#they would cross the same road every single day after work and all

[g0ldenzinnie]

Princess Treatment x NCT 127

Featuring: Nct 127 Hyung line Genre: Fluff, suggestive, sweet boys and a little of them being dom. Word count: 2.7k Note: Sorry for the delay but here they are, soon I'll publish the maknae line and then the Johhny fic. Hope you like it <3.

Taeil x cooking for you. 

Even though he has the money to buy you a whole restaurant, he cooks for you every time he can. And I don’t mean cooking fried eggs and rice for dinner. I mean plates worth three Michelin stars. He would make you try new and extravagant things. However, every single one of them is cooked magnificent under his hands. 

“Try this” He spoke, offering you a spoon with sautéed vegetables. You were sitting on the counter with your legs crossed. Watching your boyfriend getting inspiration. You bend over and eat his creation, being delighted with the result. 

“Taeil, it’s so good.” You said smiling. He was looking at you determined. “Really? He asked looking at every detail of your expression to see if you were telling the truth. “Because I think it’s salty.” He says, trying another spoon, leaning his head and nodding. “Yeah, it’s salty.” 

“Baby, it’s fine. Now can I help you please? I feel useless here.” You said getting down from the kitchen counter and facing the other vegetables he had on a kitchen board. But you couldn’t even touch them, since Taeil wrapped you in his arms and took you away from his working area. You tried to resist, but he made his grip stronger. Smiling at how cute you looked, trying to get away from his arms. 

“You won’t move a finger my love. You are my princess after all.” He then leaves you on the door of the kitchen and places a kiss on your forehead.

 “Now, please relax on the couch, watch your series and your dinner will be there in no time.” He said smiling brightly to you. You sigh and roll your eyes. “Fine. But next time, dinner’s on me.” You reclaim while you direct to the couch. But both of you knew Taeil would still cook for you anyway. 

You were watching half of the episode of your series when Taeil arrives with two plates. He then comes with a fancy bottle of wine and two glasses. Maybe the dinner looked fancy, but you would still sit on the couch with the coffee table as your dining room. 

That is the thing you loved about being with Taeil. He felt like home, a comfy and warm home. But still he would never make you feel ordinary. 

You talk about everything, Taeil listening carefully as always, asking you questions about your day or the gossip of your workplace. His focus is completely into your words. As if it were some kind of sonnet. When you finished talking and eating, you tried to get up to clean up the dishes, but he stopped you, pushing you to the couch. 

“Baby, at least let me clean the pl-” You were interrupted by a kiss on your lips. He smoothly takes the plate from your hands and leaves it on the coffee table. Guiding his hands now to your tights, going up slowly to your waist. “They can’t wait.” He said close to your lips with a playful smile. You chuckle before kissing him back. 

Johnny x Princess Passenger. 

Johnny's favorite dates were when you just got into the car and drove. It didn’t have to be somewhere in particular. He just needed you in the passenger seat, some music and the road. So, everything you asked for in the car was yours. You wanted to drive through? Right away. You wanted to put on the music? Ok for him. You wanted just to sleep? Bend the seat, he’ll be quiet. 

For him, you could be doing anything and still love your company in the car. But he had one condition. As you know your boyfriend very well, he is very clingy. He needs to touch you to feel easy. And that includes even when you are in the same car. It can be touching your hand, or your thigh, or something else. Even though you love that about him, you would still tease him some days. 

And today was definitely one of those days.

It was 10:00 PM, when Johnny called you. It was a surprise since you thought he would be working till late at night. “Hello?” You responded confused on the phone. “Let 's ride.” Your boyfriend responded with his usual excited voice. You can already imagine that playful smile on his face at the other side of the line. 

“I thought you were working late.” You said while putting your shoes on. “Well, I am…” He said on the speaker. You try not to laugh, because you know your boyfriend. “And?...” You responded, making him continue. “Well, I escaped.” He confessed. You laugh. “Johnny, one day you will get fired.” You said getting up from your bed. You heard the laugh of Johnny through your phone.

 “Just get your ass in my car. We’re going to get ice cream.” The thoughts in your head disappeared when you heard the magical word. “Yay! Ice cream!” So now you were in his car eating your favorite ice cream, hearing pitch perfect. Your life couldn’t get any better. “Give me some.” Johnny asked while driving. You handed him a spoon, and naturally like a professional he ate it with his eyes on the road. You found that so hot about him. 

By instinct, he then leaned his head towards your hand. Looking for your caring,  As I mentioned before, you were feeling a little playful. So instead of letting him feel your hand as you usually did, you removed your hand. 

Him, completely confused, tries to catch your hand again. But you put it out of his reach, again. “Hey, what’s gotten into you?” he asks, looking at you weird. “Nothing” you say while holding your laughter. He nods and tries another move, this time reaching your tight. His grip was firm and secure. You bite your lip, knowing that he is just trying to provoke you. You loved when he grabbed your tight like that. 

But still you removed his hand. You let out a little giggle when your boyfriend again tried to touch you. Letting him know that you were just messing with him. So he decided to pay you back. This time he used a little more force into his grip. Leaving your skin with red marks. You hold a moan biting your inner cheek. Johnny smirking at your reaction. 

“If you take out your hand one more time, I’m gonna have to pull over and punish you princess.” 

Taeyong x Giving you flowers 

It was believed that victorians gave the yellow tulips the meaning of “there's sunshine in your smile.”

This man would remind himself that every time he encountered you, he would have to give you flowers. And not just any kind of flower. Every time he gave you one, this would be different than the last one. 

And every single one of them had a specific meaning. He would probably investigate what kind of flower is and the meaning of his color. And do you think these flowers come alone? No, no. There is always a little note with a rhyme he created just for you. 

You were at your work cafe when you suddenly felt two taps on your shoulder and turned to find no one. You shrink your eyebrows, thinking you definitely feel someone calling you. To your surprise, you turned around and found a beautiful bouquet on your face. The man holding them was hiding behind them. But of course you knew who it was. 

“Tae, I thought you were on practice.” You say holding the bouquet and finding Taeyong behind with a smile. “I was, but that doesn't stop me from seeing my princess.” You smile sweetly hearing those words and looking at the flowers. 

They were beautiful yellow tulips. Taeyong, seeing your smile, grins for himself and says “That’s the smile.” You look at him confused, not understanding what he said. “What?” He shakes his head and just gets closer to you, placing a short and sweet kiss on your lips. 

“Nothing baby, c’mon I only have 10 minutes.” He quickly takes your hand and runs to one of the tables in the coffee shop. 

During those 10 minutes you talk about nonsense. Taboo topics like the gossip in your workplace and in his. Some drama that happened with the members, ending in another hilarious fight between Haechan and Doyoung. 

You laugh when Taeyong tells you this, imagining the dynamic duo screaming like they usually do. But you didn’t notice the moment you started laughing, Taeyongs chest filled with the air, gasping at how beautiful you looked right now. 

It’s just when you laughed, you took his breath away. It was like a hundred start lights were blinding him every time your smile appeared. And he was delighted by it. Without him noticing, he raised his hand to take yours. 

His gaze softened, focusing on you and you only. You stop giggling and look at him confused. “What?” He shakes his head, smiling now. “Nothing just… I love you so much.” You smile and intertwine your fingers with his. “I love you too.” He responds smiling and leaning closer to kiss your lips, but he was interrupted by your boss. 

“Y/n, stop smooching and get your ass back to work.” She says from the board. Your boyfriend giggles and looks at you mischievous. “Someone is calling you.” You sigh and nod. 

You get up from the chair, grabbing the flowers. “Thank you.” He smiles and caresses your cheek. “Of course princess.” He kissed you and left waving his hand like a little kid. You waved him back and went back to work.

 Afterwards, when you were alone and more calm, you checked the card that was attached to the flowers. When you read the message you blush and feel a warmness in your chest. 

"Her smile shines like rays of sunlight on a gloomy day, just like an angel, with every smile, she shines away the rain clouds, making my heart sway.”

Yuta x dress you. 

This might be understood as he chooses all of your clothes, but no. He literally dresses you. He must put on your clothes all the time. Zip your dress, put on your hoodie, lock your necklace, anything. 

But his favorite thing in the whole world is to tie your heels. He has something with your legs, So whenever he finds an opportunity, he touches them. And you knew it, so you used it every time for your own pleasure. 

One night, you were preparing yourselves for a gala party of the company. Yuta was tying the aces of his shoes on the bed, wearing a black suit that fit him in a way that should be illegal. The first two buttons of his black blouse were open, making his chest clear to the open. You bite your lip, watching your sexy boyfriend being totally naive of his reaction to you. 

So, since this morning you have been feeling a little… playful, you decided to tease him a little. You walked smoothly to him, Yuta still unaware of your presence. Just when you were in front of him, he raised his gaze. 

“What’s wrong darling?” He asked softly. You smiled in return, looking down at him. Slowly you raised your leg, leaving it discovered because of your black long leg cutout dress, until your heel was between his legs, pressed against the mattress. 

You gave him an innocent look, that both of you know it was fake. Still, he smiled wide looking at you up and down. He loved this act of yours. You smile in response and ask softly. “Would you help me baby?”

He analyzes your leg, going down slowly, finishing in your unwrapped heel. He chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re trying to provoke me, princess?” He says before straightening to have a better posture. You just shrink your shoulders. “I don’t know what you are talking about.” He giggles at your act of innocence.

His hand went to your leg slowly. Caressing your calf with his thumb, sending you chills to your core. He then reached out for your heel. Tying it like a professional, since he has done this so many times. 

After finishing, he gets close to your ankle leaving a soft kiss on your skin. You chuckle at the sensation, making your boyfriend have his known playful smile. He tapped your leg twice. “The other one, please”. 

You obey him by changing the leg. He makes the same process. His thumbs moved gently, like your skin was made of glass. You close your eyes, feeling relaxed and aroused by his movements. As you always did. 

But you suddenly feel a little puncture on your leg. You let out a little scream and open your eyes, to find Yuta giggling. He had just bitten you. You gasp looking at him outraged. “Meany” You say smiling. “Teaser” He responds by getting up quickly, wrapping you in his arms and starting to kiss your neck. 

You giggle and try to stop him. "Baby the gala." He separates and smiles playful. "Don't think you're getting away with this. The night has just started princess."

Doyoung x pays for everything

This man doesn’t even let you take out your wallet. You find amazing the ability Doyoung has to pay that fast. Whenever you try to pay, he already has his card in his hand, saying that “he got it.” It happens in restaurants, fairs, malls, even in gift shops. You can’t escape Doyoung’s money.  

Even when he was not present. 

You were facing yourself in front of the hairdresser mirror. With your new haircut, that you would still be trying to settle with. You wanted a change for this year, so you thought that your hair would be the perfect victim. 

“So what do you think?” Your aunt asks, owner of the hairdresser. You always got your hair with her. She had an undisputed talent. 

“It 's amazing. Thank you auntie.” You respond, getting up from the chair. “So how much do I owe you?” You turn around, facing her. When you do, you find a nervous face. Shrinking eyes and a tense smile. 

“Yeah well, about that…” You look at her confused, but in just two seconds you got your answer. “No he didn’t” You say angry. Your aunt gives you an expression of defeat. “I told him it wasn’t necessary, but he insisted. And he gave me, well, a good tip.” 

Of course he did, you thought. You thanked your aunt once again and went directly to your shared apartment you had with your boyfriend downtown. Knowing he would be there, to finally face him. 

After a 10 minute walk, you finally reach your apartment, finding Doyoung on the couch. He gave you a wide smile, analyzing your look and instantly loving it. “Someone is looking gorgeous.” He says flirty getting up to embrace you with a hug. 

“Thanks to you.” You say in a not so motivated way. He separates from you, looking confused. “What do you mean?” 

“You paid my aunt for my haircut.” He didn’t change his confused look. “So?” He asks you. You sigh and separate to go to the kitchen. “I wanted, for once, to pay for something by myself.” You turn quickly. “It’s not that I’m not thankful.” Doyoung shrinks his eyebrows. “Good, because you don’t seem like it.” You close your eyes in desperation. 

“That is not what I wanted to express.” You pause for a moment, and sight. “I just… I just feel like I’m taking advantage of you.” You feel your chest heavy, finally confessing that you felt guilty everytime he wasted his money with you. 

But for him, it wasn't a waste. He got close to you, slowly to not scare you. You long for an exhausted or tired face on your boyfriend. But you only find a sweet and dearing face. Doyoung takes your face gently, caressing your cheeks with your thumbs. 

“My princess, you can use me in any way you want.” He got close and gave you a peek on the lips. “It will never bother me.” You giggle and shake your head. “That doesn’t make me feel better.” You respond, wrapping your arms around your neck. He chuckles and gives another kiss on the lips. This one is deeper and stronger. He separates, giving you little kisses on the cheek and starts to talk in your ear.

“Maybe you’ll feel better when we go out and eat in a nice restaurant. So everyone can see that new haircut of yours.” You smirk, taking your boyfriend's face, for him to see you. “At least let me pay for dessert.” 

He then smirks and leans his forehead against yours. “You are the only dessert I need.” 

#nct #nct fluff #nct scenarios #nct 127 #nct x reader #nct imagines #nct 127 scenarios #127 #moon taeil #nct yuta nakamoto #doyoung #lee taeyong #taeyong nct #johnny nct

[mx-pastelwriting]

TWD HC - How you started dating them.

TWD x GN! Reader

Summary: How you started dating them.

Warnings: Fluff, Establishing a Relationship

Characters: Daryl Dixon, Merle Dixon, Negan Smith, Eugene Porter, Father Gabriel

Daryl Dixon

-After the fall of the prison, you and Daryl got stuck together, and though it was a tough time, he always made you smile—and maybe cry too. You and him did flirt with each other when the prison was working, but neither of you made a big move till now.

-When finding the house, you and Daryl finally had a break, you two talked, and finally you had to make the move, no matter how shy you were at that moment, and it was well rewarded.

-You had told him how you felt, and you knew he felt the same, but he asked, "So what, were we datin now?" You laughed, but you ended up saying yes.

-Making it back to the group finally, you had kept it on the down low, but you couldn't help but get caught holding his hand or being close to him and quickly moving back when someone walked past.

-Everyone knew Daryl was dating you, but Carol was the only one who told him. He walked off to tell you, but you were happy, and over time, so was Daryl. Now he is kissing you in public, holding you close, holding hands.

Walking down the long road, you held Daryl's hand, hearing everyone else talk and joke about things. You and Daryl were quite looking forward, though you had a smile on your face now that you were able to hold his hand in front of the group. There was nothing stopping you, maybe just Daryl not wanting to be in another love story, but you liked it, and he did too, though not admitting it.

You had been tried by hiding behind trees to say you had to go to the bathroom, and by Daryl saying the same just to wrap around to meet you. But since that day you and Daryl started dating, every moment has been one to remember.

-

Merle Dixon

-Meeting in Woodbury, you both crossed paths in the small community, One day he started to flirt with you; anyone would have been disgusted, but you felt something when he called you beautiful.

-You had asked him to coffee, and it turned into something else. He made you feel like nothing before, so you told him that you weren't going to sleep with him.

-He took it well, but he told you that's not why he started to talk to you, so he asked if you would be with him. Saying yes, he looked relieved and happy, his eyes lit up before kissing you.

-Walking around Woodbury, he would hold your hand and give you kisses on the cheek. He even cleaned himself up, wearing nicer shirts and showering every day; it was all for you.

-Would give you a little gift he found outside when he's off, knowing it was a hard time for you knowing he was out there.

Merle kissed you on the cheek before handing you what he was hiding behind his back: "I got this for you," he says in his voice, adding that you loved it so much. He hands you a bouquet of wild flowers, and you smile and kiss him. "Made me think of ya," he says shyly before walking with you back to your place to put them in a vase.

-

Negan Smith

-You only entertained his flirting because he was a very handsome man, but you weren't going to be one of his wives. But he brought you gifts and even gave you points.

-All that made your feelings for him bloom more, but you told him you weren't going to be one of his many wives, so he told you that if you would date him, he would drop all of his wives, every single one of them.

-Without a second thought, you took him up on it. He did move you into his room, but it wasn't soon into the relationship, as he had been asking you to be his for months.

-He would treat you like royalty; anything you would ask for, he would gladly get it for you, and if they didn't have it on hand, it would be on the top of the list.

-Gives you kisses every morning when you wake up, and takes you with him when doing his work, but if you wanted to stay in, he would join you. He lived every day with a smile, looking into your eyes, and loving every part of you.

You felt Negan's arm pull you into his chest; he planted his face into your neck. He laughed soaking in the morning; you were glad there was no one to share Negan with, he had all of his love for you. "Good morning, beautiful," he says in a hoarse voice. You locked your hands, and he pulled them to your face, kissing them. "Are you coming to work with me?" He asks, whispering it in your ear.

"Can we just stay in?" You asked. Looking over your shoulder and seeing him laugh, he takes a breath. "Now that is a good idea," he says before kissing your shoulder and cuddling into you, his warm chest making you shake. He was another person around you, and you soaked it up every day.

-

Eugene Porter

-Nothing really on his part, but little acts such as giving you gifts and saying he noticed that you liked them, and he would stick by you closely you could tell he had some romantic feelings towards you, but he never said anything.

-No flirting on his part, but if you were to, he would get all red and say "Thank you" and walk off.

