc: someone who ticks all the boxes 

xoxo gossip girl: someone who loves a good gossip sesh -- they probably send 👀 at each other across the store when things feel a bit tense, which is code for ‘meet me in the storage room’ so they can chat away for the rest of their shift

lunch stealer: she makes her own lunch every day and is extremely protective over it but one day it went missing and she knows it was them (maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t) so now they are her sworn enemy

sister’s/brother’s friend: therefore an automatic enemy

shut up: someone who just tells her to shut up because she chats so much shit and she’s insane - just sandra x dina vibes from superstore (x)

carpool karaoke: she hates cycling in when it’s raining, so either she’s trying to get them to be her designated driver or has already succeeded and is annoying about it

crush #1: someone she has a crush on (more of an infatuation) and they’re not interested in her in the slightest but in her head they’re giving her mixed signals and she has made up a fake boyfriend to try to make them jealous

crush #2: someone she thinks has a crush on her. either because they’re nice or tease her or just mean, it doesn’t matter, she’s insane so she’ll interpret it however she wants

ex: they never broke up, or even dated, but she thinks something almost happened between them and she thinks she cut things off by giving them space

separation agency: someone who once used the agency either out of the kindness of their heart or for a different reason entirely and now she won’t stop pestering them to try and get them to use it again

no thots just vibes: i just like this gifset tbh (x) and we can brainstorm ! 

[collecting-stories]

Artwork - JJ Maybank

Request: Hey! I've read your entire masterlist 😶😬😂 I was wondering if you could do something with jj x reader and she's an artist. Idk I was painting and thought of it, maybe a paint fight or something

A/N: I incorporated the pandemic a little lol. 

Outer Banks Masterlist

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Eyes closed, JJ was laying on your bed, an old quilt stretched out underneath him. It was nearing the 100s outside but inside the air was kicked up and your fan was on, blowing cool air across the bed. JJ was on his back, shirt off, muscles tensing and then relaxing again each time that your brush ran cold paint over his tan skin.  

Quaratine had eaten up most of your summer plans but you had made an entire list of ‘at home’ things that you’d seen on pinterest and tiktok to occupy your time and naturally, you’d roped JJ into most of them. He’d made stickers with you and redecorated CD’s and painted your bedroom. Today’s activity was painting. It had started on regular canvas but had somehow moved to JJ’s back being used as the canvas.  

Bright yellow sunflowers, hints of blue in the background, covered JJ’s skin from the base of his neck to just above his swim trunks. You sat straddling him, a small paint brush in your hand as you finished the last few details. JJ whined at an especially ticklish swipe too close to his side and you bit your lip as he pressed his mouth into his arm to stop from making any more noise.

“I’m almost done.” You promised, careful of the wet paint on his back as you leaned forward to kiss the part of his shoulder that was decorated.  

“Good, I get to do your back after this.” JJ replied.  

“Uh...no.” You shook your head as you grabbed your phone off the bed beside you to take a picture of your handiwork. “I hate to break it to you babe but you aren’t exactly Picasso.”

“I’m assuming that’s some art dude.” JJ said, turning his head slightly, eyes still closed. He smiled like he knew you were taking a picture and you tapped your phone, the flash flickering over him for a second.  

“It is some art dude, yes.” You laughed, climbing off of him as carefully as possible, trying not to smudge your handiwork.  

“Yeah well I could totally paint better than him.” He replied. JJ got up off the bed, stretching his arms up over his head and you bit your lip watching him flex, the muscles in his abs tensing and then relaxing. The artwork on his back was beautiful but you’d argue that nothing compared to actually looking at him. JJ was his own artwork.

“Fine.”  

“Seriously?” He grinned.  

“Seriously. I’ll let you paint on my back.” You conceded, knowing it was pointless to argue. There was no way you had the will power or discipline to say no to any of JJ’s suggestions, even if that meant your back ended up looking like a three-year old’s finger-painting experiment.

“Alright, you know the drill...strip.”

You rolled your eyes at him but pulled your shirt off over your head. Your sports bra went next, dropping it beside the bed before you laid down, getting situated. “You know how lucky you are, you can just lay down you don’t have to like readjust your boobs so they’re not squashed.”  

“You could sit up,” JJ suggested, climbing on the bed, his knees settling on either side of your hips, “then I could paint and have a nice view at the same time.”  

Even with your eyes closed you could tell that JJ was no doubt looking at the mirrored closet door that sat across from the end of your bed. “I’ll stay laying down. You’ll see enough of me when I wash this off later.”

“Wash it off? Please you’ll be begging them to do a living art piece in the MoMa.” He replied. “That’s what it’s called right? The MoMa?”  

“Yeah...it’s called the MoMa.” You smiled knowing that he had remembered. God knows that you had sent him an onslaught of photos sneakily taken inside of the MoMa when you went up to New York with your mom last summer to look at art colleges in NYC.

The first brush of paint ran across your skin and you couldn’t help tensing, the coolness of it shocking you slightly. JJ’s free hand pressed into your back, just above your ass, thumb massaging your skin gently as he continued to paint.  

Your talent in art was as good as JJ’s was bad. While you were thinking of pursuing a degree in art and had been taking private lessons since you were ten, JJ could barely manage a stick figure. That didn’t matter though, whether he could actually draw or not he could appreciate your art. He was an antsy person by nature but he’d sat almost perfectly still for hours at a time for sketches. Everytime you took part in an art show, even if they were just small, local fairs, he got excited about it.  

“What are you painting?” You asked, trying to tilt your head to catch a peek at what colors he was using. You’d done sunflowers on his back because if anyone reminded you of the flower it was JJ. It helped that they were his favorite, something he’d mentioned in passing once when you first started dating. Followed defensively by ‘guys can like flowers too’ not that you had said anything to contradict that.

“You’ll see.”  

“It better not be a dick or something!”

“It’s not a dick! I’m a serious artist here and I am offended that you would even suggest that to me.” JJ replied, sounding offended.  

You hummed skeptically. JJ dipped his brush in the blue, mixing it around on the palette board with the white. It was messier than yours usually looked but he ignored it, running the brush over your back and smiling a little at the actual picture coming together.  

He took his time, just like you had, mixing different shades of blue and adding detail, shading, all the pieces of technique that he had watched you incorporate when you painted. When he was finally finished he grabbed his phone to take a picture, the same way you had taken his picture.  

“I think it looks fucking awesome, if I do say so myself.” He mused.  

“Can I see it or are you just gonna keep sitting on me?”  

“Tempting but...I’ll move.” He climbed off of you careful of the paint.  

You climbed off the bed, holding your arms in front of you as you turned to look in the mirror. JJ had painted waves across your back with a bright sun over your shoulder. You couldn’t help smiling at his handiwork, better than you’d thought it’d look but also, being islanders there was nothing the two of you loved more than the beach. It’d been there that you’d met and there that you’d had your first date.  

“I think you’re right, I might end up putting myself on display in the MoMa.” You said, looking over at your boyfriend and smiling.  

“Not to shabby huh? I’ll be stealing your scholarship soon.” He teased.  

“Oh definitely.”

“You know what we should get?” He asked, moving your art supplies off your bed and over to your desk to be washed later.

“What?” You asked, skeptical.

“Those edible paints.” He replied, “we could do some finger painting on each other.”

“Oh god you are...” You shook your head at him, already knowing where his mind was going. “You better buy me sheets to cover my bed...I’m not washing that shit out afterward.”  

“So that’s a yes.”

“Unbelievably, yes.”

-

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