#but this year my friends are all far away or busy

[wonderjanga]

Ms. Kent and Billy

it’s 1959 and it’s been a year ever since Billy got his powers. Life is good and he found out about a pie eating contest happening in some little town in Kansas called Smallville. If you were to win, you’d get a whole $100.

Billy: “A hundred whole dollars… I could get food for weeks- no, months with that!”

Martha(Ma Kent): *appeared behind him* “Are you gonna participate in the contest?”

Billy: *startles* “Uh… Yes?”

Martha: “Aren’t you a little skinny for that?”

Billy: “Wha- I’m not skinny! I don’t think I’m too skinny at least.”

Martha: *looks him up and down wondering if he’d let her cook a bunch of food for him* “Sure. Hey, I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before. Are you new to Smallville?”

Billy: “Yes. This is my first time here actually.”

Martha: “Oh? So you’re just here for the pie contest?”

Billy: “Yup. I’m gonna eat as much pie as I can, and then I’m gonna get the money.”

Martha: “Will you tell me if they’re good?”

Billy: “Sure? Why?”

Martha: “Cause me and my mom made all the pies for the competition!”

Billy: “Oh, that’s amazing!” *looks starstruck*

Martha: *sounds proud* “I know.”

Billy didn’t end up winning the competition. He actually ended up vomiting after his first pie because his little malnourished self couldn’t handle all of that. Martha was there though to clean him up with a rag. They got to know each other better after that and soon enough, Billy would transform into Marvel, fly over to Smallville, and hang out with her. Martha even got to know Freddy because he would sometimes fly over with Billy too. Then the time bubble happened and fast forward 50 years. Billy, after panicking about his entire life and everything he knows it being over, went to go see Martha, who was conveniently still near Smallville.

Billy: *knocks on the door*

Martha: “Coming!” *opens the door and looks around seeing no one*

Billy: “Down here.”

Martha: *looks down to Billy and pauses to stare*

Billy: “Heeeeeeeey Martha.” *awkward wave*

Martha continued to stare at him for a solid minute before she rubbed her eyes, and then rubbed them again for good measure.

Martha: “Billy…?”

Billy: “Martha…?”

Martha: “Oh- my… Oh my Gosh!” *kneels down so she can look him over even going as far as to pinch his little cheeks to make sure he’s real*

Billy: “Ow! Martha, stop!” *bats away her hands*

Martha: *keeps trying to pinch him aways* “Are you real?”

Billy: “Yes?”

Martha: *has seen too much nonsense due to Clark* “Well, if you’re the real Billy uhm… Where did we first meet?”

Billy: “A pie eating contest here?”

Martha: “Hmm… That might be too easy… What pies did I make for the contest?”

Billy: “Wha- I don’t know!? How am I supposed to remember that??”

Martha: “Okay… Too hard. How about you tell me something only you would’ve known about a fourteen year old me.”

Billy: “Like what?”

Martha: “Like something secret I told you.”

Billy: “Uhm… You had a crush on Elvis and said you wanted your future husband to be just like him?”

Martha: *stares before feeling herself cringe at her teenage self* “Okay, I’ll assume you’re the real Billy. Come in, bud.”

They caught up after that. They even decided to make pies together again. It was fun. You would just see them in the kitchen together talking about whatever, normally old lady stuff, and baking. Then, when Grandpa Kent came home…

Jonathan(Pa Kent): “Martha, I’m home!” *walks to the kitchen and pauses when he sees Billy and Martha*

Martha and Billy: *stare back at him*

Jonathan: “Martha is that an another grandbaby, clone, or cousin of Clark’s?”

Martha: “None of those. This is Billy. He’s a friend of mine.”

Jonathan: “Martha, you’re just befriending eight-year-olds now? Where are his parents?”

Billy: “They’re dead, mister! But don’t worry, me and Martha met back in ‘59. We go way back.”

Jonathan: *stares for a solid minute* “Wait a darn moment… were you caught up in all that Fawcett business?” *heard about it on the news*

Billy: “Yup!”

Martha: “What Fawcett business?”

That’s how Billy was led to explain the entirety of the time bubble and suspendium and all that. The Kents thankfully welcomed him with open arms. After this entire incident, Billy showing up to the farm was a regular occurrence. He could bake with Martha and help Mr. Jonathan out as much as he could on the farm. Then, one of the Kents other grandchildren showed up. (Billy was basically their grandbaby too, not that the Batson knew)

Jonathan: *trying to fix their tractor because it broke down for whatever reason*

Billy: *standing to the side, holding a toolbox and giving him tools whenever he asks*

Jon: *flies over from Metropolis* “Grandpa! Grandpa-” *does a double take when he sees Billy* “Wait, who’re you?”

