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astralis-ortus · 6 months ago

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you're always enough

✱ boyfriend!bc x fem!reader

— losing you was not an option.

w.count → 2.3k genre → angst, fluff, a dash of comedy warning → mild cussing, mention of infidelity, insecure chan :( a.n → based on this request! it honestly was a challenge for me hahahㅠ i think it's been a while since i wrote something with this quick of a vibe change in a while but i'm glad i got to try again! ⋆ see masterlist

the clock at the bottom right part of his monitor shows its lingering around the 1pm mark—a mere 2 hours since he had stepped foot inside the building—and yet, he’s already stressed.

one block and straight to another, work hasn’t been looking good for him so far. he’s so ready to call for another break—but the soft knocks to the melody of twinkle twinkle little stars on chan’s studio door could only mean one thing.

“well hello there, miss producer,” chan’s frown turned into a smile in the split second you peeked your head between the crack of the door, eyes turning into a pair of beautiful crescents you oh-so adore. you couldn’t even stop yourself from smiling—chan just looked so adorable with his messy natural curls decorating his forehead, beanie discarded somewhere on his leather couch. “come on in. i missed you.”

4 years ago, you were graced with the opportunity to participate in a song camp with the 3racha—one of, if not the, biggest producers in your company. it was a great experience—you got to learn a lot of new things, and somehow, your luck seemed to prolong as you kept in touch with the boys; occasionally called in for inputs while some other time just to hangout while grabbing a bite when the three realized the unidentified voice bleed turns out to originate from your producing room.

“oh really?” your smile easily mirrored his as you stepped inside the cold room, not forgetting to close the door behind you, “you missed me?”

taking his extended hand, the wide grin painted on your face soon met the end of its reign as your boyfriend pulls you into his lap—tiny yelp involuntarily left your lips while chan had his arms wrapped around you in a tight hug. you couldn’t even continue with the witty remarks on the tip of your tongue when his complimentary dozen of butterfly kisses fell across the span of your face; all replaced with the series of giggles and ‘oh my god—stop!’s as you attempted to free yourself from his trap.

you thought your little crush on the oldest of the three was going to remain as a silly little crush—but as life turns out, it has somehow been around 2 years since chan asked you to be his girlfriend, and a little over a year since you two gradually came clean to your closest friends and coworkers; though the thought only came after repeatedly being caught secretly meeting up or sneakily holding hands during your increasingly overlapping recording sessions.

“you little monster!” a high pitched squeal slipped past your upturned lips when you finally caught his rosy cheeks between your hands, keeping him still as you brought your lips onto his for a few quick pecks—which seemed to work, seeing how chan’s antics now reduced to a simple giggle as he held you close. “you really missed me that much?” you hummed, gently running your thumbs on his freckled cheeks.

“of course i do,” chan pursed his lips in protest, warm hand gently running down your side, “it’s not every day i couldn’t see my girlfriend both at home and at work. 24 hours a day alone wasn’t enough, and now it’s reduced? of course i’m bound to miss you!”

swarms of butterflies fill the hollow of your chest while you let laughter echoes through the familiar green walls, feeling both warm and ticklish from chan’s cheesy line. “gosh,” your wide set grin now completed with a tinge of rose-colored flush on your cheeks, “you’re so head over heels for me, aren’t you?”

chan’s reverberating low hum became his reply, nodding his head confidently. “of course i am,” he smiled, eyes twinkling as the pair of deep brown eyes peered right into yours. “aren’t you?”

“well,” you grinned, arms wrapped around your boyfriend’s neck, “maybe if—”

your train of thought was forced to a halt when you felt a buzz in your pocket, quickly hopping off chan’s lap after a quick glance at the name. a short apology was muttered before you finally took the call outside the studio, leaving chan feeling a little dumbfounded and… hurt.

chan knew it’s probably work—despite the promised time off since the artist you’re working with is on their vacation, as someone who works behind the scenes, you’re never actually off duty. there’s bound to be urgent matters you need to deal with, and chan understood that.

he's just… confused.

and his confusion certainly multiplies in size when he heard another voice laughing with yours, right outside of his studio.

“no! geez, didn’t i—oh!” your attention instantly shifted when you heard the studio door crack open, eyes catching your puzzled boyfriends’ as he looked at you and the figure across. “channie, this is kyungho sunbae. he’s a new addition to the team but i met him in college. kyungho sunbae, this is—”

“bang chan-ssi, of course,” kyungho cheerily greeted chan, extending a friendly hand. “i’ve heard a lot of good things about you!”

“oh,” the confusion on chan’s face turned into a tight smile—which equally reflected on his grip on the stranger’s hand. even through a quick scan of his eyes, chan notices a lot. “couldn’t really say the same, but welcome. i hope you’re adjusting well so far,” chan continued, returning his hand to the small of your back.

“i am, thank you! i—”

“i’m sorry i can’t really talk much right now, i have my things to return to,” chan was quick to cut kyungho off, surprising both you and the latter. “it was nice meeting you, though,” chan quickly bowed before disappearing behind the metal door, leaving you slightly bothered.

“well, i gotta get going too,” kyungho finally broke the awkwardness between you. “i’ll text you later about the details?” he smiled despite the peeking confusion behind his eyes, to which you nodded before sending him off.

it was unlike chan to behave like that. sure, he might grow a little rough with his actions when work hasn’t been going the way he wanted things to be, but he was doing just fine. he was all lovey dovey with you less than 5 minutes prior, wasn’t he?

