#he has lived in my head RENT FREE for eight years at this point he could at least get me wendy's

[the-starry-seas]

I wanna know more about your chaotic neutral human?!

Oh man where do I begin 😂

I started writing him in 2015, and that kinda blows my mind when I think about it. I've played him as a faerie prince, Utahraptor shifter, dragon shifter, werewolf, alien, Titan pilot, X-Men style mutant, and normal human. Well, as normal as he can get.

His name is Rowan Castañeda. He's Catalan (when he's from Earth, anyway). The 'default' version of him is the one where he's a raptor shifter, because that's where it started all those years ago. That version also goes by the name Red, because his dinosaur form has red feathers and reptilian eyes. His human form has red eyes and sharp canines, which are hidden by a magical charm that gives him brown eyes and normal teeth.

The best way to sum up Rowan is by saying he's a little crazy and a lot of fun. Very loud and outgoing, loves people. Has more than enough intellect and common sense to clearly and easily grasp something is a Bad Idea, and enough chaotic dumbass energy to decide he's gotta just go ahead with it anyway. Way too fond of bad puns, incapable of keeping his mouth shut when he can comment on something he shouldn't. Loyal to the death, curious about everything, isn't sure how he hasn't been poisoned by food from sketchy street vendors, and interrupts conversations to point out cats. His main interests include dinosaurs, space, Star Trek, historical novels, and monster movies (the cheesier the better). Don't touch his hat or invade his personal space unless you're looking to get your ass kicked, which will almost certainly involve biting. Fluent in Latin and will bitch people out in it (or will ramble about how unbelievably smoking his wife is, Gomez Addams style).

His playby is Óscar Jaenada, originally from The Losers. This BTS gif from (it was an interview I think?) immediately cemented the idea of a playby for him bc it was so exactly what I had in mind. Cocky little fucker who would suckerpunch God to protect his family, or even if it just seemed like a good idea at the time.

He's bisexual and nonbinary, and grew up in Ripley, California with an older sister (Laura) and twin brother (Raul). His brother disappeared when they were sixteen, and a year later, Rowan was kicked out by his parents for being queer. He moved to Los Angeles to live with his uncle, a Marine Corps veteran, and Rowan followed in his footsteps by enlisting at eighteen. He became a highly skilled sniper but turned down promotions because he liked the job he had.

At twenty-one he impulsively married a girl named Amber, who he'd known for three hours. The next year, they had a daughter named Elena. She was born partially deaf and Rowan became fluent in ASL to communicate with her.

At twenty-nine, he was injured in the line of duty and got a medical discharge. His sister divorced a few months ago, and she and her daughter Alejandra moved to a new house with Rowan's family, since her ex was being a dipshit and Rowan wanted her to be protected.

He started college courses to become a paleontologist. (Yes, the dinosaur shifter has a dinosaur-related job. I think I'm funny.) He was active in fieldwork for another 5-10 years, depending on the timeline, before taking a job as a curator at a dinosaur museum so he could be home more and have more regular hours.

In my favourite version of his character, his new curator job was at a museum in Gotham, cause that town is clearly the first choice of any normal and well-adjusted individual. He was also an active vigilante, bc nobody believed the criminals saying a dinosaur attacked them, and he had zero concern of being connected to his illegal activities.

Bonus Rowan art from when he's older in his forties:

[slavghoul]

Interview from Metal Hammer 8/2023

LIFE LESSONS from TOBIAS FORGE

Shock rock, bad glam bands and wanting to be Venom: inside the brain of Ghost's benevolent overlord

Tobias Forge is the mastermind behind one of the 21st century's hottest metal bands, but even he’ll admit that success was a long time in the making. Hailing from the Swedish city of Linköping, the Ghost frontman dabbled in everything from death metal to glam before donning the iconic Papal attire and paint to transform into Papa Emeritus, transcending his roots to become a larger-than-life character. Here are the key parables he has to share, gleaned from more than 25 years on the heavy metal frontlines.

MUSIC AND MOVIES ARE GATEWAYS TO OTHER WORLDS

“Linköping was a nice city to grow up in. It wasn’t so small you felt like you were cramped in a village, but it’s small enough that you’d still want to eventually move somewhere else. You’d have access to all these gateways to other worlds through the record stores and the local video store. My dreams started there - everything I do now, I dreamt back there.”

I WAS A TEENAGE HEADBANGER

“I had a teenage brother growing up, so I had a free pass into teenage culture. Whatever they consumed, I got a whiff of - how they dressed, what they watched on TV, what films they rented... The lifestyle and expression that meant most to me was shock rock. Twisted Sister were a wrecking ball into my life with I Wanna Rock. That song made me want to bounce!”

THE HEAVIER IT GOT, THE DEEPER I WANTED TO GO

“When I first heard Candlemass, I was eight and I was blown away. I already liked Black Sabbath, Metallica and Motorhead through my brother, but Candlemass were local and sounded so heavy, it was like doomsday. King Diamond and Candlemass served as a segue for me to discover death metal and black metal in the early 90s. It became my calling. From the ages of 12 to 22, I spent my life in death and black metal bands.”

FOLLOW YOUR HEART (AND SOMETIMES YOUR WALLET)

“My mom is from Stockholm, so when I was 15 and started saying I wanted to move there, she was just like ‘Finish mandatory school’ and we moved together [after I graduated]. I moved back to Linköping when I was 25, because Stockholm is a big metropolitan place and it’s not fun living in those places if you don’t have money. Now I’m in Stockholm again; it’s more fun now I can afford it!”

HEAD IN THE CLOUDS, FEET ON THE GROUND

“I learned the hard way in the late 90s that wanting to play 80s-inspired death metal with my band Repugnant was     painfully out of touch with what was going on at the time. It broke my heart; I wanted us to be signed to Roadrunner and support Slayer. That never happened unfortunately - or perhaps fortunately, as it kept me grounded for a few more years and if those things had happened maybe I wouldn't be here today.”

TAKE CHANCES, BUT STAND YOUR GROUND

“Repugnant had a close shave with success. We signed to the label Hammerheart, which at the time felt like we’d made it because the first thing they did was take us out on our first tour, supporting the American band Macabre. They were a favourite band of ours - still are, and whenever we play Chicago they come to the shows - and at that point it felt like we might be going somewhere, but we quickly parted ways with Hammerheart because we couldn’t agree. It felt like our chance and we’d blown it.”

NOT ALL 80S BANDS WERE CREATED EQUAL

“With Crashdiet, we never really went beyond our home. I can’t say how many shows we did, but I don’t think it was more than a handful. For me especially there was conflict with the singer, Dave Lepard. We were friends, but he clearly wanted to take his band into some sort of glam-sleaze direction, whereas when I think of ‘glam’ I’m more Hanoi Rocks and Guns N’ Roses - never, ever the other bands. I know Poison kinda came before a lot of the latecomers, but to me they were repellent. Dave wanted to go all neon and I wanted it so that if we were glam, we’d be Hanoi Rocks meets Lords Of The New Church or The Dead Boys. I don’t want to be fucking Stryper! Fuck that!”

THERE’S NO POINT TRYING TO FOLLOW FASHION

“It was a confusing time in the early 2000s – rock was all of a sudden in fashion because of bands like Franz Ferdinand and Kaiser Chiefs. Everyone was always looking for the next big rock band and in Sweden The Hives were huge, as were The Soundtrack Of Our Lives, The Hellacopters, Backyard Babies...so many rock bands! But there we were in Subvision, influenced by The Dead Boys, with a little-too-long hair, leather jackets, just a little too ‘metal’... yuck! You’re supposed to be more indie; heavy metal is about having the biggest dick and indie is the opposite.”

FIRST IMPRESSIONS REALLY DO COUNT

“I hated The Strokes when they first came out. Back then, everyone described them as being so natural, that they weren’t interested in being rock stars, and I was like, ‘No. They didn’t wake up looking like that.' They chose to do that to be rock stars. And they can really play! Then when First Impressions Of Earth came out it was like, ‘There you go! That's what they really sound like! After that, I loved The Strokes, because they were showing they actually did love the music, but a lot of indie rockers treated it like it was their sell-out record.”

HAVE A VISION IN MIND

“Ghost started with a song, Stand By Him, which ultimately came out on our first record. I wrote it spontaneously, as an experiment - almost a joke, if you will, in 2006. When I recorded it the first time, I had no equipment in my home, so I had to go to a friend’s house. We did this very rough demo. He said it was great. He’d been in Subvision, Repugnant and Crashdiet with me, but we’d stopped playing together. He was like, ‘Can we form a new band?’ and I was like, ‘This song is the only thing I have. If I can come up with two more songs and there’s a pattern, then of course.’ But they needed to be as playful and spontaneous, and sure enough they were.”

PRESSURE CAN DO WONDERS

“Around 2008, when Ghost were first getting properly started, my girlfriend told me she was pregnant with twins. I never said it out loud, but I was preparing for my dream not coming true - maybe I wouldn’t become a rock star, I’d never be successful... So I had to at least have something that I could live with, a hobby that I could feel strongly about and get all my inclinations filtered through. I wanted to play metal, but also write pop music, have this horror rock show with theatre... Still taking inspiration from Venom pictures in 1982 where they looked like bikers surrounded by smoke and red lights. Ghost felt like a combination of all those things. Lo and behold, when I didn’t have all the time in the world, like I had before and gotten nowhere, when I could only put so much effort in, everything changed.”

THE MYTHOS IS NICE, BUT ONLY THE MUSIC MATTERS

“It was so weird, being threatened with a ‘reveal’ [Tobias’s public identity was revealed after ex-members took legal action against him in 2017I, as if people knowing who I was would be such a turn-off that they’d never listen to Ghost again. Here I am, most of my life wanting to be known, but then I was fighting to be unknown? What a paradox!”

ROLL WITH THE PUNCHES

“I’ve always tried to be like a general – have a goal, like, ‘Let’s take that castle’, but knowing that things can change in the field. You need to conduct yourself with a certain level of elasticity. I know I’m a control freak and want things to be done in a certain way, but I’m also aware things never work out that way.”

CHALLENGE YOURSELF

“One of the biggest weaknesses with modern metal - and horror - is that it’s being created and curated by people who only like that thing, so it becomes regurgitation. The best horror movies I’ve seen - Jaws, Bram Stoker’s Dracula, The Exorcist, The Omen - were made by people who never made horror films elsewhere. They wouldn’t limit themselves. If you don’t like other things, that’s fine, but if you ever feel stuck creatively it might just be that you’re sticking too close to home. I can’t even imagine just sticking to one lane these days.”

[sun-stricken]

Hello. I absolutely love your Fairy Tail head-canons, especially about demon slayer Gray. Feel free to take or leave these little ideas. Always love when you post <3

~

Imagine Team Natsu has to rent a vehicle or something and they require actual legal paperwork like a birth certificate and address or something like that (more than just “guild business! Gonna need this!”). Lucy doesn’t want to rent it because there is no way she’s going to be responsible for the inevitable damage. Erza, being the leader and a good friend volunteers. A few minutes later she comes back out, puzzled.

Erza: “why would they need a birth certificate? Shouldn’t me being present be proof enough of my existence?”

Gray starts snickering in the background. Natsu goes in next but comes out even earlier than Erza, cause at least Erza had a probably legal address at Fairy Hills, Natsu on the other hand lives in a house in the woods.

By the time Wendy goes in the receptionist is exasperated. “Yes I understand you are with Fairy Tail but that isn’t until page three of the paper work. None of you have made it past the first page.”

Gray finds this all very amusing.

Lucy: “Since you find it so amusing why don’t you go register, Gray!?”

Gray: mutters something

Natsu: “What do you mean you’re legally dead?!”

Cause you know, Ur just found a kid (the only survivor) and just decided to keep him. Oh, no official rescue crews didn’t show up until two days later? My kid now :)

The search and rescue teams never found any survivors in Gray’s old town so everyone was pronounced dead. The magic council or whoever is in charge of that stuff is also disorganized enough that no one realized that Gray Fullbuster is both a famous wizard and supposedly dead. So, just, Gray technically being considered legally dead the entire time he was at Fairy Tail.

~

Also, the slayers all going out on a job together(the dragon slayers had to drag Gray). The job turns out to be a trap (surprise!) and the floor just opens up revealing a giant vehicle.

Dark mage: “Ha-ha! I have bested the dragon slayer! The most powerful mages-“spots Gray just chilling, perfectly fine and not motion sick. “what are you doing?” Cause the guy was planning to capture dragon slayer, not whatever a demon slayer was (the dark mage didn’t even know demon slayers were a thing). Gray defeats the dark mage but holds it over Natsu’s head for a week.

After that anytime a large group of dragon slayers takes a job together they take Gray along for “extra security during transportation” or just extra security in general.

I also head-canon that each type of slayer magic has its own unique weakness. Dragon slayers get severely motion sick. God slayers are claustrophobic. Demon slayers cannot handle sweets. If Gray gets even a whiff of cake or any other dessert his gag reflex acts up and he gets really nauseous and other stuff like that. He of course hid it at first (he was afraid Erza would disown him) but eventually everyone learned about the weakness of demon slayers. Natsu teases him about it but never pushes it too far to the point of accidentally making Gray really sick.

Anyways, sorry for the long ask. Feel free to expand on anything. Always love some good slayer bonding head-canons and just Fairy Tail head-canons in general. <3

This was so much fun to make tbh so domt apologize, i love long asks <3 and thank for for what you said ant my posts! theyre fun to make so im glad ppl enjoy them

Oh, you have no idea how often ive though about Gray being legally dead, my personal favorite scenario is him trying to fix it and prove himself alive but cant

“How the fuck would i know my social security number??? i was eight years old! i had no reason to know!!!”

There was no dna or finger-print records of him or his family so he couldn’t prove it that way either. Apparently, declaring someone born or dead is easier than someone ‘resurrected’. To the law Gray of Isvan is dead and although Gray of Fiore bares similarities, they are two different people.

But ALSO to the law Gray of Fiore doesnt exist bc he has no birth certificate. And while hes adamant, he has no real proof beyond his word he is Gray Fullbuster of Isvan.

So basically, According to the law, Both Gray Fullbuster of Isvan and Fiore are dead and never existed, respectively.

tbh this sounds like an identity crisis waiting to happen, but what else is new with him

Erza probably tried to fix it after she was told bc she legally didnt exist for a minute either (never was filed as a real person, she was able to file for a late birth certificate on account that she wasnt claiming to be a ‘separate’ person and also Makarov did it for her) (dont ask why he didnt for Gray, i like plot holes). But quickly realized their situations were very different, him waiting over a decade to check in as a survivor with the proper authorities definitely weakened his case considering he was running around free before he decided he needed a birth certificate.

But hey, as long as he doesn’t need to rent something, or get a license or id, or work somewhere beyond Fairy Tail, or get married, or, god forbid, die again, he should be fine!

i wonder if he would be considered a ‘john doe’ if he actually died again since they have ‘no’ birth records

This also makes games like ‘two truths and a lie’ amazing

“alright so, im legally dead, i legally dont exist, and ive never physically died before” “Gray what the hell do you mean” “Guess the right one and ill tell you” “WHAT THE HELL DOES THIS MEAN THOUGH??”

i love everything to do with the ‘dragon slayers + gray’ dynamic

‘Extra security’ just turns into Gray babysitting a bunch of rambunctious dragons for hours. seriously, get this guy a reward for how he hasnt killed or maimed any of them yet.

Imagine them trying to convince Gray to walk to their destination instead of taking the train

“Its not that far!!” “its fucking 5 hours by train, How long do you think itll take to walk? Why would even you pick this job if you knew how long the ride would be??” … “nobody looked..” “are you actually serious.” … “oh my fucking god”

and thats the story of how one Demon slayer ended up having to babysit 4 very pitiful looking Fairy Tail Dragon slayers on a train. Dude had to drag them off it once it stopped too.

His side career of ‘Dragon Slayer Babysitter’ only gets harder when they realize holy shit! cold compresses can help nausea! and what do they have? a walking cold compress.

Taking a train trip with them just means second hand nausea AND embarrassment, and absolutely no personal space. A dream come true.

At least he gets to hold it over their heads

Tbh i like the irony of Dragon Slayers being motion sick because, yk, dragons can fly, so my hc for side effects for God Slayers and Demon Slayers were along the same lines

God Slayers being wide open space or flying since Gods are like the epitome of freedom? all knowing and have complete reign over everything, But claustrophobia works so much better for that same reason. It would cause extreme panic and rash decisions

And Demon Slayers was the dark because demons are supposed to be these evil creatures who thrive in the dark n stuff? basically it would send a Demon Slayer into a paranoid spiral.

But sweets being a weakness instead is such a silly thing that im gonna take it and run

Gray never cared for sweets in the first place, gave him a stomachache, but now he has to walk away from Erza mid conversation if she decides to indulge, which is almost everyday. She was absolutely heartbroken and devastated when the weakness was revealed, it was such a dramatic reaction one wouod think she was the one with the new weakness

When Gray pokes fun at Natsus motion sickness he’ll go on about how Gray is gonna have the lamest parties since he cant handle even the smell of sweets, especially cake.

A terrible realization for everyone involved with him, on par with when Gray realized he wouldnt be able to have ice cream comfortably again, thats like a staple for ice mages

heart wrenching, truly

[the-heaminator]

OKAY SO; Heinrich's mom died when he was young like 8-9, and his dad being a veteran of ww2 with ptsd & some pretty heavy survivors guilt & now a wife who just didn't wake up one morning turned to drinking. So Heinrich has this whole "after my mom died my dad was never sober, not as far as i remember, and yeah he went through a lot but I still resent him for not being there for me".

Heinrich's dad dies when Heinrich is just shy of 18. He has a little melt down, goes "i don't want to be here anymore". And with literally zero plan and two bags of his stuff just leaves. Ends up in the UK, with no job, barely anything to his name, and not sure if he's even going to stay there. (part of him thinks it's not far enough from Germany)

Romulus was a hippy through and through, he was all 'peace and free love ✌️' probably lived in a commune of sorts (just too many people in one house but hey it was home). He had run away from home when he was about 16 because his parents were ✨shitty✨, and was living his own found family trope.

Heinrich finds out finding a job when technically you're not there at all, and also homeless is harder than he thought. So he's on the streets for a solid two weeks until Romulus is walking home from a party and finds him. He tells Heinrich he can come stay with him and his 'family' and Heinrich has a moment of "i could get murdered if I go with him, i could also get murdered sleeping on a park bench" he goes with Romulus. They share a room (did I mention too many people in one house) and it's fine bc they're strictly homies, plus it's just for a few nights until Heinrich finds a job.

a few nights turns into a few months, about a month and a half in Romulus tells Heinrich "Listen, I don't mind you staying, but you should come with us to this march! It'll be fun, and it's for a good cause and I don't think it's much to ask on our part :\" While there some idiot says something, Romulus looks at Heinrich "Can kiss you?" "what?!" "Can I kiss you?" "...sure?" and Romulus kisses Heinrich right on the mouth for the cause of pissing off a homophobe.

a few nights later before bed "you know how you kissed me a few a days ago?" "Yeah, why? Did u like it :p?" "...yeah" "do you want me to kiss you again?" "...yes please" they never officially label their relationship but they sure are kissing a lot.

anyway six to eight months go by, Heinrich still hasn't found a job. And while he's grateful for a roof over his head, and he doesn't mind pitching in with housework, and Romulus sure isn't bad either, he gets tired of waiting around, and he gets real sick of the rest of the housemates.

One night he tells Heinrich they have to have a talk, he enlisted in the military. He was going to be an army mechanic, they get in a whole argument "I want a family Romulus!" "we are your family!" "no! I want a spouse! someone who's just mine, I want kids, I want my own house, I don't want to have to rely on kindness for food that night or money for rent," Romulus gets really quiet, "We're anti military, if you joined the military you can't live here anymore. Leave" Heinrich didn't say he expected anything else. He leaves.

He's going to get his wife, and his kids, and the house and a steady job. Romulus will too eventually, it would take him awhile longer though.

Then fifty years later they're both going to show up for some seniors game night and go "...oh fuck"

but anyway yeah thoughts?

thoughts. THOUGHTS?????

MY BROTHER IN CHRIST I HAVE NO THOUGHTS THIS IS WONDERFUL AND ACTUALLY SO WELL THOUGHT OUT WTFFFFFFFFF.

Imagine seeing the guy you lived with and kissed a couple times in a free love commune in the 80s 50 years later and you once again have the violent urge to kiss him after 50 fucking years even if the last time you saw him you had a massive argument.

And they're both widows, Heinrich at this point has a 7 year old Gilbert and a 3 year old Ludwig and needs help and Romulus is more than happy to provide it but over time they get really close again and Ludwig basically grow up with Romulus as Grandpa number 2 and so much of Gilbert's formative experiences with affection between adults comes from Heinrich and Romulus being fucking Weirdly Cuddly. Which is why later on he can't tell the difference between having a crush on Alfred and just being good friends.