Billy: “I’m Billy!”

Jonathan: “You heard him Jon. He’s Billy.”

Jon: *suddenly self-conscious of the fact that he’s flying in front of this kid and kinda just revealed his identity* “I’m uh… Jon.” *slowly floats down to land on the ground*

Billy and Jon: *stare at each other*

Jonathan: “Billy, can you pass me the diamond tip screwdriver?”

Billy: “Sure!” *passes it to him*

Yeah… Jon was a little confused as to who this random kid was. He was also a little confused as to why he refers to Jon’s grandpa has Mr. Jonathan but refers to Jon’s grandma as Martha. Did he live with grandma and grandpa? Is he another one of his dad’s cousins? Jon doesn’t think the boy’s a kryptonian but he might be wrong. Anyways, he’s making everything weird! Though it’s a sort of good kind of weird? His grandma is acting… younger? They also keep referencing things Jon has no idea about. (Late 50s pop culture) The kid- Billy, seems nice enough though. He has no problems playing with Jon so that’s awesome! Jon is so happy to have a friend away from home, but he’s still confused as to why Billy is at the farm.

Jon: “Dad, why do some people live on farms?”

Supes: “Because they’re farmers…?”

Jon: “No, but like what if they aren’t farmers, and they just help the farmers that are already there? Like one day they just showed up and decided to help around.”

Supes: “Well, I guess the closest thing you’re looking for would be a farmhand. Why are you asking?”

Jon: “Well, there’s this kid that lives with grandma and grandpa now-”

Supes: “WHAT?!”

Yeah, neither Ma Kent or Pa Kent have told Clark about this. It kind of slipped their minds.

Bonus interactions:

Before Pa Kent Came Home…

Billy: “Who’s that?” *looking at a photo of Pa and Ma Kent together*

Martha: “My husband.”

Billy: “Husband…?” *suddenly sad he missed a bunch of stuff from Martha’s life* “Oh…”

Martha: You sound upset. What’s wrong?

Billy: “Nothing.”

Twenty Years Ago When Clark Was Still a Kid…

Supes: Ma, who’s that? *looking at a photo of a nine year old Billy and a fourteen year old Martha*

Martha: “Oh, that’s Billy and I.”

Supes: “Who’s Billy?”

Martha: “An old friend of mine. He uhm… disappeared one day. I don’t know what happened to him.”

[weaselle]

i have a dog client (just one, starting a new business is hard) and she's a two-ish year old husky who was rescued only a couple months ago. I've been working with her for a couple weeks now and she just decided she could trust me yesterday. And i think the reasons why are interesting

So huskies can be sort of aloof, it's easy for a husky to decide they don't really care about you unless you are doing the exact thing that holds their attention. But it was more than that with this dog (she's named after a cheese, let's call her Gouda because she's [mario voice] a good-a dog) I think her experience in life thus far has been a bit traumatic

(this doesn't mean she was beaten or anything, everyone always jumps to that conclusion, but dogs are sensitive social creatures, and just being an orphan in a system that controls you so completely and never knowing who you can form a close bond with could be real trauma... i was given up at a young age by my own parents and it fucked me up pretty good even though i was adopted by my aunt, so i can only imagine what it might be like for a dog to be passed around for two years)

Anyway, she is very withdrawn (tho loving with her new family) and also tends to raise hackles and stiffen up when meeting dogs. For this reason i've been walking and running her alone because i walk some other dogs (not clients, it's part of my customer acquisition technique to be seen out with a pack of dogs) and a couple of those dogs are ... also not the friendliest. So i wanted to set her up for success by giving her time to get comfortable around me and the new activity before i introduced a possible stressful situation of other (grumpy) dogs.

At the meeting there was a growling and snapping situation and I had to use my Big Dog voice (just a big deep "hey" with my full diaphragm) and get between them and shut it down. Then they settled and we went on the walk, during which time there was an additional teeth and snarl moment from the other grumpy dog that i shut down immediately. The rest of the walk they were fine - during the second half i transitioned away from walking between the two, and ended with them walking next to each other close enough to bump and they did great.