-But you finally had enough; you knew he had feelings towards you, so you told him you had a surprise for him, it was a picnic, and he sat down shyly and watched you give him the food you had carefully packed.

-You told him you like him and hoped he felt the same, and you would like to see your relationship go farther. He pauses for a moment, taking in what you have just said.

-He said he would like that too before pulling out a little toy from his pocket again, telling you that he heard you liked them. You laughed getting out your celebratory dessert.

You had brought two cupcakes that you had to work tooth and nail to get the ingredients for, but it was worth seeing Eugene's face light up for. Seeing him all happy and speechless made you laugh. You handed him his and watched him carefully take a bite. He hummed with happiness. He was your now, and you socked up every moment, You took a bite of it, but you noticed he had some icing on his cheek.

Taking your thumb, you wiped it before licking it off your thumb. Eugene watched with cheeks that glowed red as you finished your cupcake with a small smile, thinking the same thing: he was yours and you were his.

-

Father Gabriel

-He would invite you to his church every day and even bring you some treats every morning. Even if you were non-religious, he would love to have you there.

-One day you did go and stay through the whole service. He seemed more confident and happy when you walked in.

-After the service, he sits beside you and asks how you liked it. Whatever your answer, he tells you that he's happy that you were there.

-After he tells you that there was a silence before you said "Me too," he puts his hand on yours while looking into your eyes. He told you that he feels a different kind of love for you, and he wanted to take you on a date.

-You agree that you feel the same, locking your hand with his. From that day on, you spend every day with him; you bring him lunch while he brings you breakfast, then he comes over to cook dinner with you, making every day a date.

You watch Gabriel chop the ingredients for the dish you suggested tonight; you have decided that you want to make a move on him tonight. Not a big one, just to let him know that you love him more than you did.

Stirring the food in the pan before walking over to him and waiting for him to pause, you wrap your arms around his waist, putting your head on his back. "I love being with you," you whisper, with the food sizzling in the background, "I love you too." He says that, though not what you had said, you said "I love you more," kissing his back before slowly moving back to the stove.

-

Hello, I hope you enjoyed if there is and grammar mistakes or misspellings sorry about that feel free to let me know in the comments, have a great day/afternoon/night!

#daryl dixon x reader #merle dixon x reader #negan smith x reader #eugene porter x reader #father gabriel x reader #twd fanfiction #twd x reader #twd headcanons

[gurugirl]

can we start over | part 5 sneak peek

As requested!! - Sorry not proofread fully! 1k words

...

Mr. Allen was on the phone again. He’d called you into his office but the moment you stepped in he got a call and told you to sit and wait. That it would only be a minute.

And it was only a minute. But then he got another call and now it was 23 minutes later while he was still yammering about some person who was just the worst.

You were used to it, though. Mr. Allen was retired so nothing was a rush for him anymore. Which also meant he held other people up. But waiting for your boss was the least of your worries.

His wife and her ever-changing personality was your biggest concern. She was, to put it mildly, a monster. And to make matters worse, she ran the whole household so you were often seeking her out for things. Mrs. Allen also handled her husband’s schedule and if he was running behind guess who got the blame. That’s right. You did. Every time.

And it was the same thing over and over again. You started your day trying to keep Mr. Allen up to task, failed, got reprimanded and degraded by a nasty human, held back tears and then took a long drive with loud music to clear your head with a quick stop for dinner, probably at a drive-through.

Needless to say, you were already planning on quitting. You’d gotten really lucky with Alfred. And even working with Harry hadn’t been as bad as it was working for Mrs. Allen and her husband. But you tried not to think about Harry if you could help it.

By the time Mr. Allen got off the phone he was running late for his physical therapy appointment. You got him moving along quickly and sent him on his way but not before Mrs. Allen started poking around and making comments under her breath.

“What was that?” You turned to look behind yourself at the wicked witch as she stood near the edge of the foyer.

“He’s late again.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“That is correct.”

She rolled her eyes, “What’s the point of having a personal assistant who can’t even keep the boss on schedule?”

You smiled, holding back your true thoughts, “Well, being as my job description doesn’t entail using physical force on the boss, which is what it would take to get Mr. Allen to keep on time for anything, I’m certain you’ll find that once again, this isn’t my responsibility.”

“Lazy,” she spoke under her breath.

You tilted your head and squinted your eyes at her, “That’s the last thing I am. Now, if you don’t mind, my workday is over. Have a good evening.”

You walked past her to go into your room to pack up your laptop and leave. You’d stay at your own place that night. You hated staying at the Allen’s house. Not only was the room they’d given you a tiny spec of a thing with no windows, no closet, and not even a single rug to cover the cold tile floors but being anywhere near Mrs. Allen made your skin crawl.

“I don’t know why we bother with the room for you,” she was standing in the doorway when you turned around.

“You really didn’t bother much with the room in the first place. That’s why I don’t stay here. My house has a better bed with a big window looking into my backyard. I just feel better in my own bed at night.”

You walked past her and held your breath so as not to inhale her disgusting, pungent perfume. You used to like the scent she wore. But now you loathed it. Whenever you smelled it, even on another woman, it made you queasy. You very much did not like Mrs. Allen.

You turned up the volume on your car radio the moment your front tires hit the road. You always looked forward to going home after work. This day wasn’t as bad as you’d had before and tomorrow you’d do it all over again.

And instead of stopping at a drive-through for fast food, you decided you’d stop at the grocery store and pick up ingredients to actually make something fresh.

Typically you didn’t cook. You didn’t have time for it. Picking up groceries would put you home at almost 8 pm. And then you still needed to cook so you wouldn’t be eating until close to 9 and then you could finally relax with a glass of wine and a good book or something trashy on television. Which was why drive-throughs were your go-to dinner plans. It meant you were home by 7:30 and dinner was already cooked. Not the best use of money and certainly not the healthiest way to live but you wouldn’t be doing it much longer.

You had a meeting to attend with Mr. and Mrs. Allen the following week that piqued your interest. It was for a piece of art that they’d been looking for. And someone found it for them. From an art dealer who was not too far away. You didn’t know for sure but you had a feeling. And you wanted to find out if that feeling was right.

Maybe you were a masochist and just wanted to pour salt onto the wound of your split open heart one more time. Or maybe you did have some hope that it was Harry and that maybe you could try and receive his feelings for you once and for all.

But it’d been just over 9 months since you’d seen him and you were sure he’d moved on by now. There would be no reason for him to still be pining over you the way you were over him. And what were the chances that it was him in the first place? You didn’t know but you needed to find out.

Yeah. You regretted what you’d done. Pushing him away like that. But once you’d done it, it felt like it was too late to go back. Maybe it was your pride. Or that little voice in the back of your head that told you men always leave and they always lie. That anyone that might love you would probably just disappoint you in the end.

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[eoieopda]

Can you please write the “Jungkook thinks you’re perfect” drabble from his perspective? 🥰

sure can, bb! anon is referring to this drabble.

You once made the mistake of asking Jungkook what he did on the days you worked and he didn’t. You cringed at his answer, but all your flustered laughing didn’t make it any less true: he waited for you to get home.

He’d putter around the apartment, prepare lunches for the pair of you to take on your next busy days, and then he’d sit on the couch. And on that couch, he’d spend whatever time he wasn’t napping, staring at the clock.

Every now and then, he’d try to fill the time with mindless TikToks or video games - they did a poor job of maintaining his interest, though. Not when you weren’t there to lean into his shoulder, ask him questions, or banter endlessly about whatever it was you were both fixated on.

You made every mundane moment interesting.

Funnier.

Better.

Maybe that’s why his first instinct upon hearing your key in the lock was to greet you at the door.

Before you could cross the threshold yourself, he wrapped his arms around you and lifted you clean off the ground. You gasped, sounding more horrified than surprised, and sputtered, “Baby, put me down!”

He did as you asked, though he didn’t know why you asked, and then he kissed your cheek in a feeble attempt to soothe the redness growing there. “You okay?” He frowned when your eyes wouldn’t lift to meet his.

You’d never had this reaction to him carrying you before. Did you get hurt at work somehow?

“Yeah, I’m fine!”

Your best approximation of a reassuring smile didn’t convince him, but he didn’t press the issue. Something was bothering you; you’d tell him if and when you wanted him to know.

Instead of doubling down on your declaration like he expected, you tried to step around him.

He slid into your path, earning furrowed brows in response. “This is a toll road, love,” he tutted before pointing to his now-puckered lips.

His chuckle vibrated through the both of you when you paid up. Reflexively, his hands cupped your face to keep you close. His whole body warmed when he felt the upward curve of your mouth, however slight. There she is, he thought.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t trap you forever on that doorstep just to kiss you dizzy. He eventually stepped out of your way and let you pass by - only to follow behind as you headed for the bedroom.

Part of him wished he wasn’t so childishly eager to see you when you’d spent a few hours apart. At times like this, he wondered whether his giddiness was off-putting. If his enthusiasm was exhausting after a long day of dealing with other people’s shit. Try as he might, though, he couldn’t hold back.

Was this how the cavemen felt the morning after the world’s first sunset? When they learned for sure that the warmth they thought they’d lost forever re-appeared like a miracle, and it would do this same thing every single day?

You looked surprised when he slipped into the bedroom at your heels. He didn’t let your expression stop him, though. He launched himself onto the bed and blinked his heart-eyes up at you.

Underneath your confusion, there was something brewing that he couldn’t put his finger on. He then watched you shrink in real-time. He hated when you did that, especially because he didn’t know why, or what he could ever say to prevent it.

To be very clear, he wasn’t ogling you. While there was, of course, always some amount of desire simmering in his chest for you, that’s not what had him hypnotized. It was adoration, more than anything else, that made it so hard for him to look away.

That, and the tiny scar on the front of your right shoulder - the one shaped like a butterfly that marked the spot of your laparoscopic surgery in high school; and the identical one mirrored on your back.

And the silkiness of your skin, and the smattering of freckles that appeared when any part of you saw the sun.

And the perfect softness of your stomach, and the curve of your waist above your full hips. Your thighs, the faint white squiggles that were barely visible there, the little dimples at the very base of your back.

He’d ask you to sit for a sketch if he thought you’d ever say yes; but he knew you wouldn’t. You were so shy about capturing your likeness in photos, whether they were hand-drawn or taken with a proper camera. He wished you weren’t. He’d wallpaper the whole damn apartment with images of you if you wouldn’t hate him for it.

You’d point out every flaw you saw that he’d never see, not even with a magnifying glass. He couldn’t find what didn’t exist to be found.

When you finished taking off your trousers and replaced them with his sweatpants, he was conflicted. He mourned the loss of one of his favorite views, but it tickled him fucking pink to see you in his clothes. You could keep those ratty things forever if he got to keep you. You could have his entire closet, really - there wasn’t a thing he owned that looked better on him than it would on you.

You had that same indecipherable look in your eyes when you finally noticed him gazing up at you. He didn’t know what to do with it, so he did what came naturally: he flopped down onto his back, stared at you upside down, and wordlessly begged you to fill the space between his open arms.

As soon as you indulged him, he sprung the trap. He pinned you down gently underneath him and fired off all the kisses he’d been stockpiling in your unfortunate absence. And there it finally was - that fucking giggle. How could he be expected to go nine entire hours without it?

When he ultimately - regrettably - had to pull away for air, there was only one thought running through his mind.

“I have a question and I need you to answer honestly, okay?” He began quietly with brows furrowed.

Your smile was whisked away and replaced with something laced with panic. That wouldn’t do. He chewed his bottom lip as he tried to find the right way to phrase it.

He was genuinely perplexed and desperate for an explanation. The best he had were five simple words.

“How are you so perfect?”

#jade’s requests #jade’s drabbles #bts #bts drabble #bts fluff #bts imagine #bts scenarios #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jjk #jungkook drabble #jungkook fluff #jungkook imagine #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n #bts army #bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan #kookie #anon #boyfriend jungkook #bts jk #bts jkook #jkook #bf jungkook

[highqueenofelfhame]

rowaelin // 5.2k words // masterlist an: i'll add tags later tonight after work, but I wanted to get this posted before i leave <;3 tw: brief mentions of abortion, language

The bathroom counter was entirely covered with various types of pregnancy tests. After the first four showed positive, Aelin had gone back to the pharmacy and bought every type they had available. HCG tests that were no more than skinny bits of paper, typical plastic ones, digital ones. Not a single one had given her the negative she was looking for. Paper results from an emergency room visit yesterday morning showed the same thing, only this time it was there in her blood. 

She hadn’t gone to the ER for pregnancy results— that would have been silly. She went at the urging of Lysandra because since finding out a few days ago, her anxiety made her symptoms even worse. Aelin hadn’t been able to keep down liquids of any sort and dehydration quickly set in. A quick prick of a needle had fluids and anti-nausea medication flowing into her bloodstream. Discharge paperwork referred her to an OBGYN and had a script written for Zofran, a stronger nausea medication so she could keep food and water down. It had become her best friend.

The thought of an abortion had crossed her mind, even in the moments before Lysandra had asked if she wanted to keep it. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be a mother— she did. But it was a dream that happened after she was more settled in her career and in a fully committed relationship. Not while she was opening the second office and had so much hard work ahead of her, not when she barely knew the father. 

It wasn’t an idea she could fully entertain without talking to Rowan first, to see where he stood on it. But she already knew what her choice was, even if he didn’t want the responsibility. She would keep it. As much as her anxiety felt like walking on the wooden slats of a rickety rope bridge over a gaping canyon, a deep love was already blooming in her heart the size of a sesame seed. It would only get bigger with each passing day, that what-ifs of it all dancing behind her eyelids while she slept. 

What are you up to tonight? I’m in Doranelle and if you can swing it, I want to see you

She shot off the text and stared out her office window while she waited for a reply. It had been a lie, she wasn’t in Doranelle. But she needed to see Rowan and talk to him about everything as soon as possible. With a mind full of racing thoughts and unanswered questions, of the half truths she’d given him about her life… the only thing that could truly calm her nerves was talking it through with him. 

All yours after 6. 

A heavy sigh fell from her lips as she glanced at the time— 4:30– then rubbed at her temples. It was going to be a long night. 

~*~ 

It was the first time Aelin had been to Rowan’s house in Doranelle. All of their time had been spent at her apartment so far. In fact, she had only been over to his apartment in Varese a single time, just long enough for him to grab something before they went out on their downtown adventure. 

The apartment was nice, of course, but didn’t seem to hold a candle to the house she was parked in front of. When pulling down the long and winding driveway, her eyes darted between the numbers on the house as soon as it appeared and what she had entered into her GPS. Rowan’s SUV in the driveway assured her it was the correct home, but… 

How the hell did a man on a coach’s salary afford this house plus a luxury apartment in another major city? 

It was new construction, a contemporary home made of dark wood and ebony stone. It was nestled back off the road and surrounded by towering oak trees in every direction. Long curtains were drawn inside, hiding which rooms had walls of floor to ceiling windows. She imagined him laying on his couch after a long day with the curtains open, gazing out at the setting sun beyond the trees. 

It was beautiful. The tranquility of it was amped up to a thousand when she opened her door and stepped out. Somewhere in the tree line a stream trickled along, the soft sound of moving water enough to calm her nerves if only a little. 

Almost as soon as her toes touched the bottom step that led up to the porch, the front door swung open. Rowan grinned at her, a dish towel in his hands while he dried them. Scents of garlic, onion, rosemary, and other spices wafted out the front door. Thankfully her stomach only growled in response and didn’t have her bent  over the railing to empty her stomach into the bushes. 

“Hey, you,” he said softly, meeting her halfway across the porch. Long fingers tilted her head back so he could press a sweet kiss to her lips. 

“Hi,” she whispered back, standing on her toes to kiss him again. Rowan took her hand and led her through the door and toward the kitchen. Even though she offered, he insisted she sit at the bar while he finished dinner. 

“Wine?”

“Water, please.” Thankfully it didn’t raise any questions about why. He filled a tall glass with ice water and slid it over the counter to her before turning to resume dinner. 

“How was your day?”

“Long,” she sighed, nervous fingers drumming against her stomach. One of her legs had taken to bouncing on the wooden footrest and her breaths became shorter, more frequent. Nausea swirled in the pit of her belly but this, she knew, wasn’t morning sickness. Aelin didn’t realize she was biting her lip until she tasted metal, nor did she realize Rowan had moved to her side. 

“Hey,” his bent forefinger guided her face to look at his, but she couldn’t meet his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“We need to talk.” Those four words, four measly syllables were all it took to douse the room in cold tension. 

“Okay.” Rowan nodded, taking a moment to turn the burners on the stove down. He guided her into the living room where he sat her down on a plush gray couch that she seemed to sink into. 

“Can I just—” Aelin leaned forward and kissed him softly, then sat back with her legs folded beneath her. As if on instinct, her hands folded in front of her stomach protectively. 

“You’re starting to frighten me.” He murmured, hand resting on her knee to give her a comforting squeeze.  Aelin wanted to laugh, and almost did. Instead she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, pulled her phone out of her pocket and pulled up one of several images of her bathroom counter and handed him the device. “I’m pregnant.” 

Rowan was silent while she swallowed down her emotions, forcing everything to stay buried under an exterior mask of calm. His green eyes stared, and stared, and stared at the picture, fingers zooming in on the dozens of tests on her counter. 