“baby,” cracking the door open, you were met with a stern-faced chan—eyes locked to his monitors with a muffled bass resonating from the headphone over his ears. the sight led you to a defeated sigh; you knew better than anyone to not bother the lion when he’s in this state.

but little did you know,

when you decided to back away and close the door, chan felt as if his worst nightmare had come true.

he knows it’s stupid to think that you’d ever cheat on him, but there’s also no guarantee that you would never fall for someone else and realize that maybe your happiness wasn’t with him. it terrifies chan to realize that maybe one day, you’d meet someone and realize that there’s someone better than him—someone better looking, someone who could treat you better, someone who could give you everything that you could ever wished for.

chan is scared that he’s not enough, and never will be.

for someone who’s been in his seat for so long, chan understands that at times his life does feel rather fleeting—like he’s simply going through the motions as he tries to stay afloat. everything—everyone—goes by so fast, and along the way, chan somehow learned how to shut down his feelings just so he could survive. he knew—he hoped, that as life gets better, he’ll come to find the opportunity to learn how to feel again.

but then, again, not everything he knows he needed to do proves to be easy.

it took him a while, but when he finally reached a point where he felt like life’s doing better for him, chan finally realizes that he now has love within him to give. he tried sharing them with his bandmates, he tried sharing them with his friends and family—hell, he even tried to share them with every single soul he met, but nothing fills him with the sense of content he was looking for…

until he met you.

chan knew he shouldn’t—you were his coworker, but despite him trying his best not to view you in a special light, he couldn’t help but return his gaze to your bright smile whenever you’re in the room. sure, you’re passionate about what you do, and it sure inspires him—but to see how your shoulders relax whenever you pop open a new book, or how happy you looked browsing through the convenience store aisles while trying to find what kind of new snacks you’ve never seen before,

it feels like he finally found what to be at peace felt like. he finally knew what love should look like—and it’s you.

a soft touch on his shoulder snaps chan out of his trance, eyes wide as it met your worried pair. your gentle smile was the second thing he noticed, and his eyes finally trailed down to the box of pineapple juice and a few snacks along the roll of kimbab perched on his desk.

“i know you’re busy,” your voice finally came clear as soon as chan took off his headphone, “but you need to eat first, okay? it’s almost 2, and i know you didn’t eat much earlier before you left. i’m not gonna bother you again if you eat now—i’ll even head home if you need time to focus, but that’s as long as you eat. okay?”

“…then i’m not eating.”

“baby—”

“i don’t want you to go home,” chan reiterated—and that’s when you finally see the tinge of sadness behind his eyes. “i’m not eating if you’re gonna go.”

“oh baby—what happened?” your voice turned gentle as you took his face in your hands, gently grazing the pads of your thumbs over his skin. “are you okay? do you—”

“i’m sorry.”

“sorry?” you tilted your head, now confused. “for…?”

“just… everything,” chan exhaled, arms wrapped around your waist as he pulled you close and rested his forehead on your stomach. “i know i’m difficult, but please. don’t leave.”

“baby you’re not difficult,” you furrowed your eyebrows, puzzled. what happened in the 30 minutes you were gone? did something terrible happened? all sorts of thoughts were running through your head.

“and i’m not leaving,” your voice were stern, and you felt the way chan slightly tightened his arms around you. “where am i supposed to even go anyway? i’m already home.”

if chan wasn’t tearing up before, then he sure is now.

“even if i’m not perfect?” he quietly muttered—and you’re slowly piecing the puzzles together. “even if i’m not tall enough? even if my hair is always messy? even if i’m not fashionable? even if—"

“stop right there, mr. bahng,” you stopped him, peeling yourself off from chan and gazed right at his flushed face, “why are you being mean to my boyfriend? where does this came from, hm? no one’s allowed to say shit to my boyfriend like that!” your pursed your lips and gently lowered yourself to place a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose, only then smiling when chan let out a soft giggle.

“were you upset about me talking to kyungho sunbae earlier?” you questioned, and despite the lack of reply from your boyfriend, you’re pretty sure you knew what his answer was based on the minuscule shift on his face.

“i’m sorry, baby. i thought our interactions wasn’t important enough, so i never really brought him up to you. had i known you’d feel differently about that, i would’ve told you right away,” you apologized, smiling as you noted the faint glint returning in his eyes. “we did met in college, but he was just a senior i came to shadow a couple times when i started out in the industry.”

“i was really surprised when he turned out to be the new guy in my team,” you continued, fingers gently tracing his features, “but what really shocked me was turns out, i actually know his wife.”

you watched as your boyfriend connected the dots, jaw falling upon realizing the tiny detail he had skipped through despite catching a short glimpse of thin silver band on his finger.

“i met his wife a few times since we were pretty close in high school, and he’s been trying to dig out some information from me since their anniversary is just around the corner and he wanted to surprise her. he was just making sure he got the details right without texting me since his texts are synced to their shared device,” you explained, letting a giggle slip when you caught the blush creeping up your boyfriend’s face.

“…i see.”

the echo of your laugh only grew in volume when your boyfriend began to avoid your eyes, resorting to him burying his face on your stomach. adorable.

“it’s okay, baby. i understand why you’d get jealous,” your lips were set into a wide grin as you held your boyfriend close. “i’m still really sorry, though. i really wasn’t trying to hide this, i promise. i’ll tell you straight away if anything like this ever happened again.”

“okay.”

“so…” reducing your giggles to a smile, you gently run your nails on your boyfriend’s scalp, trying to soothe him, “am i forgiven?”

a muffled whine and a nod after, chan finally gazed up at you and added, “if only you’re eating with me.”

“oh baby,” cradling his face in your hands with a smile, you inched closer and placed a light peck over his pouting lips, “i’ll even stay here and cuddle all day with you.”

only then, chan finally allowed himself to laugh.

“well, then don’t mind if i say yes to that.”

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

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dr3amfyr-e · 3 months ago

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brat. - j.v. ( w. 4.5k )

꒰ in which the boy you see every summer enrolls in the same university as you. ꒱ — modern!jacaerys velayron x reader

୨ ⎯ i cannot stress enough, football means ⚽️ not 🏈. childhood-friends-to-lovers, but you have to get through my 2000 word psychoanalysis and backstory first. light angst. mention of the death of a parent. lots and lots of talk about the velaryon-targaryen-hightower family dynamic. light make out action. reader's family is implied to be wealthy enough to have a summer home. almost everyone lives au. set in the uk, not westeros. omitted daemon rhaenyra marriage because there’s no way to to make it even semi-normal. realizing now i omitted daemon entirely erm sorry. pushing the laenor agenda bc he’s my favorite character. this is abhorently long. extreme overuse of the em-dash. uhh the perspective is wonky in a few places. will prob get a pt.2. ⎯ ୧

i had to write this twice. i'm offering this to you with shaking hands, like a peasent child begging for coins. i may write a part two because i have more to say, but i don't want to figure it out rn.