Anyway, when i went to drop off Gouda at home, for the first time she really responded to my goodbye, licking my face and nuzzling my ear and bumping her head into my chest, whereas before she wouldn't even walk back over to me for goodbye petting once she was home.

I'm pretty sure it was the interactions with the other dog that did it. Specifically three things

A: for the first time she saw me defend her against another dog, so she knew she could count on me to back her up so she could relax

B: she saw that i was maintaining order and discipline and wouldn't allow dogs to be in altercations so she could relax

C: this is the more nebulous one but one i think is the most interesting: I believe the situation with the other dogs helped her to see me at a high level of disapproval, yet remain within behavior parameters that allow her to feel safe. In other words, she saw me in a situation where dogs were breaking the rules in a pretty big way - a semi fight situation where theoretically i would be at my most threatening or angry - and my response was not scary, i didn't get physical or punish or hold a grudge etc.

I think that last one really cemented it for her, because now Gouda knows if she gets something wrong and makes me "angry" it's going to be okay. So she can relax.

Taken all together, her experience yesterday was that i will defend her against other dogs, i can and will maintain order in the pack, and, importantly, even if she gets something really wrong or i'm in an "angry" situation, i'm safe to be around.

and now we're good friends.

[sanjisleggy]

let your husband help you (shanks x reader)

eq: HELLO HELLO, GOD I DIDN'T KNOW YOU HAD YOUR REQUESTS OPEN, I LOVE YOUR WRITING OF SHANKS, I LOVE WHEN THEY PUT READER AS SHANKS' WIFE AHHH‼️‼️‼️‼️ something about shanks, with a fem!reader (if possible) that has wings and sometimes the wings with feathers require molting and there are areas that cannot be reached closer to the back and requires help to remove the loose feathers

a/n: (i am playing valorant as i write this help) ty for the request anon! :D the enthusiasm is very endearing ;;0;; hope you enjoy reading! also man i love writing for Shanks :3c

contents: a bit of angst (fem!reader is having a hard time), descriptions of itchiness and pain, comfort, fluff :D, a tad bit suggestive bc it’s Shanks

wc. 1.2k

wanna be on my taglist?

i.

these past few weeks have been torture. today especially so.

alone in your bedroom aboard the Red Force you writhe in itchiness and pain as your back aches in a way it hasn’t in a long time. lying face-down on your bed, you feel your wings twitch and tremble as you contort your arms to reach behind you as far as humanly possible; only to groan in defeat when the most you can do is brush the offending feathers with your fingertips.

for days now a small part of your brain has been nagging at you to go get Shanks for the sake of your poor back and wings but you’ve heard from your crewmates how busy he’s been so you’ve pushed the urge aside. now, though, the idea has forced its way to the forefront of your mind out of desperation, no doubt.

holding back a sob of frustration that threatens to make its way out of your throat, you nuzzle your face into your husband’s pillow, hoping that his scent can serve as a distraction of some kind. more than anything though, it simply acts as a poor placeholder for the real thing and only makes your aching heart (and wings) yearn for him even more.

“c’mon, (Y/N), don’t be shy,” his gentle voice called from outside the utility closet in which you’d chosen to hide–away from him. you felt your face heat up at Shanks’ persistence to help with something he wasn’t even totally aware of; he just knew you were in pain so he had to help.

“it’s okay, i can deal with it myself,” you lied, wincing when one of your wings brushed against a shelf behind you. most of the molting feathers had already been dealt with but your wings had grown a lot since the last time you molted and now they were far too big for your hands to reach. “just leave me alone.”

“if you don’t tell me what’s up, i’ll tell Rayleigh.”

“no!” you protested instantly. as much as you trusted the first mate of your crew with your life, this was far too embarrassing to get him involved. “if you tell anyone i’ll leave the crew, you asshole.”

you had meant it only as a false threat but the sudden silence told you Shanks took it a bit more seriously than you thought he would.