“Is it mine?”

“I–” Aelin tempered her frustration. It was a valid question. If she were in his shoes, she would have been asking the same thing. “Yes. You’re the only man I’ve been with in the last year.”

It was a little embarrassing to say out loud. The last few years had been busy and she’d seldom made time for a personal life. It was exactly the kind of thing her mother was referring to when she meant that Aelin had a knack for having absolutely no work-life balance.

“How? We used protection. You’ve told me before you’re on birth control.” More valid questions that she herself had voiced to Lysandra in the minutes after taking the first few tests.

“My guess is that it broke? The condom, I mean.  I haven’t missed a single dose of my birth control. I triple checked.” Aelin’s knee began to bounce, that anxious ocean ready to swallow her up whole from not knowing the outcome of this situation. She hated not knowing things, not being able to predict how a person might respond. 

Locking the phone, he placed it on the sofa between them, a muscle feathering in his clenched jaw. Rowan didn’t meet her eyes as he stared forward and tensely asked, “Are you doing it for money.” 

“What?” She sputtered, immediately standing and crossing the room from whatever bullshit that question had been. Of all the ways she had anticipated him reacting, this had not been on the list. All of the nervous energy roiling through her quickly turned to something hot. Like some struck a match and threw it on a puddle of kerosene. 

“Are you doing it for my money?” He repeated, voice flat as he finally looked up at her. Rowan didn’t move from the couch as he stared at her, all the softness she was used to on his face gone. Any of the mirth and joy in his eyes she’d become accustomed to was gone. 

The butterflies he usually filled her stomach with had turned into white-hot rage pouring through every vein of her body. Aelin’s face was hot, eyes stinging as she did her best to force her tears away. It had been a long while since she’d become so angry that she jumped immediately to crying about it. 

Something had changed in Rowan’s face, too, as he looked at everything written across her face as plainly as if she had shouted at him. His eyes softened a little, his hands clenching against his thighs. 

“Why the fuck would I want your money?” She didn’t let him finish before saying, “Ask me what my last names are.” 

“You have more than one?” Confusion had his brows pulled together and wrinkles stacked up his forehead. Rowan stood, taking a handful of steps toward her. Aelin retreated with her fingers pressed against her stomach. “Are you married or something?”

“Ask. Me.” She demanded of him, voice and hands shaking. Tears started to fill her eyes and spill over, her skin so warm they were cool as they ran down her cheeks. Even the tips of her ears had gone crimson, evident in the way they burned beneath her hair. It was the exact opposite of how she had felt the first time she saw those two pink lines on that pregnancy test. A sea of wild, unchecked flame lived within her, pumped through her heart, burned the back of her throat, her cheeks, her ears. 

“What are your—”

“Ashryver Galathynius. My name is Aelin Ashryver Galathynius.” Each of her names was punctuated with that fire, her entire body trembling with so many emotions at once. As much as he was into the stupid fucking sport, he would understand what it meant.

And he did. Rowan’s entire face went slack, those wrinkles disappearing from his brows, his jaw popping open. Even his arms fell motionless to his sides. 

“As in— shit.” 

“My grandfather and my father,” she added for extra clarification, so that he knew it wasn’t a distant connection. It was direct. “Ask me again if I want your fucking money,” she spit the word at him like it burned her mouth to say it. It kind of did. Never in her wildest dreams did she think that his reaction would be so callous and cold, that he would accuse her of getting knocked up for money. What fucking money? Why the fuck would she go after a teacher’s salary when her own checking account was so loaded she, and her child, would ever want for anything? 

“Aelin–” Rowan took a step forward, hand raised as he reached for her. Aelin held up a single finger and shook her head, recoiling from him.

“Don’t.”

“I need to–”

“You need to go fuck yourself, Rowan.” Her footsteps chased her like thunder rolling in for a storm, punctuated by the window-shaking slam of the front door. To give him one ounce of credit, he did follow her, but by the time he made it outside, she was already in her car, pulling a u-turn in his yard, and speeding down the driveway. Nothing but a cloud of dust remained in her wake.

In the rearview, Rowan’s form was blurry from her tears, his arms on top of his head while he watched her leave. 

~*~

It was late. Like, the bar had been closed for an hour already, late. The Neon Moon was empty, save for Rowan, Fenrys, Connall, Vaughan, and Lorcan. They had an off weekend, and a drink was desperately needed by all. When Rowan arrived at the bar half an hour before closing and pounded back enough drinks that it was almost alarming, everyone decided to linger until he started to talk. 

“Dude.” Fenrys poked his arm with an outstretched hand. The response was a slurred grumble in the old language that not even Lorcan managed to pick up.

“What’d you do?” Connall asked, bracing his arms on the counter. Rowan lifted his head, room spinning like he’d just finished doing ballerina turns. Aelin liked to dance. He hadn’t ever seen it but he could imagine her in tights and a leotard, a tutu around her waist. She probably didn’t get dizzy when doing turns. 

Nausea hit him in a wave and he took a deep breath in through his nose, out through his mouth. Closing his eyes made it even worse, so he kept them open and fixed on Connall’s face. Ballerinas did that, didn’t they? Focused on one spot so they didn’t get dizzy or fall out of their tight spins? 

As the nausea abated, he remembered holding Aelin’s hair back for her while she was sick a couple weeks ago. Neither of them knew it then, but she was pregnant. He wondered if she was still feeling sick all the time or if it was getting better every week. A frown took over his whole face, eyes dropping to focus on a dent in the counter. Someone had carved a heart there, and he wanted to scribble over it. 

“She’s pregnant.” Was all he managed to get out, trying his hardest to enunciate his words. Everyone went utterly still and silent, Lorcan moving to sit in the chair beside him. 

“Did she fucking–” he started, leaning his head down to try to look at Rowan’s face. The silver-haired man waved his friend off, shaking his head like an indignant child.

“I’m not drinking because of the baby. Or the woman.” It was true. Rowan had always wanted to be a father, it was a dream of his. Sure, it would have been nice if it happened in a more ideal way, but that wasn’t why he took so many shots as soon as he walked through the door. No, it was the look on her face when he coldly asked if she wanted money. The betrayal that slowly leached over her features, the way she bit back tears until she couldn’t anymore. “I monumentally fucked up.”

“That does usually lead to a baby,” Fen quipped, a sly smirk starting to appear on his lips. As quickly as it started to form, though, it vanished after a hard smack! against the side of his head, courtesy of Lorcan. The fair side to Connall’s dark coin groaned, blindly slapping his hand against his attacker’s shoulder. Another searing look from Lorcan had Fen’s hands falling back into his lap. 

“In what way?” Vaughan had leaned forward to see around Lorcan’s head while he spoke. The wood was cool against Rowan’s cheek as he laid his head on the bar, desperate to stop the spinning of the room. 

“She told me she was pregnant, showed me all the tests from a photo on her phone,” Rowan waved his hand toward his phone that he frowned at, “And then I asked her if she did it for money.”

“Oh, you bloody wanker,” Fenrys mumbled, shaking his head. The man in question was sitting up on the counter, legs dangling over the edge. His foot twitched like he debated kicking him in the knee. Rowan wouldn’t have blamed him. He deserved worse than that. 

“It’s a valid question.” Lorcan’s voice was sharp enough that Fenrys twisted his mouth to the side, eyes narrowed like he might disagree with him, but wouldn’t to avoid further physical injury. Instead, he offered a shrug of his shoulders and kept his mouth firmly shut as Rowan laid his head back down. Something was damp beneath his cheek, cooling his whiskey-hot skin. 

“It really wasn’t. Not when she told me that Ciaran Ashryver is her grandfather and Rhoe Galathynius is her godsdamn father,” Rowan growled. His anger and irritation was pointed to no one but himself. “She doesn’t need my money. I’m pretty sure she still thinks I’m a soccer coach because she was absolutely mind boggled that I’d even ask her such a thing. I don’t even know why I asked, either. The fear of it all, of–”

“Her father is Rhoe Galathynius?” Lorcan cut in, and Rowan wanted to kiss his forehead for cutting off that spiral. 

“Yep,” he replied, the p sound popping more than it normally would. And her cousin is Aedion bloody Ashryver! How did I not see it? They look nearly like twins! They have the same face!” Rowan shouted, palm slapping against the counter between each revelation. Fenrys jolted, eyes widening as he slipped off the bar and an entire seat away. Rowan was too drunk to shoot him an apologetic look for coming so close to his leg. 

“I can’t believe you didn’t figure it out,” Connall said smoothly, grabbing an empty glass and filling it with water. 

“Are you telling me you fucking knew?” Rowan said through clenched teeth, lifting his head so he felt like he was seeing the room through a kaleidoscope. Despite the whirling of the world, he met his friend's gaze. A bit of mirth twinkled in Connall’s eyes, a match for the anger in Rowan’s own head on. Clearly Connall only had loyalty to his brother and himself, if he just threw Rowan to the wolves like that.

“I didn’t know her exact relation, I just assumed. They look too much alike to be anything else. Did I know she was a football princess? No, but she knew too much about the sport when you talked, I figured she was involved in some way.” With a shrug of his shoulders, Connall slid the water toward Rowan. “And she definitely doesn’t know who you are. Earlier this week she was asking me if the boys had any games this weekend because she wanted to see you but didn’t want to interfere with your coaching. She’s never pried about what you do for a living, always took it at face value and assumed you were being honest.”

“I want another drink,” Rowan grumbled.

That was the other thing, wasn’t it? Sure, she had been lying. But so had he. In that initial moment of shock, where he felt like history could be repeating all over again, he’d lost it. Deep down, he knew that wasn’t the case. How timid and nervous she was, how sick she had been, the evidence in the picture of dozens of tests covering her bathroom counter. Rowan had seen it all with his own two eyes and still taken the shitty, cold, asshole route. 

If he was being honest, at the time it felt like the easier road to take. Aelin clearly had a temper hiding under her skin, though. Those remarkable eyes of hers had glowed with the anger he sparked. It had been fire in her eyes, white hot and raging. Maybe it had been the light playing off the tears that welled in her eyes, making her eyes glitter, but he had never seen anyone quite so angry, or quite so devastatingly beautiful. 

That was the mother of his child. A stunning, spit-fire of a woman that it was all too easy to imagine a future with. A life with. Even before finding out about the baby Rowan had imagined ways he could make the long distance work when she went back to Orynth in a few months. Now, it felt stupid. A bomb had been detonated and it was entirely his fault. Because he was the bomb. Ruining everything good that touched him. 

Perhaps he should have been drunk when she delivered the news. Drunk Rowan would never have said that to her. 

“She’s so pretty,” he mumbled aloud, finger dipping into the puddle his ice glass made and beginning to write her name across the bar. Lorcan nudged his shoulder, shaking his head. Right. That was pathetic. Rowan Whitethorn was not pathetic. To prove it, he picked up the glass of whiskey Connall handed him and downed it in one go. 

“I can’t believe you asked Aelin Galathynius if she wanted money.” It seemed that Fen could no longer  restrain his smart mouth. His chest shook with suppressed laughter. “Hate to break it you, mate, but I’m pretty sure–”

“Fenrys,” Lorcan growled, immediately shutting the pup up. Even the laughter in his face was quick to die off. Drunk Rowan was grateful for it. Right now he was toeing the line of punch first, ask questions later. “Let’s get you home. We’ll start to figure this out tomorrow.”

Despite his words, Lorcan still sounded tense. Like he, too, was clenching his jaw with frustration. Rowan imagined it had to do with him not believing Aelin, thinking she knew and was chasing his money or fame. That didn’t make sense, though. Drunk or sober, it didn’t make sense for her to want his money or his fame.

Rowan’s mind wandered on the drive home. If she wanted the fame, it would be easy enough for her to get it on her own. Rowan had learned in the hours after she left that if she had wanted to, she could have been a socialite. She certainly didn’t need Rowan’s help.

Back when she attended matches there were hundreds of pictures of her cheering in her family’s suite, of her on the field offering the players high fives, of her family out to dinner. If it was fame she wanted, she already had a clear shot at it. Besides, she was already a national treasure to Terrasen. The following she on the Fireheart social media pages and her personal instagram alone was more than some of his teammates had. 

Money didn’t make sense either. She was on good terms with her parents and after minimal digging he discovered she wasn’t teaching dance and piano. Maybe she did sometimes, but recently her name and picture had been scattered through the headlines because she was opening a new office for her foundation that she founded, the Fireheart Foundation. There were already multiple locations throughout Terrasen targeting underprivileged youth, to enhance the art programs both in and out of school. Now she was doing it in Varese, her mother’s home city. 

Aelin didn’t need money. She didn’t need fame. It wasn’t about any of that, and he fucking blew it by being a coldhearted bastard.

“Thank you for the ride,” Rowan slurred to Lorcan, who was probably his best friend all things considered. Maybe he should tell him that. Of all the people in the world, Lorcan was usually easiest for Rowan to talk to. He seemed to understand him a little better than the others, even if they were all pretty close. Rowan decided then that if he ever got married, if he could fix this thing with Aelin, Lorcan would be his best man. Yes. That was an excellent decision. 

Rowan hauled himself out of Lorcan’s car, feet stumbling on the street. He barely caught himself from face-planting on the sidewalk, recovering by swinging himself around a street sign and throwing a mock salute toward Lorcan to indicate that he might have stumbled, but he was good. He didn’t need help. Rowan had this.

 His best friend looked at him drily, quirking an eyebrow as Rowan turned to walk to the door and–

Walked directly into the marble exterior of his apartment building. Double over, Rowan rubbed at his stinging face to ease the pain. A glance at his fingers told them there was no blood. Thank the gods he didn’t break his nose.

“For fucks sake,” Lorcan’s voice was suddenly a hiss in his ear, throwing Rowan’s limp arm around his shoulders.

“You’re really fast, y’know that? And tall. You’re gonna dislocate my shoulder,” He slurred, eyes focused on the ground so he could get one foot in front of the other. Lorcan told him to shut the fuck up and walk. Wisely, Rowan did. 

By the time Lorcan half-carried him up to his apartment and dropped him unceremoniously into bed, he was saying silent prayers to whatever god that would listen for him to be able to fix what he had so easily shattered.

~*~

“I know we’re anti-Rowan right now, but I want to know what my niece or nephew is going to look like.” Aelin gave her bestfriend flat look through the camera, but Lys merely shrugged her shoulders. The angle of her phone changed and Aelin knew she was on the hunt. Honestly, she should work for government security. The woman could find anything on anybody. “What’s his last name?”

“I don’t know. I couldn’t ever find the right moment to tell him what mine were, and his just never came up. I never asked.” Aelin rolled onto her side in her bed, frowning at just how puffy her eyes were from crying the last several days. It was ridiculous. If he wanted to be a prick about it, fine. Aelin didn’t need him. It would have been nice, but… 

No. That thought was quickly tucked away elsewhere, somewhere at the back of her mind where it wouldn’t pick and poke at her sensitive emotions until she cried. 

“What did you say he does? A teacher?”

“Soccer coach in Doranelle. He doesn’t have social media as far as I’m aware. I’ve never seen the apps or anything on his phone.” Rowan didn’t give off social media vibes, either. It was hard to imagine him coming up with a witty caption for a vacation photo, or having the desire to post pictures of his life at all. 

“Rowan, Soccer, Doranelle. Lets see what that gives us,” Lys hummed, fingers flying furiously across the screen. From this point of view, Aelin had a great shot up her nose. If she wasn’t feeling so morose she would screenshot it and save it for a rainy day. “Oh my– Aelin Ashryver Galathynius.”

At her full name, Aelin propped herself up on an elbow, frowning down into her phone as she said, “What?” 

“Rowan Whitethorn. Google that and tell me if that’s him.”

“Why does Whitethorn sound familiar?” It both was and wasn’t a question for Lysandra. It was definitely tinkling a bell somewhere in her brain, the name. And as soon as she typed it in and pressed search, she understood why. “No fucking way.”

“That might be why he asked if you wanted money,” Lys said. Millions of search results came back. Photos, articles, interviews, the works. Thousands upon thousands of pictures loaded when she hit the images tab, and her jaw nearly hit the floor. 

Pictures of Rowan in a dark blue uniform with Doranelle’s logo across the chest, a number seven and his name across the back. Images of him from the side, his silver hair french braided with the rest pulled into a bun. There were pictures of him held on his teammates shoulders, of Rowan making a match-ending goal, Rowan squirting water into his mouth on the sidelines. 

“He’s got personal interest in the game, is all,” Connall had told her that first night. A vague memory of Rowan giving the bartender a flat look entered her mind briefly as she closed the tabs and looked back at her best friend’s face. 

“Why is the soccer world so incestuous?” Lys asked her, laughter in her voice.

“It’s not funny,” she hissed back, but there was no bite to it. Maybe it would be a little funny in a few days. There was no doubt in her mind that Aedion and her parents would find it absolutely hilarious. 

“The money thing makes sense now, though.”

“It does,” Aelin agreed, rubbing the heel of her palm into her eye. “But I thought what we had was different. Regardless… even if I had known about all of this I wouldn’t have thought he would react that way.”

“Maybe it’s happened before. Maybe you need to hear him out and let him explain.” 

She did and she knew it. The shift in his behavior happened so suddenly, had blindsided her entirely. It had to mean there was a reason for him to snap like that. It still pained her heart and soul, though. Even if he had the best reason in the world, it didn’t take away the betrayal and hurt she had felt. 