On the cold January morning that Jacaerys Velaryon-Targaryen was born, the media went into a frenzy.

The Targaryens were old money, their fortune rooted a century back in good investments. Historically adept at finding their way into things, the empire had a string to pull in every industry. From art and law to technology and shipping, if business prospects looked good there would be a Targaryen investment.

And then there were the dogs — regal greyhounds, with long, thin bodies and sleek coats. The Targaryens bred them as far back as bloodline records went. The pups were never for sale; sometimes they were used as show dogs, and successful show dogs they were, but more often they were pets. It was a status symbol, to nonchalantly own such a coveted creature.

The Targaryens were idolized in the public eye. They were all stunning, with sharp features and silver hair, and each member of the family seemed to possess a Midas touch. But, where Valyrian blood ran hot, so did the press. It was no surprise when magazines started to turn a profit from silver heads plastered across their glossy covers. It was the price that came with God-like aristocracy.

From editorials to gossip columns, people devoured the insider life of the untouchables. When Aemma Targaryen died, there was a four-page spread in nearly every magazine; complete with pictures and quotes. Business papers filled with opinion pieces about Rhaenyra’s inheritance claim to her family’s empire; magazines exploded with the announcement of her engagement to Laenor Velaryon, and subsequently Viserys’ marriage to Alicent Hightower, the daughter of his lawyer.

When Jacaerys was born, reporters lined up outside of the hospital doors. There were cameras and microphones and crew trucks, and Rhaenyra hated it. It wasn’t the way she wished to welcome her child into the world — swarmed by people who didn’t know nor care for him.

Laenor had always been good at navigating the attention, and Rhaenyra was constantly grateful. So, when he pulled his gaze from the babe and steeled himself to deal with the onslaught of reporters outside, tears pricked at her eyes. Appreciation, exhaustion, adoration? She couldn’t be sure.

Looking down at her son, she thought, he’s perfect. He had a smattering of dark hair, and he was quiet but not concerningly so. Wispy lashes fell upon his cherub cheeks, and when he eventually blinked up at her his eyes were dark. He looked nothing like her — she didn’t care.

She refused to talk to anyone outside of her family, and had the curtains in her private room drawn. To expose her son, her heart, to the prying eyes of the bored masses with nary a care for his well-being was a nightmare. She wouldn’t have him exploited.

At the time of Jacaerys’ birth, she and Laenor had been married for a little over a year. Laenor’s father, Corlys, managed the bulk of the import and export for Viserys’ company. Corlys was a good man, he hadn’t dreamed of marrying his son off. But Laenor and Rhaenyra were both in the same impossible situation: the wiles of youth mixed with the ever critical public.

They had both fallen into scandalous relationships, both preyed on by paparazzi. If they married one another, it would save face for both of their families. Plus — both being the eldest and heir, this would clear the expectation of a dignified marriage. They agreed to leave each other to whatever youthful fun they wanted to have, as long as everything was discreet.

Both the Velaryons and the Targaryens kept a summer home in Dragonstone, a private community in coastal Wales. It was the perfect place for Rhaenyra and Laenor to begin their life — far from her father, close to his parents, and out of the line of sight for any nosy journalist.

The public eye had looked to other things by the time Lucerys was born, two years later. Again, Laenor dealt with the small gathering of reporters with the utmost grace, and Rhaenyra submitted a written statement.

Alicent divorced Viserys that same year.

As she watched her boys grow up, full of energy and life, Rhaenyra thought, there was no one better to parent with than her best friend — a title Laenor had rightfully earned. They hadn’t had much choice in knowing each other, and they certainly would never have chosen to be married, but he made a bearable roommate. They had things in common; they liked the same music, and the same men. They drank the same wine and frequented the same restaurants. And, they both loved their boys.

As Jace and Luke grew up, they found the best company in each other — the school in Dragonstone was so small, though, that there were very few other options. They both played on the school’s small football team, and Jace took piano lessons while Luke learned to fence. Where Jace was driven by emotion, Luke was level-headed; where Luke was cautiously quiet, Jace spoke his mind. It was an ideal childhood, the Welsh coast was an idyllic backdrop to grow up upon, with the sea in their backyard.

They were ten and eight when Joffrey was born, both excited for their new brother. Their mother brought him home, bundled in a soft red blanket. The boys sat on the couch beside Rhaenys and stared at him for upwards of an hour.

Hardly a week had passed when Harwin Strong died. He was a family friend, a frequent presence in their home and life — Jace and Luke had been upset by this, of course.

In time they came to understand the situation fully. Jacaerys first, fitting the pieces together with the evidence he found in the mirror. Neither Rhaenyra nor Laenor had dark hair, like he and his brothers.

His matriline was uncontestable though, as he grew into himself. He possessed the same nose, jaw, brow, and high cheekbones that Rhaenyra wore. The comparisons between the two became more frequent as he grew older, and he found himself to be quite proud to look like her.

Her attitude lived in him as well, the temperament she had been so notorious for as a girl festered in her eldest son. She had once been christened ‘The Princess of Dragonstone’ after flipping off a reporter at their summer home. Jacearys earned it for himself when he was fifteen, after loudly berating a reporter. He had been defending Luke, but no one seemed to care when they deigned him ‘The Prince of Dragonstone’. He took it with grace, claiming that he couldn’t help but be his mother’s child.

It instilled a sense of public propriety he strove to uphold.

Rhaenyra remarried the same year — to Alicent Hightower — and moved her children from Wales to London. It took a while to adjust to the new life — Jace liked his new school, but he detested his step-brothers. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t come around to the idea of living with Aemond and Aegon, who took so much pleasure in making he and his brothers miserable.

After the first month, Jacaerys fell in brilliantly. He performed well in school, quickly being enrolled in the advanced literature and history courses. He got on well with his peers, and made a number of friends. He joined the football team and spent his Sunday afternoons learning piano concertos.

Living in London made him a more publicly prominent figure in his family's legacy. He knew how to play his role as heir; he carried himself perfectly — confident and charming and elegant. He didn’t particularly like being in the public eye, but there was a certain sense of satisfaction when he did something to receive positive public attention.