“okay, fine,” he replied and you could hear the pout on his face. “i just wanna help. there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. you know you can trust me to take care of you.”

a particularly sharp pain shoots through your spine from your right wing and the whine of discomfort slips past your lips before you can help yourself. too far gone to care about anyone hearing from outside your quarters, you let yourself sob aloud, the relief from crying doing little to ease your discomfort. 

the immense helplessness of your situation makes you realise how pampered you’ve been all these years. how lucky you are to have had such a loving friend-turned-lover who always took it upon himself to care for you. now here you are: alone in your bedroom, struggling with a task that you long should’ve learned how to deal with yourself.

you nearly give in to the urge to seek out the one person you trust to alleviate your pain but at this point, you’re too tired to even get off the bed. maybe it’s for the best, you wonder to yourself. your eyes flutter closed as you pull Shanks’ pillow a bit closer and bury your face deeper into it as you allow yourself to be lulled to sleep by your exhaustion, hoping that at least you can sleep away the next few hours of aches and itching.

ii.

letting out a sigh of relief, the one-armed Emperor takes his time returning to his ship after a grueling few weeks of settling disputes between several smaller pirate crews. normally such tasks would never take this long–hell, most of the time he didn’t even have to step in–but civilians’ lives were at stake so he had no choice.

now, as Shanks nears the dock and sees the Red Force coming into view, all he can think about is taking a nap with you. not only have his duties kept him away from you all day every day, he’d also been going to bed at ungodly hours, crawling under the sheets beside you long after you’ve fallen asleep. though he can’t wait to spend some quality time with you, he wants nothing more than to rest by your side with the knowledge that he’ll finally be able to wake up after you for once.

“hey Captain,” Benn calls out from aboard the deck once Shanks reaches speaking-distance. “i think (Y/N) needs your help.”

“see, what’d i say?” you could practically hear him smiling as he sat behind you, tenderly plucking out the final few loose feathers. “there’s no need to be shy around me.” Shanks tugged at a particularly stubborn feather and when it finally came loose, you couldn’t help the moan of relief that came out of your mouth.

you felt your cheeks rapidly heat up in shame as you buried your face in your hands, fully prepared for the boy to make fun of you. but it never came. instead, Shanks stayed quiet as he soothed the particular spot of skin with his fingers in a manner so tender you couldn’t believe it was him.

“there, all done,” he said. you were grateful but you couldn’t bring yourself to turn around and face him even though you knew you had to in order to thank him properly. 

as though sensing your dilemma, Shanks leaned forward to press his lips against your shoulder blade, right above where your wings sprouted from your back. it sent shivers down your spine and goosebumps appeared all over but you didn’t tell him to stop, if anything, you wanted him to continue.

you’re ripped out abruptly from your dream when the door of your quarters slams shut. from your face-down position in bed, you’re unable to see who it is but only one person in this world would be brave enough to make such an entrance.

“welcome back,” you groan, using your arms to push the upper half of your body off the mattress as you turn your head to glance over your shoulder.

“why didn’t you call for me?” your husband responds, tossing his cape onto the floor before rushing over to guide you back down into a resting position. Shanks pulls over two other more pillows and places them in a way he knows, from years of experience, makes you the most comfortable. “how long have your wings been molting?” 

there’s a slight hint of frustration in his voice but you know it’s not directed at you. it doesn’t make you feel any less guilty, though.

“it started… two weeks ago…” you mumble into Shanks’ pillow.

“you–” he cuts himself off with a deep sigh before he says anything impulsive. the Emperor understands you just didn’t want to disrupt his work and he appreciates the sentiment greatly, he’d just hoped that after all these years of marriage, you’d know how he’d do quite literally anything for you. this, he decides as his eyes scan your twitching wings and tangled feathers, is a conversation for another day though.

“poor thing,” Shanks coos instead, leaning down to press kisses all over the back of your neck and around your shoulder blades as he runs his hand down your side. you can feel his lips smile against your skin when your body shivers in response. “you must’ve been in so much pain, hmm? let your husband help you out.” 

—

taglist: @irethepotato @i-reblog-fics-i-like @grierpilots @appalost @hyper-fic-ation @dressycobra7 @38lyra38 @chaseyui

[writinginatree]

Kiss It Better

Relationship(s): Bodhi Durran/healer!reader

Summary: Bodhi shows up in the Healer Quadrant injured after a fight — again. With how often it happens lately, you're starting to suspect he's letting himself get hurt on purpose just so he has an excuse to come see you.

Dismissing your previous patient, you hurry on to the next. It's the day for challenges in the Riders Quadrant, which means even more of them are filling the beds of the infirmary than on normal days. Sure enough the person waiting on the next bed is dressed in black too, just like all five you'd treated today so far.

"What can I do for—" You break off when you actually look at the patient's face instead of just his uniform, and realize who it is sitting in front of you. "Bodhi?!"

"Hi, darling," your boyfriend greets you with a sheepish grin you don't return.