At the same time, she felt silly for feeling so upset. They barely knew each other. Of course he would be cautious of her motivations. It made sense. If it had been going on for longer, would his reaction have been more mild? Would it have been sweet kisses and promises that things would be okay? Did Rowan even want kids? Probably not, given the status he currently held in the soccer world. The man showed no signs of slowing down anytime soon. A baby would just complicate that. 

“That baby is going to be the most beautiful fucking thing.” Lys may have been mostly talking to herself, but Aelin found her lips tipping up at the corners because it was true. It would be. 

Almost against her own will, her fingers pulled up Rowan’s text thread. He sent dozens of messages throughout the week. Most of them were begging for a conversation, asking if he could call her. Some of them from last night made no sense whatsoever, words strung together in a way that made her believe he was drunk. There were six in a row from last night in the old language. If she had been able to read around the typos, maybe she could figure out what they said. The spelling was so badly butchered, though, that some were different words altogether. Complete gibberish, utter word salad. 

Then there was the single one he sent her today that simply read: I’m sorry. For all of it.

There had been other apologies that requested the chance for him to explain, but none of them felt quite as barren and hopeless as this one did. Almost like he was ready to throw in the towel if she didn’t want to speak to him ever again. Though she was angry, it didn’t sit well with her. Maybe she felt a flicker of anger in her chest because he hadn’t been willing to fight for her for more than a few days, or maybe it was because she was frustrated he would stop because he believed it was what she wanted. Either way, she didn’t like it. 

It was then that she decided she would give herself a few more days. A few days to process the pregnancy, his reaction, her counter-reaction, all of it. And then maybe… maybe she would be ready to talk. 

#rowaelin #tog #throne of glass #tog fanfiction #tog fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin baby fic #baby fic #writing #my writing #ciwyw4 #ciwyw #call it what you want #throne of glass fanfic #throne of glass fanfiction #fanfiction

[starpirateee]

Fun fact this is the first time I'm properly writing for either of them.... but this is another banger from @snarky-wallflower , so I hope you enjoy!

"So... you're the guy who's never left Hatchetfield, right?"

Paul adjusted his position in the passenger seat of Emma's car, looking over his shoulder to try and find the seatbelt. He'd told her that about three weeks ago, during one of the longest conversations he'd been allowed to have with her while she was at work. It had been just an admission that carried on the conversation, but Emma had been largely surprised to hear it.

Today was a bland Saturday that otherwise wouldn't have been filled with anything. Emma had invited him on a surprise, and nervous as he had been, he trusted her. That wasn't likely to be a bad experience.

"Nope," he clarified, clicking the seatbelt into place and absently running his hand over the material. "Never had a reason to leave, so I never did."

"But you don't wanna see what's out there?"

"I guess I never really thought about it."

Emma's eyebrow quirked, and an amused expression crossed her face. "Well, that's what this is! You said you don't wanna move away, and yeah, that's fine and all, but you've never gotten outta town at all, so I thought... How about a road trip? Just for the day! You'll be back here in this shitty, shitty town by tomorrow!"

For a moment, Paul faltered, and his gaze stayed fixed on Emma for a few seconds. "A road trip?" He echoed, really thinking it over. He'd never taken a road trip before... The idea of spending hours at a time driving with no destination, eating packaged sandwiches out of gas stations and stopping just because of a nice view... It had never really stood out to him as something he wanted to do.

But, then again, he'd be doing it with Emma. Did that change the game? She seemed like she knew what she was doing, and any excuse to hang out with her was a good one.

"I mean, we don't have to if you don't want," She leaned against the wheel, waiting on his response. This was her way of mediating his desire to stay in Hatchetfield with her desire to get as far from it as possible. She was starting to warm to the idea of staying- pretty much entirely because of him- but god only knows she would crack if she had to spend every single day trapped here like some caged bird. A large part of her really hoped he'd agree.

"No- uh- I want to, I think... It's just unexpected."

She smiled a little. "Thought it might be fun, y'know? You can have first pick of the music."

With a nod, she motioned towards the cable running from her radio dock. Paul stared at it for a moment, tilting his head. Before too much time could pass, he picked up her phone, she muttered the passcode at him, and he started the scroll through her music library.

Emma revved the engine into action. "Hey man, warning," she put on a playful tone, causing Paul to look up suddenly from the albums he was sifting through. "There's only one bridge out, for about forty minutes we're going to be driving the highway through Clivesdale."

Paul grimaced, and ended up selecting whichever album was currently sitting under his wavering thumb. When it started playing through the car's vaguely tinny speakers, Emma's smile grew and she nodded her approval.

"Clivesdale, huh?"

"It's really fucking boring, to be honest. Everywhere looks the same. I swear to god, if you're not careful, you could end up taking a complete wrong turn without even realising..."

"So, uh..." he began to ask as Emma pulled away from the kerb and out towards the street. "Where did you have in mind? After we've gone through Clivesdale..."

"I did think we could just make up the directions as we went along, but you're not good at spontaneity, and I barely have a sense of direction, so that one's outta the window," she chuckled, shaking her head.

"People do that? What, and they just... don't get lost?"

"Right? There's no way that's possible."

Paul noticed the corner of a badly folded paper map sticking out of the glove compartment, and hummed. He was under some kind of impression that Emma knew how to get around better than he did, but it was nice to find some kind of kinship in someone else with absolutely no sense of direction.

"... So how about we just start in Michigan and see how far we get?"

He nodded, turning his gaze towards the open road. "Sounds like a plan."

#starkid #paul matthews #emma perkins #paulkins #void offering #nova's tags → #hi :) paul has never left hatchetfield :) #not any more babey! #road trip fics! #is it the anxiety or the autism im projecting onto paul? #yes. yes it is.

[kissmejusttokiss]

It's the summer of 1986, the world has never heard of Vecna, and, somehow, Steve and Robin are still working at Family Video. (Only for the summer though. They have big plans for a cross-country road trip as soon as the kids go back to school and they officially hit a year without the world ending.) Well, working.

Somewhere between the world ending for a second time and them realizing that Keith would rather burn the store down than have to take over their shifts, they stopped caring that much about doing a good job and focused more on doing a job.

(And maybe they started letting things slide... Maybe they just believed people when they said they had rewound the video before returning... Maybe they only sometimes bothered checking that the videos had been returned at all...)

(And maybe they should have realized that this wasn't a sustainable system before the angry mom came storming back into the store with a copy of The Neverending Story that had been filled entirely with Kraft Singles...)

Long story short, they're tasked with checking every. single. video case. in. the. store.

Which is exceptionally boring until Steve starts to find a bunch of notes and doodles inside the videos from the Horror and Fantasy sections. Nothing really to suggest that any of them are related other than the same scratchy handwriting and handful of inside jokes that keep popping up. They're not even reviews, really. More like streams of consciousness that occasionally connect back to the plot of the movies.

And Steve doesn't mean to keep them. He just shoves them in his jeans pocket and carries on, overly irritated that some asshole has gone out of their way to make his job harder, but then he gets home and he just doesn't throw them out. He thinks about it. Thinks about emptying his pockets into the trash and forgetting they ever existed. But then he does the opposite.

He reads them.

There's a lot of them that he doesn't quite understand. Half-baked opinions about movies that he hasn't seen and references to things that he's never heard of. There's also a lot of stuff he wishes that he didn't understand. Paragraphs about loneliness and longing and how utterly terrifying it is to be something so fragile as a human being.

And he doesn't mean to still keep them after he's read them the first time. A big part of him wants to forget them entirely. To burn them in the fireplace his parents never use and move on with his life. But he can't. He re-reads every note. Dissects the meaning of every word. Rents the movies that he hasn't seen and seeks out the sources to every reference he doesn't understand.

Somewhere along the line, he starts talking to this invisible stranger. Throwing out comments while he watches the movies. Whistling along to the cassettes he went out of town to buy. Building arguments to the notes he disagrees with. And, slowly but surely, this stranger becomes just as much a person as everyone else Steve knows and cares about.

A month passes before he manages to tell Robin. Mostly because he feels stupid about the whole thing. It's not like him to get so caught up in something like this. But Robin shakes her head and tells him that the only stupid thing about it is that he didn’t tell her sooner. She asks him if he wants to meet the stranger and, after an agonizing afternoon, she checks the rental history for the store and finds a name.

The next day, Steve is parked outside an old trailer on the other side of town.

He doesn’t know what he expects to happen here. He’s heard about the Munsons before. True stories and tall tales that all seem to agree that they're not the sort of people you make friends with. He remembers Eddie Munson vaguely from parties and rushed deals in the school parking lot. Not exactly someone Steve expected to want to see again after high school, let alone talk to about movies and the oppressive weight of being alive.

But, other than Robin, no one else has ever really seemed to get it before. And, sure, maybe Steve is putting too much meaning into Eddie's words, but what if he isn’t? What if he opens the door and sees familiarity in Eddie's eyes. Someone who understands how truly hard it all is.

So he sucks up the weirdness of it all and knocks on the door. He’s practiced his little speech. (It’s not like he can just open with how much he related to the scariest part of The Shining being the idea of being trapped in the middle of nowhere with his father...) He decided to keep it simple. Centre it on returning the notes and use his neverending charm to entice Eddie to talking to him about the rest of his opinions.

A flawless plan if Steve's ever heard one, even if he is saying so himself.

Except Eddie Munson doesn't open the door.

His uncle does.

“I’m here to talk to Eddie,” Steve says. “He here?”

Wayne lets out a deep breath and, in any other world, he’d probably look intimidating. But, in this one, he just looks tired. “I thought I told y’all to leave us be.”

“I don’t understand?”

“Haven’t y'all done enough?”

Steve feels control slipping away from him so quickly that he doesn't even try to explain before pulling the notes out of his pocket. “I work at the video store, I think-” he stops “that these are Eddie’s... I just wanted to give them back.”

And, upon seeing his nephew's writing, Wayne deflates.

“You don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?”

Steve feels it in his bones before Wayne even answers. Sees every conversation he’d planned disappear in his mind. That connection he’d felt so strongly, the chance of understanding, he doesn’t even hear the words, he just feels them.

He ends up spending the rest of the afternoon talking to Wayne. Nursing a lukewarm beer as he hears about the real Eddie. The Eddie he’ll never get to meet. The guy who got so sick he couldn’t move & still spent his last weeks prepping a campaign so he didn’t abandon his group. Who never got to finish high school but had vague dreams about traveling the country once he did. Who sold off his things and worked extra for Rick so that his uncle wouldn’t have to worry about paying for his funeral. Who couldn’t even be left in peace when he was gone.

And, sure, he wasn’t perfect but who was? He was complicated & real & how is Steve supposed to grieve this guy he never even got the chance to know?

Later, Steve goes home to his big empty house & replays the same video until his eyes are blurry. He doesn’t know what else to do.

But time passes and so does the grief.

Steve still thinks about the Munson’s sometimes. Thinks about movies that Eddie would have liked and the albums he would have been excited to hear. Thinks about him rewatching his favorite movies before the end. About how he might have felt knowing the end was coming no matter what.

He hears about Wayne moving away. He hopes he finds some peace wherever he ends up.

Months after he finds the first note, Steve finds the last. It’s in the last video Eddie rented. One they were almost positive had gotten lost. It’s shorter than the others, writing is less legible. But it’s also written for Steve. Well, not intentionally. But still.

It’s simple. An apology and a request not to fine his uncle for his notes. “I heard somewhere that you don’t actually die until that last person forgets you. Can’t blame a guy for trying to be remembered a little longer, can you?”

And, no, Steve can’t. Not even for a second.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #angst #major character death #i got yelled at on twitter for this :) #st

[phillippadgettwrites]

One for The Road, Chapter Two

Rated X / 5326 words / Posted on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

Mulder rolls up to a stop sign and the hula girl wiggles aggressively back and forth, her ceramic smile unfaltering. His mind is somehow racing and entirely blank at the same time, the torrent of thoughts too strong for any single one to be picked out and considered. He feels ecstatic, horrified, confused, afraid, elated, one after the other and then all at once on a circuit. 

What the fuck just happened?

She was gone. Gone gone. Her stuff was gone, her love was gone, and even a strained friendship proved to be too much for her. 

I can’t do this anymore.

Those words followed by the snap of the screen door slamming closed behind her echoed in his head for weeks, and when he finally summoned the energy to make and keep an appointment with a therapist, he heard those same words come out of his own mouth when asked what brought him in. 

I can’t do this anymore. 

He’s worked so hard to build something bearable out of the ruins of his life. He’s searched so diligently for meaning that isn’t rooted in trauma and pain. He’s tried so earnestly to be okay without her, and he only just recently got a handle on it—just a couple fingertips curled around the edge of the cliff, a climb out of his misery within reach. Six months of hard work to pick up the tiniest bit of momentum, and she comes crashing back into his life and sends him careening to the bottom again with her wet mouth and her— 

He startles when the car behind him honks, and he crosses the intersection before pulling off to the side of the road and digging his cell phone out of his pocket. He finds the number in his contacts list and it rings and rings and rings until it finally goes to voicemail. 

“You’ve reached Adam Glidden with Mental Health Matters Therapeutic Services. Please leave a message and I’ll return your call as soon as possible. If you’re experiencing a life threatening emergency, please hang up and call 911.”

He hangs up and stares at his phone. Six missed calls, all from Sylvia. Guilt roils in his belly, kicking up a wave of nausea. He rolls down the window to get some fresh air, then tosses his cell onto the passenger seat and keeps driving. 

It seems callous to say that he doesn’t care about her, and also inaccurate. She’s a very nice person. A very good person. The kind of person who’s too polite to ask about his scars, both physical and emotional. Adam encouraged him to get back out there and try dating, so he did, and he met Sylvia almost immediately. She pursued him and he didn’t resist, and somehow he found himself in a relationship. Every day he wakes up and does the things he needs to do to be okay: take his medication, go for a run, keep his appointments with Adam, show up for the dates Sylvia invites him on. He’s not sure that he wants to do any of these things, but he does them because the other option is rotting away on his couch pining for Scully, which he already tried. And while Adam discouraged him from using winning Scully back as motivation for getting better, he also pointed out that Mulder certainly wasn’t making himself very desirable with once-weekly showers and a solid diet of canned soup. 

Letting her slip away is the worst thing he’s ever done. Even though he knows it wasn’t entirely within his control, he’s aware that letting himself believe their bond was indestructible led to underplaying the importance of doing the things she was asking—begging—him to do. Coming out of the fog of his depression meant looking back at everything that happened with newfound clarity, and if not for the fact that she very explicitly asked him not to contact her, he would have reached out to tell her how sorry he is. How much he regrets the way things ended between them. How much he still loves her. That he’ll never stop. But for all the times she asked for space and he didn’t give it, for all the times she begged him to drop an argument and he wouldn’t, for all the times he pushed and pulled and tore her boundaries to shreds, this time he listened to her. It felt like the last good thing he could do for her after all the pain he caused. 

And now she calls him out of the blue with a plea that he remove the last remnants of himself from her life, then answers the door looking like a siren and smelling like fucking heaven. He can’t even remember if he kissed her or she kissed him. One second he was debating trying to hug her, unsure if she’d let him get that close, and the next his cock was slipping down the back of her throat. He’d think it was just a vivid fantasy if not for the wet spot on his jeans. 

Fuck, he’s getting hard again just thinking about it. This should be worthy of celebration considering the struggles he’s had between the depression and the SSRIs, but it just makes him feel like a monster. He’s never cheated on someone before. The fact that it was with Scully makes it difficult to characterize it as such, but it’s how any reasonable person would see it. It’s how Sylvia would. 

He parks in the driveway of a blue rambler with his stomach in knots, then pulls down the visor and inspects his face and neck for any signs of his indiscretion, but sees nothing. As he approaches the door, he tugs the hem of his T-shirt down to cover the fading damp spot beside his fly before he lifts his arm to knock. The door pops open before his knuckles have a chance to land, and Sylvia’s expression quickly morphs from worry to irritation. 

“Fox,” she says with a relieved sigh, her palm pressed to her chest. “You’re almost an hour late, I was worried sick.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” he says, only now realizing that he hadn’t thought to come up with an excuse for his tardiness. 

“I called you half a dozen times,” she says, stepping aside so he can enter the foyer. 

She’s not bad looking, but not necessarily good looking either. On the short side, but not so much that it’s the first thing you notice about her. Thick through the waist and hips, but not quite what you’d call chubby. She has long brown hair and delicate features, but isn’t overly feminine. On the whole, in both appearance and personality, she’s inoffensive. Anodyne. Perfectly sufficient and also perfectly boring. She seemed like a safe choice, compared to the type of women he’s typically drawn to. In fact, he wasn’t drawn to her at all. He was there, and she was there, and here they are. 

“I’m sorry, something came up,” he says, praying that she doesn’t ask him to elaborate. 

Sylvia shakes her head and smiles. 

“Well, you’re here now. Everyone’s waiting for you, come on,” she says, then pops up on her tiptoes to give him a kiss. He turns his head a little and her lips land on his cheek, a sleight she either doesn’t notice or chooses not to address. 

She grabs his hand and tows him into her dining room, where several people are seated around the table drinking and talking. 