But also imagine present day Gilbert going, hey, how did you two even meet?

Heinecih evades the question and Romulus flatly goes hippy free love commune. And blows Gilbert's mind.

"Opa, you weRE A HIPPY?

"NO, NO, I just needed a place to stay."

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: A Long Time Coming {1}

Lewis Hamilton x Friend Group Reader

Warning: Cursing, Teasing, Slow Burn, Plot

Words: 5.5k

Summary:  After a long, grueling and stressful 2023 season where Lewis dominated and showed the world once again why he was the best at what he does. He walks away with his 8th championship title and plans with his closest and bestest for some much-needed R&R.

Note: If you couldn’t tell by the summary, we are manifesting with this fic, MANIFESTING HARD for Lewis for 2023. Also, thank you Ru for filling in some of the friend info for me. XOXO

 Thank you for reading, I appreciate it!

 If you enjoyed this, please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!!!

 ***NOT Edited/Proofread***

***Interactive***

 ~~~~~~~

"Just fuck already! Everyone knows you both want to. Shit it’s been years of this pining from a distance, and will they won’t they suspense. Years of both of you playing too many fucking games!"

 Your eyes widened at her unexpected outburst; an outburst geared to you.

 "Hey, hey, easy with those accusations, matter of fact baseless accusations."

 You continued to apply her your makeup. Everyone was set to meet at the airfield at a certain time and though you were usually late for most things that didn’t include work, you really wanted to get there on time.

 "Baseless? Y/N! The looks you both share, the undercover flirting that everyone has peeped at some time or another over the years since you reconnected, the connection, the--."

 "Aht, Aht, Aht, stop all that mess. Whatever you're smoking please bring some along cause we all deserve to be this delusional at some point on this trip."

 Gisella hip bumper you so hard that you went flying onto the bed. When you landed you busted out into a fit of giggles. "What have I told you about using that weapon against friendlies?"

 "Friendlies my ass! I’m just tryna help your kitty kat finally purr. No one should have to be celibate for 4 years."

 "Ain’t nobody forcing me. It's a choice," you countered.

 "A choice because you’ve been dealing with fools, assholes and below subpar men and you don’t have to when you have Lewis."

 "I don’t have Lewis, everyone has Lewis," you teased taking a stab at his philandering reputation.

 Gisella couldn’t help but giggle. Lew's reputation was legendary. You’d heard so many rumors about every aspect of him over the years it was insane. You tried to steer clear of the majority of it but there were bombs that were dropped among your friend group and those bombs had made you know more about his alleged stroke game and alleged baseball bat pleasure stick than you should.

 Those bits lived rent free in your head, but you'd never admit it out loud or to yourself for that matter. Before your head could drift off to those rent-free thoughts, you shook your head hoping to clear it. Just then Nikki walked in dressed as if this trip was a fashion show. No doubt she was wearing everything from her new line, Baciami.

 "Another Lewis denial?"

 "You know it!”

 You rolled your eyes. When these two decided to gang up on you, you didn't stand a chance. Rolling off the bed, you scurried into the ensuite to grab the rest of your beauty items to pack. Though you knew where each item was, you took your sweet time, not wanting to hurry back into the bedroom for your friends to continue the current conversation. The vibration of your phone tucked into your front tie top buzzed against your breast. You knew it wasn’t a good thing to keep your phone against your breast, but it was usually always the most convenient place for you.

 MSG Lewis: Wheels up at 8 no if, ands, or buts, I’m not even playing, kitten.

 You rolled your eyes then tapped out a reply. Before you sent yours another text from him came in.

 MSG Lewis: I’m not afraid to leave your ass behind.

 “Ha,” you said to yourself.

 Opting for a voice reply, you went off.

 “Listen you may be fucking eight-time championship holder and feeling yourself hard over this newly long awaited and much deserved title but don’t get it twisted. I am the life of this party, have always been the life of this party, and will always be the life of this party. Just sit there looking pretty and expect me when you see me.”

 You made sure all your sass and attitude dripped from every single word, then hit send with a smile on your face as you waited for his no doubt equally sass filled response. Sure, enough about half a minute later you got his reply, a voice one.

 “Put some respect on my name and run me my respect. I am an eight-time title holder, and I don’t take anyone’s shit no matter how beautiful they are. Get your fine ass here on time or else, kitten.”

 You heard the words he emphasized and the way his voice oozed of authority and control and your belly clenched. Your head went back to the rumors of his Dom kink, and you slumped against the bathroom sink with a sigh. It was just another bit of evidence you had to lock away in the untouchable, unspeakable box of things pretraining to Lewis. The man himself was in this box and definitely classified under untouchable. You listened to the message again and clung to him calling you beautiful and pointing out your fine ass. You sighed again knowing that he would see you taking this long to reply as his victory. The man was competitive in everything.

 “Or else what? You know damn well that I’ve got you wrapped around my pinky finger. You ain’t goin nowhere without me and that’s that on that!”

 You giggled as you send the voice reply. When you turned, there stood Gisella and Nikki both with snarky “I told you so, you’re caught” looks on their faces.

 “Oh the foreplay is very telling,” Nikki said.

 You rolled your eyes, grabbing your things and walking back into the bedroom.

 “Ugh, whatever. He says he’ll leave us if we’re not on time. So let’s try not to get left ladies.”

 You disappeared across the way into your closet determined to finish up everything you still had to do. Thirty minutes later, you were all in the SUV that had been sent for you with your bags loaded in the back finally on your way to the airfield. On the drive you replied to the last emails from your agent and editor ensuring they knew you weren’t going to be too attached to your emails. Their reminders to have the rest of the chapters for your book completed by the time your returned from this trip made you roll your eyes to the back of your head.

 They’d been hounding you for these chapters for three months now. Three months of daily “friendly” email remainders, three months of weekly drop ins to check on” your wellbeing, and monthly sit-down meetings that stretched for hours for mapping and plans all centered around this second book that apparently everyone was anticipating. Maybe the anticipation was the reason why you were so reluctant to write it. maybe your stroke of luck with the pen had fizzled, maybe you just weren’t into the idea anymore.

 Those were the reasons you gave them when they asked what was taking so long. Those were the PC reasons. You couldn’t very well tell them that your well of inspiration for sex, smut and sultry human connections had dried and caved into the center of the Earth. You couldn’t tell them that you were dry in more ways than one. So instead of exposing yourself in that unfavorable way, you tapped out a very professional response.

 Consider it done.

 Exiting your emails, you sighed. Hopefully this trip ended up being for more than celebrating Lewis’ 8th title. Perhaps by the end of this vacation you’d come back with a hundred pages of unputdownable content, even if you had to fake it till you made it.

 “Why is there such a huge wave of stress coming off of you now?”

 “Just my manager and editor on my back again. They worse than Sallie Mae!”

 Your friends laughed.

 “That’s why you shouldn’t have made that first book so damn good. Now everybody waiting, tapping their feet expecting a slab of gold to drop into their hands,” Gisella said.

 “So she should be mediocre?”

 “I say just write something. You’ve been dragging your feet for three months. Just give them something and be done with it.”

 “I mean that is an option, Nikki added.

 “I don’t want to just give something half assed. I wanna feel it and I just haven’t been feeling it no matter how hard I try,” you admitted.

 The silence stretched for a few moments before Nikki piped up. “Maybe a change of scenery is what you need. This trip will do you some good. We promise to give you time to write.”

 You squeezed her hand as a thank you before you bounced your shoulder into Gisella for the same purpose. They may mess with you mercilessly, but they also had your back to the end.

Miraculously you made it to the airfield with five minutes to spar. The driver unloaded your bags once you got the private jet while the three of you approached the others waiting there. Once Daniel shouted your name, they all turned. You waved at Daniel, his girlfriend Cassie, and Mabdulle, his girlfriend Robin, Miles, and Andrew. They four happily waved back at you but the closer you got you realized there was another person there.

 Squinting your eyes, you peered closer behind your dark sunglasses. There stood a slim, brunette with high lights at the ends of her hair giving her the ombre look. She wore tiny shorts and a crop top and knee high sparkly heeled boots. You watched her put her arm around Lewis’ shoulder then scoffed because you immediately knew why she was there. His plaything for the trip.

 “Who is that boney girl?”

 You snorted at Gisella. She always acted like this was the first time she’d ever seen Lewis’ antics on display.

 “She is how I know Iont got Lewis, everyone’s got Lewis. “

 Nikki snorted and threw her head back laughing. “This trip is sure going to be interesting.”

 “Whatever, she won’t last three days before he’s sent her packing,” Gisella voiced.

 “Three days huh?”

 Nikki looked as if she were contemplating deeply over those words before she added to the wager. “I give it two.”

 You looked between them and shook your head. You were not going to partake in this bet because they both had good odds.

 “I see your ass likes playing with fire,” Lewis said holding up his designer gold and diamond watch that you knew had to have cost him half a mil.

 “You know I like it when it hurts.”

 “Yoooo!”

 Daniel spun around in his exaggerated fashion heightening the antics. You loved him dearly. You considered him the best of Lewis’ friends. He always seemed to be genuinely looking out for him and his best interests.

 “Bruv, that’s very telling,” Miles added.

 You shrugged, “I’m a grown ass woman, not tryna keep no secrets. “Hi, I’m Justice!”

 You looked to the beauty because Lewis. She had her hand held out a wide smile on her face and her sunglasses atop her head. no one else spoke and you felt all the eyes on you watching to see what you’d do. You didn’t know what the interest was for. You glanced at Daniel and Cassie who both lifted their brow like the synchronized couple they were while Miles has a Cheshire cat smile on his face looking like that creature in the movie Grimcutty. He clearly was expecting some showdown.

 “Hey, I’m Y/N, this is Nikki and Gisella.”

 You shook her hand in a pleasant way, your mother didn’t raise no ill-mannered child. Soon after, Nikki and Gisella both shook her hand, but it was done with complete lackluster. They didn’t like her for no other reason than she was coming along.

 “Cute glasses,” Justice said pointing to the ones you were wearing.

 “LewLewBoo has the same ones.”

 LewLewBoo you thought while stifling your amusement. Lewis hated cutesy cutesy nicknames. He wasn’t against a few of them but this one you knew he hated. Lewis nudged Justice as if to say cut it out and she gave him an apologetic look, shrinking back slightly.

 “Well, LewLewBoo is always trying to cop my style and be like me what more can we expect from the 8-time champion.”

 His smile widened and you couldn’t help but smile back. The two of you squared up neither budging until you both went in for a hug. He lifted you then spun you.

 “I am so proud of you again. So proud and so so happy!”

 His arms held you off the ground like you didn’t weigh a thing. The tight squeeze gave you ever impression of how strong those arms were.

 “Thank you for always being there,” Lewis said so only you could hear.

 “Of course. What’re friends for?”

 Your eyes locked and you saw how much your actions throughout the season meant to him. You’d been to every weekend, every event. You’d been more than just a friend to him over the last nine months. You’d been a therapist when things went wrong and he was expected to smile through it, a sounding board on different ideas he’d come up with both for racing and his other ventures, alternate strategist when you saw things a little differently than the rest and your vision connected with his, comic when he needed a good laugh about all the bullshit, entertainer when he needed to relieve some stress with a song or some other shit, storyteller when the nights were too much and he needed a soft voice with calming words to soothe the madness inside his head and everything in between. You didn’t mind. That was what friends were for.

 “Are we lifting off?”

  Mabdulle’s uncertain question filtered between the two of you breaking the moment. When Lewis returned you to your feet, you stepped back securing your sunglasses right back on your nose. The group of you made your way to the jet then piled in. Everyone scattered for their version of the perfect seat. The guys congregated around Lewis while the ladies broke off for their own space.

 “Did you hear where we’re going?”

 “Where?”

 “Don’t tell her shit,” Lewis shouted spinning back to look at the group.

 “Come on there is no point in keeping it a secret anymore. I’m here,” you whined.

 “Quit your whining girl. You said you’d go anywhere with me and I’m ‘bout to test that shit.”

 “Oh god, are we going to Switzerland so you can fuck with me Lewis?”

 “I can fuck with you anywhere, girl!”

 Your belly flipped from those words, and it was the most unexpected thing that you had no words for a smartass rebuttal. Lewis saw it too and cocked his head to the side as you dropped down into your seat with a perplexed look on your face.

 Gisella leaned to your ear and whispered, “I’m jumping on Nikki’s bet, 2 days max cause that was clear flirting.”

 You rolled your eyes and did what you did best, faked it till you made it.

 “Whatever.”

 The flight was as rowdy as it always was when all of you got together. The banter was what you all were known for. At every opportunity you took the bait to clown Miles because he was always coming for you. It wasn’t that you hated him, you just liked to push his buttons, liked to rile him up and tease him mercilessly. Sometimes there was this vibe to him that there was something darker to him that he kept hidden at all costs. Sometimes you saw it though. You’d told Lewis about it, but he wasn’t surprised to hear it. He was a great people reader, and he was always aware of the vibes people gave off.

 You were unable to blot Justice out though. She seemed like a nice enough girl to you. An upcoming model, of course, that met Lewis at some fashion event he was at, again of course. She definitely seemed infatuated with him, definitely DTF. You didn’t knock her for that because there was absolutely nothing wrong with being DTF. However, every time she sashayed toward Lewis and sat in his lap to giggle and whisper with him you noted the way your belly rolled like you’d eaten something bad, and it was wrestling you inside. It was interesting and it was something you shoved into the travel bag of untouchable things that you absolutely should stay away from and avoid.

 ~~~~~

 “Ladies and gentlemen, we are beginning our decent into our destination. Local time is 4pm. Please buckle your seatbelts and prepare for landing. Thank you for flying today Sir Hamilton.”

 You sat up and tried to get a look out the window to get something about where you were, but it was useless, you couldn’t see at all.

 MSG Lewis: Don’t worry. Sit back. You’ll love it here. You won’t want to leave in a week.

 You glanced across the jet to find him sitting by himself with one leg resting on the other at the ankle. He was leaned back in the seat looking as if he were expecting someone to approach him and give him a lap dance.

 MSG: You told me to take three weeks. Where are we going after?

MSG Lewis: You’ll see.

 You gave him a death glare then rolled your eyes.

 MSG: If I’m stressing about where we’re going this whole time, I’m going to blame you to my editor and manager when I come back with not even a page of the one hundred I’m supposed to have written.

 He smiled.

 MSG Lewis: Not my fault you’re curious George. One day that curiosity is gonna get you into some shit you can’t get out of.

MSG: Like what sir?

 You watched his face morph through different emotions, surprise, interest, confusion then regret. You were slightly fascinated wondering what it was he was thinking. Before he could answer, Justice reached out and squeezed his thigh in a spot that said she was familiar with his body. Again, that feeling in your stomach returned but this one irritated you and you found it was harder to push it into that travel bag.

 By the time everyone marched out of the jet, you were more than ready for a drink and a shower. The heat hit you like a low hanging branch to the face. This definitely wasn’t Switzerland. Once all the bags were offloaded, a tall lanky man approached the group.

 “Welcome Mr. Hamilton. It is an honor to have you with us. My name is Mosi.”

 He had a thick African accent. Your eyes widened. Were you where you wanted to go? If so, how did he know you wanted to come here?

 “Thank you for having us, Mosi “Lewis replied.

 You tried to keep your giddiness under wraps, but it was incredibly difficult.

 “Follow me and my team will gather your luggage.”

 A line of four people walked toward the jet while the rest of you followed Mosi. Lewis chatted with him in hushed voices that you couldn’t pick up. You wondered if he was talking so low because of you.

 “Why can’t you just let him surprise you?”

 You hadn’t even noticed Mabdulle moseying up beside you. You snorted realizing you’d been caught eavesdropping or attempting to.

 “I mean I can, I just—want to know.”

 He nodded slowly then shook his head. “He’s been planning this for a bit, couldn’t make up his mind where until like a few days ago. Sit back and let him rock.”

 You began to wonder if he was so indecisive because of you. Before you even asked, Mabdulle nodded.

 “The things we do for friends.”

 With that he walked ahead over to Daniel and Cassie leaving you to wonder what he meant by that and why he’d said it the way he did.

 After a few more steps, you saw the two charter planes that had paddles attached to the bottom of them. Another clue you said to yourself. You were in Africa and going to land somewhere with water. Everyone split up to load into the two planes. You made sure to get into the plane that Lewis and Justice weren’t getting into. You didn’t want to watch any sort of PDA. Just before Lewis got into the plane you watched he glance around as if searching for something. When his eyes landed on yours you noted the clench of his jaw but before he could make another move Justice called his name in a cutesy whine. You clenched your jaw from annoyance because if this was what you were going to have to listen to this whole trip you were going to jump out this plane without a chute.

 Your jaw was dropped, hands pressed to the glass and tongue practically hanging out as you watched the scenery coast by. The turquoise in the ocean called to you, the variation of the shades of greens in the trees complimented it perfectly and you imagined sitting underneath them enjoying a nice breeze and a cocktail. To the horizon the rural lands were such a contrast to the sandy beaches it did nothing but take your breath away. It was perfect. It was everything you’d wanted when you’d seen a random picture and said in passing it was your idea of a perfect vacation. You couldn’t wait to soak it all up.

 The plane landed in the ocean and glided its way to a full stop right on the beach and slowly everyone disembarked.

 “Wow, this is gorgeous,” Robin said staring out into the water once she was on the sand.

 “I can’t wait to get in,” Nikki added.

 You were too busy snapping pictures for memories to join in on the conversation. Every shot was even better than the last and every shot had you more and more excited. The breathtaking sunset was the perfect backdrop and opening for what you hoped was going to be a great vacation.

 “Welcome to & Beyond, Mozambique’s most popular destination,” Mosi said as he stood to the front of the group with his back to the uber luxurious dwellings on the property.

 Your smile was so wide you knew you looked like an idiot.  Lewis caught your eye, and he was smiling just as wide as you were. You mouthed “thank you” and gave you a nod while tapping the side of his nose. It was a thing both of you always did to the other to say, “I got you”. It had always been like that. he’d do whatever he could for you no matter what it was you asked for, and you’d do the same. It wasn’t a tit for tat type of thing or favor for favor it was genuine care all the time.

 After a quick tour of the massive property that Lewis had taken liberty to rent out completely just so your group could really relax without any eyes, you all split up to lock down your rooms and settle in. The local time was nearing dinner and you were teetering on ravenous thanks to you skipping breakfast and only opting for a small fruit salad on the plane as lunch. Your room was perfect, it faced the ocean and gave you quite the view. You knew it would be the perfect view for any late-night writing sessions. And if this was what you were working with then you were excited to get to it.

 You took a shower then plopped onto the floor in your towel to go through your luggage for something to wear for dinner. With your headphones in you went through your choices until you heard the notification sound from your phone. When you glanced down, you found a message from Lewis.

 MSG Lewis: I hope you like the room; you got the best view. I hope it helps with your writer’s block.

 Realization hit you, he’d planned all of this. He’d chosen this place because of you, given you the room with the best view all in hopes to get your groove back. you could have released an audible “oof” right then and there.

 MSG: You didn’t have to do all of this for me.

MSG Lewis: Shut up.

MSG: I’m serious.

MSG Lewis: I like doing things for you. Plus it’s nothing more than all you’ve done for me over the years. WAFF.

 The ball of tension in your belly faded and left a sinking feeling. What are friends for. You took a deep breath, held it for a beat, then slowly let it out. It was then you put your phone down and continued what you were doing with your music much higher than before. After a while you managed to put together something cute and just as you were putting on a lite layer of makeup Nikki walked in.

 “What’s taking you so long?”

 “Perfection takes time.”

 “Heeeeeyyy!”

 You laughed, bringing your attention back to the mirror to finish your brows.

 “Where’s Gisella?”

 “Trying to get all the gossip on Justice. She did a dive on IG and found out she’s a model but also an IG—persona. She saw a few pictures of her with a few other celebs and now she is trying to get the tea.”

 You nodded, of course she was. Gisella could find out anything about anyone. She was better than TMZ, better than any other gossip blog hands down.

 “You don’t seem to care about it though.”

 “Why should I care? I’m all good until she proves to be a problem.”

 Nikki studied you for a moment. You could feel her eyes boring holes into your back. You were not going to fall for it though. She wanted you to open up but opening up was the last thing you planned on doing on this vacation.

 Dinner was amazing, the food on display across the banquet style table was exquisite. Michelin star restaurants in the states could never. Everything you put into your mouth you moaned for, every dish placed before you, you devoured, every flavor that burst over your tastebuds had you rocking in your seat. There was nothing that was off. You tried to keep up with the conversations around you while enjoying the food, but you were sure you missed plenty of useful tidbits.