"What happened?" you demand to know instead. The only wound you can see on him is a small cut in his lower lip, but if that was all, he would've been turned away in favor of more seriously injured patients on such a busy day as this. "Is it bad? Show me where you're hurt!"

"It's not that bad," he assures you, and you relax a little, grateful he answered the most important question first. "Regular challenge, is all."

Still, his anatomical knowledge is hardly good enough to accurately judge if an injury is serious. He might think it isn't if it doesn't hurt much, but there are plenty of injuries that could be dangerous without feeling too bad.

"Show me!"

He lifts his shirt, revealing a fresh bruise blossoming across the side of his chest. "I think one or two of my ribs might have gotten cracked a little."

"Gods, Bodhi—"

"It's not that bad, really."

"Lie down and leave it to me to judge how bad it is. I'm the healer here, not you."

Bodhi does as you said, but can't stop himself from trying to soothe you. "Of course. I'm just saying, it barely even hurts. I wouldn't have bothered seeing a healer about it, but I knew you have infirmary duty today, so I figured—"

He interrupts himself with a hiss of pain when you touch your hand to the bruise, gingerly feeling along his ribs. There's some swelling, but no more than is normal for a bad bruise, and you can't feel any deformities from loose pieces of bone, either.

"Does it hurt when I press here?"

Bodhi nods, and you take your hand away, running it through his curls instead.

"How bad? On a scale of one to ten?"

"Six, maybe?"

"Okay... Take a deep breath. Does that make the pain worse?"

Doing as instructed, he winces. "Yeah, that hurts. But normal breathing doesn't."

You nod to yourself, already fairly certain it's just a small hairline break at the most. Painful enough, but by no means fatal.

As you continue to assess the severity of Bodhi's injury, your worry for him starts to ease, irritation rising in its stead. He's getting hurt much too often for your liking. It's not really his fault, you know, and it kind of comes with the job description of being a rider, but surely some of the injuries he has sought you out with could have been avoided if only he was a little more careful! Of course, it's not just him. After a year and a few months in the Healer Quadrant, you can confidently say that riders in general are reckless fools with zero regard for their own well-being — which is exactly why your fellow healer friends think you're insane for dating one of those daredevils with their thin-altitude-air-addled brains. While you love Bodhi dearly and wouldn't trade him for the world, your friends do have a point. Unlike you, your best friend never has to worry that her scribe boyfriend will wind up dead one day, nor does he add to the healers' already extensive enough workload by showing up injured every other day.

You shake your head at yourself. Now you're exaggerating. But Bodhi does make you worry a lot, and you can't even bring yourself to actually be mad at him for it. Not when he looks at you with that adoring smile, kissing your knuckles in thanks as you spread an ointment with a cooling effect over his bruised ribs.

"You're being careless lately," you say, the words coming out too softly to be taken as the accusation they're meant to be. "You never used to get hurt this often."

Bodhi just shrugs.

Having started dating at the end of your first year at Basgiath, you'd hoped to see less of him in your quadrant this year — as a patient, at least. But it seems second-year riders are no safer than their first-years. If anything, you've already seen more of Bodhi this year than you had in all your first year, though of course you hadn't payed as much attention to him then, so you might be misjudging.

You don't think you are, though. He's come seeking medical attention thrice in the last two weeks alone — conveniently always when you were on duty, you realize. You know he has your schedule memorized, so now that you think about it, it hardly seems like coincidence that every time he shows up it's when you're here. But it has to be, right? Surely he wouldn't be so stupid as to hurt himself on purpose just to see you... Right?

Faced with the way he's watching you — like a lovesick puppy, like you're the only thing in the world that matters — you're not so sure. It's true that classes and extracurricular responsibilities don't leave either of you as much free time to spend with the other as the both of you would like, but collecting injuries like this just for a few minutes more with you seems a little extreme.

And yet, you can't entirely put it past Bodhi. As a rider, extreme is kind of what he does.

Now that you've started thinking about it, you can't push the suspicion from your mind, so as you put the ointment aside, you decide to simply ask. "How come it's always when I'm on duty that you're getting hurt?"

Bodhi unsuccessfully fights a smile. "Luck?"

"Luck," you deadpan, now almost fully convinced he's been doing it on purpose. How fucking reckless can someone be?!

"Okay, you caught me. I might have been a little careless on purpose because I knew getting hurt would mean I get to see you."

"You're an idiot," you scold. "What if you'd gotten yourself hurt more seriously, huh? You won't get to see me at all anymore if you get yourself killed!"