King’s Landing, much like where he had grown up, was a community reserved for the upper echelon. Situated in Northwest London, and surrounded by wrought iron gates, it was regal and dignified. The house had high, vaulted ceilings, large stained glass windows, and more than enough bedrooms. It rained more, Jacaerys noticed in the first month. When it had rained in Dragonstone he would watch the droplets bounce off the sea, where it lapped at the sandy bay. Here the rain splattered unceremoniously upon the pavement.

For as wonderful as life in London had turned out, Jacaerys found himself longing for what was left behind in Dragonstone. Laenor lived there still, and while he called often and visited as much as he could, it wasn’t the same. Jace’s childhood bedroom remained, along with all of the memories in the house he grew up in. And his friends. There was an assortment of people he only saw between late May and early September; the children of the other seasonal residents. The number had dwindled in years past, with fewer of them returning for break — favouring more interesting places, like Ibiza or Rome, as they got older.

Far too few of his childhood friends he kept in contact with, especially after the move to London. You were the exception.

He was grateful, on days when it stormed in London, to receive a silly text or too-long voice note. It made things feel less dull — you had a way of doing that.

He took to reading theory around the time he turned seventeen. It’s queer theory, at the suggestion of his cousin Baela, who lent him his first Judith Butler book. He finished it that weekend.

His aunt Laena and her two daughters lived in London, and Jace found a close comrade in Baela. She played competitive tennis and listened to riot grrrl, she was much cooler than him and he knew it. Her bedroom held two massive bookshelves, and she let him pillage her collection for De Bouvier and Didion and Gay. Hours were spent lying across the floor in Laena’s house, studying, or reading, or talking. He enjoyed Baela’s company more than any of his school friends, favouring anything with her over anything with the boys from his football team.

His youngest sister, Visenya, turned one around the same time. Baela, staying with Jacaerys while he babysat one night, inducted him into the eldest daughter club.

“You’re so keen on driving your siblings around, and taking care of them. Plus, aren’t you your mother’s closest confidant?” She asked.

True, Jace supposed. He was the oldest of Rhaenyra’s children, and the most responsible of his brothers and step-siblings. His mums both worked full time, they were busy but as involved as possible. Jace just did the menial things. He made Joffrey breakfast, picked Luke up after school, and watched Visenya when necessary. He didn’t mind.

Baela argued that he should mind.

He had been a sensitive child, more so than his brothers, but it made him incredibly emotionally adept as he aged. So many boys his age prided themselves on stoicism, but that was never something Jace felt connected to. He always felt things too deeply to bottle them up — it accounted for the occasional temper that flared up when he was upset, but also how empathetic and kind he was.

Jacearys was set to graduate with honours in the first week of May. It was three months before when college acceptance letters began to appear in the mail. He had applied to a number of places, and been accepted everywhere. The University of the Vale was where his hopes hinged though.

Just after Valentine's Day, it showed up. The envelope was wide and stuffed full, and sealed with a wax stamp. His acceptance letter was on the very top of the stack of papers — the thick paper heavy in his hands, as he admired the blue printed border and silver flocking.

Rhaenrya sorted through the informational packets while Jace reread the letter. Part of him couldn’t believe it was real.

He sends you a picture of the letter, and you respond in kind with one of an identical nature.

You hadn’t planned to go to the same university, but it certainly was a happy coincidence.

After graduation, he was beyond excited for the reprieve that Dragonstone granted. The promise of early morning hikes, and evenings spent on the beach — the once empty house, full of life and bustling with bodies.

You were the first thing Jacaerys thought to look for when he set his bags down in the summer home.

It was late May, and you were guaranteed to be out of school. I’ll text after I unpack, he thought, pulling clothes and books from his suitcase.

His room in Dragonstone had once been his childhood bedroom. The walls were a warm tone of white, and the small bed was still covered with his blue and white checkered duvet. Piano scales and pictures of his brothers and friends adorn the walls. There was a soccer trophy on the back edge of his desk, something he had won when he was eleven. It was stuffy from nine months of stagnance, but familiar all the same.

He pushed the curtains back from the window to let sunlight filter into the dusty room, gazing down at the beach, when he spotted your figure. He was quick to rush downstairs, out the backdoor, and across the stone path that leads from the patio to the beach. He greets you with a call of your name and a tight hug, sunglasses perched atop his head and linen shirt half buttoned.

It had been a year since he’d last seen you. You had kept in touch during the school year; Jace favoured Snapchat and FaceTime, delighted with the pleasure of seeing the mundane things you were up to. There was a nearly constant text thread, and voice memos passed back and forth. But, it all paled in comparison to physical company.

He abandoned his housekeeping duties, keen to sit on the beach and talk. And you did so for hours, about everything and nothing. He tells you about his last year of school and listens as you do the same. When the sun dipped past the treeline, he leaned back on his elbows, watching the water crest on the sand. He felt more at ease than he had in a while, enraptured by the ease of your presence. The conversation flowed, there were no awkward lulls and no pressure to talk about something dignified. It was comforting to be so close to someone who didn’t see much of his life in London — you knew the best version of him.

Your friendship had always felt like that, from a young age. On days that smelled of sunscreen and sea salt in his mind, you would meet in the mornings and depart past dark and then do it again the next day, never tiring of each other. Your parents knew his, so you had always been welcome in his home — invited or not. You had shared a bed during sleepovers, drunk from the same cup, and fallen asleep on the couch during movie nights countless times. Quick glances and imperceptible expressions were a language you communicated in, reading each other without words. In your presence, Jace was the most comfortable.

The summer slipped away as it always did, taking long nights and leaving memories of sand and sunshine. The days were ambled away in the water, on rocky hiking paths, or in the meadow that sat a mile away from all of the homes.

Jace had started The Hobbit before school ended — most days he found himself sprawled out in the park or on the beach, reading. He had also taken to running with his dog, Vermax, in the mornings. He relied on the serotonin boost to start the day, and with no football to play a jog was a decent alternative.

When the summer drew to a close, the typical melancholy that befell the return to the real world wasn’t present in Jace’s mind. He presumed it had everything to do with the fact that he would see you every day now

You have one college class together — a nine a.m. medieval literature discussion.

Clinging to familiarity in the new environment, he glued himself to your side for the first week of classes. He memorized the way to your dorm, meeting you outside every morning to walk together to your first lessons. The meandering conversation was a good start to the day, and he silently relished in your tired eyes and quiet voice, not yet used to the early schedule.