“He’s here!” Sylvia announces, and all their heads swivel towards him with broad smiles and warm greetings. He smiles back, lifts one hand and delivers a single wave, wishes that the ground beneath his feet would open up and swallow him whole. 

Introductions are made, but he can’t retain any of it. One of them is an accountant, another works in healthcare. They’ve known Sylvia since college, or used to work with her, or live two doors down. They all tell him how much they’ve heard about him, and how glad they are to put a face to the name. Sylvia holds his hand and smiles at him, and as she’s introducing him to a woman with frizzy blonde curls who waxes poetic about how Sylvia is just the loveliest person she’s ever known, he comes to the conclusion that he has to break things off with her. He can’t carry this secret forever, and confessing seems out of the question as he’s not nearly invested enough in this relationship to put in the work that would be required to move past it. 

“Can you help me in the kitchen?” Sylvia asks as people begin to settle back in their seats. He reluctantly follows her, and she hands him a basket of rolls before pulling a pot roast out of the oven. “Hopefully it’s not too dry; it’s been sitting in here a while,” she says without malice. 

“I’m so sorry, Sylvia,” he says, his fingers digging into the woven sides of the bread basket. 

“It’s okay,” she says, setting the pot roast on the cooktop. “Things happen, not a huge deal. Just call me next time, okay?”

She looks over her shoulder and flashes him a smile, and he’s overcome with anger. Why couldn’t Scully just let him have this? This banal relationship that isn’t even in the same universe as what he had with her, but dulls the edges of his loneliness to the point of tolerability. Is she going to punish him forever for fucking things up between them? As though losing her wasn’t already the greatest consequence imaginable?

“No,” he says, hanging his head. “I’m sorry…I can’t do this.”

She doesn’t say anything, and after a handful of seconds pass he peeks up at her. She’s standing there frozen with an oven mitt on one hand, her eyebrows stitched and a tiny frown on her mouth. 

“Have dinner with my friends?” she asks hopefully. Mulder shakes his head. 

“No. This. Us. I’m sorry.”

She huffs a disbelieving scoff, pulling the oven mitt off and tossing it on the counter. 

“Why?” 

He shrugs. There’s no point in telling her the truth; it will only hurt her more. 

“I just don’t think…We’re not a good match,” he tries. 

She nods and leans against the counter with her arms crossed over her chest, her eyes growing increasingly wet. 

“Is this about your ex?” she asks tightly. 

He opens his mouth to say no, but instead just repeats, “I’m sorry.”

Sylvia bites her lip, but he sees her jaw quivering. Sees tears pooling along her bottom lash line. She doesn’t deserve this. He takes one step forward and she holds her hand up to stop him. 

“Just go,” she squeaks out as the first tear breaks loose and rolls down her cheek. 

“I’m sorry,” he says again. 

She turns her back to him and wipes at her eyes, and he silently walks down the hall and out the front door without saying goodbye to her friends. He tries not to think about what she’ll tell them, tries not to be bothered by how bad he looks in this situation. He gets in his car and drives away from the closest thing to normal he’s gotten in years. 

He should go home. He should leave a message for Adam and ask for an emergency appointment. He should go on a run, take a shower, and get shitfaced. He should take accountability for his role in what happened. 

Instead he drives back to Scully’s house. 

It’s dusk now, and her driveway is barely lit by the one naked bulb screwed into her porch light. Still, revisiting the scene of the crime makes his blood hum a little, remembering her knees on the pavement and his dick in her mouth. He tries to channel his arousal into anger, already writing a speech in his head about how if she’s never going to give him another chance, she should leave him the hell alone. How unfair it is that she doesn’t want him, but can’t stand to know that he’s with anyone else. 

It takes a few minutes for her to come to the door, though he knows she’s home by the presence of her car and several lights on inside. When she finally answers she’s tying a silk bathrobe around her waist, her hair up in a messy bun, and she looks genuinely shocked to see him. 

“Mulder,” she says, adjusting the robe and revealing a sliver of her breast, which gives the impression she’s not wearing anything underneath. 

“What the fuck was that, Scully?!” he shouts at her, trying to avert his eyes from her chest, and she cocks her head back a little.

“I—” she starts, but he has so much more he needs to say. 

“Do you have any idea how hard this has been for me?” he continues, his volume unnecessarily loud. “Do you even care?”

Her eyes dart around the driveway behind him. 

“Can you keep your voice down, please?” she implores gently. 

“Oh, now you’re worried about the neighbors?!” he says, holding his arms out as though addressing the neighborhood. “Six months, Scully! Six months of therapy, and medication, and trying to find a reason to get out of bed every day knowing that you’re never coming back. Six months of work down the drain after fifteen minutes with you.”

She wilts a little, not at all resembling the confident woman who climbed into his lap and fucked his brains out not two hours ago. 

“I’m sorry,” she says, her eyes on his feet. “I don’t know—It just happened.”

“It just happened,” he repeats, emphasizing every word. “You somehow find out that I’m seeing someone, and then by utter coincidence you just happen to find some of my stuff—none of which I recognize, by the way—and then you just happen to beg me to come over, and you just happen to be wearing some skin tight getup with your tits pushed up to your neck, and you just happen to blow me in your fucking driveway?! That seems totally plausible, Scully, especially for you.”

Her head is bowed, but he hears a wet sniff before she discreetly runs one finger under her eye to wipe away a tear. 

“I’m sorry,” she says again. “I shouldn’t have done that. You deserve to be happy.”

“Happy?!” he bellows, and her head snaps up to regard him with wide, wet eyes. She grabs his wrist and pulls him into her entryway, then closes the door behind them as he continues to yell, his throat already growing hoarse. “Happy isn’t even on the fucking menu, Scully! The best I can hope for is that I won’t wake up every day for the rest of my life, look over at your empty side of the bed, and remember that I destroyed the best thing that ever happened to me.” 

“Then why haven’t you called?!” she wails, apparently comfortable matching his energy behind closed doors. “If this relationship means so much to you, why haven’t I heard from you in six months?”

Mulder is so overwhelmed with disbelief that he just stares at her for a beat. Her eyes are puffy and bloodshot, and her lips are stained with wine. She’s been crying since long before he showed up. 

“I can’t do this anymore,” he says, repeating her own words back to her. “Every time I see you I can barely get out of bed for days.” She’s shaking her head, her face crumpled and her bottom lip trembling. “Please let me go.”

“I didn’t mean forever,” she warbles. “I just couldn’t watch you waste away anymore. I just couldn’t—”

She’s crying too hard to form words. She covers her face with both hands and he stands there watching her shoulders lurch with her sobs. Had he really misunderstood what she said, or did she just have so little faith he would pull through that it didn’t seem worth clarifying?

He steps forward and wraps his arms around her, which only makes her cry harder. She clings to him, grabs fistfuls of his T-shirt, struggles to catch her breath. It’s not the first time he’s held her this way, but it’s been a long time since he has. That’s not to say she hasn’t needed it. 

She finally settles a little and steps away from him, looking embarrassed, and he gives her a minute to collect herself. She wipes mascara off her cheeks, re-ties her robe, and glances at him in little flashes as she tries to speak. 

“Do you know how long it’s been since you yelled at me?” she says in a harsh whisper, and he’s about to feel guilty when he sees a pained little smile tug at her mouth. “It’s been so long since you cared about anything enough to get mad.”

The dual meaning isn’t lost on him. 

“I never stopped caring about you,” he says quietly. “But I know it looked like I did. And probably felt like I did. I don’t think there are sufficient words to express how sorry I am for that.”

He can tell by the look on her face that she needed to hear it. He scoops her up again and she lays her head on his chest, her arms wrapped around his waist. She pulls in a deep breath and relaxes against him, and he drops a kiss to the top of her head. 

They stand there like that for minutes, and after a time his hands on her back wander to her hips, stroking the silk of her bathrobe and the familiar curves of her body. She wriggles a little, her hips gently canting towards him, and it’s like speaking a language he’d all but forgotten. Part of him worries that he’s misreading her, but a bigger part of him—the part that is steadily thickening beneath his jeans—knows without a doubt that he isn’t. He runs his palm over her hip and down her thigh until he’s touching bare skin, and then back up under the hem of her bathrobe. She heaves a shuddering breath when he digs his fingers into the flesh of her ass cheek, then lifts her head off his chest and looks up at him. 

Her lips are parted, her brow knit, and her eyes scatter all over his face desperately. Countless times he’s dreamt of this moment. Another chance to show her how much she means to him. Another chance to taste her and touch her without taking her for granted. Another chance to love her. Another chance. 

He lowers his head slowly and she cranes her neck up to meet him, whimpering when he presses his mouth against hers. She tastes tart and salty and she kisses him deeply, lapping hungrily at his tongue as he sends his other hand up under her robe to join the first. She’s so smooth, so supple, so soft and warm and delicious. He wants to lick every inch of her, fuck every part of her, make her come so hard she can’t breathe. His grief converts itself to desire and he is devastated, inconsolable, bereft as he walks her back a few steps and then pushes her up against the wall. 

He has to stoop down a little, but he always has. She moans in anticipation when he slips his hand through the slit in her robe and cups her, the heel of his palm pressing against her clit. He feels her flutter against his skin, the little trembling throbs she used to try to disguise in the early days before she was comfortable letting him see her fall apart. Now, a decade and a lifetime later, she bucks her hips against his hand and bites his bottom lip, then whispers, “You’re gonna make me come,” right into his mouth.

With his free hand, he tugs at the tie on her robe and it falls open. Her nipples are tight, her belly undulating as she grinds against his palm. She’s so fucking beautiful. He kisses her as he gently presses the tips of his fingers against her opening, not quite going inside, and her cunt presses back. She’s so wound up, like she’s been on the edge for hours. Maybe for months. Maybe for years. Maybe since that first time she palmed him over his sweatpants and he pushed her hand away, knowing that even if he were able to get hard he wouldn’t be able to sustain it. 

But he’s hard now. Painfully hard. He strokes himself over his jeans just to feel how hard he is, further aroused by his own arousal. He thinks about what he used to do to her with this hard dick. What she used to let him do to her. How they used to fuck for hours in shitty motel rooms just to pass the time. How he ever let her go is more confounding to him than ever as he slips two fingers inside her and she moans long and low before she starts coming right in the palm of his hand. Her legs quiver and he feels the strain of her weight on his wrist, so he hoists her up against the wall and pins her there with his body, continuously stroking her from the inside as she comes and comes and comes. 

A deep sigh tells him she’s finished, and he moves his hand to her hip, his fingers cooling in the open air. She drapes her arms over his shoulders and kisses him languidly, but suddenly she’s pulling away and looking at him like he just delivered devastating news. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, tucking a lock of hair that’s fallen out of her bun behind her ear. 

She pushes on his shoulders, squirming out of his arms and then taking several steps away from him. When she turns around, her robe is tied up tight and her entire demeanor has changed. 

“What is this?” she asks, shifting from one foot to the other uncomfortably. “I can’t be your mistress, Mulder.” 

It hadn’t even occurred to him to tell her. 

“You’re not,” he says, taking two steps forward. “I broke things off with her.”

Something unreadable passes over her face. Surprise. Pride. Confusion. Curiosity. 

“Was it…” she pauses, considering something. “Was it serious?”

“No,” he says quickly, meeting her eye. She nods, looking relieved. 

He takes another step forward and reaches for her, and while she doesn’t reach back, she also doesn’t resist. He lays his hands on her upper arms experimentally, then slides them up to her neck, her jaw. He tilts her face up towards his, taking in the dusting of freckles across her nose that are dappled with flecks of cried-off mascara. It hurts to think about how much he’s hurt her, so he tries not to.  

“You know…” he begins, and his heart immediately starts hammering. “You know you can always come home,” he finishes, and her face falls. “I know you’re probably not ready for that, but I want you to know that the option is always there.”

“I miss you so much,” she says tightly, her eyes welling with tears. “But thinking about living in that house with you again—”

He shakes his head to quiet her. 

“I know,” he says. He rests his forehead against hers and sighs. “I get it, Scully. I promise, I do. My therapist has done a phenomenal job of helping me understand what that must have been like for you.”

He hears her suck in a shaky breath, then feels her hands on the back of his neck. She’s quiet for a beat, and he imagines that he’s transmitting his sincerity from his mind to hers via that little patch of skin where their heads are touching. If she knew how truly he meant it, how absolutely unwavering he would be in his commitment to being better for her, maybe she’dfeel ready soon.

“Are you really seeing a therapist?” she asks. 

“Yep. And taking a daily cocktail of Prozac and endorphins. I don’t think I need to tell you that you were right; I was depressed.”

She nods and scrapes her fingernails through the hair at the nape of his neck, making him shiver. 

“Not glad to be right, in this case,” she says. Another long pause, and he can practically feel her thoughts racing against his skin “What if I wanted to see you, but not move back in?” she asks hesitantly. “Would that be okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, his heart soaring. “That would be okay.”

“And what if…What if I didn’t want you to see anyone else?”

Their foreheads are still pressed together, so he can’t see her face, but he hears in her voice how afraid she is. 

“I don’t want anyone else,” he says. “Never have.”

She sighs and pops onto her tiptoes, kissing his cheek, and then his neck, then burrows her nose into the curve of his shoulder, and he wraps his arms around her waist, holding her close. 

“Thank you,” she says quietly. 

After a moment, she reverses her order and kisses his neck, then his cheek, and then his lips, lingering there until the kisses begin to deepen.

“I’d like to take you to bed, but I don’t know where the bedroom is,” he says, and her little chuckle is like music to his ears. 

She takes his hand and leads him further into her fastidious home. They pass through the living room where earlier that day she handed him a box of what he has to assume was shit she picked up at a thrift store, and then down a hallway. When they step through her bedroom door, she freezes and says, “Oh,” a split second before his eyes fall to her bed, where the blankets are pulled back and a hot pink vibrator lays abandoned near the pillow. 

She looks up at him bashfully and he smiles at her. 

“It seems as though I interrupted something here, my apologies,” he says playfully. “Feel free to finish up, I don’t mind watching.”

“Yes, I recall,” she says, turning her back to the bed and letting the robe slip off her shoulders and onto the floor at her feet. “Maybe some other time.”

She starts to unbutton his jeans, and blood rushes back to his cock. He watches her, nude and flushed from her orgasm, as she slowly undresses him: jeans, shirt, and then boxers. She watches her own hand as she strokes him, then looks up and flashes a Cheshire Cat smile. 

“This is quite impressive,” she says, stepping close so her breasts press against his rib cage. 

“You like that?” he asks, thrusting into her hand. Her praise makes him harder, makes precum leak out of him and run down her fingers. 

“I do,” she says in a breathy singsong voice. 

He feels feral. If she’s looking for something slow and tender he’ll give it to her, but his bones are buzzing with the desire to fuck her senseless, to claim her as his, to make her feel the way he did when the idea that they would ever not be together was laughable. He clenches his jaw and flexes his hips, trembling with restraint. 

“What do you want?” he asks her, his voice catching when she wraps her hand around his balls and tugs. “I want to make you feel good.”

She reaches one hand up and pulls him down by the back of his neck, kissing him while she plays with his cock. 

“I want you to fuck me,” she says against his mouth, and his knees nearly give out. “Show me how much you want me. Please.”

He picks her up and deposits her on the bed, flips her onto her belly, grabs her by the hips and pulls her up until she’s on all fours. For a second he just looks at the red slash between her legs, swollen and slick, unable to decide whether to fuck her or eat her. She drops down to her forearms, putting her cunt on full display, and wiggles her hips back and forth temptingly. 

He moans at the taste of her. Sweet and summery, with the slightest hint of his own bleachy brightness still left behind from earlier. He licks her clit, her ass, fucks her with his tongue, and she gasps and pushes back against him, hungry for more. His dick feels like it might shoot right off his body if he doesn’t get some relief soon, and when he finally gets to his knees and pushes inside her, they both groan and hold mostly still, grinding against each other and savoring it. 

She sits back up a little, changing the angle of her pelvis, and he wraps his arm around her waist to hold her steady before he starts bucking up into her at a quick clip. She fucks him right back, their hips moving in a synchronous dance that provides constant friction, and she’s coming again so quickly that he has to squeeze his eyes closed and think about global warming to keep himself from coming. 

Next she’s on her back, her legs tucked up against his sides and their bellies pressed together. He kisses her neck, sucks on her earlobe, tells her how good she feels as he slips in and out of her, brushing past her clit over and over. She claws at his back and pulls him as close as possible when she erupts again, and he grits his teeth against the tight squeeze of her, barely hanging on. 

He rolls off of her and she climbs into his lap with a shy smile, then brushes her slick lips over his shaft, forward and back, while he watches, slack jawed. She leans forward and shifts her hips around, teasing herself with the head of his cock until he finally slips inside. He blows out a stream of air, knowing he’s too close to hold off much longer, and she sits up, looking at him with a dreamy expression. 

“Are you gonna come?” she asks, her hips moving in delicious circles that make his balls draw up tight. 

“I want you to come again,” he says tightly, gripping her hips. 

She moans, and he feels her throb around him. 

“I wanna feel you come,” she says determinedly. “I want you to come inside me.”

“Fuck,” he says, his hips jumping. He can’t hold off any longer, not if she keeps talking like that. “Then fuck me.”