"I wasn't that careless," Bodhi starts, but you're not in the mood to let him calm you down that easily.

"You can't control how badly someone hurts you when you let your guard down," you say. A look at the guilty look on his face has you softening a little. Cupping his cheek, you continue, "I wish we had more time together too, but I'd rather have you in one piece when I do get to see you."

Bodhi sighs. "I know. I'm sorry for being so reckless. Making you worry is the last thing I wanted."

"I know."

You peck his cheek, and reach for a cotton ball and antiseptic to disinfect Bodhi's split lip. He hisses at the sting, but you don't show any mercy until you're sure the cut is clean. A little pain now is better than possibly letting the wound become infected.

Bodhi gives you that adorable look you can never resist, tapping his bottom lip. "Kiss it better?"

You pretend to think about it, pursing your lips even as you want nothing more than to press them to his. "Only if you promise to be more careful," you finally say.

"Promise," he quickly agrees.

A little too quickly.

"I mean it, Bodhi. You've been lucky so far, but broken ribs aren't as harmless as you seem to think. If the fracture is bad enough the broken ends could pierce your lungs and kill you!"

He takes your hands, kissing each of your palms before answering, his voice taking on such serious a tone that you know he really means it when he says, "I'll be more careful. I promise. And I'm really sorry for making you worry about me."

You cup his face in both hands, tilting his head so you can press a soft kiss to his lips.

"Thank you," you mumble, and kiss him again. When he tries to deepen the kiss into something hungrier, you pull back, mindful of the cut in his lip. You rub your thumb over it, a slight smile on your own lips. "Careful, love, or it'll start bleeding again."

"Worth it," Bodhi shrugs and tries to kiss you again, pouting when you stop him with a finger over his mouth.

"Nuh-uh. Let it heal a little, then you can kiss me all you want on our date tomorrow."

"One more kiss," he pleads. "Just a little one."

You peck his lips one, two, three more times, finally forcing yourself to take a step back.

"I'll be in trouble if someone notices how long I'm taking with you," you say apologetically. "There's other patients requiring my attention."

Bodhi nods. "Right. I'll leave you to it, then."

"Not so fast." You push him back into his seat, turning to search through a shelf until you find the little ceramic container of pills you're looking for. You hand it to Bodhi, along with the ointment you'd applied to his ribs. "Here. Take one of these if the pain gets too bad. You can have up to three a day, but never less than five hours apart, okay?"

"Got it. Thanks."

"You can be generous with the cooling salve, but you'll probably only need it the first few days. It's only a small fracture, so it shouldn't give you too much trouble, but you do need to take it easy for a bit. Do not give me that look, Durran. If you overexert yourself that'll only make it heal slower."

"I know, I know. But I can still participate in challenges and stuff, right?"

You sigh. "I'd appreciate it if you took a day or two to actually rest, without sparring or any form of physical activity, but after that, yes. It should be fine, so long as you don't overdo it."

"I'll take it easy," Bodhi promises.

"And make sure you get enough sleep. Sleep is essential for your body's ability to heal itself, just like good nutrition." Smiling, you add, "You can drop by next week so I can check the healing progress."

Bodhi smiles back, and, rising to his feet, steals another kiss. "Sounds good. Then I'll stop distracting you from your work now. See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah. Tomorrow."

[choccy-zefirka]

Emergency Follow-Up Book Club Meeting

[Won't really make sense if you don't read Part 1 first, but Tumblr will hide this post if I add a link, so search "book club" on my blog]

Attending: Bellara, Harding, Lucanis, Neve, Davrin, Taash, Emmrich, Rook

Book: Adventures of Dolor the Daring, Volume 49, by I. L. Literatus Evaraas Mercar (Rook)

Notes taken by: Neve (Bellara was too overexcited to hold a quill)

Notes:

Important preface: This will likely be the serial’s last volume ever to be published. According to the paper sellers and my own sources, there is currently a lot of public outrage around the scene where Dolor gets hit by an enemy mage’s ice spike and, aside from wounding them for dramatic suspense, it also shatters a glamor amulet around their neck, revealing that they were not a human, but a Qunari all along. Reactions from (human) readers have included, to my knowledge: verbose letters to the publisher decrying the serial’s “forced diversity” in character backgrounds, as apparently it was already bad enough that the supporting cast is “teeming” with elves and dwarves; threats to the author as an “agent of the Qun” trying to “falsely paint their kind in a positive light”; laments from anguished mothers that their children will now think that the “oxmen” are all friendly heroes (I would point out that children have no business reading crime serials in the first place, but we know there’s no stopping a particularly determined twelve-year-old with a yearning to see a throat slit); and even high-brow critical essays insisting that Dolor has so far proven themselves to be far too quick-witted and intelligent to be a Qunari.