On Friday he all but begged you to come back to his dorm after the discussion; it was your only class that day so you had given in. You hadn’t seen his living quarters yet, and he wanted to spend time with you, worried for when your schedules would fill up and you would lose room for each other.

The discussion had been mind-numbing. You reviewed the same syllabus as the lecture, and went over the same rules and policies as every other class. With the thirty-five minutes remaining, the teaching assistant made everyone watch an incredibly monotone video about the history of medieval England.

Jace linked his arm into yours in the hallway after class, pulling you to the doors. The cool morning air was refreshing, waking you up more as you walked across campus. His dorm building was new and modern, seventeen floors with grey siding and big windows. It was private housing, clearly expensive.

He had a single room with an adjoining bathroom and a small common space. The walls were typical dorm white, with laminate wood flooring. Joffrey’s school photo is hung on one wall, the frame clearly decorated by the child with glitter and string. Scattered across the other walls were photographs in thin silver frames, a large world map, a clock, and a cross-stitch of a rainbow stag beetle.

Sitting on the couch, you observed the unframed photos that lay across the coffee table, inspecting a leggy grey dog as you plucked it from the pile, “Who is this?”

Jace leaned into your side, gazing at the photo, “My mum’s dog, Syrax,” He reached over you to tap the picture, “Syrax is my dog’s mum.”

He slipped his hand into yours as you walked with him to his second class of the day.

In the third week of school, Jace asks you to attend a mixer for a pre-law society with him. He doesn't know anyone, and doesn't want to be alone at the party. You meet at his dorm at a quarter-to-six so you can walk to the event together.

The dress-code is emi-formal, and when he opens the door to you his hair is slicked back with water and he smells like his cologne — musk, sandalwood, and amber.

“Are your clothes pressed?” You ask, grinning at his freshly ironed slacks and the three buttons undone on his shirt.

He rolls his eyes, locking the door behind him as he escorts you down the hallway. The walls of the elevator in his dorm are mirrored, and you laugh at him when you catch him taking pictures of himself. He makes you take one with him, and sets it as his lock screen.

The mixer was in the dean of law’s massive house, buzzing with young people in smart outfits. Jace abandons you about fifteen minutes in, spotting a group of poli sci majors from his social psychology class.

From his childhood spent between galas and his mother’s business meetings, Jace was good at navigating these situations. He was charming, leveling the professors with charismatic smiles and confident posture. He was good at holding an intelligent conversation, discussing theory and strategy.

You were on the patio, watching the stars, when he found you an hour later.

His arms brushed yours as he leaned against the railing, “Sorry for leaving you,” His voice was quiet, and he stared at your profile, watching the way the moonlight illuminated your skin.

You wave his apology off and make him buy you coffee in recompense on the way home.

You’re stood talking together on the quadrangle a few weeks later, a cup of hot chocolate warming your mitten-less hands, when you realise just how cold it’s gotten. It's just too cold for the thin jacket that you try to sink further into, hiding from the wind that bites at your delicate skin.

Jace watches you shiver, observing your lack of appropriate attire.

“Are you cold?” He asks, reaching out to run his hands up and down your arms, half to warm you, half to gauge how thick your jacket is. Not very.

You nod, “I didn’t check the weather this morning.”

He sighs with exaggerated exasperation and slides his arms around you, careful of the paper cup you held. Of course, he’s worn the right coat, and you feel the downy material of his hood against your cheek as he rubs your back to generate some warmth. You smell the cologne on his collar and the expensive shampoo he uses; he grumbled something about taking better care of yourself.

Then, one particularly cold Friday morning he has forgotten his coat. Dressed in a hoodie, he mirrors your excuse from the week prior, smiling sheepishly — face flushed from the chilly air, dark curls blowing around his head like a halo. You take pity on him, slipping your scarf off. You loop it around his neck, tucking the ends down into the collar of his sweater, and leave him with a fond peck on the cheek; his skin is cold.

He's appreciative, though the scarf does little against the cold wind cutting through his sweater. Still, he doesn't give the scarf back.

With the cold, comes midterms. You’re the first person Jace asks to study.

Your dorm room is closer to the central part of campus, and thus a shorter walk in the bitter cold. Jace brushes snow out of his hair as you unlock your door, ushering him inside. It's small. Two twin-sized beds, one on each wall, with nary enough room for two bodies between them; a desk is crammed into the small space between your bed and the window. You let him take the desk, spreading your books and notes out across your bed.

Your dorm is old, and the room has very little ventilation. Despite the frigidity outside, the room is stuffy and almost hot with both of your bodies inside. An hour into studying Jace shrugs off his heavy, knit sweater and pushes his glasses up into his hair.

“What are you working on?” You ask, leaning forward. You’re bored, working on the same power point you started yesterday. You want to talk to him, though he doesn’t seem keen on the idea

He doesn’t look up from typing as he speaks, “Analysing The Art of War.”

You shut your laptop, bent on distracting him, “The book?”

He nods but doesn’t give a verbal response.

“Who's that by?” You ask, fighting to suppress a grin

This time he does look up, glaring at you over his glasses, “Sun Tzu.”

His tone is short, but it's amusing to annoy him so you grin, suppressing a giggle, “Sounds very interesting.”

“What do you want?” He asks after a beat, still holding your gaze.

You shrug, “Nothing. I’m bored,”

The next time you study is even less productive, school work discarded on his floor in a matter of minutes.

“We can’t be trusted to work together,” He tells you, watching as you calculate his astrological chart, geometry homework forgotten.

You attend your first college party together in November. When you arrive at his dorm, he’s dressed much more casually than normal.

You reach out to tug at the thin silver chain peeking out from his shirt collar, “This is fun,” You tease, giggling, “Aiming to impress tonight?”

He rolls his eyes in mock-offence, turning you around by the shoulders to shove you out of the doorframe.

The lights in the house are dim, and they strobe slowly through different colours. It’s too dark and too bright all at once. The music is almost unbearably loud and people are packed in like sardines, it’s all incredibly overstimulating.