She plants her hands on his shoulders and flexes her hips quickly forward and back, simultaneously grinding her clit against him and providing an incredibly tight fit. Stars burst behind his eyes, his body curls up towards hers as all his muscles tense, and he bellows loudly as he explodes inside her. 

“Oh my god,” she gasps, her mouth hanging open and her eyes closed as he feels her grip him like a vice. 

It’s overwhelming, and he breaks with reality as they both wail and come with complete abandon, riding it out until there isn’t a single drop of pleasure left to be found. She collapses against his chest, nuzzling his neck and humming with satisfaction. He doesn’t move at all, afraid she’ll take it as a sign she should get up, and they both doze in a sea of dopamine and oxytocin for an indeterminate amount of time. His stomach growls, and she props herself up on her elbows, smiling down at him. 

“Have you eaten dinner?” she asks, and he thinks of Sylvia’s dried out pot roast, then shakes his head. 

“Not technically, no,” he says, bouncing his hips playfully. 

“Would you like to have dinner with me?” she asks hopefully.

He’d like to have her back for keeps, but dinner will have to suffice for now.  

“I’d love to.”

#x files fanfic #the x files #xf fic #xf fanfic

[armpirate]

The Only One || JJK || Ch. 38

Pairings: mafia!jk x fem!reader

Genre: smut, angst, mafia, contract relationship

Warnings: Prostitution, torture, blood, use of drugs and weapons

Summary: You've always wished for a better life. Every single day at work, you were hoping something would change. Although you didn't think that change would come in the form of one mysterious man and a contract.

His controlling and selfish behaviour only wanted to keep you away from any other man that wasn't him, and you only had to wait for him.

Too bad you really thought you'd be smarter than Jeon Jungkook.

Previous || Next

MASTERLIST

Aprox. time of reading: 15 minutes

The way back to the police station was silent, with barely any sound from other cars -it wasn't like there were many that time of the year, especially in the area that connected with all the touristic spots. Her brain was keeping her from any sound that could interrupt the several questions that were going through her head. They already had many enemies, she would have to worry about the police as well?

She was feeling overwhelmed, unable to keep up with everything that was happening at once, while Jungkook held the wheel tight at the same time his eyes flew in her direction a few times. He was able to see the tension and worry, and there was nothing that made him angrier than having the feeling he could be of help, but he didn't know how.

Her breath got heavier when his car crossed the bridge, feeling like she was forced back into reality. The familiar and calm vibes that she felt from the other side were completely disappearing as soon as he stopped in front of the first traffic light. Under the red light, Jungkook was finally able to look at her, eyes falling to the way her fingers moved nervously on her lap.

—Maybe it has nothing to do with me —he whispered, covering her hands with his palm.

—No —she shook her head, scoffing—. Police came to my place to come at me for sneaking inside the bus a few times when I was eighteen.

—What if it's a trick? —he mumbled.

Y/n's eyes went from the dashboard to Jungkook, catching his eyes briefly before he focused back on the road.

He wanted to keep those thoughts in the back of his head to focus on her, on her reaction and her feelings until they arrived at the police station. He didn't want to alarm her, but it was obvious it was already too late. She was nervous and anxious, expecting anything to come at them at that point.

—Maybe they're pretending to be cops.

—I don't think they're pretending, but they're clearly on Pedro's payroll —she shrugged—. Comissars, politics... I've seen a lot of them coming to the club. They don't need to pretend to be cops, because they already have cops on their side. And I doubt they'd appoint me at the police station if they wanted to do something to me. What worries me is if it has nothing to do with Pedro or your father.

—It'll be okay —he assured her.

Y/n wanted to believe his words, she really wanted to think it was something they could ignore, but having someone watching their every move would only complicate everything they were planning to do.

—Sure it'll be—she nodded, pointing at the last turn he had to take—. It's here —she informed him.

—Hun, it'll be okay —he repeated, holding her wrist when she unbuckled her belt—. Don't let them get to you.

—Easier said than done —she managed to tease him, dedicating a weak smile to him.

Chuckling at her comment, he pulled her close with a hand behind her neck, leaving a short kiss on her forehead.

—I'll be waiting for you here.

He'd always wait for her. She knew that quite well, and maybe that was the problem from the beginning. On her way to the police station, she started thinking about what good she brought into his life. It was as if everything that could turn out wrongly would only happen after she showed up in his life -and she admitted her fault on it.

Y/n walked around the place, guided to a desk in particular after she repeated the name Jorge had sent her through text. The only times she had stepped inside a police station was to renew her ID, but she was able to feel the pressure as she was guided through the room.

It wasn't like she had seen in several movies and TV shows, where she got anxious with the amount of people coming and going and the constant ringing of phones. It was calm, even silent. Maybe that day was particularly silent.

—Y/n? —the brunet bearded man asked the uniformed cop.

Both of their heads turned to her. The cop who was in his civilian clothes, and that she thought was the person looking for her, nodded at the other man and signaled him to leave them two alone.

—I'm Agent Ramirez —he introduced himself.

—I know, I had to ask for you just a minute ago —her tone was dry, blocking any aim to get closer to her.

The man just nodded, taken aback by her sudden answer and her defensive pose. There was no use in trying to soften everything, and act like she was there for something dumb and stupid that could've been solved through a phone call. He guided her to one of the free rooms, making sure there was no one inside, and hoping there was someone listening at the other side of the mirror.

—Do you know why you're here?

—I'm not a fortune teller, so you tell me —she answered, taking a seat.

The room was dark, barely lit with more than just two white lamps, and it was only making her stress get worse.

—Jeon Jungkook.

She clicked her tongue at the pronunciation of his name, crossing her arms over her chest before she corrected him.

—Whatever —he sighed—. What's your relationship with him?

—I'm his girlfriend.

—For how long have you known him?

—A few months.

—Be exact.

She pressed her lips tight, trying to clear up the dates after everything that had happened in such a short span of time.

—Almost four months —her eyes squinted while looking at the man standing in front of her, seeing him playing with the beige folder in his hands—. And this is important because...?

—Because you're still on time to run away from this with no consequences.

—Is this what the police do in Spain now? —she scoffed, eyebrows arching— You all have nothing better to do than going to random people's places and sticking your noses into their love lives?

—Not everyone is mingling with a drug dealer and procurer —he cut her off.

Her throat closed off at the cutting answer he dedicated to her, opening the file to drop some pictures over the table. Most of them were blurry, and it was hard for her to tell whether it was Jungkook or not, except for one. The agent topped all of the other pictures with one where Jungkook was clearly visible, talking with Yejun -and judging by some of the people in the background's clothes, she was sure those were taken during the summer. She could recognize the suit he wore the night they met, and how his hair was perfectly styled to the sides before she made a mess of it.

—I know you were working for a while in Pedro's club. And your father told me you moved out not long ago because you found a job overseas. Whatever you know, you should tell us. Jungkook, Park Jimin, Pedro Montes... all of them are dangerous people, and...

—Is there any proof except for this picture? —she pointed to it with her head.

—What?

—I'm asking if there's any proof for your accusations except for this picture —she reiterated, getting comfortable on the chair while her legs crossed under the table—. Or your scoop didn't have the balls to give you more? —her eyebrow raised.

—This has been an investigation going on for quite a long time...

—Yet all you could get was five blurry pictures, and a stalker-ish picture taken without Jungkook's consent while he was in a meeting to amplify his business in Europe.

—That's why you should work with us, do the right thing, and get all those assholes behind bars.

He was looking at her attentively, hiding his smile when he was aware of the way her fingers moved over the pictures. Almost as if she were getting ready to say something and open up about all the secrets she was keeping.

—Hope you know this is defamation —she mentioned, not even moving her eyes up to him—. You should know better than to waste people's time when your only proof is that —she challenged him—. My private life is no one's business. And if you don't know how to do your job properly, find a better way to find out things than sticking your nose inside things that aren't your problem.

—It was hard, right? —he interrupted her, supporting the weight of his body on the hand that landed over the table— Leaving your studies and your family, and being forced to live a poor life in this shitty place... I know that luxury life, after you came from nothing, is tempting. But it's not worth it. You don't owe anything to Jungkook. Be smart, look out for your family and break any strings you have with him. We'll give you protection, and everything you need if you collaborate.

She could feel her heart racing at that sudden attack, throat closing at only remembering the thoughts that she would constantly try to hide even from herself.

Y/n scoffed, looking down while that ironic smile adorned her face, looking up at him again to let out the calmest response she could give in that moment.

—Is that it? —she managed to ask— If you don't have any more bullshit to say, can I leave? I have things to do.

Without answering, he just nodded and allowed her to head to the door. She stopped on her tracks, momentarily making him think she might've changed her mind and was willing to help.

—All that crap better not leak to the media unless you want to deal with his lawyers —she warned him.

She walked fast, making her way from the room she was into the main entrance, feeling her heart getting smaller in her chest with every step she took. As soon as the cold air hit her face and filled her lungs, a loud gasp left her lips along with some of the teardrops she wasn't able to stop.

Jungkook was in danger, and so were Jorge and Carla, and it all was because of her and her bad decisions. The same cycle went on again. She kept hurting everyone around her, even if those people had given her everything she could ask for. She managed to find a way to harm them somehow.

The reverse of her hand wiped those few tears away, and dried the wet trace on her cheeks, at the same time she tried to breathe deeply. She kept trying to control her thoughts, and go back to nothing before she met with him again.

She didn't speak, she tried to seem cheerful and carefree when she joined him back in the car, but he knew there was something wrong. A quick look into her eyes and he was able to tell that the tone of her voice and her smile weren't in sync with what her gaze was showing. He wanted to ask, or at least let her know that he knew he didn't believe a single word that escaped her lips, but she wanted him to believe everything was alright. And while he wanted to support and comfort her, he also understood that what she wanted in that moment is to believe he bought a single word she let out.

He would gladly do that for her.

—And when he told me all that bullshit, I told him he better not spread those lies around unless he wants you to take legal action.

—Look at you being a tiny mafia boss —he patted her head.

—Can you drop me home? —she asked— I think Jorge deserves an explanation. Or, at least, tell him it's nothing he should worry about.

—Sure. I'll wait for you in the car.

Jungkook started the car, only to drive two minutes away from the police station and stop right in front of her portal. He wouldn't leave her side, not with everything that was happening, so it wasn't on his plans to drop her at her place and leave until they met again. He learned from his past mistakes, and he wasn't thinking of repeating them.

She hopped off the car, kissing his cheek loudly, earning a smile from him, the sweet sound filling the guts she needed to confront Jorge.

Usually, the common courtyard was either empty, or there were two of her neighbors talking between them, not loud enough to let everyone know what they were talking about, but audible enough to let it be known they were dealing with some dangerous information for someone. Although it was obvious for her she was the target, when she stepped inside the building and their eyes traveled instantly to her, at the same time their conversation was suddenly cut off. It wasn't like she cared, it wasn't one of her problems, but she hoped that would prepare her for what she was going to deal with.

The door clicked, and she was met with the murmuring voices from the TV, and a pair of suitcases under the green crystal shelf at the left of the corridor, where they'd leave the keys. She did her best ignoring all the flashbacks that were battling to get inside her head, getting strength out of nowhere to step deeper in the house, turning to the left at the first double door to meet Jorge, who was sitting at the edge of the couch while he stared at her.

—Are you cleaning up? —she pointed behind her.

—I hope not —he sighed—. Let's not play around, can we? We both have always gone straight to the point.

—If this is because of the police showing up... It was a misunderstanding.

—That's what you told them? —he raised his eyebrow— And they ate it up? No wonder the country is going nowhere if we depend on dumbasses like them —he complained, sighing as he stood up.

—I don't really know w...

Her voice was stopped by the loud slap of his hand against the table, making her whole body jump.

—Don't play dumb with me, Y/n. I've known you for way too long to know what you're doing. You suddenly disappeared, the amount of money you had and gave to us when you weren't even around, and the way you showed up to disappear again? —he stopped her— I won't tolerate you treating me like a fool. Not with something so serious.

—I've done nothing wrong.

—You didn't, but the dude you're with did. Did you think about yourself? Or did you even think of Carla for once? Do you have any fucking idea the danger you could put her in for the people you mingled with?

—Jungkook wouldn't hurt anyone I care for.

—Let's say he wouldn't, what about the people that would want to hurt him? Or you? I gave you a home, and I treated you like a daughter. And I'd always consider you a part of my family. Y/n, this is your family. We will always be here for you no matter what, and you're still on time to make the right decision.

Her expression twisted at his words, understanding the meaning behind them and what his intention was.

—I'm sorry you did what you did all this time —he apologized with a shaky voice—. I'm sorry you felt forced to throw yourself into that life to make up for my debts. But you don't need to do that anymore.

—Why are you feeling sorry for that? —the longer the minutes passed, the burning in her eyes increased— It wasn't your fault.

—You can move away from all of that. Go to the police, and make the right decision. Just say you were scared, or whatever you come up with, and come back home. We'll leave this in the past.

—I can't —she shook her head, feeling the knot in her throat tightening—. I can't —her lip trembled—. Please, don't do this. Don't make me choose.

—He's a stranger, for fuck's sake —Jorge stepped back—. You're willing to risk your life, and ours, for him? Carla looks up to you, what am I supposed to tell her?

—Whatever you want to tell her, it's your choice —she whispered, trying to remain as calm as possible—. Whether you want her to hate me or love me, and be relevant or not in her life, it's okay. I deserve it all, to be honest. Just, please, keep all the money I've sent you all these months. And make sure you use the money in the savings account for her university.

After a few months with them, Y/n started sending some of the money she earned to Jorge's savings account. Not expecting anything special in return, she just wanted to make sure there would be some money left for some important things to spend it on. And through the years she realized how important it was. That money was left untouched even when they needed it the most, only because she wanted Carla to have the future she never was able to have, even if that meant crawling to Pedro's dump.

She didn't want to break out crying right there, so she just nodded with her words still flying in the air between them. Picking up her things, she left her place under the attentive eyes of her neighbors, keeping herself as stiff and tough as she had always pretended to be like. She didn't break when she stepped outside, or when Jungkook helped her with her suitcases, and not even when he dropped the killing question and asked her what happened.

She broke when they were completely in silence, only surrounded by the roaring sound of the engine, and while her thoughts consumed her. Her lip trembled fast, unable to stop it -it didn't matter how much she tightened her jaw-, followed by a sob that worked as the start of countless tears rolling down her cheeks uncontrollably.

Jungkook gave her space and time to think by herself, but when he saw her in that state he was unable to just ignore it. He stopped the car at the side of the road, right next to another car that was parked, along with several others, in line. His hand caressed the back of her neck, while his other hand rested on her thigh, trying to calm her down, before he managed to unbuckle her belt and pull her in for a hug.

—It's all my fault —he managed to hear after a few minutes just hearing sobs and snorts—. I don't deserve to be around anyone.

—Y/n, how can you say something like that?

—I only hurt people —she answered, her voice cracking in the middle of the sentence—. I've put everyone in danger. Jorge, Carla, you...

—First of all, I'm the one who put you in danger —he cut her off—. And I thought you said you would protect me? Are you giving up on your skills already?

He tried to soften the situation she was going through at that moment. She was pretty aware of her reality, but being confronted with it is a completely different experience.

—You don't understand. If you had only seen the way he was looking at me —she shook her head in his chest—. I make it all worse for everyone. If I hadn't come into your life...

—If you hadn't come into my life, I wouldn't know what's living in the first place —he whispered—. You said you didn't regret a single thing we did, so? I don't regret a single thing either. I said I would die for you. And knowing my life is worth so much now that I have someone to die for is way better than spending my days being safe in my tower. You've only brought good things into my life.

Y/n finally moved back to look at him, with her whole body bouncing with the hiccups and her eyes looking puffy and red from crying. His thumbs wiped her tears away, while he just smiled to comfort her.

—And I know their protection worries you, I already worked on it. Two men will be watching them until all of this is over. It'll be fine.

Y/n hid her face on his chest again, wrapping her arms tight around his waist. Jungkook chuckled at her action, quickly patting her head while the other arm wrapped tight around her body and pulled her closer, as if he wanted them to morph into one.

—I love you —she managed to say, voice sounding drowned.

—I love you, too, doll.

Just like it happened earlier in the morning, the buzzing of a phone broke the moment, making them look at each other before Jungkook lifted his hips to get his phone out of the back pocket of his pants.

He smirked, pleased with how everything was working just how he wanted. Aware of Y/n's curious eyes, he moved the screen in her direction so she'd be able to read.

Pedro was throwing a party in the name of a good friend of his, and it seemed like they already had a plan for that night. 

Taglist: @kaiparkerwifes @sheylamc @amy2006jones @allamericanuniverse @00frenchfries00 @massivelyfullenthusiast

#fanfic #ff #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkookxreader #jk #bts #wattpad #kookie #smut #jungkook smut #mafia!au #The Only One #reader insert #armpirate

[highwaytothedangerzone502]

Ghost Story - Chapter 3

Pairing: Rooster x Female OC

Word Count: 2065

Warnings: Mild swearing

Summary: No one will miss a ghost. It'd been a running joke for as long as anyone could remember, something Ghost herself started, and she always said it with a smile on her face or with mirth in her voice. The untouchable stealth pilot in every sense of the word, no one could've predicted the depth of her turmoil over recent events, nor the extremes she would go to in order to protect the man she loved, not even those closest to her. Now, all that was left of the young aviator for Maverick, Hangman, and Rooster were the memories of the past, which would slowly fade with time. She'd come into their lives and made an unforgettable impression, and then, like a ghost, she was gone... Then again, ghosts can't die a second time.