 When dessert came you slowly ate the decadent cake and looked around the table at all your friends. Time together like this was rare. Lewis’ schedule was nuts, and then when you added yours, it was difficult to get everyone together. Across the table, you noticed Lewis doing the same thing. He was probably thinking the same thing you were. When your eyes met, his smile widened. It was soft and inviting, so similar to him. It slipped for a moment and was replaced by a crinkled brow and a screwed jaw. He looked like he was thinking deeply about something. However, the look quickly disappeared. Raising his glass to you, he bopped his head. You returned the gesture and returned your attention to your plate.

 After dinner, no one seemed eager to go to bed, instead the drinks rolled out and the stories began. No one was safe from being put on blast, no one was left untouched from some embarrassing story from some point in their life and because of that the laughs never ended. When everyone said their goodbyes, you decided to set yourself up to write. After getting everything ready and setting your atmosphere just the way you wanted you sat down with the view of the soft rolling waves of the ocean as your focal point and a bottle of wine beside you. After taking the time to reread your last written chapter you were half a bottle down in the wine with worries of how you were going to match that steam.

 “All right, Y/N, let’s get this down and done.”

 You cracked your knuckles then set your hands ready to fly across the keyboard. Twenty minutes later, your screen was empty and your fingers still hovering over the keyboard.

 “Shit.”

 You grabbed the wine and guzzled the rest then groaned when you realized it was finished. You ventured through the villa to one of the bars and picked out two more bottles. You were determined to get something down. You’d take anything at this point, a sentence, a word. Hell, even a period. Sitting back down, you popped the top of the wine and took a few gulps foregoing the glass sitting to your left. what was the point? This wine tasted a lot stronger than the one you’d just had, and you were grateful for that. With a mouthful of wine, you set yourself for attempt number two.

 Like the first attempt, twenty minutes later you had nothing. That led you to finish the second bottle of wine as you talked to yourself about nothing in particular just your failure to do the simplest of tasks. An hour later, the only thing you’d accomplished was finishing the wine you’d gotten from the bar. You were surrounded by the empty bottles that were scattered around the floor while you were sprawled on the bed. You’d abandoned your laptop and was just staring at the ceiling waiting for the wine to put you to sleep. As your eyes lulled closed, you heard muffled moans that sounded as if they were coming from the room beside you. With your eyes wide, you held still waiting to see if you’d imagined it. A few seconds later, they sounded again.

 What the hell? You knew either Nikki or Gisella were beside you and you also knew that they couldn’t be busting it down with anyone. Your eyes widened even more than you thought it was Gisella and Mabdulle. You’d always gotten the vibes that they were into each other but wanted to keep it on the low.

 “Oh my gosh.”

 You sprang up and pressed your ear to the wall like a total creeper. You planned on holding this over her head for the rest of eternity whenever she tried to come for you. It was quiet over there and you didn’t know if you should be thankful or feel bad about it. Someone was not putting in work.

 “Just stop.”

 You pressed closer hearing that. Stop what?

 “I can make you feel good.”

 You began to wonder why she was pleading with him. This was not Gisella. She took what she wanted, and you knew for a fact she knew how to have a grown man sounding like a whimpering child. You heard slurping sounds and more muffled moaning then gagging. Other than that, it was silent. This definitely wasn’t Gisella. whoever it was did not know their way around a dick. The silence was very telling. You stifled a laugh because you hoped it was Miles, hoped he’d somehow picked someone up and was getting the worst lackluster head of his life. However, it was not.

 “Mmm, Lewis.”

 Your smile dropped, your eyed bugged and you made a face of disgust. No fucking way. Lewis took the room beside you. He knew this was the room he’d chosen for you, which meant this was a deliberate choice. What the fuck? Was he fucking with you? Why?

 “It's not working, it’s cool.”

 “No, let me try some more. What’re you thinking about?”

 He sighed. “W-A-F-F.”

 At that you pulled away from the wall as if it had turned into lava. What the actual fuck! The slurping and moaning began again but you could tell it was not from Lewis, you could tell that he was completely disinterested. As you listened part of you wanted to laugh because this was just pathetic. Another part of you wanted to melt into the mattress and disappear. You’d never been on this side of things, never overheard his shenanigans, never been the fly on the wall. You didn’t know how to act, much less what to think. Another part of you wanted to kick the wall down and show her how it’s done, but another part that was seeing radioactive green and all you wanted to do was She Hulk smash her ass then Sparta kick her into the ocean telling her to doggy paddle back to the states. Was it a strong reaction? Yes, it was. Did you understand it? Not at all.

 So you laid there hearing her failed attempts at making him feel good while letting your thoughts wander on what he meant by saying he was thinking about the code between you, the code he’d said to you several times that day. You knew one thing for certain, tomorrow you were changing your room.

PT 2 Coming....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TagList:

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@alookintohersoul @asiaaisa77 @jd-now-jq @naturalthrone22      @mrsbarnes-rogers @beyourownkindofbeautiful @beccacupcakesxo @toni9  @wonderlandfandomkingdom @partypoison00 @queenoftheworldisdead  @doublesidedscoobysnacks @sophiealiice @richonne4life @coffeebooksandfandom @siempremamita @raveviolet @dumbchick  @amennariee @briellableu @leebabe444 @31miw-inkpsycho

@rororo06 @disaster-rose @bugngiz @yourwonderbelle @queenbetter  @melaninhawtie @bekindbecoolbeyou​

[lovelyjin22]

For Lovers Who Hesitate

⤍ Pairing | Jeon Jungkook x Reader

⤍ Genre | computer science major!jk, animation major!reader, fake dating/relationship, jk and reader are similar in age (barely mentioned), both go to a made up, prestigious university in south korea for the sake of my sanity, jk is frustrating and has terrible morals in this fic, golden retriever personality!jk, technically) fuckboy!jk, hopeless romantic!reader, female reader with she/her pronouns (reader can be any sexual orientation, up to you :))

⤍ Summary | All you wanted for your love life was a secure, loving relationship with your soulmate. Unfortunately, your fat, dumb crush on Jeon Jungkook doesn’t help you at all. Jungkook isn’t into relationships, only leading girls on when he needs a good night. You knew that about him, it wasn’t something he tried to hide (he never talked about himself, but never once denied rumors). Despite knowing this, you confessed your feelings for him.

↳ Warnings | mature themes (mainly cursing and smut)

↳ Word count | 2,065... something, I started editing last minute

↳ A/N: Ughghghhghh I hate how I portrayed Jungkook in this story, bro makes me so frustrated and I’m the one that wrote him LOL. 

You can check out more of my works on my AO3 and instagram! lovelyjin22

Butterflies.

It was the only word you could use to explain what you were feeling right now. You were never the patient type when it came to crushes, always eager to meet “the one”. Confessing to your crushes was always terrifying as the first, yet somehow you always ended up in this kind of situation. 

In high school (especially senior year), you confessed to most of your crushes. Unfortunately, most would reject you. It was always the same reason, that you didn’t know each other very well. It was a good reason, to be fair, you did barely know your crushes before jumping the gun. But isn’t that the point of dating? To get to know each other? Your confessing spree got worse in senior year, with a total of eleven crushes and eight confessions. Most of them you (probably) gaslighted yourself into liking because you were bored. But nothing really stopped you, none of them would remember you when you went to college. You promised yourself that you would stop confessing to dumb crushes once you had a clean slate in college.

Unfortunately, Jeon Jungkook had fallen right into your heart. Something about him was so different from the other crushes. Your silly high school ones would only last a month or so if they were lucky. Yet here you were, crushing on Jungkook for a whole seven months (it may not seem like a long time for others, but to you, this was almost insanity). Broad shoulders, muscular build, the cutest smile, a laugh that was pure magic, attractive piercings and tattoos, you could go on about him for years. The guy who was able to befriend anyone lived in your head rent free for seven months. There was never a time when you weren’t thinking about him (and usually thinking of cute, couple-y scenarios… you never imagined past that to something more mature, you felt too guilty). 

Surprisingly, you hadn’t confessed to him for those seven months, you really wanted it to work out with him so you managed to find some patience. 

Immediately attracted to him, you had asked for his Instagram so you could talk to him. Of course, he was confused but nevertheless gave you his information. Jungkook never said no to a new friend. The two of you became good friends, hanging out with each other in person often and texting everyday. It was like you two were already dating… in fact people usually assume the two of you are dating (unless they know Jungkook, everyone knows he doesn’t date). 

You knew he brought girls back to his place often, it hurt you but you had no right to be jealous. You also knew it was better to be his close friend than just being a one night stand. Jungkook usually forgot his one night stands as well, which gave girls the opportunity to become his friend right after without Jungkook realizing. You found it kind of ridiculous.

But back to the butterflies.

Jungkook was driving you back to your place. The two of you had just gone out for dinner and you had to (unfortunately) finish up homework for tomorrow’s class. There was usually never silence in your conversations, always finding new things to talk about even after seven months. You tried to bring it up casually this entire night, knowing that confessions have a higher chance of working if you’re casual about it. 

“Hey, these past couple of months have been cool and I think we click really well. No pressure or anything, but I just wanted to throw it out there that I like you.”

You pat yourself on the back, your confession was smooth and the ball was in his court. Jungkook, who had his eyes on the road this entire time, finally looks over to you before facing the road again. You were already looking at him, making sure to catch his glance for eye contact. When his eyes went back to the road, you took this opportunity to (maybe definitely) check out his one-handed driving you found so attractive.

“Oh wow.”

Jungkook starts, some would assume Jungkook’s mind went a little blank, but you knew he had his rejection ready. He had rejected plenty of people in the past, basically muscle memory at this point. You start praying to every god possible that his response would be more than just that. You were sweating, would it be too obvious to roll the windows down?

“I think you’re super cool and I think we click really well too.” 

Your heart starts to beat faster and you can feel your face reddening. Would this be your first success? You had calculated everything down to the last confession and you can already feel it paying off. Perhaps all those dating and crush advice articles actually work! Unfortunately, you got your hopes up too soon.

“But you already know I don’t do dating. I’m just looking for quality time with friends. I’m not really ready to invest more of my time into one person only to meet disappointment.”

You smile and hum to let him know it’s all good, no hard feelings. Your hands were definitely sweating and your fingers were definitely fiddling. His rejection was surprisingly mature and something you weren’t expecting. Of course, you were hurt, but you could understand where he was coming from. 

Nodding, you laugh it off, “Ah don’t worry, I totally get that! Dating is a lot of commitment and I hope we’re able to stay good friends after this.”

He doesn’t look over for the rest of the way back to your house, “Of course we’ll stay friends, (Y/n).” You wish you could say you knew him enough to read his voice and expressions, but even after seven months you couldn’t tell what this guy was thinking. Would he really pretend like you hadn’t said anything? Knowing Jungkook and how he can do the same for other girls (who confessed to him and who fucked him), you could probably assume he would. You wish you could say you weren’t like the other girls in the long line of girls, boys, and every other person wanting to date him but you really weren’t. You wish Jungkook saw your guy’s friendship as the gem in the groups of stones or whatever the fuck the saying is, but you knew your friendship with him was only one of convenience for him. You could animate and he needed someone to animate his stupid little game. Anyone in their right mind would’ve refused to, who would spend their precious free time animating characters that fit the male gaze… you, a girl with a big fat crush on Jeon Jungkook. Hell, you weren’t even being paid enough. And it’s not like you can leave now, he’ll think you're a loser or something, he’ll think you aren’t “chill”, he’ll probably think you want to ruin a friendship over some feelings you had for him.

Jungkook isn’t like that, he’ll probably forget the next day. You were just an overthinking and a pessimist, the worst combination. 

‘My Jinji’ begins to play out of his crisp, rich boy car speakers. Fuck this guy and his stupid, romantic playlist.

You tried to keep the conversation light after your confession. You didn’t want him to think his rejection would change you, it would make you seem like a bad person… right? You somehow roped him into a light (more like distracting from the previous conversation) topic of you wanting to paint your apartment’s walls (due to the apartment being a rental, you’re not allowed to paint it, but you desperately needed a change in conversation so you’ll just ignore that information for now). 

You pretended his rejection didn’t hurt, but you have never wanted to curl up in a corner and cease to exist more than now. It really fucking hurt. 

“I’ll text you later?” you start, you were standing next to his car with the car door open. He bends over in his seat a little to (finally) make eye contact and grins, “You better! Now hurry and close the door, there’s a car behind me and I swear they’re gonna honk at me at any moment!” You only roll your eyes (dramatically) and shut his door. He motions you with his free hand briefly to head inside and you rush into your apartment building, clutching your tote bag with both hands tightly. Jungkook was always sweet like that, he made sure to watch you go inside before he left.. even if it did mean the car behind him was honking impatiently. He probably knew what he was doing to you and everyone else when he did these things. He probably knows that he can make everyone’s hearts flutter with the smallest gestures. He probably knows that he can get away with it all because he’s hot. 

“The two of you became good friends, hanging out with each other in person often and texting everyday. It was like you two were already dating… in fact people usually assume the two of you are dating” you had forgotten to add a tiny detail to this. This is the same situation most people are in with Jungkook. 

You let out one final sigh of defeat, finally done over analyzing what went wrong and regretting the fact that you forgot what Jungkook’s personality is like. You shouldn’t have confessed, everyone knows Jungkook doesn’t date. Letting go of your tote bag that you had on chokehold, you decide that you just need to move on, if Jungkook can milk this friendship… then you want to do the same.

Forgetting how gross your apartment building’s stairs are, you sit on the second step and sigh (again, dramatically). Making sure to bang your head against the metal rails a good number of times. Highschool rejections didn’t hurt as much as this one did, and Jungkook’s rejection was the only mature one. Maybe this is a sign that you like Jungkook a lot more than those gross high schoolers in your past. 

You definitely felt your heart squeeze in pain, it was a feeling you hadn’t felt since your first innocent confession. You could feel heat coming to your face, especially your nose and eyes. You didn’t want to cry in front of Jungkook but he’s not here right now.

Facing your chatty roommates was the last thing you wanted to do. Your never ending headache was making its appearance again and two roommates who can’t take a hint are the last thing you needed (you loved your roommates, respectfully, but sometimes you wonder how they were accepted into a top college). You don’t know how long you were sitting on those grimy steps for, but by the time your headache settles, you hear your phone ding. 

JUNGKOOK

“Hey actually, can we date?”

It takes you a minute to process the short but heavy text. Your headache was coming back, didn’t he just reject you… you check the time, forty minutes ago?

You want to throw this man out the window, but unfortunately your fat crush for him slaps you in the face. 

(Y/N)

“???”

As much as you want to say yes and throw yourself all over him (unfortunately, just like all the other girls), his text was odd. He had an actual reason to reject you so why would he change his ideals so quickly?

JUNGKOOK

“can i explain larer?” 

You sigh, this asshole doesn’t even care enough to edit his typos and yet he has the audacity to act interested in you romantically? Just because you have a big fat crush on him doesn’t mean you can’t have dignity and self-respect. 

(Y/N)

“sure.” 

Funny story, you give into anything Jungkook asks because he has you wrapped around his finger. Take back the previous statement about having dignity, you have no self respect when it comes to this guy. Your headache hurts a little too much (could possibly be from slamming your head into the metal rail) so you decide to go to your apartment and stop sitting on the gross stairs. 

JUNGKOOK

“dude thx 🥵”

You purse your lips and stare at his stupid, unread message. You hated that you had no backbone when it came to him. You wanted to jump with joy that he… technically(?) accepted your confession. But god, right now you were extremely confused. Whatever bullshit Jungkook just pulled on you made you question your taste in men.

(Y/N)

“you better have a good explanation 😐”

Why do you do this to yourself?

[thelediz]

Psssst...given that pokeani has gone completely off the rails, how abt dropping that big rant abt the "Ash assistant coach in Galar battle league" au you shall never write? It's been living rent-free in my head ever since you mentioned it bc I love mentor Ash and I bet you'd do more justice to Galar in bullet points than pokeani did in its whole journeys run :3c

Oh, be careful what you ask for... I have pages of bullet points and half a page of prologue.

For those of you who don't know (or remember a side-comment I wrote in an author's note three years ago - seriously, my dude, wow), at the start of Journeys/end of Alola, I came up with an AU to carry on Ash's story. But it was an idea for a series, not a story, so it sits in my documents untouched.

So the basic deal is this: Galar has a different kind of league to the rest of the Pokemon world. In Galar, trainers compete as teams, rather than individual trainers. Each team does have a captain – the one who is supposed to be the best, and ultimately becomes champion – but it becomes clear over the series that the greatest trainers in Galar are the ones with the best support teams.

The advantage to having a team, instead of just working alone, is that you can have a lot more pokemon on a 'regular' team. And they belong to the group, not just the captain. This allows more flexibility, but as Ash points out to the team, it also means you can’t form as close a bond as more traditional trainers would. (This is potentially the reason why Pikachu can gigantamax safely without a dynamax band - because they have such a close bond)

The team we follow in this series is Team Eight - the eighth team for this year's league.

It's quite a large team, made up of seven team members in total:

The Captain, Victor. Our player character, and essentially the Gary of the series. He’s a natural when it comes to pokemon battle, charming and likeable, but confident to the point of being arrogant. His character arc is learning that natural talent won’t get him by forever, and he needs his team to make it to the top. (Friendship hooray!)

Active Trainer Hop. The current champion’s little brother, Hop was supposed to have so much promise. He was great with pokemon as a kid—they all love him—and Leon had so much faith in his baby brother. But on the battlefield, Hop is average at best. He’s nowhere near Victor’s talent, let alone as amazing as everyone expected. His character arc is learning not to stand in others’ shadows, and to believe in his own quieter power.

Active Trainer Gloria. Our female player character, and a very loud, slightly violent young woman. She’s actually the strongest battler of the team, but is also incredibly lazy when it comes to training. She’s not that interested in the league, mostly using the challenge as a chance to see and explore the world. Throughout the journey, she becomes a protector, often standing with Ash while Victor and Hop run off to gather artefacts or whatever, and discovers her true passion is as a bodyguard and organiser.

Groomer Goh. A blatant attempt to reengage children with Pokemon Go, Goh’s passion is collecting pokemon for the team to use. His goal is to catch one of every kind of pokemon, so that no matter the situation, he will always have the right ‘tool’ to hand. When his pokemon aren’t being used by active trainers, he farms them out to gyms and jobs, earning cash for the team. His arc is learning that pokemon are friends, not tools. (Pet safety, hooray!)

Medic Chloe. Originally just tagging along with Goh because someone needs to keep her childhood friend in line, Chloe discovers a love of cooking and medicine, discovering that she enjoys watching pokemon grow and become stronger.

Coach Kiran. A Dark-Type Trainer with a bad attitude, but a heart of gold. He’s normally a field agent of Chairman Rose’s security division, and it’s a requirement that all agents do at least one season of coaching duty as a kind of community service. He hates it. He brought Ash on to essentially do his job for him, but since Ash doesn’t really know how Galar works, he still has to lead the way and provide exposition. His arc is learning the limits of how far he’s willing to go to protect ‘the good of all’, and that kids aren’t that bad, really.

Assistant Coach Ash. He signed on because he wanted to see Galar, and learn about the different league, but he’s actually really enjoying helping Team Eight discover who they want to be. He battles with the active trainers, accompanies the support team on their trips, and generally enables their journeys. He forms bonds with some of Goh’s pokemon, who eventually become known as 'his' pokemon despite the fact they belong to the team.

Team Eight were supposed to be the real up and comers, but Hop’s lack of skill in a very public moment made them seem very unimpressive, and now no one really expects anything of them. Of course, they work their way up through the ranks, meeting rivals and defeating gym battles, until Victor can eventually challenge Leon.

The idea was that it was going to retain Sun and Moon's group dynamic, fade Ash out of the spotlight while maintaining his status and strength, and make a bit more out of Galar's story. Also play with Leon's relationship with Hop because you know I'm a sucker for family relationships.

But yeah. I'll leave it there for now. Hope it didn't disappoint!

[rockthistowninsideout]

Even though it’s been eight years, Pacific Rim still lives rent free in my head.

But the majority of the fandom, myself included, knows that it’s not the perfect science fiction movie to dominate all science fiction movies.

So here are a few suggestions I have at the top of my head to make this glorious mess even better:

- GETTING RID OF THE G-SLUR IN THE NAME OF LADY DANGER, like c’mon Guillermo, it’s not that difficult

- Having a female K-scientist, and having her replace Charlie Day. He’s a gift but PR significantly lacks women in the cast and I feel that a messy kaiju-groupie-esque woman would be the better choice when replacing either of those male characters. Women are hardly allowed to be messy.

- In general we need more women/non-male characters. Are there female J-Techs? I don’t know but if yes I doubt that there are many. Another male character I think who could be replaced (more easily than others) is Tendo Choi. They should keep the rockabilly attitude though.