When he senses your unease, Jace takes your hand, pulling you tight against your side to lead you through the throng of bodies. He’s looking for someone, but you’re unsure who, and he canvases the whole space before giving up on finding them.

The backyard of the house is quieter, but the ground still vibrates from the bass of the music. People are scattered about, smoking cigarettes and sipping from bottles of cheap beer.

You both learn what Jell-O shots are, and make out in the bathroom back at his dorm. It’s not the first time you’d kissed each other, trying it a few times in your adolescence just to see what it was like. But this is different, tipsy and sloppy, as you giggle into his mouth.

It's forgotten in the morning, when you wake up in his bed still dressed in your going-out clothes, head pounding.

But then it happens again, the week before finals.

You had stayed at the library far too late studying, leaving the pair of you to walk back to his dorm in the dark. It's positively frigid, cold December air whipping snow into your face.

There are still snowflakes in your hair as you shed the thick coat you’re wearing, pulling off your gloves and hat.

There's a bottle of wine in Jace’s freezer, left by Aegon the weekend before. It's expensive and rich and red, and Aegon would likely skin you if he found out you were drinking it — but, that's part of the fun. There's a baking show on the small television, and you’re curled into Jace’s side to steal some of the warmth from his body.

When the program lulls he brings his hand to your hair, combing through the tangled strands. You pay it little mind, leaning into his touch as you watch a contestant on-screen whip macaron batter. His fingers slide down to your jaw, turning your head so your eyes meet his. He’s studying your face, cheeks flushed from the wine or the cold.

The attention is odd, and you giggle nervously under his gaze. His hands come to cradle your jaw as he leans towards you, nose brushing yours. The air is charged with an unusual tension, his mouth a breath away from yours.

When he kisses you, he’s slow and gentle, his whole body angled into yours. Everything feels warm, a welcome contrast to the weather outside, and you chalk it up to the glasses of wine coursing through your bloodstream.

It's pleasant, different from times past; this certainly doesn’t feel like an innocent, experimental kiss. It's heated, tinged with passion. He uses the placement of his hand to ease your jaw open, tongue sliding slowly into your mouth.

There's a vibe, something you hadn’t felt before with him. It's communicated through the gentle touch of his hands, and how his breath hitches when you kiss him back with the same sort of force.

The moment is broken by the announcement of a winner on the television. His hands slide down, resting on your shoulders, pulling your frame into his.

You don’t talk about it afterwards.

#guys be honest can you tell that i work for a newspaper #column ☝️🤓 editorial ☝️🤓#i wrote a whole 4000 word draft and fucked the perspective so badly i had to rewrite the entire thing #this actually kind of cooked me tbh #pls dont base my merit as a writer on this fanfic that i wrote in the car and also in a public bathroom in the suburbs of chicago #HONESTLY i'm not really a modern au enjoyer but this is eating my brain so it needs to get out into the universe #i got locked into a public bathroom while writing this btw #𖦹｡⋆ jace #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys targaryen #jacaerys x reader #hotd jacaerys #prince jacaerys

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finsterhund · 1 year ago

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I would argue that humans have been chronically dehydrated since ... well... For a very very very long time.

Access to entirely safe, clean, untainted water is a luxury. It's a luxury not everyone can afford IN THE PRESENT DAY no less. And it used to be so much worse.

Humans possibly invented* alcohol (*fermentation naturally occurs in nature but you get what I mean) not initially for the drug aspect but because the fermentation process makes it safer to drink. There was actually studies that show increased alcohol availability around industrial revolution times lead to lower cases of deaths from waterborne illnesses. (Not to be confused with John Snow(lol) discovering that cholera cases were less common in brewery workers, because as far as I could tell THAT specific instance was more the result of them having access to different well water sources that weren't the main sources tainted by waste, which was the leading cause of cholera in large urban areas) Tainted water supply has been the cause of horrifying deadly diseases for the entirety of our species history. And the act of living in larger cities had made that worse with the water supply being much more easily contaminated with waste runoff. It's only from modern infrastructure and waste treatment that cities have become safer.

My point being is that humans have probably since recorded history ALWAYS been at least somewhat chronically dehydrated because the alternative would result in a direct increase of the risks from those two factors (water sources that were unsafe in the first place/lack of available water sources entirely, and a side effect of large communal living further contaminating what "safe" water sources we did have access to) So this resulted in our having completely normalized the side effects of chronic dehydration for generations upon generations. And it's only now in our digital age of increasingly advanced understanding of molecular biology, health, and medicine that we're discovering just how bad the situation has always been. Not everyone lived within access of crystal clear glacier runoff. Many of us relied a lot more on getting our daily intake of liquids from the food we ate instead. And it's only now that we're able to see just how drastic that difference can be. Anyways all of this is to say that access to reliable clean water should be a human right and it's something we should fight tooth and nail for especially now that we're learning just how drastic of an impact it can have. Especially in the long run. (I literally JUST learned that thing about "knots in the muscles" from this post)

The variation of water quality and subsequent safety is something I've always been aware of because I'm agonizingly sensitive to drinking water. The high sediment content (enough to stain porcelain sinks deep ruddy orange over time) in small town southern Saskatchewan water is something my hypersensitivity drastically prefers over the (still pretty hard??) heavily treated stuff of northern British Columbian cities. To the point that I cannot bring myself to physically drink tap water. At all. The taste, smell, and texture is entirely different. My houseplants coincidentally also seemingly do worse if I do not boil their water or outright just buy them distilled water. It's not just me and my silly little plants though. The mineral content in tap water can build up and damage sensitive machinery such as medical equipment which is why distilled water is used in those things instead. Pretty much everything added to tap water has some beneficial quality for us humans drinking it but that doesn't change the fact that it's being added and I'd argue the type of water/treatment you grew up with permanently influences your taste in water going forward. My grandparents, also in southern Saskatchewan but on a farmstead and without access to water mains (had a cistern/well/idk), were my primary caretakers for the first few years of my life and I drank probably more in the means of juice than what is ideal for a young child. And thanks to my autistic hypersensitive ass this would be a habit that became impossible to break when I moved to BC and suddenly the tap water tasted like "acid soap" rather than the rich flavour of the previously closest town's running water (that which was excessively rich in sediments) or my go-to always reliable consistent taste and textured apple juice (sugar addiction in humans what with us being descended from frugivore apes is its own subject entirely that I won't touch on here but yeah needless to say sugar cravings are generally something our brains tend to prioritize over drinking just plain water unfortunately)

The water fountains at parks and in my elementary school were fine and I drank from them freely. But the residential tap water... god... It might as well have been pool water there was too much chlorine.