Notes: The chapters/parts in italics are flashbacks. Also, I know I used Melissa Benoist as Juliette in India Lima Yankee but I really love her as an actress okay...

Chapter Songs: There She Goes Haven't Met You Yet

***

Ghost

God, he looked good. Rooster had always been attractive, but after not seeing him for so long, something about the distance made him all the more handsome. She loved how casual he looked in his white tee, unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt that she was pretty sure was one of his dad's, and his soulful brown eyes. One look from him, and Ghost was ready to tell him all her secrets.

"So, what have you been up to? Other than pulling off death-defying stunts and stealing enemy planes?" Ghost inquired, hoping to push into the territory of relationships to see if he was single. If not, she was going for him before another woman caught his eye. She'd been head over heels for Bradley Bradshaw since she laid eyes on him, even when they got on each other's last nerves. However, Hangman had wooed her long ago, and by the time the two of them broke up, Ghost decided Rooster held no romantic feelings for her, despite the evident attraction between the two that came to a head when they had their second, drunken one-night stand the night before she had to deploy again. Terrified of the feelings she was developing for him, Ghost ghosted him, leaving only a note to say goodbye rather than face him and discuss what that night meant for them. Rooster had never brought it up, nor had he brought up their first one-night stand. It was as if neither ever happened for both of them.

"Not much. A lot of work, catching up with Mav, and enjoying the beach. You?"

"Same as you, I suppose. Work took over a lot of my life. Judging by your interaction at the Hard Deck, can I assume things are good between you and Maverick now?"

"Yeah, we're good."

"Good. I know you were upset with him for a long time."

Rooster gave a half-smile. "That's putting it mildly. How are things with you and your mom? I know it got tense after your dad."

"We're okay," Ghost admitted, crossing her legs and staring out the window. "We could be better, but we could certainly be worse. I guess, like Maverick, she's afraid to lose me. Listen, I don't think I ever thanked you for being there for me through all that. I was a wreck after losing my dad, and you helped me through it more than you know."

Without taking his eyes off the road, Rooster reached over and patted her bare leg, sending electric shockwaves throughout her body. "I'm glad I was there for you."

"I'm sure you have other things to do tonight, or maybe a girlfriend to see, but if you don't, you're welcome to hang out while I unpack," Ghost offered as he pulled up to her apartment.

Rooster checked his phone and shut off the engine. "I think I could spare some time."

"Got a hot date later or something?"

"No, but I do the day after tomorrow."

Ghost's heart sank, but she feigned happiness for him. "Oh, yeah? Who's the lucky lady?"

"I'll let you know if it works out."

"Oh, come on, since when do you not tell me the names of the girls you're dating? The only time you were ever hesitant to tell me was when it was someone I was friendly with." Ghost's own words caused an epiphany. "Wait, is it someone I know?!"

Rooster shook his head. "I don't know, but it's literally our first date, so it's nothing serious. She asked me out, I said yes, and that was that," he said, pulling up to Ghost's little beachside condo. They hopped out of his Bronco and up the steps to the quaint home. Stepping inside, they were greeted with mounds of boxes. Rooster ignored the clutter and asked, "What about you? You and Hangman seem to still have something going on."

Ghost shook her head. "It's… complicated. We have a history both platonically and romantically, and I still love him. I always will, but I just… I don't think I'm in love with him anymore. I'm still trying to figure out if the feelings I get around him are because I miss him or because I miss being in a relationship."

"So, no guys on your radar?"

"One, but he's soon to be taken." Ghost shrugged, faking acceptance of the situation, and shuffled into her room. She didn't want Rooster prodding into the matter, but he could still read her annoyingly well, and he picked up on it now.

Following her into the bedroom, he said, "Talk to me, Ghost. Who is he? I can tell it's bothering you."

She shook her head, refusing to cave. "Nah, it'll be fine. Once there's distance between us again, it'll pass. On a different note, what are you getting Penny for her birthday? I was thinking of getting her tickets to a show for her, Maverick, and Amelia."

"You're already one step ahead of me," Rooster admitted, coming to stand beside her as she unpacked her box full of clothes. "I have no idea what to get her. I'm clueless when it comes to gifts."

"No, you're not. Remember that amethyst ring you gave me for my birthday? I'd seen it in the window at some port we docked at, but I didn't buy it. I don't know when you managed to do it, but you bought it for me after I couldn't stop talking about it. Or how about that vintage pocket watch with an anchor on the top and a picture of my dad on the inside after he passed away?"

Rooster smiled to himself. "Do you still have those?"

Ghost lifted up her right hand, where the amethyst ring glittered in the setting sunlight. "It only fits on my ring fingers, so I wear it on my right to avoid people thinking I'm engaged," she joked, bending down and grabbing something dangling from her lamp. "And here's the pocket watch."

"So apparently, I'm just good at getting gifts for you," Rooster observed, rubbing his thumb over the pocket watch. "You think Penny would like something vintage like this? With a picture of her and Maverick in it?"

"I think that's a good way to go."

"There's an antique shop nearby. Maybe I'll go there and do some digging. What are you doing tomorrow?"

"Well, I planned on taking most of the day to unpack because this mess is annoying me, but I should be good for late afternoon. Why?"

"I was thinking you could come with me. I'm not as confident about Penny's tastes, and I trust your judgment."

"Sure. I'll text you tomorrow afternoon to let you know for sure, but yeah, let's plan for 1500 hours? Meet at the Hard Deck?"

"Sounds like a date," Rooster said.

She stared pointedly at him. "Have you forgotten you're going on a date this week?"

"No."

"Bradley, I love you, but if you're going to keep your options open, make sure she's aware you two are not exclusive. That's trouble waiting to happen."

Rooster tilted his head, and Ghost could see the gears turning in his head. "And if I wasn't going on a date with her, would you say yes to it?"

"I-" Her cellphone ringing cut her off, and Ghost couldn't be more relieved. She didn't want to verge into the territory of her feelings for Rooster when he was going on a date with someone else, potentially someone she knew. It was girl code not to A, not date your friend's boyfriend, and B, not date your friend's ex. Regardless of whether or not it worked out between this girl and Bradley, he now almost certainly became off-limits for Ghost since most girls she knew on North Island were close friends, if not best friends. She'd missed her shot, and she'd regret it, but once they were separated again, it'd be fine. Distance always provided the buffer Ghost needed to prevent herself from developing feelings for anyone far away. At least, that's what she told herself.

"Hey, Mom," Ghost greeted, moving past Bradley and into her living room. "What's up?"

"I just wanted to check in and see how things were going. You getting settled in?" her mom replied.

"Yeah. Rooster's actually here helping me unpack. We're catching up. Saw Hangman too."

Her mom chuckled. "You've been there less than twelve hours, and you've already managed to put yourself between two boys who-"

"No, no, no, I've done no such thing. I'm here because the Navy wanted me here." In a hushed voice, she added, "I'm not starting anything with anyone. Not my ex nor anyone else."

"I also said I wouldn't fall for one of the students when I was an assistant trainer, and look what happened there."

"Yeah, yeah, I know, but that's not going to happen. I won't let it. The last thing I need is a relationship." Of course, it was a total lie, but it was the only thing Ghost could come up with to get her mom off her back about it. "Listen, I gotta go finish unpacking as much as I can, but we'll talk later. Love you, Mom."

"Love you, too." Ghost hung up and returned to her room. Rooster had his back turned to her, and he appeared to be studying something. "What's up with you?"

"You know-" he began, turning around- "I never thought you'd be a hot pink lingerie girl. I have no doubt it suits you, though."

Ghost flushed a deep red and snatched it out of Rooster's hands as he bellowed in laughter at her reaction. Tossing it into her bottom dresser drawer, she muttered, "God, I forgot it was in that box."

"Don't forget this little number." Rooster tossed her another set of lingerie, this time dark red. If possible, Ghost became even more mortified. She didn't know why. It's not like she was ashamed of it, but there was something particularly intimate about him finding those, especially when it was just the two of them in her bedroom with more than a little sexual tension between them. If Ghost didn't have absurdly unwavering beliefs along with unnaturally strong self-control, she would've thrown herself at Rooster and kissed him like there was no tomorrow.

"You are no longer allowed to help me unpack my bedroom," Ghost decided, placing her hands on his chest and continuously pushing the laughing aviator out of her room.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he apologized, wrapping his arms around her in a brief, tight hug. "Couldn't resist making you flustered. It's hard to do, you know."

"I'm not flustered." A comeback popped into her head, and before she could stop it, it spilled out of her mouth. "I'm just shocked that you and Hangman can agree on something."

"What do you mean?" Rooster asked, releasing her from his embrace.

"He got me those pieces you liked so much." There was a tic in Rooster's jaw as he processed his words. All that came out of his mouth was 'Fuck,' causing Ghost to grin. "I've been meaning to get rid of them. It's not like I want to use lingerie an ex got me with whoever my future boyfriend might be."

"Yeah, might be a mood killer. What are you doing tomorrow evening?"

"Uh, nothing that I know of outside of antique shopping with you. Probably more unpacking. Why?"

"Maverick and Penny are having me over for dinner tomorrow, and they're always telling me I can bring a date. Thought you would like to come."

"Yeah, if I'm not intruding. I'd love to come."

"Then it's settled. I'll pick you up at five." Rooster checked the time on his phone. "Shit, I'm gonna be late for an appointment. I have to go. It's good to see you, Ghost. I'm glad you're here."

Rooster pulled her into a tight hug, his mustache tickling the crook of her neck. He kissed her cheek and pulled away, then left her apartment. Ghost watched him swagger out, all too aware of the fluttering in her stomach and the pulling of her heartstrings. Last time she'd had these feelings, she'd gone on her first date with Hangman. He'd been her first love, but Rooster, she had no doubt, would be her last. That is, if the date between him and this new girl didn't go well…

***

Tags: @supernaturaldawning @shanimallina87 @polikszena @lgg5989 @callsign-milano @bradshawsandbridgetons @harper1666 @shadeops21 @double-j @rotating-obsessions @amantedelnorte @abigailannz @copaceticwriter @sharkprestige @thedarkinmansfield @lapilark @mickeyluvs @mini-bee-bee @starshipfantasy @itzyogurl92 @bennypears00 @mandowife221b @the-navistar-carol @lj13oct @getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth

Chapters: Chp 1 Chp 2 Chp 3

#top gun #top gun maverick #fanfiction #fanfic #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #tg #maverick #rooster #hangman #phoenix #bob #coyote #fanboy #payback #halo #fritz #omaha #harvard #yale #charlie #ghost #ghost story #winchester #bradley bradshaw #top gun 2

[temperancecain]

Hello, everyone!!! I wanted to share a Vampire Diaries Elejah Season Three Canon-divergence fic I've been working on for quite some time now. This is the first chapter, and if you enjoy this, there's twelve more on Fanfiction.net. I'm also going to be cross-posting onto AO3 as well. I hope you enjoy!!!

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Nothing Goes As Planned Chapter One: People Say Goodbye

She had everything planned. Every single detail figured out perfectly, an intricate web of cover stories and truths mixed in. Elena gave it a few days, long enough to make sure Katherine had been telling the truth about Klaus' blood being the cure for a werewolf bite, and then she began the process of saying goodbye to life as she knew it. While it may look easy in movies and on TV, Elena realized just how hard it was to disappear, especially if your face is not your own and you're supposed to have died in a magical ritual. Therefore, she didn't say goodbye completely.

First of all, she had to go to Bonnie, explaining what she intended to do. That went as well as one could expect. As in: not great. But they were best friends, and they'd always support each other, so Bonnie complied to Elena's wishes and cooked her up a few things so that she could stay off of Klaus' radar for as long as possible. The first was a bracelet, fashioned after Katherine's -her daylight one- so that anyone who came into contact with her would sense she was a vampire, and not human. The second was a locator spell blocker, so if a certain vampire -cough, cough, Damon- tried to find her, which he inevitably would, the only witch who could locate her would be Bonnie and there was no way she'd ever give in to Damon, no matter what stunt he pulled, she promised.

The next was a new car, happily provided by Caroline, who likely got it through compulsion-aided channels, as well as a new phone, completely untraceable.

Although she wouldn't be able to touch her inheritance until she officially turned eighteen in a few weeks, Elena luckily had enough money put by to find her travels, although she had no idea just where this crazy plan of hers might lead her. Surprisingly, in all that time, no one cottoned on to her plan who wasn't already in the know, despite how obvious it all was.

Elena was going after Stefan.

She refused to sit back and let Damon take the reins on this one, refused to watch the days go by and let this agonizing worry eat away at her. If she was going to find him, she'd have to do it herself, Klaus and his threats be damned. Stefan would do the same for her, if their roles were reversed. She knew he would; she knew it in her heart, her bones. Elena had lost too many people to let the love of her life go, too.

The time drew nearer to the date she'd picked out, June 2nd. Elena began getting extra gas and spare tires so she wouldn't have to worry about stopping when she got on the road. Shifting her wardrobe into duffel bags, taking only the barest of essentials, which unfortunately didn't include her beloved journal, but she planned to get a notebook on the road, something she could use to help her map out her thoughts as well as serve as a place to record her progress with finding Stefan. She'd already gleaned as much as she could from Damon, having found his little research project fairly easily. It seemed the elder Salvatore hadn't learned from his whole 'Moonstone in the soap dish' debacle when it came to hiding places. His closet? Seriously? Then again, it's not a place Elena would exactly be familiar with, and she might not have peeked in there at all if Damon hadn't fallen asleep on the couch one night and she'd gone looking for a blanket to put over him, so maybe she wasn't giving him enough credit. But she'd found it nonetheless.

It had hardly been two weeks, not time at all, and yet Klaus had managed to leave a pile of bodies in his wake. Figures.

She told Jeremy and Ric the night before over dinner. Her stepfather threatened to chain her to her bed if he had to, but there was no real heat behind it. He knew he couldn't stop her, knew she was smart and kind and brave and would fight to the bitter end for those she cared about, as she had cared for him these last few weeks since Jenna died. At least she promised to call. Jeremy was tight-lipped and stoic, but while she was brushing her teeth he broke down and begged her not to go. Her heart broke in that moment, all over again. She hated to leave him, she hated it, but none of this would have happened if not for her. Klaus wouldn't have happened if not for her, and she knew if she didn't do something to try and assuage this guilt in her chest she'd go mad, and this was the only way how.

"Would you do it for me, Jer?" Elena had asked him, toothpaste still clinging to her cheeks like tears, tears she refused to let fall, lest they crumble her resolve. "Would you do it for Bonnie, if she'd been the one Klaus took?"

"Of course I would. You don't even have to ask that."

"Exactly. It's time I call the shots when it comes to my life. Starting with this."

She tried explaining it all to Matt, but he'd been reluctant to be clued in on her plans, trying to stay out of the supernatural as much as possible. It stung, considering how close they'd been all their lives, but she respected his decision nonetheless.

Saying goodbye to Damon was harder than she thought it'd be. These past few weeks, they had grown closer, their pain over Stefan uniting them like never before. For the first time, his walls were down around her, and Elena mourned the fact that they would go right back up, and grow, once he realized she'd gone.

They had decided to watch a movie, a romance of all things. She sat beside him on the couch, her legs touching his, laughing at the ridiculousness that was eighties fashion.

"I don't think it's that bad," Damon remarked, gesturing to Adam Sandler's pale blue suit as he crooned into the microphone. "I saw worse in my day."

"I bet you loved the eighties," Elena smiled, grabbing some popcorn from the bowl. In truth, her stomach was knotted so tightly that the thought of eating was immensely off-putting, but she had to act normal, like nothing was wrong. It seemed she was always acting.

Damon shook his head. "Nah. The eighties was more Stefan's style. I'm sure he was the first person in line at the cinema to watch The Breakfast Club, the dork."

"Hey, I take offense to that! Breakfast is a classic, and therefore beyond reproach."

Using his vamp speed, he snatched the popcorn away from her, pelting her with stray kernels as he yelled, "So not! I won't stop until you admit it!"

"Well, then, I guess you're gonna run out of popcorn."

Fifteen minutes -and a carpet littered with sugar- later, the two were back on the couch, dusting off their clothes.

Damon broke the silence unexpectedly. "Thank you," he murmured, taking her hand in his.

Elena paused. "For what?" she asked breathlessly.

"For always being able to make me laugh. For not letting me spiral these last few weeks. I don't think I could have done it without. Heck, I know I couldn't. You really are something, you know that?"

God, why did he have to make this so God damn hard?! Why couldn't he have stayed all villain-y and snarky? Why did he have to have such a great heart under all that leather and piercing blue eyes? And why had it taken Stefan leaving to realize what a great friend he was?

Why did her life have to be so hard?

She squeezed back and murmured, equally soft, "I think you're really something too, just so you know. Don't ever forget that."

Those were the words she left him with, the words that swirled in her mind, stuck on repeat, as she placed her bags in her new car, gave Jeremy, Ric, Bonnie and Caroline, Tyler -who wouldn't stop shooting looks at the blonde all night, the blonde who had supposedly started spilling all of Elena's secrets to- and Matt one last hug before she shut the door of her childhood home, the click of the lock seeming to reverberate through her bones, pound in her heart, and within a blink shed started the car and was pulling out of the driveway, making her way into the darkness of the night without looking back.