- Maybe add an extra Jaeger to make room for at least another female pilot. Give me a South American team! Peruvians perhaps or Chilean (There are surprisingly [to me, a European] not many South American countries bordering the pacific).

- I would also like to see more non-white characters. PR has a Japanese woman and a black man in the leading trio but there are still a lot white dudes in the more important roles. They are nice white dudes, but they’re white nonetheless.

As I said, these are just the things that come to my mind right now. Please feel free to add your ideas!

EDIT (19.12.21)

Several of you lovelies have given me lots of ideas and improvements of my own suggestions. Here are they:

@jedi-whovian24601 said: Maybe we can add a female/non-male k-scientist instead of removing Charlie Day? Herman’s physics/maths and Newt’s mostly bio so the new k-scientist can be chem (which is also a messy science. Image the explosions they can cause)

@bae-science pointed me towards a very interesting presentation

@milfbailorgana opened my eyes to my own white privilege: Bestie said pac rim should have more non white characters and said we should change Tendo Choi— one of pac rim’s only poc— in the same post

You're right and you should say it. Instead of replacing Tendo we could let him work in tandem with a woman, maybe even his wife Alison. We don't know much about her, only that she worked in munitions in Anchorage, so let me headcanon that she retrained and now they handle the operations together. Alison could also be BIPoC. As for their son, there might already be some sort of kindergarten for Shatterdome employees in canon.

[booksofkingdomsandcourts]

Nessian Week: AU Day

I work well with deadlines so even though this is just a run-of-the-mill Modern!AU, I thought I’d post this drabble that’s been knocking around in my head for a few weeks today! It has a little part two that I’m hoping to post later tonight :)

           Cassian could tell something was on Nesta’s mind all through dinner. He could tell as soon as he got home from work, really. It wasn’t about him, he didn’t think, since she’d kissed him welcome home and let him squeeze her ass. No, there was just…something. Something that made her eyes a little vacant and her words a little quiet. But during dinner she just let him talk about work, nodding and answering, and if there was one thing Cassian had learned about Nesta, it was to give her space. He would give it a little longer, and then he would ask.

           After dinner they watched an episode of the Netflix show they were working their way through and then got ready for bed. Even though it was only eight thirty, their rigid commitment to mornings at the gym meant they were always early to bed, early to rise.

           As they crawled under the covers, Cassian finally poked Nesta’s side and said, “Hey. Something you want to talk about?”

           He had long since learned that “what’s wrong” and “talk to me” didn’t work on Nesta. He had learned to just ask if she wanted to talk, and that sometimes, the answer was no. That was okay. He had also often assured her that one of the reasons he kept his chest so big was for ample cuddle room, if that was all she wanted instead.

           But tonight, Nesta sighed and looked at the ceiling, gathering her thoughts. Cassian propped himself up on one elbow, waiting.

           “I’ve been thinking about trying for law school again,” Nesta said at last.

           “Oh,” Cassian said, surprised but not unpleasantly so. When everything had gone to shit and their father had died, Nesta had withdrawn what Cassian was told was a very promising and competitive law school application. That had been over two years ago now, and Cassian had found himself wondering more than once if she missed no longer being on that path, or if it was something she had ever wanted for herself at all.

           “Yeah,” she agreed, then continued, “I just don’t think the sugar baby lifestyle suits me as well as it suits Feyre, you know?” Cassian laughed. “Seriously! She just lives in a big house and paints all day and is going to give Rhys as many babies as he wants, and I’m really happy for her.”

           “He really loves her,” Cassian said, feeling a need to defend his brother. It was maybe undeniable that Rhysand technically qualified as Feyre’s sugar daddy given their age gap, but the implication that he just wanted her for baby making, even though Cassian knew Nesta didn’t mean it like that, riled him just a little.

           “I know,” Nesta said, unfazed. “I said I was happy for her. I just don’t know that that’s for me, you know? I want to do something. I want to have a career and something that I am outside of just us.” If Cassian was not used to Nesta’s bluntness, he might have been offended. But she turned to look at him with her crystal-blue eyes unusually wide and vulnerable, and he knew this was really something that had been weighing on her for a while.

           “Okay, hell yeah,” Cassian said. “My Nesta, girlbossing it up. I’m all for it, whatever you want to do. Law school, business mogul, dean—you’ll kick ass no matter what.”

           Nesta rolled her eyes, but Cassian could see her cheeks had turned slightly pink. “Don’t ever call me girlboss again.”

           “No promises.”

           Nesta rolled her eyes again, and Cassian grinned wider. For a moment, Nesta picked at a loose thread on her sleeve, and then she said, “Or if none of them work out, I guess I could lean into the sugar baby lifestyle and start an OnlyFans.”

           Cassian suppressed a groan, imagining Nesta’s OnlyFans. The amount of money he would have paid for that if she wasn’t his…. “And I’d be your top supporter,” he promised.

           She gave him an exasperated look. “Anything I’d post on OnlyFans you get for free.”

           “But I’m going to support your endeavors, no matter what they are,” Cassian said. “You could try a new career every year for the rest of our lives and I’d be right there by your side. You’ll be the best at whatever you do, baby, you and I both know that.”

           “That’s actually a good point,” she said, pointing at him. “If I get in you’re not allowed to pay my tuition. And neither is Rhysand.”

           “What?” Cassian exclaimed. “Of course I am!”

           “You are not,” Nesta said, her voice leaving no room for argument. “This is my career, my path. I’ll get myself through and pay off the loans on my own.”

           It was a shame there was no talking Nesta into taking charity. If she had decided it would wound her pride to have Cassian pay her tuition, there would be no changing her mind. But he understood—if she wanted this to be something that was hers, it didn’t make sense to have him tied to it so intrinsically. He could accept that. Sort of.

           “Fine,” he said. “But I’m still paying rent and buying groceries and bringing you really big, sugary coffees when you have a hard day of studying. No argument.”

           That earned him another eye roll, but this time with a small smile. “Fine.” She scooted closer so she could snuggle against his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her to pull her close.

           Something in him relaxed just having her so close, but there was still tension in her arms, in her fingers on his back, so he just stroked her hair and waited. Finally, she whispered, “Did you mean it?”

           “About the sugary coffees? Of course. I know we try to eat right, but—”

           “No,” Nesta interrupted. “About…every year, for the rest of our lives. You being by my side.” She tightened her arms and fingers like she was clinging to him.

           For the first time tonight, Cassian was totally taken aback. That was what had thrown her? Wasn’t it obvious? Wasn’t it…what she wanted? “Yeah,” he said, ignoring a cold wash of fear in his stomach. “You don’t think I’m going anywhere, do you? Like I could ever even look at another woman now that I’ve loved you? This is it for me, Ness. Honestly you couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”

           He half expected her to shoot back about stalking or restraining orders or the like, but instead she squeezed him so tight even he almost had the wind knocked out of him. She moved her face from his chest to bury it against his neck, and though he didn’t feel the wet heat of tears, her ragged breaths sounded like she was trying not to cry. “Nesta,” he whispered softly. “Don’t tell me you want a career because you think I might leave you. I’m not going anywhere.”

           “I don’t just want it because of that,” she managed, voice choked. “But you can’t know. You can’t know you won’t get sick of me.”

           “How could I possibly get sick of you? You have ruined me for all other women, Ness, I mean that. And I don’t just mean about sex, though the sex I have with you is absolutely the best sex I’ve ever had in my life, no contest.” She let out a choked laugh against his chest. He could feel her tears now. “I am genuinely excited to see you chase your dreams, Nesta. I’m excited to bring you sugary coffees, and take you out for nice dinners after your big exams, and watch you kick the ass of every other attorney who is unfortunate enough to go up against you. You’re my everything. I don’t want you to spend any more time doubting that.”

           “I know,” Nesta whispered. “I know. You’re my everything too. I’ve never cared about anything as much as I care about you. That’s what’s so scary.”

           Cassian had known almost from the moment he met her that she was the woman he was going to marry. In his mind, however, it was such an inevitability that he hadn’t felt the need to rush. He thought of them as the type to just be together until one day they’d look at each other and say “hey, we should probably get married, huh?” But sometimes he forgot that there was a lot of insecurity under Nesta’s kickass physique and haughty stares. Maybe she needed that promise set in stone (a very expensive, very shiny stone) more than he had realized. He didn’t think she was hounding for a rock, but if she was worried that his lack of commitment was because he was leaving himself a doorway out, he needed to show her that she couldn’t be more wrong.

           As she rolled onto her back and invited him to have some of that life-changing sex, he thought to himself that maybe it was time he went and got a ring.

@nessianweek

[rhaenyraisadyke]

It's been a year! Transcript: 8/3/21 Here is also a google doc of the transcript if that is easier to read!

*Starts out with happy birthday on a guitar playing*

Happy Birthday to me, Happy Birthday to me. Happy Birthdayyyy to meee, Happy Birthday to me

*Drinks a swig of alcohol*

Ah. Yeah it’s my birthday today, which um seems odd, it doesn't feel like i've been here that long… but I have. Cheers everyone uh. I realise I haven't really done much in a while.

I woke up this morning, rolled out of bed, put out this cake I made three months ago and uh, that's kind of been it, but yeah… I don’t think I’ve left this room in 80 days. About 80 days… How long is 80 days? I- I- that's a lot of months… that's been a long time… Also my vision just went black, I’ve been drinking a lot, um this is that possibly catching up with me um please return vision, I’d really like for it to be back, well I can hear things so at least i'm not deaf ya know? The lord has kept my hearing but I am blind, no um yep there we go.

I decided to get dressed up as well. I figured that would be nice, ya know? I’m pretty sure I was part of them back when I joined, so.. .I don't know if it felt like it made sense to dress up again. Um, fucking hell, I have not cleaned. *sighs* I’ll be honest, in the time I was gone, not very… not very much has happened, uh, it turns out you need customers to support a hotel, and I don’t know about you guys but I haven't seen one on this place for a pretty long while. So uh, basically what I’m saying is… the big jack manifold hasn't been going too hot, god, you don’t provide these guys with food for eighty days and they all go bones and evil.

LEAVE out you bard, you-

The point is, very little has been done here for quite awhile, and um I haven't been outside or seen anyone, and I- I didn't’ finish the pub. Um, you may be asking me, “but jack wasn't that the only thing you were working towards? I know but with the failure of the hotel, I kind of realised that again pubs also rely on customers and the very limited people on this server, as we can all see it really ah um, well it didn’t seem very fruitful. So um, we're kinda just here, living here rent free ever since we claimed this place… I actually don’t know who pays the rent.. Maybe Tommy still does um. I Don't know- anyway since I’ve been here for a year and I haven't really looked around in three months, I thought we would go and look around at everything that we once saw, you know?

I must admit the investment of the alcohol from the pub has been the only thing keeping-.. I shouldn't say that, let's not speak about that part. Yeah it turns out that this place, look I haven't been outside in eighty days and I think maybe since I’ve been here for a year I can go back and have a look around at everything. And um as I said I dressed up for the occasion, so um you know… lets see what's changed hmmm?

Anyway let's walk around shall we? Well this didn’t change, we still got mcpuffys here. Hehe, no one noticed my balls sign hehe, no one noticed, I forgot about this, no one noticed I replaced whatever the original one was with balls in hope they wouldn't notice and they didn't. Ahh that's good, I like that. Anyway, there's the duck and Ponk’s tower that seem pretty much the same.

This looks different, this was a hole.. Who are you? Alright? You know we are the only two people on the server right now? (talking to shroud) This basically means we gotta become friends. So.. tell me about yourself.. Sir? Madam? Shroud, alright. Oh Ohhh I stole some of these! Did I ever give them back? Whoops, oh well. Ahh, it's been quiet without him ya know tommy. I’ll be honest, theres been very little to do, with him gone, um, the fuck did ninjas house go? Why does it look like a very small mcdonalds?

Right, this tower, this seems pretty much the same. Does the sewer still exist? Hm oh wait does it not? What ohh no what happened to the sewers? Aw, there was a whole sewer system out there one time and oh wow. Why is there no longer a sewer there? Wait oH OH it is down here!

One of the first things I remember is me tommy and tubbo and quackity, before he even joined and was still in juvy we, hehe, we did a little heist on everyone and we stole the poo machines and stole everything and then we had a little room, and it was here and we stole the phantom membranes. It was a good time, it was a good time, I liked that and then ah there had only been one war. It's crazy to think there's been more, I thought we’d figure it out the first time, you know? It was fun. And we were called the beatles. Either way yeah.

Why the fuck is half of this place beatroots? Why are half of these beetroots and the other half potatoes? Why is it all farm?? Why? Why is it beats? Wait where did gay target go? Why is there just a beacon here? At least there's huts pizza. Employee of the first two days, of dunderbeatlin… the fuck is dunderbeatlin? What's this? Why are there new things? I know it's been eighty days but why?

This is the L’manburg museum, bearing in mind I'm dressed like this I should go see it.

Oh! It's like different things. This is like the community house, okay that's cool and that's the egg.. This is a replica it won't hurt you… oh it doesn't it won't actually hurt you. I guess they remade that shit. What even happened with that thing? I remember it tried to possess me once and then I bathed in the holy water and I was good again. Oh wow it's like a map of the whole server and there's egg gunk. And then and then and then here.. Where am I? Oh… is that lmanburg? Where is lmanburg? Oh wait oh yeah yeah wait I forgot…. Oh…. yeah….. Um….heh yeah….

OH its the lmanburg walls! I remember tearing them down and rebuilding them a lot and the hotdog van! Does it have the declaration in it? No it doesn't… It is blue. Ohhh…… I joined the day after this (the final control room) God, it's been a whole year since then… What's this? Wait… I feel like there's missing lines here. I don’t know if sorry, you know? Oh, look here, oh it just says i'm sorry. (erets apology book) I’m not all that sure that sorry quite cuts that. What's this? Oh this looks unfinished. Oh here's a map of old lmanburg! OH that's ze house! Before… I burnt it down and decided I wasn't gonna have manifold land anymore.. I miss that, I miss lmanburg.

It was a lot easier to dream when we were friends. Everyone feels so distant now but maybe that's because I haven't seen them, maybe that didn't help I mean no one came to say hi to me. Oh, oh, my main takeaway was that, wait it's not glass anymore, it's like a cavern, it was glass the last time I was there, it's changed since I was here to remember what happened… Why does it look like this? Hmm I don't know. Ah this was my cove, and it was untouched until I burnt it down fuck you.

Oh and theres my secret base that I never finished, FUCK YOU - fuck I hate him, anyway… oh there's the big obsidian bridge, oh isn't this where tommy was exiled? Over this way? I think… That means it was somewhere along here that… wait no it was right here… right? We turned on these stairs, stepped down, and pretty sure it was right here… he dug this.. I don’t think I want to visit this place. I want to go back, this isn't really where I want to be.

Anyway um, I wonder if Snowchester has changed. Lets go visit, okay um, that's weird that's freshly planted. Let's head over to Snowchester its that way. Since when was Tubbos' house back? Didn’t Tommy burnt it down? I swear this got burnt down.. I remember the ruins of it, there was a nether tree farm then in it… anyway…. Let's go check out fundys place. I haven't seen him in FOREVER. The last time I saw him was the last war… the day… the last war… WHY ARE THERE BIG MUSEUM THINGS EVERYWHERE??

Where's fundys house? I built it. I remember building it as a prank and then he liked it and lived in it.. Where's my tower? It was here next to the fox, his little fox hole… my towers were gone, it was definitely here, it was a million percent here and it was right next to it. It was somewhere there was a button it had a button. There was a big sign made out of obsidian…

I don’t know if you can tell, but I’ve been pretty purposeless for the past eight days… what the fuck? That's a HOLE. That's a big ass hole! That wasn't always there?! When did a hole show up?? There's a HOLE in my hotel!! I'm trying not to lose my cool and you know when I go the day that I joined, and the first person that greeted me was tommyinnit and still, I wish, I just wish someone logged in and said “hey jack happy one year” and I try to build them a pub and one of these *drinks a swig of alcohol* I mean at least..

Every time….. Everything here and how come it's all the things I care about that get blown up? Lmanburg… Manifold Land- Well I did manifold land but I was pissed off - Everything I care about on this server gets blown up, or destroyed or taken advantage of or.. Betrays me, that happens a lot. I’m not sure if I wanna be here anymore.

I’m not sure if I want to have anything to do with this… maybe that's it. Maybe that's it. What does this place bring? What does this place bring? Ever since I have been part of the “Dream SMP” Things are given to me that are eventually taken or destroyed, friends leave, DEATH, not everyone has died on the server and come back to life admittedly, I have now but the point is, I AM VERY DEFINITE I DON'T WANT ANYTHING TO DO WITH THIS SERVER ANYMORE… Alright? Almost everyone that has promised me something has turned their back. Almost everyone. The last thing anyone said to me was “Ah when las nevadas comes about, we will have a deal jack.. I’ll make it big” Yeahh.. .he really brought a lot of business. How's Las Nevadas doing?? Because when I HEARD it would be done and bring me customers, surely not another person would give me false hope.

Tubbos was the only one I can trust, Tubbo and Niki. I know Niki has become an anarchist or whatever but at least she's happy, and Tubbo was always kind.

I think Las Nevadas is somewhere over here. Let's go look at how “done it is” and how ready for business they are… Looking PRETTY finished for me. Big sign, big building, nice roads. Looking pretty… done. Pretty ready for a business deal. Isn't that a shocker… Isn't it weird yet again that someone promised me something and it fell through again?

So FUCK IT I don’t wana see Snowchester, I dont want to see anything, My WHOLE TIME on this server has been doing things for other people and fighting peoples wars, right? Keeping up hotels and pubs for people to stay, trying to kill people at worst that wasnt me and fighting for them. I haven't done anything for myself. ANYTHING AT ALL. And I said the hotel was for me and look where it got me- in a room for 80 days and a giant bottle of cider I have yet to finish- so fuck it! I’m not dealing with anyone else anymore. The “DREAM SMP” I’m gonna go out and start my own thing. I’m gonna call it the “Dream SSP” survival single player because I’m not dealing with anyone else anymore. Alright?

The day Tommy died, I said I was done with manifold land because the only thing it ever stood for was trying to get rid of him, and although it was also about getting back at him, it was about other people, but this time, I have something new in mind, something completely different…

NEW Manifold land will not cater to anyone else, not fight for anyone else, to I don’t know be anything for anyone else really. New Manifold land will stick very strictly to the name and persist of purely Jack Manifold, and I might steal Godzilla back from Tubbo (his arctic fox). Because as much as I said Niki was kind and Tubbo was kind, where they been the past 80 days? No one came to the hotel. No one came looking for me to which point, I say I’m gonna find myself my own little place. I’m just gonna live. I’m gonna do what I want, the only thing is, I need to find an area of my own, we need to travel. So let's get moving hmm?

[lady-of-disdain]

Hello! I'm the same anon who gushed about your fic and you responded that it enouraged you in your writer's funk (which I'm so happy it helped fuel your fire!) I just finished reading the recent chapter and boy was it worth the wait!

I mean, Killer's practically moved in at this point, and Greenie is so chill about it even giving him his own pillow, that's so precious??? And of course Killer takes full advantage cuz he's an ass, but he does it in such a charming way.

Like, I was kind of scared he might get forceful with her when she kept declining his offered ride, but you're such a talented writer and I've clearly underesstimated you, because his actions at the end were so in character and a big veer from douche to fondly exasperating. I mean, he's kinda both, but the point is it was way better and funnier than I anticipated. This boy is so attached right now, it's unreal.

Your fic lives rent free in my head, kudos again to you, hope you're doing well!

*Grabs you and tucks you into my nest for safekeeping* HI! Hello! Did you know you own my heart Nonny???

I really love your messages they, and you, are a true delight! I'm glad you are enjoying the obnoxious trash gremlin, he really is horrible amazing isn't he? *swoons*

You know it's funny because I do also love it when Killer is written as very forceful, and dominant, and I think in certain situations he would be more so. But when I write him sometimes he just comes out much softer, and I feel like that's just a side of him he doesn't even realize he has sometimes. A side that certain situations happen to bring out of him. Sure he could just grab our dear Reader and shortcut her anywhere he wants. But tagging along with her and annoying her means he might convince her to go along with him next time, and anyways, he still gets to hang out with her, so he wins either way. uwu

(Heheheheehehe, dominant, boy howdy just wait until the smut happens because whooooooooo.... I'm going to be having immense amounts of fun)

Anyways, thank you again for your encouraging words. I'm about 3/4ths of the way through chapter seven now at this point too, and I SUPER cannot wait to get to writing chapter eight because it's going to kick off with one of my favorite Undertale fanfic tropes! >:3c As a thank you for your lovely comments, here is a sneak peek at chapter seven, under the cut.