Rook opened the meeting by going over all of the above; which, according to them, was precisely what they feared when they picked up writing as a hobby. “It didn’t take you too long to figure out that Dolor’s adventures are based on my own,” they said, looking at me specifically (they did not seem angry, at least; though I suspect that Rook has trained their facial muscles not to betray them when they are angry, to put humans at ease). “But do I look like someone these adventures might happen to? In most people’s eyes, at least?”

Bellara and Harding disrupted the meeting to give Rook a hug.

Taash further disrupted the meeting with an offer to beat up every qalaba that made them feel like this. Lucanis supported them and volunteered his services to do it “more elegantly but also more permanently”. The offer was appreciated, but graciously declined.

Davrin asked if Rook regretted revealing Dolor’s true identity. Rook said they did not, and added that it was not a revelation, but a last-minute twist, which never would have happened if it were not for us. “I have been avoiding your book clubs because I was so embarrassed about my little secret… But it turns out I never had to hide it. Not from you.”

BEL, I CAN SEE YOU LOOKING OVER MY SHOULDER. I AM NOT GETTING SENTIMENTAL. I AM JUST KEEPING AN ACCURATE RECORD!

Harding said that she found Dolor’s sendoff to be “quite lovely”, and in her mind, they are still out there, fighting evil mages on the streets of Tevinter as their true self, with their friends by their side.

Bellara stopped trying to contain herself and erupted into enthusiastic gushing about the final scene, where the heroes get a moment to breathe as the villain is dragged away by a very Rana-like templar, and the mage Flosculus gently tends to Dolor’s wounds. In the previous volume, Dolor assumed that their feelings for Flosculus were not reciprocated, and decided to bottle them up. This volume still ends before the two can have an open conversation — but the delicate touches of the healer’s glow-infused hands all across Dolor’s bandaged torso, and the soft whispers asking them to tell him where it hurts “had more spice than the one romance we read that made Lucanis walk out of the room in a straight line”.

I am inclined to agree.

Emmrich laughed at no, that would be too mean-spirited; let’s say, was very amused by Bellara’s stumbling over the word “spice” and told her, “You can say eroticism, dear. That was the intent, after all.”

Rook has quite a few vitiligo spots on their otherwise slate-grey face, and that makes it a little more obvious when blood rushes to their cheeks. Which it certainly did in that moment — as they admitted the healing scene was Emmrich’s idea, and they merely “did their best” to commit it to paper.

To which Emmrich said, “And you described everything marvelously, my darling. I hope you know that all of us in this room are deeply grateful to you for sharing your work with us”.

I am also inclined to agree with that last part. But also, let it go on record that Emmrich held Rook’s hand while talking. If he ever blinks those big eyes at me again and claims that he had “no idea” everyone in the Lighthouse knew about him and Rook, I will just point to the evidence.

The meeting concluded with everyone reassuring Rook that, despite what happened to the Dolor serial, they should never stop writing. Harding even said, tearing up a little, that Varric would be proud. That made Rook blush again; are they finally beginning to process what happened? I cannot be certain.

Once we settled down, dice were rolled to choose the next book. It is Emmrich’s turn now.

Taash begged him, with a groan, not to choose any of the “thousand-page academic shit”. He protested that he has amassed “quite a collection of enjoyable romance stories” over the years — and took Rook’s hand in his again.

I see you, old man.

[bekkathyst]

I'm gonna say this and I'm gonna mean it in all sincerity from a longtime follower: I'm really glad you're so open with how things have been since you moved to Austria. On one hand, I do feel like I'm not only supporting a business I have for ages and feel good about that and I'm also supporting folks I care about online into being able to have a good life. And on the other I'm glad, because if you didn't mention the bad stuff I would probably 100% believe you guys moved into the middle of Europe and immediately escaped all the evils of capitalism and integrated into a gorgeous place with lots of history and folklore and ability to forage (!!!!!!!) and I would be so jealous I would possibly die. So either way I'm happy to keep buying your crystals, and also while I am very jealous but I probably won't die of it. Please give your daughter a hug from me, and your husband a high five. :D

Ah 😭 this is really sweet and I’m going to try not to ramble too long but I feel like this is a good thing to discuss, especially right now.