Yes, she'd had everything figured out, every detail under control. But this was the life of Elena Gilbert, supernatural doppelgänger and magnet of all things magic, so of course nothing was going to go as she'd planned. And maybe, just maybe, that wasn't a bad thing.

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Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you decide to read the rest.

Temperance Cain.

#vampire diaries #elena gilbert #elijah mikaelson #romance #tropes #fanfiction #humour #stefan salvatore #klaus mikaelson #elejah

[hikertrashprincess]

FT Day 10

1/11/24

We woke up with only three miles to a park where we had been told there would be trail magic by famous AT trail angel Fresh Grounds. We were excited to get there, and frankly I was very excited to use the bathrooms that would be at the park.

We arrived and were excited to see Fresh Grounds set up with his van. The big disappointment was the locked bathrooms, which was devastating to every single hiker, especially on this trail where you can see for miles and attempting to dig a cat hole would be putting on a show.

This was quickly overcome by the absolutely incredible feast presented by Fresh Grounds. He is from North Carolina but travels 6 months of the year in his van helping thru hikers. He started off as a hiker but after a knee injury ended his hike, he found a way to be part of the trail community by providing trail magic. He works off donations from churches, hikers, and social media. It was amazing to meet him and it was such a cool community he builds by serving food. He had fresh fruit, juice, blueberry pancakes, home fries, eggs, coffee, and deep fried bacon. Amazing!

Eventually we had to leave but we all estimated where we would be for lunch the next day and he said he would show up with burritos!

The trail went through the town of Moore Haven, where we stopped at a market to use the bathroom. The clerk was amazed at what we were doing and kept exclaiming that he would be too worried to do something like that. It’s odd to hear his perspective because the times I’m on trail are the only times I’m worry-free. I told him all we have to worry about is walking, eating, and sleeping, but he was panicked at the thought of quitting his job. I don’t necessarily think everyone should thru hike, but I wished I could give him a taste of the freedom I’ve experienced. He couldn’t imagine quitting his job because he has to pay bills, but it seemed like he also couldn’t imagine not having bills. A lot of people have a hard time imagining life out of the ordinary. Of course I was reminded of the immense blessing it is to be able to thru hike, having that freedom logistically and financially, but I also realized it takes both a lack of obligations and an ability to dream big to do this.

Most of the day was walking along a channel/highway on a paved trail. The ease of walking on the pavement is a blessing after the technical hiking of the swamp, but after a while it really hurt my feet. Everyone was feeling the same way. I didn’t expect my feet to hurt on a flat trail using lower mileage, but it’s a different kind of soreness when each step uses the exact same muscles and stride, and all of that against hard pavement.

The highlight of the day was passing the landfill! It’s not sarcasm. I just find landfills fascinating. The lowlight of the day is when Hamilton saw an otter cross the street but I missed it.

We all took a break just sitting on the side of the road when someone decided their feet couldn’t take it anymore.

We got to a park and Hamilton and Highlander (whose name I thought was Islander until today) went into town to eat in a pub. We skipped the pub because we had loaded our packs up with food, only to not eat any of it between trail magic and stops in town. I made teriyaki salmon rice.

I am going gluten free for this trail, and dinner is the biggest challenge for that. My go tos are ramen and Knorr sides, which are either pasta, or a rice/vermicelli mix, all of which contain gluten. My workaround has been minute rice and an extensive spice collection. Sometimes, like tonight, I can find a single use packet of a sauce. Then I add a salmon packet and it makes a great dinner. Tonight I wanted to experiment with new spices so I added honey sriracha. I messed up! It was so spicy. I added some powdered coconut milk and could make it through but it was not an enjoyable dinner (although it was tasty!).

Morpheus also had a debacle after we both picked up a new treat at Walmart- packets of taco meat and shredded beef. Unfortunately I had mixed them up when dividing the food and no one noticed until after he had cooked the shredded beef.

We packed up and went a mile. An incredible thing happened. The trail turned into grass and gravel! I couldn’t believe how nice it was to walk on! It was like the world’s softest carpet. I could kiss this grass! We only went a mile but for the first time that day I felt like I could go a long way.

We spoke with a guy walking his dog out on the canal. We spooked the dog, but the owner was friendly. We set up almost on the trail and watched another episode of Avatar: The Last Airbender. I was nervous going to sleep because the tent leaks, but I hoped for the best and figured we would be able to dry out tomorrow if anything happened.

#floridatrail #thruhike #thru hiking

[kraftwerk-maxfichtner]

Never crucify the Easter Bunny [#mf12]

Why it's really not smart to crucify the Easter Bunny.

It really stunk to me, so I crucified the Easter Bunny. But shortly afterwards I had to realize that this is not so clever.

The cow in the front yard

Imagine you live in a nice single-family home community on the outskirts of town and one day an Indian moves into your neighborhood. Well, that in itself is probably not a problem. But if he then keeps a wild meadow with a cow as a pet in his front yard instead of ornamental rates and bouquets of roses, it might seem strange to you. However, at the latest when you realize that this nice neighbor then every morning brings out his prayer rug and worships his cow, it will be quite funny to you. #cowworship #prayer rug #cowgarden I once asked myself this question quite personally: what do you actually have to do these days so that your social environment will approach you about your faith in Jesus? In my experience, no one in the neighborhood would ask that nice neighbor with his cow about his faith. And the same will happen to you with your faith in Jesus, probably nobody will be interested in your faith. #faith #evangelism Why should people around me approach me just because I pray before meals, say "Thank you Jesus" at every meaningful opportunity, or integrate something else confessional into my daily life? No, in our days "faith is a private matter" as Bishop Lesley Newbegin said. To believe in Jesus so publicly that you are positively challenged and addressed is almost impossible in our days. #faithisprivate #newbegin

The wooden cross on the road crossing

As a young Christian, I was increasingly frustrated by this. Again and again, at work or in my social environment, I had tried to live in such a way that I would be approached about my faith, but had to realize: Nobody cares. In my frustration I let myself then be carried away to set more on provocation. So I erected on an Easter Saturday (without permission) a well public visible about 3-4 meters large wooden cross on a central intersection of our city. I knew exactly, at this eye of a needle all had to pass this morning who still have to get something, and ….. here they had to drive slowly because it is a calmed area for pedestrians. #easter #cross #provocation

The crucifixion of the Easter Bunny

But a wooden cross on an Easter Saturday was not attention-grabbing enough for me as a street action. Since no one remains intesiert stand and seeks the conversation with me. So I bought myself as large as possible Easter bunny and nailed this with outstretched arms on the wooden cross. Now I had guaranteed attention from everyone who came by car or on foot. I had attention - but not quite as I had intended. #easter bunny #easter bunny crucifixion

The reactions

Many parents with their children in the car were extremely upset about what I was putting their children through with this Easter bunny. Some bus drivers showed me a bird and obviously thought I was crazy. Even the press came to report about my Easter bunny crucifixion. On Tuesday after Easter I had then "my" story in the newspaper and shortly thereafter a phonecall from my "bishop". So I learned in those days between the "I don't care at all" reaction and the "angry rejection" is -- NOTHING. And even today after more than 25 years it is still the same. "Belief is a private matter" and one allows everything unreflectively until it disturbs and then it is fought. This principle is valid for all faiths and directions of religion.

How we can still witness our faith

How did Jesus imagine this "being his witnesses" under such conditions ? #beingawitness But you will receive the Holy Spirit, and by his power you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem and Judea, in Samaria and in all the earth." - Acts 1:8 In this Bible text lies the key for our effective testimony: "In the power of the Holy Spirit". We can already see this in the work of the first disciples. The Holy Spirit kept initiating appropriate situations and the disciples recognized these opportunities and used them. #holyspirit #powerofthespirit In the later years of my life as a Christian, I could see more and more that this is really the only effective and sustainable way to be Jesus' witness. By receiving the impulses of the Holy Spirit, recognizing the opportunities and following them up. This requires some routine through constant training, but we can be sure that this way is effective. #closeness to god #jesus How we can lead people to Jesus in these situations I explain in this post:

Climbing the heavenly ladder #evangelization Read the full article

#beingawitness #closeness #cowgarden #cowworship #cross #easter #evangelism #faith #faithisprivate #HolySpirit #jesus #newbegin #powerofthespirit #prayer #provocation

[kkbarksdale]

Day 3- St. John

Monday, May 1st, 2023

Today was the day to officially headover to St. John! We were really looking forward to this because we had heard that St. John was even more beautiful than St. Thomas. Cody and I were pretty well rested from our early nights, however the hot Caribbean sun was starting to wear us out a little. We decided that the 11 am car ferry would be best, and we would be coming back on the 6:15 pm car ferry to St. Thomas. We both were slightly worried that it wouldn’t be enough time on St. John but 8:30am was too early of a start for our days so far. We started our day with our routine of walking to Lattes in Paradise, and working out. I have yet to mention that Cody also enjoyed a morning ritual of jumping in our pool. It’s worth the mention as Cody really really enjoyed doing this every single day. Once we were ready for the day, we ventured down the hill to Redhook to partake in some shopping before our 11am ferry ride. We went to the local Caribean Surf Co shop where we chatted with some local friends. Cody made them laugh, go figure. I decided that I wanted to get all of the girls coming to our wedding some beachy bracelets! I enjoyed picking out bracelet bundles for all of the girls. We also shipped off our postcards to the states and met a really nice lady in the post office. She gave us some lovely marriage advice- do not have bad days on the same day. If he is having a bad day, let him. We were very touched by her warm hearted advice to us. We still had plenty of time to kill, so we crossed the street to the other shopping strip. We wandered in a couple stores and I ended up purchasing a wide brimmed beach hat because my forehead was getting so burnt from the Caribbean sun. We made our way back to our car where we found a big, orange, aggressive towing sticker on our back window. Cody and I both panicked that we were going to followed and towed, or ticketed. It gave us so much stress for about 30 minutes until google assisted us with realizing that the sticker was just a threat. Nothing more. Now off to St. John!

We waited for the car ferry for quite some time, as we were early to load. The car ferry was a cool experience! I finally had to let Cody drive the Jeep because you had to back up onto the boat. I think he enjoyed me asking him to finally drive around. Once we arrived to St. John, we took off to our furthest destination of Cinnamon Bay! We were pretty instantly blown away by just how beautiful St. John was. Everyone was right- St. John was somehow more beautiful than St. Thomas. Since it is a protected National Park, it was undeveloped and felt like driving through a jungle. The water was a more torquise blue, and somehow more crystal clear. The people we encountered on St. John were also more friendly. Not to mention, the roads were so much nicer as well. No massive potholes to dodge every foot. Cody was really looking forward to snorkeling, so we rented snorkeling gear for the day. We found an almost shady spot along the edge of the beach and made camp for the day. Our soft plan was to go to Cinnamon Bay and then back track to Trunk Bay. 

Upon getting into the water, we saw a big barracuda! Honestly, I was freaked out by it but it was cool to see such a big predatory fish right by your legs. We decided that we wanted to go ahead and scope out snorkeling! The rental girl said that there was an airplane wing, lots of wild life such as turtles, and also a reef along the beach. Cody and I saw many cute, colorful fish and coral. We snorkeled quite a ways down the beach and proceeded to get pretty worn out after about only 1 hour. When we came back to our spot on the beach, our neighbors suggested that we go over to Maho Beach as that is where all of the sea turtles will be due to the grassy bottom. Cody and I were interested but hesitant to go over to Maho because we rented our gear from Cinnamon Bay. We spent quite some time hanging out on Cinnamon Bay and watching a big group of locals having fun in the water. After a couple of hours in the sun, we impulsively decided it was time for a change of scenery and opted to head out to Maho Beach! We only had about an hour left with our snorkel gear, and about 3 hours before we had to head to the car ferry. 

Maho Beach was so cute! They had so many little food trucks, and the beach was very crowded much like all of the beaches on St. John. We quickly hopped in the water to make the most of our time left with the snorkel gear. Cody and I hit the ground running and scoping out sea life. We didn’t see much at first, but after some time, the animals started popping up. First we saw a small stingray! Cody was freaked out by the sting ray, as he thought it was blowing sand up at him. He ended up seeing another one as well but I unfortunately missed it due to my excitement for looking for turtles. Just when I thought we may not find any turles, we stumbled upon the biggest turtle we saw during our entire trip. He was probably at least 3 feet wide and long. He had 2 bottom feeding sharks attached to him. He was in about only chest deep water. He was so cool! I was shocked at how big he was! Cody and I were the only ones around him too, no one else had discovered him in that area yet. While we were enjoying the sight of him, we heard some people nearby us exclaiming that they had a little turtle near them! We rushed over to see a small little guy. He was so white and clean compared to all of te other turtles we saw on our trip. Satisified that we had found 2 turtles, we then exited the water and went to turn our snorkel gear back in before 4pm. 

We still had 2 hours to kill so we headed over to Trunk Bay to end our day there. Unfortunately at Trunk Bay, all of their amenities were closed when we got there but that was okay with us. We had done all of the things we wanted to do so far that day. Trunk was so beautiful and is St. John’s most busy beach! Trunk Bay actually has a snorkeling trail. We would love to check that out next time we visit the islands. After many hours on the beach and in the sun, Cody and I mainly just relaxed at Trunk Bay. We did watch a woman get bullied and attacked by sea gulls though, a sight that I will never forget. She was eating a container of food, when sea gulls started barating her. She eventually got scared, ran away, and dropped her food. Probably 30 sea gulls were flocking at her. I know she was scared to death but it was so funny. 

This was about the extent of our day! We rode home on the car ferry and enjoyed the most beautiful sunset on the water. We grabbed a quick salad dinner at the local grocery store Moe’s. We swam in the pool and called it an early night again. We needed a good night’s rest because we had such a long day on St. John. It was one for the books! We decided that we would always be staying at St. John in the future due to how nice it was! 

[bellmo15-blog]

I get wholesome stuff sometimes! I mean, not all the time but some of the time. And honestly, how much more wholesome could you get than Animal Crossing?

Original description: Just from the timing of me commissioning MallousCallous to do this pic for me alone I think you can guess why I’ve gotten this pic. Yup, it’s almost the two-year anniversary of a specific game that I think you all know. Fairy Tail!... Oh and also Animal Crossing New Horizons lol.

That’s right, on March 20th this game turns two years old and by extension my save file for the game. I brought this when it came out and haven’t stopped playing since. And I’m pretty sure most of you know why at this point. It was both my favourite game I played in 2020 and my favourite game that was released in 2020. Why was this my favourite in the same year I played other games that came out that year that arguably have way more to them such as Shantae and the Seven Sirens, No Straight Roads, DOOM Eternal and the remake of Tony Hawk Pro Skater 1 and 2 and even games that didn’t come out in 2020 that I still first played that year such as all of the Batman Arkham games aside from Knight since I played that in 2015, Indivisable, Call of Duty Black Ops and Watch Dogs 2? Do I even need to say it? It was 2020! You know, the same year that literally started with my own country being on fire in one of the worst country wide bushfires we had seen? The same year one of the worst pandemics ever reared it’s ugly head which for some reason people still personified as a f***ing waifu for some reason? The same year where we were forced to spend an extended amount of time in our homes and couldn’t go to work or hang out with our friends because of said pandemic? The same year where people willingly broke all the restrictions placed that were there to try and stop the spread while a vaccine was being made which resulted in extended lockdowns and more people getting sick!? I could go on and even talk about other stuff I hated about this year but you get my point by now!

Yeah needless to say this year sucked and my mental state at this point was not at its best. So since all I could really do at that point was stay indoors and play video games well, what else was there for me to do? I brought this game digitally from the Nintendo eShop day one and let’s just say the next few months after that were filled with Animal Crossing! So, so much Animal Crossing. I would play this every single day to check on my island and my villagers and it was fun for me! It was therapeutic. It was… you know what, let’s just cut the crap. It helped me mentally get thought what was one of the worst years I have ever had to endure! It had such a positive atmosphere compared to all that was going on in real life that I didn’t want to stop. I just wanted to stay in this world and be with these characters. Now obviously you shouldn’t spend every moment of your life in a fantasy and doing so can be quite unhealthy, but I mean, do I even need to remind you about what was going on in that year again? I’d rather not. Why wouldn’t I want to spend so much time in Animal Crossing?

And then there’s your character. This is probably the best Animal Crossing avatar customization we have gotten! Not just because for once you are able to select your appearance manually and not have it determined by some test which could lead to a face you hate, but because the hair styles look great, the clothing was amazing not to mention how it allowed you to wear all kinds of clothing regardless of your gender, they are very expressive which makes for fun screenshots and moments and also because they just look really dam good! Like this is no joke my favrotie avatar creation system in any game and the only other one that comes close are the Mii’s. So yeah, for this games 2nd anniversary I got a pic of my own villager who despite looking a bit like my own sona it technically predates him by seven months. Then again, he also has similar hair and glasses, the same love for Shantae, his favourite animal is snakes, even having a pot in his home as a substite for Tuki’s pot so it might as well be an Animal Crossing version of my Sona at this point lol. Either way, here’s to two years of one of my favourite games of the decade so far.

Artist is MallousCallous

#Animal Crossing #OC #Wholesome