'Trololo'

Your morning commute to work was anything but relaxing. Between an unexpected traffic jam, and Killer changing the music every 30 seconds like a 5-year-old with the world’s shortest attention span you were deeply regretting your decision of turning down his offer for getting teleported to work. You weathered it all pretty well you think, up until someone cut you off and break-checked you.

“haha! wow, that sucked.”

“Why yes, thank you Killer, that sucked quite a lot and nearly caused a wreck, astute observation- IF YOU TOUCH THAT SKIP BUTTON ONE MORE TIME I AM EATING YOUR FINGER BONES!”

Killer snickered but left the song. For the first time the whole drive you got to listen to a full song.

“i thought you said your commute was relaxing nurse? Not very relaxing from where i’m sitting.”

You caught that distinct shit-eating tone of voice of his when he was fucking with you, which was often, so you were starting to get used to it by now. Of course, he’s at least half of the reason for your miserable commute today, but you couldn’t blame all of it on him.

“Life’s hard and sometimes traffic happens,” you grind out. “Would be a lot easier to get through though if you didn’t keep skipping all my favorite songs.”

“life’s hard and sometimes you miss all your favorite songs. would be a lot easier if you could just skip the commute altogether,” he threw back at you smarmily.

You… did not have a response. Already you are feeling silly for having turned down his perfectly sweet offer. And why? So you wouldn't feel like you were taking advantage of him? So that you can continue to struggle all by yourself? Ok, so maybe you have a little bit of an issue asking for help from others, but why did you also have to turn it down when help was freely offered?

[let-it-raines]

I Hope We Never See October (1/?)

Summary: When his personal life and football career go up in flames, Killian Jones escapes England for America, finding seclusion in Martha’s Vineyard in order to hide from his demons. It’s a fresh start, or at the very least a paused moment in his life, and all he needs is a few months alone to allow his heart to heal. He doesn’t count on meeting Emma Swan.

Emma’s life depends on tourists who come to the island every summer. It’s how she makes her money working in restaurants and clubs across the vineyard, but every year, she cannot wait until autumn comes and her life returns to normal. She especially cannot wait for Killian Jones to leave.

Rating: Mature

a/n: Do you know what’s a great way to distract yourself from writing and other responsibilities? By writing a story that you shouldn’t be writing. So, here we are, and I hope you enjoy 😂

On AO3 | Here | 

-/-

June

The ocean water runs over his toes before disappearing, heading back to its home beyond the sand. It’s a cool contrast against the heat of the sun that’s warmly beating down on his skin, but it matches the chill of the beer bottle against his palm. Who knows what time it is? From the emptiness of the beach, Killian is guessing it’s mid-morning, but seriously, who the hell knows anymore?

Likely everyone other than him.

After more water washes over his feet and up his ankles, he decides the water is too cold to stay standing this close to the shoreline, so he walks up the path to his house and closes the gate behind him. He sits down at the bench by his pool and then buries his face in his hands before moving to take a sip of the beer.

God, he hopes it’s not truly the morning because he’s one second away from tipping the bottle enough for the beer to tumble down his throat.

Killian yanks it away and tosses it to the ground. He expects the damn thing to shatter against the tile, but it doesn’t. It rolls away into the grass, spilling a little beer with every turn until it stops against the tall grass lining the gate. Killian bends down and picks up another bottle, popping it open, then pouring it out. He does the same thing over and over again until his grass is fertilized with alcohol.

At least his body isn’t.

What a thought to have (presumably) so early in the morning.

His eyes close, the sun no longer blinding his vision, and he starts picking up the bottles, chasing them around and cursing himself for even buying the damn case in the first place. He has no clue what damn day it is, but he does know that it’s too damn early for him to be drinking. And if he’s going to get wasted and waste his day, he might as well do it with rum or whiskey. He doesn’t even like beer.

Killian chucks the bottles in the bin resting against the side of the rental house and goes through the side door into the kitchen. It’s clean today, all the white countertops empty of plates and pitchers and the junk that accumulates over time. The living room is clean as well, all the pillows in the right place, the throw blankets over the correct corners of couches, and he can see vacuum lines in the rug. He’s sure if he were to walk to the mantle, it’d be empty of dust. Ariel must have sent someone in to clean yesterday while he was away from the house. He’s got to have her stop doing that. He’s thirty-five years old. He can clean the house he’s staying in. He doesn’t need her taking care of his life for him.

Though, it is literally her job, but Ariel takes things far past being his manager. He doesn’t know anyone else who does all the things she does for their client, especially when he isn’t bringing in the same amount anymore. Sponsors aren’t exactly lining up at the door for disgraced football – not the American kind as everyone here believes – players, but he still has a few hanging around and good enough investments that he’ll be alright for a long while. Bored as hell with too much time for him to wander to bars in Martha’s Vineyard before talking himself out of them and sitting in a twenty-four-hour diner all night. He’s got his favorites. One has better coffee than the others, but the booths aren’t clean. Another has clean booths but a piss excuse for coffee, and his favorite has a selection of pies that have him eating in ways he hasn’t since he was young. Still, they’re all pathetic little places for him to spend his time so he doesn’t drink more than he can tolerate.

At least no one knows him here. It’s actually why he’s here to begin with. There are obviously less famous towns and places in the world, but he wanted to be near the ocean, wanted to at least have that if he was going to be in disgraced isolation. This area has beach for miles and different nooks to disappear into, and so far, it’s nice. He’d rather be in London or New York, but he knows this is better.

He collapses onto the couch and sees a note on the coffee table in Ariel’s neat script. When was she even here? Honestly.

Killian, Eric and I are in town for the week. Please come to lunch at our house. We’d love to have you! I know you don’t have anything better to do, so don’t bother calling me with an excuse. Hope you enjoy the clean house!

-   A

He runs his hand over his face and scratches at his too-long beard before fumbling for his phone and checking the date and time. It’s half past eight. He can get two, maybe three, hours of sleep now, and he’ll only look half as pissed as he feels when he makes his way to Ariel and Eric’s house a few miles over in Tisbury.

At least he isn’t actually pissed. Always the positives, he guesses.

-/-

Ariel’s house is covered in gray shingles with white trim. The shutters are cherry red, much like her hair, and while there are obvious updates to the place, it looks just as it did in the pictures he’s seen from when Ariel was young. She was raised here, her father a local fisherman, and while she now resides outside of London, on occasion, she returns to Tisbury for a holiday. It’s why he chose to holiday here even if he’s over in Edgartown on the beach in a house too large for one person. He spent years listening to her talk about her childhood, and then visiting when she married Eric here, and he wanted that calm sense of relaxation.

Right now, however, he wants nothing more than to be back in a city. The firing squad won’t be as intrusive there where he can get lost in a crowd instead of being the center of attention.

Killian opens the unlocked front door that squeaks on its hinges, and he immediately smells garlic bread baking in the oven. She must be making her pasta, and his stomach growls for real food. As he walks through the hall at the entrance of the house, he notices that everything is the same, all the family portraits are in the same places, there are a few too many nautical decorations, but it all works. Killian looks into the kitchen, sees that it’s empty, and calls out for Ariel and Eric, no answer. He takes the liberty of checking the oven, and when he notices the bread is slightly overdone, he grabs an oven mitt and takes it out, placing the tray on the stove.

Where the hell are they?

He pushes open the kitchen door that leads to the backyard, and he sees two figures toward the side of the yard. Killian sighs and walks over to them, only stopping when he realizes it’s three people instead of two.

Ariel and Eric are talking to a gorgeous woman in a pair of small white shorts and a fitted polo. She’s got long, thick blonde hair pulled off her neck, and he can’t stop glancing down at her legs. He doesn’t usually pay much attention to people anymore, unless of course they are paying attention to him, but he cannot help but notice her. Because she’s stunning, of course, but also because he wasn’t expecting to see anyone else. He thought they would be isolated, and his gut tells him to turn around and run.

He doesn’t.

“Hello?” he starts, and they all turn to him. “I, uh, took your bread out of the oven.”

“Oh shit,” Ariel mumbles. “I forgot I’d put the bread in the oven. Is it burned?”

“No, I think I saved it just in time, love.”

Ariel’s shoulders deflate, and then she’s closing the distance between them, hugging him tightly, before Eric does the same and claps him on his back several times. He’s missed them, and it feels good to be embraced by something other than a heavy blanket. When Eric releases him, Killian can see the woman still standing in the yard, shifting on her feet.

“Hello,” he greets, nodding in her direction.

“Hi,” she nods back.

“Oh, Emma,” Ariel begins, walking over to her and grabbing her arm, “this is my friend, Killian. He’s staying on the island for awhile. Killian, this is Emma. We rent the house to her for most of the year, so we’ve invaded her home this week, I’m afraid.”

“It’s fine,” Emma says. “You guys basically give me the place for free, and I picked up some extra shifts at the club. I’d never be home anyway.”

“What do you do, love?”

“Not your love,” she corrects, and he feels the sting even if he uses the term for many a woman, “and I’m a manager at a little place by the shore, but sometimes during the summer I’ll wait tables at the local country club for extra money. The people will treat you like shit, but at least they tip well since they have no concept of real-life money.”

“What’s the restaurant?” he asks. “Maybe I could eat there.”

Her brows raise, and he gets the feeling she’s not a fan of the idea of him disturbing her at work. He gets the feeling she’s not a fan of him at all. Funny, his first impressions are usually better than this.

“The Blue Dog Tavern.” She points to the logo on her shirt. “I actually have to go there now. I just had to drop by and get my shirt since my boss is coming by today. I’ll stay out of your way when I get home tonight,” she tells Ariel and Eric. “It’ll be like I’m not even here.”

“Oh, no, honey,” Ariel sighs, smiling at Emma, “we’re the ones disturbing you. I promise, it’ll be a fast week, and then everything can go back to normal.”

Emma nods with a tight smile, and he definitely gets the idea that she isn’t a fan of having Ariel and Eric here. He wouldn’t be either if he had to share his home with his landlords. She walks away into the kitchen, leaving the door open behind her, and Killian makes a note of the restaurant she mentioned, not necessarily to see her but to venture somewhere that isn’t a twenty-four-hour diner.

“Is that why I couldn’t stay here?” Killian asks. “Because you already rent it out?”

“Yep. Plus, it’s not on the beach, and that was your request. This isn’t really to your taste anyway.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, A?”

She shrugs and walks toward the kitchen. “Nothing. I’ve got to finish cooking. I was just about to put the pasta on the stove when Emma came in through the back gate, and I got distracted. Thanks for saving the bread, Jones.”

“Is she okay?” Killian asks Eric.

“Yeah, mate, she’s fine.” He claps his hand onto Killian’s shoulder. “And what she meant by that is that you’re an ex-football player who is hiding from the world and is used to a certain kind of luxury. You’d lose your mind living in this house for months. It’s smaller than a quarter of your flat back home.”

“I would not lose my mind living here. It’s charming.”

Eric rolls his eyes. “You would. I think the giant crab pillow in the living room would be what pushed you over the edge.”

“That thing is still here?”

“It’ll never leave, and I’ve offered to pay Emma to get rid of it many times. I think she throws it out, and it finds its way back inside.”

Killian snickers and settles down on the bench of the dining table they keep outside, letting Eric follow. He feels like he hasn’t talked to another human being in ages, and he’s only been here for a few weeks. “You know her pretty well then? Emma?”

“No,” Eric starts, waving his hand, “no, no, no, no. You cannot go there.”

“What the hell are you on about? I can’t go where?”

“Emma. You can’t go there. She’s not a one-night stand for you. She lives here, takes care of it since we’re gone all the time. You can’t mess that up. Ariel would murder you if you screwed this arrangement up.”

Killian flashes a smile, the ones he’s used to get whatever he wants a million times. There’s an art to being in the public eye, one he figured out only to ruin it all over again, but he still knows the old tricks. Smile, be charming, never let them see any hesitation in your actions. If a question is too invasive or the answer to telling, redirect. It’s all about the redirection. Killian was never one to lie, but he was certainly one to evade, especially toward the end when he couldn’t handle hearing what everyone had to say.

Here, he doesn’t want to admit that Eric might be right about him, but mostly, he’s tired of people controlling his life because they think he can’t make good decisions.

“What?” he laughs, shaking his head. “You think I’m not capable of simply asking about a woman?”

“I think you are, but I don’t want Ariel to have any reason to kill you.”

“Eric,” Ariel yells from the kitchen, stopping Killian before he can speak, “set the table! We can eat in fifteen.”

Saved by the bell. Or the Ariel.

He hates himself a little for rhyming in his head. If this is how he thinks sober, he’s not sure he wants to stay this way.

“And Killian,” Ariel calls, “you can make the lemonade!”

Okay, so maybe he can, if only because Ariel will kill him if he collapses into the pit again, and she won’t be the only one. He’s had a few downfalls into drowning in alcohol since coming here. Maybe it’s boredom, maybe it’s sadness, who the hell knows? What he does know is that it makes the demons all disappear for the night, sometimes the morning too, but then it all comes roaring back in screaming color.

And with a hell of a screaming headache.

One or two drinks every few days, he reminds himself. That’s what he’s working with, and besides the few slips, he’s been pretty damn successful.

Killian heads inside to help Ariel, though he thinks he hinders her more than helps since he can’t find a damn thing, but eventually they get it all done and eat. Mostly, he has to listen to Ariel give him a briefing on things he has to do over the next few weeks. He has contracts to sign, video interviews and conferences to attend, and they need to happen at certain times. That’s a bit obnoxious, but he can’t complain. He’d be the biggest ass in the world if he did, and he’s certainly already in the running for that title. People still want his face and brand to represent them, and he doesn’t even kick around a ball anymore.

Fools. All of them.

Ariel asks him to stay for dessert, but he’s already eaten too much off his usual diet. Old habits die hard, and he isn’t working out like he used to. Maybe he’ll take up running again soon, but right now, the thought is exhausting. Killian excuses himself from the table, hugging the Fishers goodbye and wishing them goodnight. He’s sure he’ll see them before they return to England and go back to their regular lives. Ariel still has Will and Rob to manage, so she can’t spend all of her time on him. There are other pieces of work out there.

The streets are crowded as Killian drives back to his rental house. Tourists and native islanders alike are out to go to dinner or bars, likely a party or two, and while Killian is tempted to take a turn and go out himself, he doesn’t. He continues along the GPS guide back to his rental house until the garage door is closing behind him.

Day seventeen of being here - now that he knows the date, he’s reminded of when he arrived - is done and dusted, and he cannot wait to close his eyes and go to sleep. He’s been running on fumes all day.

Once inside, Killian quickly showers and puts on a pair of pajama bottoms, collapsing under the covers of his bed as soon as possible. So, of course, that’s when his phone rings.

“It’s bloody half past one in the morning where you are.”

“And only half past eight where you are, so why are you in bed? You look horrible.”

Killian groans and pinches his nose as he props the phone up to get a better look at the screen. “Thanks, Els.”

“No problem.” She flips her blonde braid over her shoulder, and despite the time, she looks as if she could be up and ready for work in minutes. “I was up, couldn’t sleep, and I figured I needed to check on you. I’m sorry I don’t have the girls with me.”

“Did you tell Ally and Sophia I love them?”

“I tell them every day, but I think they’d appreciate it more if they heard it from their actual uncle.”

“I’ll call tomorrow.”

“Good,” Elsa sighs. She adjusts herself on her couch, pulling her blanket up higher on her body, and the familiar pang of guilt hits Killian. It happens anytime he talks to just Elsa. The girls act as a buffer, and he feels guilty for using them like that. He feels guilt about a lot of things. “How are you?”

“Good,” he lies. “Really good. I think I’m going to take up real running again soon, maybe finally check out the gym in the basement of this house. What about you, love?”

“I’m okay. Work has kept me really busy, which I like. I have this one house with the biggest garden I’ve ever seen, and designing it has proven to be a bit of a challenge. But I miss spending time with the girls. Anna has been such a big help, though. I love having her here.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m sure that’s great.” Killian runs his hand through his hair, yanking at the strands, and sinks a little further into the bed. It’s nice that Anna is around, that she’s been around this entire time while Killian fucked off across western Europe and then eventually to America. Yet again, he’s let someone he loves down because he’s an absolute tosser. “It’s nice to have a family you can count on.”

“Hey, don’t start that again, Killian. I’m not here for self-pity. You’ve had a hard year, and you needed some time away. No one is blaming you for that.”

“I’m not the one who lost my husband, love. I wasn’t left with two little girls with no father.”

Killian tilts his head up so he doesn’t have to see Elsa as water gathers around his eyes. Today was an okay day. Started off rough, but it ended up being alright. Now he’s gone and made Elsa talk about Liam’s death instead of having a normal conversation with her.

“My grief doesn’t negate yours, darling. You lost your brother, who was your best friend, and you lost the career you spent your entire life building. We can both be sad. It’s not a competition.”

Killian blows air out his nose and blinks the forming tears away. “How’d you get so wise?”

“Well, you see, when a child with a head the size of a football comes out of your vagina, you get special emotional intelligence. It’s something to do with all the hormones and pain.”

Killian finally looks down at his phone to see Elsa laughing, and the corners of his mouth twitch. “You make me glad to be a man.”

“You should be glad. You’re at least fifteen steps ahead of every woman in the world. Now, come on, I want to hear about everything you’ve been doing. Have you made any friends?”

“What am I? A lad in reception?”

“No, because my child in reception has many friends.”

Killian rolls his eyes. “Well, I met the loveliest waitress last night. Reminded me of my Gran, and, uh, today I met the woman who lives in Ariel and Eric’s house. Don’t think she was a fan of me.”

“However could a woman resist your charms?”

He laughs, even if he doesn’t appreciate the sarcasm, and this time when he sinks a little deeper into the bed, it’s for comfort and not to hide. When Killian got the news Liam died in a Naval accident, it felt like his world was ending, that the ground was crumbling underneath his feet. He was at the club warming up to head out onto the pitch, and suddenly his sacred place wasn’t so sacred. He couldn’t understand any words leaving Elsa’s voice over the phone. Everything was ringing, and his legs collapsed from underneath him.

He’ll never forget that day. One moment everything in his world was right, and then it wasn’t. and he’ll never get over the fact that Elsa has been the one who has had to continue holding him up when she lost someone too.

“Well, if their names are Ally and Sophia Jones, they are experts at resisting my charms.”

“Unless you give them sweets.”

Killian chuckles. “Those are my good charms.” Elsa smiles and yawns on the other end of the line. “Els, I think you need to go to sleep. I promise to call the girls tomorrow.”

She nods and flips her braid over. “Don’t go breaking your promises to them.”

“Never, love. I’m a man of my word.”

Or, at least, he used to be. His word seems to falter lately, but mostly only his words to himself. Killian looks out the glass doors and windows toward the ocean, watching the water crest much like this morning, but he hopes that tomorrow morning he won’t be standing there with a bottle of beer in his hands.

Maybe he can keep that promise to himself at least.