Where I'm going with this is, stay hydrated. Hydrate yourself as much as you can. Because it's important. Humans benefit from a lot more water than the average person probably thinks we do, clearly. It can cause according to OP, chronic muscle injury. But don't feel guilty about hating tap water. You're not crazy, there ARE chemicals in there. Not harmful chemicals mind you, please don't fall for "raw water" scams, that's how you get all manner of diseases, just get distilled water then, but don't feel bad about being able to notice and dislike your local tap water and having to drink bottled water or mixing something into your water like a juice or a tea. We're all probably adapted to be a bit more sensitive than we should be to differences in water BECAUSE of our history with the high risk of contamination, which is something people out there in many places are still facing today.

Also shit like golf courses and the mass production of things like almond milk are an abuse of our precious water supply and we should prioritize that water going to people and our environment first and foremost. Don't feel guilty about "wasting" water as an individual. You're not. It's blame being shifted. Use your water. That's what it's there for. Have baths and water your plants and just play in it sometimes.

Stay hydrated my friends. By any means necessary. It's a privilege your ancestors would be beyond proud and relieved you now have. Our water being as reliably safe and clean as it is represents generations of scientific research, advancement, and innovation. Untold numbers of humans working together to bring you, the people of today, something they could only have dreamed of. And remember the importance of water in your social activism. Because it's something we need to protect as well.

#text post #long post #sorry to ramble I was just craving the sediment water something fierce when this post came across my dash #and I felt really upset I can't just drown in the stuff #you know in small town Saskatchewan outdoor pools would be this exciting adventurous murky orangey color #couldn't see the bottom so the diving for treasure game was a lot more fun #and once out of the water I could actually let it dry on my skin and it wouldn't make me feel all tingly and itchy #I never fully feel clean after a bath or a shower here and I blame the water #you know how they sell like bottled water from fucking fiji or some shit? Imagine my beautiful ruddy Saskatchewan water instead #also yeah I literally do not drink the tap water here other than like when I make lemonade or my own iced tea #have had people tease me about not drinking water but they don't know what it's like to be homesick for the type of fucking water #and on that subject I feel a nostalgic grief with remembering how the baths were from that underground tank water at my grandparents house #their little green enamel bathroom and the cool safe way having a bath in that bathtub felt. such an old blurry faint memory #but such a comforting one of that little green bathtub #the water here feels fucking SHARP on my goddamn skin. It's WORSE than how it was on the coast where I spent the majority of my childhood #I fucking HATE northern BC tap water man #although there's also the very real possibility due to our shitty landlords that we just have something wrong with our plumbing #either way I fucking miss the Saskatchewan water #every time I got to visit again as an older child it just felt so... right... you know?#like home is part of your flesh and your bones and the way water is supposed to taste and the way it's supposed to evaporate off your skin

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helladirections · 3 months ago

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July Fic List

After May and June I put out lists of all the fics I read and reblogged, and I got good feedback so #WritersSupportingWriters because reblogging and rec-ing are the only way that writers get readers.

FYI:

In order I reblogged not order written

Not necessarily written in July

I only reblog after I read and like it

90% of the fics I read are because they came across my dash

Must have a Read More bc I'm not making people scroll like that

I'm begging y'all to put word counts on your fics pls

Previous Monthly Lists | Fic Rec Tag | My Masterlist

Spreading You Open (4 parts) Part 1 7.5k Part 2 7.1k Part 3 7.1k Part 4 also exists but I haven't finished it yet An Unexpected Goal 9.9k Spinning Out, Waiting For Ya 3.8k @swiftmendeshoran

Drunk With You 6.3k @finelinenina

Call It What You Want Part 1 8k Part 2 6.2k Part 3 6.1k @narrycherries

Protection (10 Parts) Toothpaste Part 1 1.6k Part 2 2.1k Part 3 2.6k @1d1195

A Night Out With Harry 1.1k Too Long 1.5k Touch 3.8k Seven Six Five (series) Part One 3.9k Part Two 3.6k Part Three 3.5k Part Four 3.1k Part Five 4.9k Part Six 6.4k @lemoncrushh

Tastes Like... 8.7k One of the few fics I've reread. So good. @tobesobri

Somebody Else Part 1 2.7k Part 2 4.6k Part 3 3.8k Part 4 6k Part 5 11.1k Part 6 7.1k Part 7 5.6k Part 8 9.1k @harrystylescherry

The Favor Master List (series) The Favor: Part 9 10.2k I'm simply enjoying the view (pornstarry filming with y/n) @jarofstyles

Protect You 3k @harryhitties

YN had a bad day, and coming home to Harry is the one thing... 1.6k @heartateasee

You Again 11.4k @freedomfireflies

Use Me Up| Boyfriend's Best Friend!H 7k Next Door Neighbors 7.8k @gurugirl

Please, Please, Please: Part 1 5.6k Part 2 5k @purplecoffee13

No Coincidence 6.5k A Chance 3-4k @0nlythrowharrybeaux

Sweet Creature (Restaurant Owner H / Chef YN) 1: Prepping 4.3k 2: The Offer 5k 3: Protectively Watchful 4.8k 4: Heat of the Kitchen 5k 5: Seasoned to Perfection 6k @justletmeadoreyou

A/O/B Academic Rivals Part 1 22k Part 2 20k Part 3 18k @jawllines

The Devil is a Gentleman Part 12 8.7k (IF you haven't been reading this you must be living under a rock) @1800titz

Something In The Orange 2k @finelinevogue

Sunshine (Part 1) @stylesloveclub

Even If It Takes Forever 9k @watchmegetobsessed

#yo #rec #swiftmendeshoran #watchmegetobsessed #stylesloveclub #finelinevogue #1d1195 #gurugirl #0nlythrowharrybeaux #1800titz #lemoncrushh #jawllines #justletmeadoreyou #jarofstyles #harrystylescherry #tobesobri #narrycherries #finelinenina

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starshinegarcia · 6 months ago

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hi!!! Can you do Spencer x fem reader where she is not a part of the BAU but is Spencer's gf and no one on the team knows but they have their suspicions. Then one day he forgot his lunch so she decides to bring it to him at work and everyone is so shocked that he has a gf and they tease Spencer bc he's so infatuated with her and they are so in love!