-/-

-/-

Tag list: @qualitycoffeethings​ @marrtinski​ @klynn-stormz​ @scarletslippers​ @elizabeethan​ @jrob64​ @snowbellewells​ @therealstartraveller776​ @thejollyroger-writer​ @cowboys-likeme​ @galaxyzxstark​ @galadriel26​ @idristardis​ @karenfrommisthaven​ @teamhook​ @spartanguard​ @searchingwardrobes​ @jamif​ @shireness-says​ @ultimiflos​ @onepunintendid​ @bluewildcatfanatic​ @superchocovian​ @killianswannn​ @carpedzem​ @captainkillianswanjones​ @mayquita​ @mariakov81​ @jennjenn615​ @onceuponaprincessworld​ @a-faekindagirl​ @scientificapricot​ @xellewoods​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @stahlop​ @kmomof4​ @tiganasummertree​ @singersdd​ @tornadoamy​ @cluttermind​ @lfh1226-linda @andiirivera​ @itsfabianadocarmo​ @captain-emmajones​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @capthamm​ 

(You can be added or removed at any time. I don’t know where my list went, so I’ve just taken it from my last story 😘)

[bigbrotherlouis]

i’m obsessed with joel farabee and morgan frost and you should be too: a primer

hello! welcome! recently i have become infatuated with morgan frost and joel farabee for a lot of reasons but mostly because of that one post that i spent like twenty minutes searching various blogs for that said “people are freaking out about sexualising hockey players, meanwhile joel farabee is one instagram comment away from telling morgan frost he’d suck him dry.” in my head rent free. hit a girl up if you have the post.

anyway! frosty and beezy:

[hard cut to me whispering “oh my god even their nUMBERS are friends” i’m fine.]

this is more like about vibes and less about facts, so you can google if you want to know more about their, like, bios and stats and stuff that’s not 99% rpf or conjecture. this primer is just the things that make me scream. however, that being said, they do play well on a line together and both are very good players.

joel farabee is american, from new york i believe but his dad is from philly, and falls neatly into the category of BORN TO BE A FLYER. longtime fan, hugely excited to play for the team, brings it up all the time.

morgan frost, from ontario canada, was not.

a real, actual tweet. he tweeted this with his WHOLE chest and then joined the flyers like three years later. i adore it. another real actual tweet i adore:

sweet, sweet joel. he misses his buddies :( no doubt including morgan because they are, by all appearances, obsessed with each other. i’m trying not to keep  using the word obsessed in this primer but it’s hard because they are. morgan’s a year older, a first round draft pick in 2017 and joel’s a first round pick in 2018, but they didn’t start playing together until 2019, i believe, because joel played for a college team in boston. side note: he also captained team usa and wore a number 28 in honour of claude giroux and i am absolutely not okay about it.

e! mo! tion! al! incidentally, frosty wears danny briere’s number when he plays for the flyers, which. take from that what you will. iykyk. their NUMBERS are FRIENDS. HERITAGE SOULMATES. joel’s been called up to play on the flyers (and did really well in the playoffs!) but we’re still waitin’ for morgan to come along too but the coaching staff hasn’t recognised the raw power of true love yet so.

at this point, you’re probably saying “sasha shut up about their fucking numbers and talk about why they’re obsessed with each other” but good news! i do not need to do that because the official flyers media has done that for me! (x) i’d recommend watching it because it’s a lot packed into a neat 100 seconds, but notable moments include the voice over saying “joel farabee and morgan frost have found that going at it together has its benefits” within the first thirty seconds. that is a real direct quote. i can’t believe it either. there’s also a lot of light homoerotic bonding over playing chel, them sitting across from each other  on their beds, the admission of being ROOMMATES (oh my god they were roommates), this shot of them sitting with their mouths wide open on either side of their dad,

and also joel wearing a hat with a canadian maple leaf on it, despite being from the the united states. wonder where he got that from. please watch the video.

when they’re not playing chel or, you know, going at it together, they’re being horny in each other’s instagram comments. there’s honestly.... so many of these that i can include but we’re just gonna go with my favourites.

when i say i think about this comment on a picture of morgan with isaac ratcliffe, a fellow flyers prospect on a daily basis, i mean it. i’ll be just doing my thing, minding my own business, and MORGAN MAKES ME VENMO HIM JUST TO TALK will pop into my head, completely uninvited. king shit for morgan to do and king shit for joel to admit on social media for the world to see, but joel admitting things he maybe shouldn’t is a running theme. 

cool. TOTALLY not flirting or anything.

joel. also both their exhibitionist streaks should be explored in fic more i am JUST sayin.

ok but bee you were lookin. like you can chirp but you were lookin, don’t lie. 

when ur in love with ur roommate but ur both hockey players so u can only communicate that love via chirping when he’s with the boys :(

what’s it called when you vibe really well with someone and also live with them and also comment on their shirtlessness and also maybe kiss them on the mouth a little? d... da... dating?? can’t be it.

morgan is a little more composed in the comments and mostly just posts inside jokes i cannot comprehend, or compliments. it’s still cute.

this was on a playoffs pic where joel’s wearing #28 love 2 see it love a supportive boyf always

this one was of joel with a fish he caught and i’m sorry but i did not want it on my phone.

but morgan can’t hide his affection for long. (me, in the distance: TWENTY EIGHT TWENTY EIGHT TWENTY EIGHT!!!!!!!)

there’s more comments but they’re boring and this is long, mostly joel chirping  morgan for wearing baseball or football stuff. however! they are also on twitter where they keep each other humble after incredible goals, like bros do,

this is DEFINITELY flirting. like, blatant. it’s like that kind of flirting when you’re thirteen and you don’t know what to do with your body so you just kinda steal your crush’s stuff or insult them because all attention is good attention, right??

but when push comes to shove, beezy is always gonna look out for his boy (because they are in love):

some important pictures of them together, for your pleasure: 

this is so DUMB and i love it

friends supporting friends!!!

this is them meeting their hockey dads :) so cute :) joel is promising g that he’ll have morgan back by ten yessir he will be respectful of boundaries and curfew. jake is high fiving morgan on getting some. this is facts i just call em like i see em.

and finally!

is this allowed?????  is this allowed???? it’s hard to tell but i’m pretty sure that’s joel on his knees for in front of morgan and i just??? how is that allowed???? it’s been five days and this picture has RUINED me. someone write me an essay to have on my desk by morning, stat.

also v unrelated but here is a video of morgan frost reading, proving he’s the smart one in the relationship. that’s not saying much but, hey! at least there’s proof he can read.

obviously different ships capture people in different ways but there’s something about them to me, personally, that is just so captivating. there’s a lot of potential for different fic vibes, and joel in particular always has a really fun voice to read (and also to write). they definitely have chemistry, they’re pitted against each other so there’s a good-natured rivalry going on, CLOTHES SHARING AND HERITAGE SOULMATE NUMBERS, and, like, they just genuinely seem to enjoy each other. someone PLEASE write more fic for them or by god i’ll have to do it myself.

ok that’s everything for now, i believe. they’re in love and don’t care who knows it and i’m obsessed. (however, i’m also obsessed with joel farabee and andrei svechnikov together, for which i have a one-picture argument for here.)

(p.s. anything not linked i screenshotted myself thank youuu for reading have a good day and remember: morgan makes joel vemno him just to talk 😌)

edit: hello. i wrote this on election night as a way to take off the edge of my nerves and it is not as funny or screechy as i wanted it to be so i’m going to add some now.  

[rhysismydaddy]

After Midnight pt. 1 (Feysand)

Synopsis: After a tumultuous, heartbreaking relationship, Feyre Archeron turns to online dating for a break from normalcy. Or rather, to Velaris Nighttime Ventures, the most exclusive, high-dollar escort system around. She needs to ease back in to intimacy, so this seems like the perfect idea. But what happens when her escort turns out to be someone she can’t get out of her head? Someone who seems to understand and appreciate everything about her? 

My many disclaimers: Stole a line in here from The Hating Game. And one from ACOTAR obviously. And the story line is loosely based off of The Kiss Quotient. Basically, I’m a fraud.

__________________________________________________________

~Feyre~

If I told any of my friends I’m about to hire a hooker, they’d laugh themselves silly. 

And, to be honest, the idea is a little ridiculous to me, too. 

I’ve never had a problem getting a date in my life. Brownish blondeish hair, blue-gray eyes, and an athletic build give me slightly above average looks. A lucrative job makes me financially sound and independent. A lifetime with two sisters gave me a sense of humor. 

I’ve dated prom kings, nerds, and everything in between. I’m completely normal. 

Or at least I used to be. 

After everything that happened last year, I don’t know if that’s true anymore. 

My therapist tells me constantly it’s okay that my last relationship changed me. And the multiple degrees on her pretty green wall tell me she knows what she’s talking about and that she’s completely correct. 

Even if... even if it doesn’t feel okay. 

Even if I can hardly stand looking in a mirror or being hugged or someone giving me a compliment. 

Even if I haven’t felt like myself in so long, I don’t even know if I’d recognize it if i did. 

Because while I used to love putting makeup on, choosing a dress, and going out, the thought now fills me with so much dread it makes me nauseous. 

What if I just make the same mistake as last time? 

My sister's told me my whole life to guard my heart, but I always laughed it off and  said she was being cynical. And what do I have to prove it? Trust issues and a standing appointment Dr. Motley. 

Men don’t deserve my trust. At least not right now. 

But... it’s time to move on in the physical sense. 

And since running the risk of taking home the wrong man scares me shitless, I’ll start with someone who can’t reject me, can’t make me feel worthless. 

Someone who won’t develop feelings for me or get attached and demanding. Someone... who won’t mind giving me control. 

A hooker. 

Or escort, like the Velaris Nighttime Ventures website says as I scroll through pages and pages of profiles. 

Gods, this is more stressful than my first gallery opening. 

All the profiles include is a picture, probably-fake name, height, an age, and a simple sentence about them. 

It feels creepily similar to online shopping. And there are so, so many options. How the heck am I going to choose one? 

Scrolling down further, my eyes roam over men of every skin tone, age, and height. I don’t have any real preference, but decide I need to have a few ground rules, otherwise this will take forever. 

Age? I’m twenty-seven and don’t have an interest in being a cougar, so I set the range from twenty-eight to thirty-five. 

Height? At 5′6, I’m not exactly tall, but I’ve always found men who were more attractive, so I shrug and put the minimum at six feet. 

Pressing enter, I watch the website sort, then look at the number of men left. Thirty. Not bad. 

Scrolling through slowly, I realize it’s kind of like a yearbook for an all male college or something.

A college full of really sexy men. 

I pause on a few, but something about them make her keep going. I want the complete opposite of my ex, so any with features like him get eliminated. 

Eventually, I get to the last row, feeling a little dejected. 

But then I see him. 

His eyes seemed to pierce through the screen, and once I see him, I can’t look away. Without another thought, I click on the profile. 

The name under the picture reads Rhysand. No last name, probably for privacy purposes. He’s a few years older than me. And tall--6′3 tall. But that isn’t what draws me closer. It’s the sentence he’d written. 

To the stars that listened -- and the dreams that are answered. 

My fingers ignore the rational part of my brain and click the button to book an appointment, and before I know it, I’m looking at a confirmation page. 

For tonight at midnight. 

Oh gods.

~Rhysand~

After working at the bar for a few hours, I head back to my shitty apartment to get ready for tonight’s appointment. 

Someone has booked me for an “evening of adventure and pleasure” as the confirmation email tells me. 

Wonderful. 

All I know is her name: Feyre. It doesn’t sound like an old-lady name, so there’s that. 

Those are the worst. It feels like fucking someone’s grandmother. Not that I’d know, exactly. And I mean sure, most of my clients are older. But there’s older, and then there’s old. Fine line between the two, let me tell you. 

Most of the people who hire me are in their forties, trapped in miserable marriages, and desperate for a decent lay. They’re also filthy rich, because I’m not cheap in the slightest. 

It’s why I’d agreed to this shit in the first place. 

Yeah, I have to psych myself up and sleep with a random lady, but the pay is killer. And the more money I make, the quicker I can stop. 

So I shower and go through my pre-appointment routine, trying not to think about what’s become of my life. 

There weren’t any special requests on the appointment, but the meet was set for a swanky hotel downtown, so I put on a dark suit and white dress shirt. My hair doesn’t need much work, so I leave, figuring I’ll get there early. 

The drive over’s quick, and soon I’m walking inside and sitting at the bar. She has my picture, but I don’t have a clue what she looks like, so she’ll have to come find me. 

After a few minutes, someone settles next to me, and I turn around with an expectant smile. 

But when I see who it is, I stop. And hating myself more than I thought possible, I tell the woman, “Sorry, I’m waiting for someone.”

Which really fucking sucks, because she’s beautiful as hell. 

Smooth skin, dark blonde hair, blue eyes, and kiss-me lips kind of beautiful. 

She gives me a strange look, then says words I’d never expect from someone like her. “I’m Feyre. I’m the... client.”

The way she cringes on the word tells me it’s her first time doing something like this, and the thought makes me a little too happy. 

I know I should say something to comfort her, but all I can think is... she’s definitely no grandma. 

~Feyre~

He keeps staring at me for a few more moments, then smiles and says, “Sorry. You’re not what I was expecting.”

I nod, then realize I have no idea what to say. Or do. Fuck, this is weird. “Do you want a drink?”

Rhysand shakes his head, then says, “Feel free, though.”

That’s the first good idea I’ve heard all day. After ordering from the bartender, I turn to the man next to me and smile sheepishly. “I don’t really know how this works. It’s my first time with... this.”

“I figured.” He’s turned toward me, one arm braced on the bar. “You can have your drink, and we’ll go upstairs when you’re ready.”

A nervous laugh ebbs out of me, and I blush. “Okay.”

Gods, am I really going through with this? 

I mean sure, he’s hotter than all hell, but he’s a prostitute. 

Would you rather invite a random man home with you? the bitch that lives in my brain asks with a knowing smile. 

I ignore her as a drink’s set in front of me, finding it helps a little. The man next to me just watches, face a mixture of confusion and amusement. 

Somehow, the photo didn’t do him justice. He’s ridiculously attractive, with dark hair, almost violet eyes, and tan skin. There’s a hint of stubble on his strong jaw, surrounding the sensual mouth that’s currently smirking at me. 

I’m definitely attracted to him, but this is still weird. 

“So, why are you doing this?” he asks as I drink. “If you don’t mind.”

I’m sure as hell not telling him the truth, so I say, "I’ll tell you my story if you tell me yours.”

Rhysand smiles, and it only makes him more attractive. “Fair point.”

Then he looks me up and down, raises his dark brows, and asks, “Ready?”

Not in the fucking slightest. “Sure.”

By the time we reach the elevator, I’m practically shaking. Telling myself that I can do this--that it’s what I want, for gods sake--doesn’t really help. But I don’t say a word as we glide up, then walk to the room I’ve rented for tonight. 

When we get inside, I avoid looking at the bed as I turn to him. 

Rhysand smoothly takes off his suit jacket, then leans against the wall and crosses his ankles. “You seem nervous.”

He certainly doesn’t. Every move he makes is smooth and easy, like he’s so comfortable in his body he doesn’t ever get nervous or self-conscious. 

Must be nice. 

“I do?” It’s a deflection, and we both know it. 

“You’re shaking like a wet dog.” My nose wrinkles at the analogy, and he grins. “A very cute wet dog.”

I told myself I’d be alright, but now that I’m alone with him, I realize I’ve told absolutely no one where I am tonight. And if things go wrong... I start pacing. “I’m, uh... it’s just... nothing. Let’s do this thing.”

I should write sonnets. 

His lips twitch, but he doesn’t say a word as he walks to sit on the edge of the bed. Feeling like the biggest idiot in the world, I sit next to him. 

“Why don’t we just take things slow?” 

Thank the gods. I nod. 

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, using manners I definitely hadn’t expected but much appreciate. 

I nod again, trying to keep my hands from shaking. 

Rhysand raises a hand, but I swallow and push down the flare of panic as he cups my jaw and tilts my face to his. Then he leans in--keeping his word and going very slowly--and I brace myself as his lips brush against mine.

My body doesn’t exactly know how to feel when they touch. On the one hand, a very handsome man is kissing me. On the other... a man is kissing me. 

I ignore the second thought and kiss him back. 

His lips are silky soft against mine, slowly urging them open, and then his tongue is in my mouth, caressing mine. Everything’s slow and sensual and practiced. 

And even though it’s a picture-perfect moment, it feels like that scene in the movie where the dumb blonde goes down the dark hallway while the entire theater screams at her to run. 

Oh gods oh gods oh gods. 

My brain’s playing me a repeat of the last year on fast forward, and I press my eyes closed to try and block it out. 

I’m fine. 

Rhysand leans into me, and then I’m on my back with him hovering above me, still kissing me. His surprisingly muscled frame is heavy against me, pressing me down into the soft sheets, and his elbows are by my head.

Nothing’s wrong. 

Everything’s wrong. 

I take a quick moment to remind myself that if this had happened a year ago, I’d probably have wrapped myself around him and let him do whatever he wanted. 

But the past twelve months weren’t just a bad dream. And the band-aid protecting the stupid, naive girl I used to be from the harsh realities of the world has been ripped off and torn to bits. 

And suddenly, I can’t breathe. 

His head snaps up immediately, and violet eyes gaze down at me, full of concern. A weak hand comes up to press against his chest, and he sits up immediately. “Feyre? Are you okay?”

I shake my head and practically roll off the bed onto the floor. It’s completely undignified, but I don’t care. My lungs are on fire, my throat tight with the tears I’m barely holding back. 

I have to get away from him; I have to get some space. 

My back hits the wall, and I curl into myself, pressing my forehead against my knees. 

Breathe, Feyre, breathe. 

The silence in the room is broken only by my gasps, and I focus on the sound, letting it remind me that I’m here, that I made it out. 

I don’t let myself think about the other person in the room. It’s just me, and I’m fine. I made it out. 

There’s scratchy carpet under my legs, a wall behind my back, and more than enough air in the room. 

Eventually, my brain catches up with the obvious, allowing oxygen to fill my chest. I’m gulping down breath after breath until my heart rate finally starts slowing down, and it’s only when my head stops feeling fuzzy do I open my eyes. 

Rhysand sits on the bed, beautiful eyes wide, watching me. 

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. Gods, he’s probably uncomfortable beyond belief. “I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s not your fault,” I say, cutting him off and shaking my head. I know I should get off the floor, but my legs feel like jello, and I don’t want to crawl around again. “I, um...”

The words to explain the panic don’t come easy, but he stays silent, giving me time. 

And because I’m a coward who still can’t admit what happened to me, I repeat the words my therapist suggested I try. 

“I have problems with intimacy.” It’s hardly a whisper, but I know he hears it. “And, um... I thought it would be easier with someone like you.” I flinch at my own words and try to make it sound less offensive. “I didn’t mean-”

“It’s okay, Feyre. I understand.”

Tears burn the edges of my eyes, but I force them down and steady my voice. “You can go. There’s money on the desk.”

He shakes his head. “I’m not leaving you like this. Unless I’m the reason.”

“No, it’s not you,” I assure him. “You’re great. I just have a hard time relaxing with- I mean around-”

“Men,” he finishes quietly. 

And even though I didn’t tell him, he looks like he can read the words off my face. Rhysand doesn’t say another word, but his eyes are understanding and calm. 

He extends a hand, the silent invitation clear, and for some reason, it makes me smile as I slowly get to my feet, using the wall to support me.

Walking over, he takes my hand in is, and I notice how rough his palms are. Before I can wonder what he does to get such big callouses, he takes my other hand and places them on his shoulders. 

“You’re in control. There are no expectations with me.” The words wash over me, settling in, and my heart slows down a bit. “If you want to kiss and call it a night, we can. It’s up to you.”

For some reason, hearing that he doesn’t care helps. It’s the reason why I chose this, I guess. I’m the client, and I’m in control. 

Finally feeling calm, I slowly run my hands over his shoulders, down his arms. He’s heavily muscled, but it’s smooth and lean, not bulky. From a physical life, not from hours spent in a gym.

I can see the faint lines of tattoos beneath the shirt, but I don’t move to unbutton it. 

His eyes stay on me, and I meet them as my hands drift to his face. The stubble I’d noticed earlier is rough against my fingers as I trace his jaw, then the strong slope of his eyebrows. 

It’s been a year since I touched a man. Longer since I did so this... leisurely. 

My hands find their way into his dark hair, and I smile at how soft it is. His head tilts back a little and his eyes drift close. I don’t know if he’s putting on a show or actually enjoying this, but he seems calm at least. 

And I think... I think this could work. 

Working on my intimacy issues with him could help fix me, maybe even get me ready for a real relationship. 

So I lean in slowly and press my mouth to his. 

Like he said, I’m in control. While earlier had felt like being kissed, this feels like kissing. I move my mouth slowly over his, tracing the curve of his lower lip softly. 

He really is a beautiful man. 

And patient, too. He’s extremely patient while I take my time learning the shape of his mouth, then the angle of his jaw. He stays still, eyes closed, letting me explore. 

I slowly drift back to his mouth, and when he eases his lips open, I meet his tongue with mine. It’s slow and light and just enough to make me want more. 

My breath comes shorter, but it isn’t in panic.

Taking his hands from the bed beside him, I place them on my hips. His fingers flex, but they stay exactly where I put them, even as I wrap my arms around his neck and press a little closer to him. 

We’re still just kissing, but I feel it in my entire body, all the way to my toes. 

I pull back and take a deep breath, not knowing how to put what I want into words without embarrassing myself. Bright violet eyes meet mine as Rhysand runs his tongue across his lower lip. “Just say it.”

How can he read my face so well after just an hour of knowing me? 

“Lean back,” I say, my face warm with a blush. “But don’t turn us over. I can’t... I feel trapped.”

Rhysand just nods, gripping my hips tighter, then lays down with me on top of him. My chest is against his, my legs resting in between his. It’s the closest I’ve been to someone in a long time, and I wait for the panic to set in, but none comes. 

“You okay?”

A small part of me wishes he wouldn’t be so damn understanding and nice. It’s making me feel so incredibly stupid, even as it warms my heart. 

I nod, then put my head down against his chest. “I’m so embarrassed.”

“Why?”

Looking back up, I meet his eyes hesitantly. “You’re probably so weirded out by me. Paying you just to come make out like teenagers.”

He smiles, and it makes some of the nerves untangle. “Silly woman. I could kiss you all night. You have the most delicious mouth.” He leans in and kisses me, as if to prove it, then makes a deep humming sound. 

“That’s absurd,” I mutter, even though I feel a lot less anxious now. 

Rhysand shakes his head, then says, “You taste like fucking candy.” His arms loosely wrap around my waist. “Tilt your head to the side and I’ll prove it.”

I do, and his mouth meets my neck, slowly but in a way that makes it feel like I’m being devoured. Tingles shoot down my body as he sweeps my hair off my neck to get better access, and a soft moan escapes me as he sucks on the spot between my shoulder and neck. 

He pulls away enough to say, “You have a really sexy moan, too.”

My face goes scarlet, and he grins up at me, then we’re kissing again. Gods, the man can kiss. He’s letting me control everything, but it’s obvious he’s good at what he does.

Even though I’m almost delirious with lust--something I haven’t felt in a long, long time--I know this is enough for tonight. I’ve already had one panic attack, and I don’t want to push myself too hard. 

So I pull back and tell him, “You can go. I don’t think... this is good for tonight, I think.”

“I feel like you’re not getting your money’s worth if I leave now,” he says, and if I could’ve sworn I hear a hint of sadness in his tone.

I shrug, not telling him the money for tonight was nothing to worry about. Instead, I just slide off him and stand up, straightening my shirt. “It’s was more than okay. Seriously. Thank you for being so understanding.”

Rhysand rises fluidly and grabs his jacket, then turns to me. Before he can speak, I say, “I actually wanted to talk to you about another appointment.”

After an awkward pause, he says quietly, “I don’t really do... repeats.”

“Oh.” There’s no way to hide the disappointment in my voice. 

I’d thought that I’d be able to work with him slowly. Build on what we did tonight. The thought of having to find a different man and explain why I’m so emotionally stunted... shit. 

What if I freak out again, in front of someone new?

Gods, no wonder he doesn’t want to come back. He’s already had to deal with an hour of my trauma. Who would ever sign up to do it again? I’m damaged goods.

“It’s not you, I promise. I’ve just had a few clients get sort of... attached. So I made a policy to not meet with women more than once.” He sounds nice and apologetic, and it grates my nerves a little. 

Rejection is rejection no matter how you look at it. 

And no matter how fucked up I am, I don’t need anyone’s pity.

But, like a big girl, I smile and nod. “I get it. It’s fine. I’ll find someone else. Your money is on the table.”

“Wait, wait, wait. Find someone else? What do you mean?”

My eyebrows fly up at how shocked he sounds. He just saw firsthand how not okay I am, and he’s surprised? 

“I mean that I’ll find someone else. I have intimacy issues, and I need to work on them. I understand completely that you’re uncomfortable with that, and I’ll find someone who isn’t.”

There’s a flicker in his jaw. “And you’re planning on using the website for this someone?”

“It’s really none of your concern.”

“Feyre, there are some not so great people on there. You shouldn’t use-”

My patience snaps. “You have absolutely no right to lecture me. You don’t want the job, I will find someone else, since it’s such a goddamn burden. Now thank you very much for tonight, but you’re community service is done. You can go.”

There are too many emotions on his face to process them all, but I definitely register shock. 

“I promise it isn’t about you, okay? You’re great. Hell, I’d want to sleep with you even if I wasn’t getting paid. But I have a policy, and-”

“Like I said, I understand. You can go now.”

He runs a hand through his hair. “Don’t use the site to find another guy.”

There’s something about the command in his voice that grabs every last thread I’m hanging by and rips them free. I march over to him and jab a finger into his chest. “Do not tell me what to do. Ever.”

Rhysand eyes narrow, but it isn’t in anger. It’s like he’s looking at a puzzle, and he just figured out the piece he’d thought would fit won’t. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

I remove the finger-gun from his chest, but he doesn’t make any move to leave. Instead, he catches me completely off guard by saying, “I’ll do four more appointments.”

Rolling my eyes comes a little to easy. “Don’t do me any favors. I’m not your goddamn charity case.”

“No, because if you were, you’d probably be a little grateful.” Whatever retort I had planned dies in my throat. “But it’s not pity. I don’t want you getting hurt by some other guy from the site.”

There’s enough genuine concern in his voice for me to believe him. And the last thing I want is to put myself in danger. 

But I still ask if he’s serious, because to be honest, it sounds perfect. 

If I can fix myself in six appointments. 

That’s a pretty big if. 

“Yes, seriously. But I’m going to charge you more, and we can only meet here.”

I shrug because I sure as hell wasn’t about to invite him to my place. And unless he’s planning on charging enough to buy a house, it should be fine. “Okay.”

He glances at me, then down at himself, like he’s suddenly aware he’s still standing here. “Okay.”

And just like that, I’ve hired a hooker. 

____________________________________________________

Part 2 is here because I have no self-control. Let me know in the comments/my box if you want to be tagged :)

@trinitybailey2003 @zukos-simp @cursebreaker29 @sjmships @starrynightsbooks @lovemollywho @januarystears @perseusannabeth @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @maastrash @aesthetics-11 @bamchickawowow @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @savemesoon8 @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace

[elsanna-shenanigans]

June Contest Submission #12: Boom Boom Pow

Words: ca. 3,300 Setting: mAU Lemon: lime CW: sand, alcohol, beanbags, dash of lime, language

“Do you like the stars?”

“Anna it’s fucking noon, the sun is up, it’s bright as shit. Why are you asking about stars?”

“Yo, my dude, chill. The sun is a star… right?”

Elsa rolled her eyes and turned up the radio, blasting 80’s music, but only the good songs. “I don’t know why I agree to come with you on these things.”

At this Anna laughed and danced a bit offbeat to the song that was playing. She didn’t know the lyrics, but the bass line was nice and she could vibe with that. She let the whole song play out before answering.

“Because you loooove me” She sing-songed, earning another eye roll from the driver. “You love me and we’re going to the beach and it’s going to be a good time.”

“If I didn’t love you, would it still be a good time?” Elsa asked, smirking.

As a response, Anna reached over and changed the radio. A loud, bass-heavy rap song overtook the speakers. The signer immediately spitting out questionably appropriate lyrics for the radio. Elsa’s face reddened under her large glasses and she reached to change channels so quickly that she turned it off. Enveloping the small sedan in a brief silence till Anna’s laughter filled the space.

And it went on like this the entire car ride, bits and pieces of random songs rapidly changing. Anna would allow something Elsa liked to play out entirely but when it was her turn she either skipped around or Elsa changed the station for her. The older woman apparently hated both rap and country music. The first part Anna didn’t understand and the latter, she agreed with. She was desperately trying to find a gospel station, just to see her sister’s reaction, but she found nothing but commercials.

Finally, she heard what she was looking for and turned to see Elsa’s reaction just as the other girl reached over and turned the radio off again. Anna was going to protest when she realized they were in a drive-thru.

“What can I get started for you today?” a tired-sounding voice asked over the intercom.

Anna leaned over Elsa to get closer to the open window and thus the speaker box. Making sure to be just close enough to be annoying.

“We would like to get married please, with Elvis if you have him, if not we’ll take what you have.”

“Anna!” Elsa exclaimed, slapping her on the shoulder.

There was an audible sigh come over the loudspeaker, “Ma’am this is a Wendy’s.”

“Oh right, then I’ll take a cheeseburger and a medium Coke, no ice. Thank you!”

“Anything else?” the tired voice asked. “I’ll have the same thing.”

They continued driving towards the beach after the drive-thru. Cupholders full of sodas in flimsy paper cups, and Anna’s lap full of white paper bags of greasy food. She kept sneaking a fry when she thought Elsa wasn’t looking. But it was a small car and Elsa could see every bit of fried potato Anna took.

The closer they got to the beach, the darker the sky became. Tall looming clouds crept over the horizon. They couldn’t see the beach yet as it was the east coast, and most roads took you to the beach straight on instead of winding down cliff faces like the Pacific was famous for. But still, the clouds loomed. Elsa knew there was a storm somewhere off the coast, but it seemed far away last she checked, which wasn’t today. She refused to check the weather today for fear of bad news.

On the main highway, traffic was starting to get heavy, more tourists were headed for their long-awaited vacations and the road ahead was either congested to the point of slowing down. Or there was an accident and everyone had to slow to a crawl to creep a glance at the carnage.

Thankfully the girls weren’t tourists, unthankfully they lived close to this tiny town that became a major city in the summer months. Having to deal with millions of tourists every year meant that locals had a series of short-cuts. So when traffic started building, Elsa took the next exit rather suddenly, cutting across the solid white lines and nearly missing the crash barrier.

“Elsa! Shit! What the fuck!” Anna yelled and shot out her hands with nearly inhuman speed to catch the drinks before they spilled out of their too-small cupholders. “There’s a backup, I’m not sitting in that,” Elsa replied, taking the next turn so hard that the car nearly tilted on two wheels.

“But I saw flashing lights, it could have been a firetruck!”

“It could have been a police car…”

“But Elsa you don’t understand, the hot firemen! …and women.”

“Anna I’m not sitting in traffic for 30 minutes or even longer, just for you to ogle at people in uniform.”

Anna took another fry, “Not people in uniform, F-I-R-E-M-E-N and women. It is very different.”

Elsa let out a heavy sigh as they came to a stop at a red light. “If I buy you that stupid Australian calendar will you shut up?”

“Wow, harsh.” Anna dramatically threw one braid over her shoulder. “But, yes.”

Again, Elsa rolled her eyes and continued forward when the light changed. It was only a short while later that they left the main road and turned into a small, older housing development. The narrow street lead them all the way to the ocean, coming out on the far end of the main strip. Highrise condos and hotels dotted the skyline to their left, but right in front of them was the beach, concealed behind a short sand dune. Because life is a bitch like that sometimes.

Luckily for them, there was also free parking at this end if you didn’t mind a bit of a walk. Which, for the price of 17 bucks to park next to the beach, who wouldn’t mind the walk. 17 dollars could buy many cheeseburgers, Anna pointed out.

The beach wasn’t nearly as crowded down where they were, away from the boardwalk and the hotels. The sand also happened to be rockier, rough and pitted with long-forgotten footprints and broken shells. The beach groomers didn’t come this far. Which was fine by them, they would take a rough sandy beach with fewer people over a crowded hellscape any day.

There’s nothing more relaxing than simultaneously listening to eight different speakers all playing different music. While children screamed for no reason and the air was filled with a mix of sunscreen and cigarette smoke.

So yes they will miss out on the hot lifeguards and yes there will be fewer people to watch. But you can’t put a price on the quiet and the fresh air that this section of the beach had to offer.

After crossing the highway on foot, climbing the dune, and laying out their towels, only then did they pause to look out on the water. The ocean was angry, white caps dotted the surface as far as they could see. The horizon line was blurred with fog or rain and the dark clouds from before were more ominous than ever. Why the two women didn’t notice all these signs until now was some kind of act of God. Or stupidly. Probably the latter.

The beach itself was even more sparsely populated than normal. A smart person would have gone home after seeing all the warning signs. But this was Anna’s only day off for the next few weeks. And Elsa, well Elsa was too stubborn to admit her beach idea was a bad one.

They both laid down, on separate towels, choosing to ignore the warning signs and attempting to soak up as much sun as possible before it was swallowed by the coming storm. Elsa tried not to think about it too much. Neither was sure how long it had been before they were interpreted.

“What are you two gay ass losers doing?” Came a female voice.

“Ch’yeah it’s like gonna rain bruh.” Said a male’s.

Elsa opened one eye to see her cousin and her boyfriend, or so it fiancé now? Standing over them. The sky beyond them somehow looked even darker than before, which was very rude.

“Trying to enjoy the sunshine, obviously.” She mumbled in response.

“What sun?” their cousin asked, in a weird out of place, and badly performed accent.

“Wait but what is that voice?” Anna asked, sitting up and brushing the sand off her arms. How that girl could get sand everywhere, Elsa would never know.

“It’s like our new characters,” Eugene answered, earning not an eye roll from Rapunzel but a nod of approval.

“I’m New York and he’s Los Angeles. Both strong and independent cities that you could almost say are their own character. And those characters are us.” She added

“Why though?” Elsa was also now sitting up and confused, though nowhere near as sandy because she wasn’t a dirt gremlin-like her sister.

“Because we wanted to be unique characters, otherwise we’re just boring white people and where’s the fun in that?” Eugene or rather Los Angeles answered.

“Oh boring, like you watch Star Trek and try to fit it into everything even though it has no business being there?”

Eugene shot Anna finger guns, “exactly, this one gets it… bruh.”

A boom was heard in the distance and it sent a few people running towards their cars, towels billowing behind them. A long-distance away, over the water, there was a flash and with it, the wind picked up.

“Looks like our beach day is ruined, I’m sorry Anna.” Elsa stood and began to roll up her towel. Even with the limited sun, she was already red on her front, making a stark difference to the pale skin of her back.

“Nah we just getting started, come back to our place and play some ping pong. We just pulled the table out of storage.” Rapunzel aka New York offered. The two of them didn’t live far from the beach, having taken over Rapunzel’s parent’s beach house. It was very old and run down, but the pair was fixing it up in exchange for free rent.

‘Aye New York is right, and we can take my new whip… bruh.” Los Angeles gestured over his shoulder towards the dunes. They couldn’t see it yet because that dang dune was blocking things again. But everyone knew he was referring to his new golf cart.

Reluctantly the girls agreed and a few long minutes later they were rushing inside an old house to avoid the rain that had just started to fall. Their car was left abandoned in the free parking lot.

Inside was an odd mix of old and new. Brand new stainless steel appliances dotted a kitchen with dark wood cabinets and a yellow linoleum floor. A half-torn-down wall gave way to the living room with floor-to-ceiling wood paneling and floral print furniture.

“It ain’t much but it’s home.” Los Angeles said once everyone was inside. He walked beyond the torn-down wall and slapped his hand on the wood paneling. “New York over there hates this stuff, but it’s hella soundproof if you know what I mean.” With this, he wiggled his eyebrows and finally, earned an eye roll from New York.

“How did you know we were on the beach by the way?” Elsa asked as she took a step further into the kitchen to look at the collection of magnets on the fridge.

“Your sister posted about it on her tumblr of all places. Honestly, get an Instagram like the rest of us already.” New York said throwing her hands up dramatically. The drama ran in the family apparently.

The ping pong table was in the basement, a dimly light space with concrete walls and a tiled floor. Mix-matched chairs lined the walls and a mini-fridge sat in the corner next to a shelf full of liquor bottles.

The ping pong game quickly descended into beer pong with a twist. No one had to drink from the cups the ball landed in. Because that’s gross, don’t do that. Inside if someone managed to land the ball in a cup the other team had to take half a shot of vodka. Los Angeles had wanted to do full shots but Elsa and New York talked him out of it, if only for not dying reasons.

Even so after a few games with no true stand-out winner, just a bunch of dumb luck, they were all fairly buzzed. Flushed creeks and slurred speech. Outside the storm finally hit. Rain battered the small basement windows and thunder boomed overhead.

With each thunderclap, Elsa reached for Anna’s hand and wouldn’t let go till the other girl gave it a reassuring squeeze.

Finally, everyone seemed to have enough of the game and collapsed into bean bag bars that Anna and Elsa had both not noticed before. Elsa scooted her bean bag closer to Anna’s, the other two people didn’t seem to notice. New York was hanging all over Los Angeles. Her fingers tracing the curve of his jawline down, her eyes practically boring holes into his face. He acted like he didn’t see, but it was obvious he knew.

“You guys can stay here for the night if you want since the storm sounds so bad,” Eugene said, dropping his horrible accent.

“That’s very kind, but it’s just a little rain, we’ll be alright,” Anna replied, completely forgetting their car was many blocks away.

New York stopped messing with her man and turned to them. “Anna, it’s more than a little rain. It’s a hurricane, I mean it was a tropical storm and it was supposed to miss us. But you know how it be sometimes.” She said with amazing clarity for a drunkard.

Elsa’s hand shot to Anna’s and she let out an audible gasp. She had refused to check the weather before heading out the door today, figuring what she didn’t know, can’t hurt her. Which was stupid and out of character for someone who claims to be responsible.

Another boom followed by a bright flash of lightning illuminated the room for a brief second. Elsa looked terrified so Anna took it upon herself to change the subject.

“So we will be seeing you in two weeks right?”

Rapunzel playing New York smiled and clapped her hands together, “Yes! At the church!”

“For things better left unspoken,” Eugene playing Los Angeles groaned, covering his eyes with his forearm.

Another boom and the room was suddenly cast in darkness and accompanied by an eerie quiet. You never notice how much sound your electronics make till everything is off. Elsa grabbed Anna’s entire arm, holding it so tightly Anna was worried she would lose it.

“Ah fuck the power is out. We have some candles upstairs, I’ll be right back, Rapunzel can you see if the camping lantern is over on the shelf?”

“Um excuse me, it’s New York, but yes I will look.”

Two bodies moved away in the darkness, their paths illuminated by the small light on their phones. Next to Anna, Elsa’s breathing became rapid and she clung to Anna as if she was in danger of being blown away.

“Hey, it’s going to be alright,” Anna whispered, using her free hand to pet the top of Elsa’s head. The older girl shifted so in one fluid motion she was off her beanbag and on Anna’s before curling into the young girl’s side.

“I found it!” Rapunzel slash New York exclaimed. She turned it on and the room was partly lit up. She walked back to where the other two women were cuddled together and sat back down in her own beanbag.

“Wow, that’s like hella gay.” She said, pointing to the pair.

“Oh shut up, she just doesn’t like storms, you know that.” Anna quipped

Elsa let go of Anna’s arm long enough to extend a hand and flip off her cousin, earning her a laugh in response.

Eugene returned shortly after with the candles, a tray of food, and some cards. “Anyone up for a game of hurricane poker? It’s like regular poker only there’s a hurricane.”

He rejoined the group, placing the tray in the middle of everyone and paying no mind to the two women who now shared a beanbag.

Elsa lifted her head to look, the tray was adorned with a random assortment of food. Celery sticks, M&M’s, KitKat bars, Cheetos, Grapes, and some animal crackers. She made a face.

“What’s wrong uh bruh?” Eugene asked in a bad attempt to get back in character. Los Angeles would never quite be the character that New York was.

“I’ll only eat celery sticks if you pay me,” Elsa responded.

The next few hours consisted of Eugene completely wiping the floor with everyone. They played for the M&M’s, of which he now owned all of. With the power still out and the storm still raging on the decision was made for the sisters to spend the night over.

Their room was completely unrenovated, the same wood paneling from the living room made up the walls and the carpet was a thick green shag rug. Eugene was right about one thing though, the paneling sure did dampen the sound. Once the door was shut the two women could hardly hear anything, which was good because Rapunzel had started blasting Mandy Moore music for some reason.

There was only one bed, pushed into the corner, but it didn’t matter anyway. There could have been 80 beds and they still would have shared just one.

Anna laid down on her back and traced the grains in the wooden wall. “Really makes you want to carve something in this stuff you know? Something that would be around for hundreds of years.”

“Please don’t vandalize our cousin’s house,” Elsa said before sitting on the edge of the bed. She turned the lantern off so the only source of the light in the room was the candle on the nightstand.

“You alright?” Anna asked, propping herself up on one elbow.

“Yeah, I’m just worried about the storm, I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Anna reached out and gently grabbed Elsa’s arm, guiding her back to lay in the bed next to her. “Do you want to sleep or keep your mind off things?”

Elsa paused for a brief moment before removing her arm from Anna’s grip. “I don’t know…”

“It’s your choice, either way, I’m here for you.” Anna smiled at her, a flash of lightning lit up the room but no thunder.

It startled Elsa but she remained where she was, staring at Anna. Thinking, always thinking.

“It’s just a storm and this old house seems to be built like a tank anyway.” She made a fist and pounded the wall to prove her point.

Elsa started twirling the end of one of Anna’s braids but her eyes remained locked on Anna’s. The delayed thunderclap came and Elsa inhaled sharply. Anna leaned over and kissed the top of her forehead.

“You sure this is okay?” Elsa asked and Anna nodded, running the back of her hand down the other girl’s cheek. “Let’s get our mind off of things then.”

Elsa crawled till she was straddling Anna who gazed up at her with eyes that shown like stars in the candlelight.

“What’s your favorite constellation?”

“Hmm, probably Orion, because you can find his belt so easy,” Anna answered, “Yours?” “Your eyes”

“Ew, that’s so fucking cheesy.”

Elsa leaned down, her mouth slightly agape. Anna’s eyes fluttered shut as her hands found their way to the other woman’s shoulders.

The storm, the damage, their car, all these things could wait until tomorrow. Tonight they were out of their control so for tonight they didn’t matter.

Elsa blew out the candle, and they both plunged into the sinful escape of the darkness.

[scullydubois]

Only the Light: Ch. 9

9/? | AU where Melissa moves in with Scully after Scully’s abduction | angst, msr slow-burn, occasional fluff | currently: s2, ep 12, Aubrey | T (for now?) | 4.3k | previous chapters | read on ao3 | tagging: @today-in-fic

Back in DC, Missy helps Scully get to the bottom of what's plaguing her. As Scully's journey gets a bit clearer, Missy drops a bombshell about her own life.