I love this idea so much!! requested Spencer x Reader oneshot- my first time writing Spencer! feedback appreciated as always! __ stands for Y/N! hope i did it justice! thanks so much for the request lovely 💗

Isn’t it just so pretty to think..

The sun peeked in at you through a crack in the cream colored curtains, a trick of the light casting shadows on your freckled back as you dozed off- again. The slow beeping of your alarm clock came into earshot once again, and you begrudgingly unlocked your phone, trudging across the apartment to take a picture of the fridge (it was the only way to shut your alarm off, Spencer had figured out your sleep habits.) Slowly padding back to your bedroom, you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, blinking as you examined Spencer’s side of the bed. Wait. You twirled around, doing a double take as your eyes focused on the blue lunch bag sitting on the counter. Spencer had forgotten his lunch, the one you had packed for him the night before, like you always did.

The love note peeked out at you in the front pocket, an extra reminder to you as you grabbed your phone. Scrolling through a few texts from Spencer from earlier in the morning, you dialed his number, chewing on your lip as it rang. “Good morning, sunshine.” “Spencie, you forgot your lunch.” You heard your boyfriend sigh on the other line, imagining him rubbing his temples. “So much for that eidetic memory, huh? I’m sorry, baby, put it back in the fridge, okay? I’ll order something for today.” You shook your head, but refrain from arguing audibly as an idea sprang into your head. “Baby?” “Just wait there, okay Spence?” “__, sweetheart, what-” “No time to talk! Bye!” Giggling, you DID place the lunch back in the fridge as he had asked, dashing back to the bedroom and shutting the door with a spin.

Spencer had, undoubtedly, been in a rush that morning, having stayed in bed with you a few more minutes then time allowed for. He ended up not being late, and even if he had been he would never sacrifice that time with you, not for the BAU, not for the world. You had been dating for half a year now, but you had been in his life for much longer before that- hence you two moving in relatively quickly. The team obviously had their suspicions, but no formal introduction had taken place- but Spencer was left completely clueless that morning as you hung up the phone, smiling and going back to his files with a loving shake of his head.

So, come lunchtime, the last thing he was expecting was your scent wafting through the office, his ears picking up on the jingling of your bracelets and suddenly feeling slightly crazy. But no, there you were, bouncing up to him with a visitor badge pinned to your blouse, your guy’s favorite Chinese takeout cradled in her hands.

“Hi, babe.” You set the food down on his desk, perching yourself on his desk. “What are you doing here, sunshine?” “Well, I have a shoot later downtown, and, I figured you might want some lunch- free delivery, of course.” Spencer chuckles, taking you in- you were wearing a light blue blouse over a darker blue skirt- two of his favorite colors, though anything looked good on you. “You shouldn’t have. You look stunning, though. I can’t wait to see those pictures later.” You giggle, swinging your legs and reaching out a hand to smooth his curls down. Spencer clears his throat, and you glance up to see the entire BAU staring at you.

The rest of the office watched in awe as you came in, then with even more surprise as you beelined it to Spencer’s desk. JJ whipped a fashion magazine out of seemingly thin-air, pointing to a woman on the front cover. “She is quite literally the top plus sized model in the US right now.” “You’re telling me that Spencer is dating HER?” Garcia burst out in a fit of giggles, “I told you guys, big girls are the way to go!” while Derek shook his head with a smile. “Pretty boy pulls a model. Who knew?” Emily swiveled around to face them, shaking her head. “She looks different than the magazine, though. She looks smart, and look at the way he’s looking at her. Reid wouldn’t date someone without depth.”

Becoming aware of everyone’s eyes on you, you look to your boyfriend for an answer, getting a nod and gentle smile in return. You hop up off his desk, smoothing your skirt down and waving shyly. “Uh, hi, everyone! I’m __, it’s really nice to finally meet you guys, Spencer has told me so much about you and I’m really glad to finally be putting a face to the name and I’m-” “Baby, breathe.” The team stifles a laugh, the resemblance between your rants and Spencer’s tangents clear. You flush. “Anyway. I brought enough food for all, if you guys want? Penelope, I um, got some vegetarian stuff for you, as well.” Garcia, the woman that she is, wraps you in a tight hug, and you laugh, appreciating her silent invitation into the group.

Seated at the round table, everyone passes food around, settling down eventually and eating off of paper plates Rossi had dug up somewhere. Chatter fills the table, and the door abruptly opens as Hotch enters the briefing room. Everyone freezes, and you drop your fork startlingly loudly as his eyes find you. Rossi starts, “Aaron, we were just-” Hotch holds up his hand, cracking a smile as he motions to shake your hand. “You must be Spencer’s girlfriend. I had a feeling we’d be meeting you soon. __, is it?” You blink, standing up and letting out a sigh of relief, eyes twinkling as he winks at Spencer and starts to pull up a chair.

As the lunch hour came to a natural close, Spencer pulled you close as you leaned on his shoulder. Pressing a kiss to the side of your head,Garcia gazes at you two from the bullpen. “They are so freaking cute, I could cry.” Everyone laughs, but silently agrees, happy to know their youngest and most troubled colleague had found someone. Back in the office, you glance at your bedazzled watch and sigh.“I need to get going, baby, my shoot starts in half an hour.” Spencer groans, tugging on your arm as you start to stand up and gather your things. You laugh, rubbing his hand with your thumb. “I’ll see you at home, Spencie.” He nods, pulling you into a kiss and resting his forehead against yours. “I’ll be looking forward to that PB&J tomorrow, sweetheart.”

All along there was some invisible string, tying you to me..

Tags: @discotitsposts @ilikw

Comment 🦋 to be added to my tag list!! :)

#criminal minds #bau team #spencer reid #fanfiction #ems inbox #em writes #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #model gf #aaron hotchner #criminal minds hotch #cm fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds incorrect #matthew gray gubler

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