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

Scully’s stomach clenches as the plane touches down on the runway, jostling she and the rest of the passengers around like pawns in its game. Only forty-eight hours ago, she and Mulder had lifted off toward another mystery, another puzzle daring them to solve it. Now she is back, knowing scarcely more than she did then, with a mystery of her own to solve. She is forever chasing ghosts, and trying not to become one. 

As the winged giant rolls into its gate, Scully glances out the window. Thick clouds blanket the sky, an unending greyness rolling out over the city as far as the eye can see. So much for there’s no place like home. She’s been realizing lately that home is a feeling, not a location. Sometimes she feels like she needs a map to navigate her own apartment, or like everyone in DC knows some language she never learned. Well, almost everyone. There are a couple people who speak the same language as her.

And she’s about to see one of them now. The crowd of passengers--mostly suits who had sleepless nights-- stand up in their rows, ready to file out into the bureaucratic machine. The man on the outside of Scully’s row opens the overhead compartment and pulls down his bag and the carry-ons of Scully and the woman next to her. Scully thanks him demurely. She can’t remember the last time someone other than Mulder did that for her.

As they fall into line and shuffle off the plane, Scully wonders what her life will look like next time she boards a plane. With any luck, this will all be a fluke and she’ll be heading back to Aubrey tomorrow. Then again, even if it isn’t a fluke, she’ll still probably join Mulder back in Aubrey. She knows herself.

What would she say to him, then? Having to admit she lied about her reason for leaving, coming back with the type of news that turns worlds upside down...it doesn’t seem fair to him. It hasn’t been fair to her either, but that’s out of her hands.

She had knocked on Mulder’s door before the sun was even up. She hadn’t expected him to be awake, and so was particularly surprised when he came to the door with a towel around his waist. Evidently, he hadn’t expected her either (though who else is coming to his motel door at 6am?) because the longer she stood there in front of his barely dressed body, the more his color drained away. 

Needing a lie lame enough to be true, Scully told him that Melissa had sprained her ankle and would need some help getting around for a couple days.That she asked Scully to come home rather than go stay with their mother, because who better to be nursed by than a doctor? Mulder had nodded, told Scully to go, assured her he could handle BJ and the case. Scully is sure that Mulder knows what she told him is a lie. But he didn’t object, and that’s the permission she needed to feel settled with him and herself. 

She follows everyone off the plane, through the tunnel, and into the terminal. Moments like this remind her of her obsolescence in the universe, and she is somehow comforted by that. She is no chosen one, no messiah nor martyr, no mother of a holy child. She would like to stay that way.

She surveys the crowd waiting to pick up their beloved passengers. All of her fellow fliers, mere faces in her vicinity for an hour or two, are someone to somebody else. She is, too. They are all emerging from obscurity into a realm where they are known, for better or for worse. 

At the edge of the crowd, Scully catches her sister’s unmistakable smile and glowing red locks. She saw her sister only two mornings before, but Missy reacts as if they’ve been separated a lifetime. She engulfs Scully in a hug that just about sends the butterflies in her stomach into hibernation. 

“How are you feeling?” Missy asks, pulling away to scan her sister’s face for the honest answer she won’t give. 

Aware of this, Scully turns the corners of her mouth up. “I’m okay, really. My migraine went away at about four in the morning.”

“So you barely slept,” Missy interjects. 

Scully frowns. “Well, I laid in bed from roughly eight to six. There was sleeping involved at some point, I think.”

“How about on the plane? Did you sleep there?”

“No, you know I can never sleep with strangers around.”

“Oh, right. Did they teach you that at the Academy or something?”

“The things I saw at the Academy taught me that.”

“Oh.” Missy regrets bringing it up. As they head toward the luggage area, she holds out her hand, lets her sister place the handle of her carry-on in it. A silent apology, an acknowledged acceptance.

“So what did you end up telling Mulder?”

Scully is endeared that she has successfully chipped away at her sister’s tendency to call him by his first name.

“Oh god, you’re gonna think it’s so stupid.”

Missy laughs. “What did you say?”

Scully’s voice is rife with amusement. “I told him that you sprained your ankle and needed a doctor around to take care of you.”

Melissa bursts into laughter. “Good girl.” Scully would kick a man in the groin if he ever said that to her, but coming from her sister, it’s high praise.

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

They ignore the elephant in the room until they make it to Missy’s car. The plastic of a CVS bag rustles at Scully’s feet as she settles into the passenger seat. 

“Three pregnancy tests,” Melissa explains. “I stopped on the way.”

“You didn’t have to--”

“But I did.” That had been their father’s comeback whenever someone tried to, as he called it, ‘pity the helper.’ They both smile just a bit, their memory of him alive and well. 

“Can I pay you back?”

“No!” Missy insists. “I’m living with you rent free.”

Scully decides this is a good enough reason to let it go. She crosses her legs, watches her sister pull out of the space. She lets a question float around her head until they make it out of the labyrinth of airport side roads.

“Do you think I would be a good mother?”

Missy flicks her gaze toward her sister. Dana is peculiar in her way. Instead of fishing for sympathy like most people when they ask questions of this nature, she expects punishment. She’s practically asking to have a nail hammered into her cross. 

“You’d be a wonderful mother, Dana,” Missy soothes. “You’ve never had a bad intention in your life.”

“Haven’t I?...I killed a snake with Bill and Charlie once.”

“And you cried afterward. I remember seeing the tear stains on your face when you got home. Not to mention that you were what, five or six?”

“Well, what about Daniel? Surely my judgement was wrong there.”

Melissa sighs. “Okay, I’ll rephrase it. Any bad intention you’ve ever had was paid for with regret, and that’s not true about most people.” She frowns. “It’s always the purest souls who are the hardest on themselves.”

Scully stares through the windshield. She will expend no brainpower on her sister’s implication. She doesn’t believe it to be true. 

After a moment--“Do you remember those Raggedy Ann dolls we had, Betsy and Betty?”

Melissa smiles, nods. “Of course. Betsy was yours, and Betty was mine. We had those little wooden bassinets for them.”

“Right.”

Missy lets the memories flow back to her. “We used to sing lullabies and rock them to sleep. Actually, I’d sing, you’d pray with them. Mom and dad thought it was the sweetest thing ever, and I would get so mad at you. I thought you were sucking up to them.”

Scully laughs. This is the first time she’s heard of her sister’s woes. “Missy, I was three. There was no conspiring going on.”

“Say what you will, but your stocking was always a little bit fuller than mine.” She smirks at her sister, who blushes and looks at her lap. 

Dana has the unfortunate distinction, at least in Melissa’s mind, of being the favorite daughter. Bill Jr. always was and will be the favorite child. He molded to all their parent’s expectations of him, never deviating from the upstanding family man they imagined when holding him for the first time. Dana had done well up until she decided on the Academy. As Missy reminded her countless times, it wasn’t that they hated her going into the FBI. It just wasn’t in their vision for her, that’s all. 

Missy doesn’t fret about her place, even finds it somewhat funny. She isn’t the least favorite child per say (thanks Charlie!) but she is the least favorite child her mother is still in contact with, and that’s a title that takes some maneuvering. 

Scully laces her fingers together, rests them in her lap. “Do you remember telling me that I wasn’t a good mommy one night when we were putting Betsy and Betty to sleep?”

Melissa looks to her sister so quickly she practically forgets she needs to be watching the road. “No, of course not.”

Scully can’t meet her gaze. “Well, I know it’s a silly thing, and we were just children, but it’s stayed stuck in my brain for all these years.”

“Dana, you had probably just finished a ‘now I lay me down to sleep’ prayer, and I felt like I needed to knock you down a notch.” She pats her sister’s shoulder. “There was no truth in it, and I’m sorry it’s bugged you for so long.”

Scully shifts in her seat. The CVS bag crackles as her heels bear down on it. “I’m afraid it’s turned into a self-fulfilling prophecy at this point.”

Melissa won’t give weight to her sister’s worries, but won’t discount them either. “The good news about a self-fulfilling prophecy is that you can always change your thinking...You don’t believe in psychics, so don’t try to be one.”

Scully looks at the dashboard, then her sister. “I would hug you right now if we weren’t doing 75,” she coos.  

Something has clicked in her head, some comfort she has long been depriving herself of. Sometimes words fill in the cracks left by those that preceded them. The right words go even further, it turns out. The right words give you permission to heal. 

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

A dreadful anticipation plagues her as she and Missy walk up to the apartment. She wants to get it over with, even if it goes badly (and she knows it very well might). She craves the relief of surviving such an ordeal. Scully imagines that this is what the French must have felt on their walk to the guillotine. Except instead of the relief of surviving, they got the release of death. Scully is not ready for this yet.

Missy unlocks the door, ushers her sister in. Dana is not used to coming home and finding things in different places than before, Missy can tell from the inquisitive look on her face. She is surveying her territory, updating her memory bank. Looking for the exit signs, maybe.

Melissa closes and locks the door. Letting her sister set the pace, she leaves the CVS bag on the side table. Dana has already taken the carry-on and suitcase to her room.

Her room, Scully finds, is a shrine to sameness, everything looking exactly as she left it two days before. Untouched and completely under her control...these are the reassurances she requires now. She lifts the suitcase onto her bed but leaves it zipped. Its fate is no clearer than hers at the moment. Then she places the carry-on on her dresser, makes a mental note to let Mulder know she made it home safely, and returns to her sister in the living room.

“Have you eaten?’ Missy asks, edging toward the kitchen.

“I won’t be able to until we get this over with,” Scully replies, making her priorities clear.

“Okay.” Missy won’t fight her on this one. She retrieves the bag off the side table, perches at her sister’s side. “Are you ready now?”

Scully screws up her face. “No, but yes. I just need to know at this point.”

Missy takes her sister’s hand with a specific kind of gentleness, like a fairy godmother about to cast a spell upon her princess. Scully is willing to be led. She follows her sister into the bathroom and sits on the closed toilet while Missy pulls the pregnancy tests from the bag. Scully tries not to think about any moment beyond the current one as her sister opens each test, lines them up along the counter. 

“Do you want me in here or outside?” Missy’s tone matches the sympathy that Scully needs.

“Outside, please,” Scully says sheepishly, wishing she could have some guts for once. If no one else witnesses this moment, then maybe it’s not happening. Flawed reasoning that even Mulder wouldn’t agree with, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

“Okay. I’ll be right on the other side of the door.”

Scully nods her thanks as Missy slips out of the bathroom and shuts the door quietly. Left alone, she feels the crushing gravity that has been trailing her all along. She’s almost certain that her heartbeat would be visible through her skin if she looked. 

She stands, picks up the first test, opens the toilet. Her hands shake so violently that she thinks she might drop the stick in the toilet, which would be a pretty terrible way to return her sister’s kindness. She pulls it away and takes a deep breath to steady herself, holding her arms out in front of her like a sleepwalker. All the things she’s seen, and she’s never been as scared as this moment. Never felt the life she knows and has grown to love so acutely threatened. Never balked at the future in such a fervent way.

It occurs to her that she might seriously need her sister to come in and help her. The thought of that is just pathetic enough to kick her into action. Her hands are barely any more steady than before, but her resolve is ironclad. 

On the other side of the door, Melissa listens as a long period of silence is broken. She’s sitting down, her head resting against the wood, a hand laid against the door like it’s the chest of a lover. 

Silence again, ruptured by Scully’s quiet murmur. “Will you hold on to the test, please? And read the result when it’s ready?” She didn’t know she would need this, but she does. 

“Of course.” 

Scully cracks open the door, passes the stick to her sister. “I wiped it off.” 

Missy suppresses a laugh. “I wouldn’t care if you didn’t, but thank you.”

Scully closes the door quickly, not wanting to hold eye contact with her sister, not wanting to accidentally see the result herself. “Two minutes, right?” Her voice is on the verge of breaking.

“Yes, Dana. Two minutes.”

“Should I wait to do the next one?”

Missy eyes the test, waiting for it to make up its mind. “You can go ahead. It’ll take two minutes too.”

“Okay.” Scully’s voice is barely audible.

“Or you can wait,” Missy offers. “I just suspect that you’d want to check the accuracy as soon as possible.”

“Uh-huh.” She grabs the second test, wearily sits back down. 

Missy’s voice reverberates through the door. “I’ve done this before you know. For myself and for a friend.”

“Really?” Scully’s brain had tricked herself into thinking she was all alone.

“Mm-hm,” Missy confirms. “Mine were never positive, but hers were. I went to Planned Parenthood with her.”

“Oh.” There are things, Scully realizes, that she has neglected to think about. Or maybe she’s putting that off until she knows for sure. It wasn’t a conscious decision, more of an act of self-preservation. Her gut feeling is that she wouldn’t, but she never envisioned herself in a situation like this. If there’s any situation where it’s justified, it’s this, right? Not that she has a problem with it; women should be able to choose for themselves. She just always thought she knew what her choice would be. 

Melissa lifts her eyes from her watch, looks at the door as if she can see her sister through it. “It’s ready.”

“It’s been two minutes?” Scully’s voice rises.

“Uh-huh. Do you want me to come in or…?”

Scully scrambles up, lays the second test on a fresh piece of toilet paper. “I’ll come to you.”

She opens the door, kneels to be eye level with her sister. Prayer position is in close proximity. She bites her lip, her dilated pupils begging her sister to either curse her or free her.

A thin smile appears on Missy’s face as she flips the test so that Scully can read it. “Negative.”

One line. One very defined red line set against the white space. Has anyone, Scully wonders, ever gotten a tattoo of that?

“I--” Tears burst out of her instead of words. She lands in her sister’s arms, utterly unsure of what she’s feeling. Relief, yes. Happiness? Not quite. Sadness? Something like that. 

Missy smooths her sister’s hair down, holds her in the tightest hug she’s probably had in decades. “How do you feel?”

Scully is tempted to ask how her sister does that, always there with the tough questions. Instead, she gulps air until she’s calmed down enough to talk. 

“I don’t know,” she laments, tears streaked down her reddened face. “I thought I would be glad but...I just feel numb. Like I went down the wrong fork in the road and missed something important, but I don’t even know what it is since it didn’t happen.” She sniffles. It sounds like a heart breaking. “I just know it’s supposed to be there.”

“I thought you didn’t want--”

“Not under these circumstances, no. But then...when else is it gonna happen?” Her voice is a sheet of glass. “Because it doesn’t look like any time soon.”

Missy hugs her once again, rocking her back and forth. She overflows with warmth, sympathy, and love. “Honey, you have plenty of time to make your life what you want it to be.”

Scully sobs into her sister’s neck. She feels like an emotional hemophiliac, constantly hemorrhaging pain. Every time she thinks she’s bottomed out, there’s farther to fall. “I’m sorry I’m such a mess,” she says, wiping her face. “I didn’t know I would be.”

Missy pulls her in a third time. “Don’t ever apologize to me for anything, even the things you’re actually wrong about.”

Scully laughs half-heartedly. “Oh!” She realizes then. “We still have two more tests, don’t we?”

Missy nods, smiles empathetically. “The second one should be ready by now.”

Scully is about to get up, but Missy lays a hand on her back, beats her to it. “I’ll grab it.” She strides into the bathroom, picks the stick up off the counter, and takes a look. Again, she flips it so her sister can see. “Negative.”

Scully presses her lips together, a stopgap to any further emotional reaction. “We should do the third one then, just to be sure?”

Missy detects a lift in her sister’s voice, a space she’s made for hope. “Whatever you’d like, Dana.” It seems that her sister will always end up disappointed through no fault of her own, no matter what she wishes for. This chills Missy to the bone.

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

The sisters share dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets for lunch because this is the kind of food Melissa buys when left to her own devices. Missy dunks hers in honey mustard, Scully takes hers plain. Remnants of anxiety hang in the air; Scully’s plight remains unresolved, and they are well aware of that. Whatever path they are walking, this is just the beginning. 

The phone interrupts their silent reverie, and Scully hops up to disguise the fact that its ringing made her jump. “It’s probably Mulder,” she tells her sister. “I meant to call him when we got home.” Missy nods, continues with her nuggets. 

Scully grabs the phone off the wall. “Hello?”

“Hey, is Mel there?” It’s a sweet, flowery voice, very different from the one Scully expected. She furrows her brow. Could Mel refer to her sister? She’s never heard anyone call Melissa that. “Who is this?” Missy looks up, watches her sister curiously. It’s not Mulder, evidently. 

The woman on the other line clears her throat. “It’s Trinity. Am I speaking to Dana?”

“Yes, this is Dana,” Scully says slowly, unnerved by the caller knowing her name. “Are you calling for Melissa?” Scully offers, hoping she might get out of this scot-free. 

Hearing this, Missy wipes her hands on a napkin, gets up, and rushes toward Scully, holding her hand out for the phone.

Scully ignores her, keeps the phone to her own ear as the caller speaks to her. “I am, but I was actually wondering about you. Mel told me your worries. How are you doing, Dana?”

Scully is now particularly spooked. Who is this woman, and why does she know all of her business? Missy pokes Scully in the bicep, then gestures for the phone. Scully hasn’t seen her sister this greedily desperate since she snuck out the window when she was seventeen and needed Scully to unlock the front door so she could get back in before their parents woke up.

“Um, Trinity is it, Missy--Mel wants to talk to you.”

“Oh, okay! It was nice to finally meet you!” the cheery voice practically sings. Scully just nods and makes her usual ‘Mulder you’re crazy face’ as she hands the phone off to her sister.

“Hi, Trin.” Missy speaks in a rush. “I can’t really talk right now, but Dana is home and all the tests were negative so she’s doing okay. I’ll call you tonight, alright?”

Scully can hear the voice on the other line, but she can’t make it out. Her sister says “I love you, bye” into the phone, then hangs up.

Scully raises an eyebrow, feeling it her duty as the little sister to pry. “Who was that…?” 

Missy puts the phone back on the wall, circles around to her plate, sits down. She answers calmly, casually. “That’s Trinity. She lives in Portland, we used to waitress together.”

Scully slides back into the seat across from her sister. “How come you’ve never mentioned her? She seems to know a lot about me.”

“Well, you’re the reason I moved to DC and all.”

“I didn’t know you were still in contact with anyone from the West Coast.” Scully picks a stray crumb off one of her nuggets, thankful that her sister is in the line of questioning for a change. 

“I bounced around the area for three years, of course I have friends from there.” She grabs her own empty paper plate, points to her sister’s. “Are you done?”

Scully pushes the plate--with two uneaten chicken nuggets--toward Missy. “With the food, yes. Not with the questions.”

Melissa takes both of the plates to the trash, then rinses her hands in the sink. “Yes. Does that answer your question?”

“Depends. What do you think my question is?”

Missy dries her hands on the dish towel, swivels to face her sister. “Is Trinity my girlfriend? Because yes, she is.”

Scully’s mouth drops open the slightest bit. She had known Missy was bi, but she had never met any of her girlfriends, not even in passing. Missy tended to keep them to herself, fearing that the Scully family might encroach on the holy ground she created. “Really?” she asks excitedly. 

“Uh-huh.” Missy sits back down at the table. “For nine months now.”

“Are you serious? That’s incredible, Missy! Why didn’t you tell me?”

Missy just raises her eyebrow. Scully feels like she’s looking in a mirror. “What? You know it doesn’t bother me.”

“Sure, but mom, and Bill…”

“I don’t think that mom would be upset by it,” Scully answers level-headedly. “Surprised maybe, but not mad.”

Missy balls up a napkin, tosses it back and forth between her own hands. “I don’t know that she would be, I just...don’t trust that she wouldn’t. And besides, nothing mom says or does will change how I feel about Trinity. So it’s not really a pressing issue. No need to cause a scene.”

“I can’t believe you moved here without mentioning her. I wouldn’t have let you leave her, you know.”

Missy laughs. “Oh, I do. That’s why I didn’t say a word.” Scully’s laugh is her first genuine one all day.

“She seems very nice,” Scully says, flicking a crumb off the table.

“Oh no, she’s a total bitch,” Missy replies. There’s a moment of silence while Scully figures out that was a joke, then they both laugh.

“Just kidding. I love her very much.” Missy’s smile could melt ice. “I’m glad you got to talk to her. Now my two favorite ladies have technically met!”

“I’m afraid to ask whether I’m in first or second place.”

Missy reaches out across the table. “I moved across the country for you, honey.” Then, with a smirk--”But I could move back any day now, so watch out!”

Scully smiles, nods. She can’t imagine what these past few weeks would have been like without her sister near. She hopes Missy never goes away again, as unrealistic a thought as it is. If there are angels on Earth, her sister is one. But Mulder too has emerged as a force in her life; no one destabilized her life quite like him, but he would be her rock if she let him, she knows this. She owes him a call. She knows that too.