The first couple months of moving here were an insane contrast of like the happiest I’ve ever been in my life and the most stressed out knowing that one wrong move meant we’d have to give it all up and move somewhere else or lose the ability to be together. The immigration process I’ve had to go through to be with my husband anywhere is difficult but it was harder here than what we dealt with in the US only because this is the place we REALLY wanted to be and it was terrifying thinking the chance to be here could just be ripped away. But of course at the same time I was seeing family I hadn’t seen in a decade or longer, I was getting to really connect with my ancestors, be immersed in the culture, forage in the way I’d been longing to do for my entire life, and all the rest. I feel like because of this I just blinked and now somehow it’s been two years.

The nature here is my favorite, and I honestly wouldn’t trade it for anything. But Austria is far from perfect. There’s racism, xenophobia, the bureaucracy has made me question my sanity, some of the social culture really sucks, my business is deeply struggling and I wonder if we can make it due to how high fees and other taxes are, and I will ALWAYS have criticisms for any government I live under lol. Living somewhere very different from where I spent most of my life is really isolating and I feel lonely a lot. And I’m sure however I feel, it’s even harder for Antonio.

But like I said in my post, in the end, this is worth it for us. It’s so hard BUT we get to watch our daughter grow up somewhere where she can have healthcare and a good education and swim in lakes and hike mountains and make so many friends!! Omg she has so many friends. 🥹 and I now have healthcare too for the first time in my life which is really just in time for me to get diagnosed with a bunch of chronic illnesses that I’d never be able to get any help for in the US. And now my husband also has the chance for the first time in his life to pretty much travel anywhere he wants to which is amazing for him.

It must be quite obvious that these are all feelings I’ve been holding in for some time lol. But I can’t believe what lovely human beings follow me on here and support us especially after so long! It’s been almost 12 years since I started all of this and somehow I’m still doing it. Wow. Incredible.

I love you 😭❤️

And here’s evidence of the passed on high five 😆

[kteezy997]

and btw could u maybe start an series with an assistant x Timothée ?

Beyond Business-part one//t.c.

Warnings: cursing, mention of alcohol and drug use

“Timothée, you have the power to end this, any time you want to, so why don’t you?” you asked, waking into his home with him.

“You don’t get it, okay? It’s more complicated than you know.” he grumbled, heading to the fridge, opening it up to grab a bottle of beer.

“Timmy you reek of alcohol, do you really think you need more?”

He gulped down some of the cold liquid, stopping to glare at you, “As if it’s any of your business. You’re not my mother, y/n, just go home.”

As harsh as he was, he was right, he was your boss, and you weren’t friends. Your concern could only go so far before it was too personal.

Neither of you said anything more, Timmy left the kitchen, you assumed he was headed to crash in his bedroom after nursing on the brown bottle.

You left his apartment, reflecting on the past year of your life as Timothée Chalamet’s personal assistant. As you drove home, you remembered how goofy and lively he was when you were first hired. Now, he was becoming a hollow shell of that man.

He had been in a relationship with Kylie Jenner for nearly a year before you met him. But as time went on, after spending time with him, you wondered to what extent the relationship was real, or if it could qualify as a relationship at all. It seemed, to you, more of a situation-ship.

For the last six months, you saw Timmy become more dependent on alcohol and weed to help his moods. These days he was working crazy hours, traveling all over promoting his latest film. He was skinnier than you had ever seen him, and he was obviously tired as well. You, along with other people in his life, were worried about him.

The bad thing is, he is a grown man and he is going to do what he wants. He cannot be controlled any more than any other adult. So, for the most part, you felt as if you were watching him destroy himself and you were powerless to stop it.

.......

Timmy was bright and early with his apology text the next morning.

"hey, I'm sorry about last night. I shouldn't have been such a dick to you. especially not you, you don't deserve that. Let's have a good day together, yeah?"

You knew that he did not have the energy to hire a new assistant if you were to ever quit. He needed you, you both knew that. So you answered just a moment later.

"Okay. Want coffee after I'm finished running errands this morning?"

"Yes please! Thank you." he texted back immediately.

A couple of hours later, you made it to Timmy's place after picking up his dry cleaning, some groceries, his mail, and two coffees, one for him and one for you. You let yourself in with your copy of his key.

As you carefully carried the armfuls of items, you saw him drying his hair with a towel in the living room. "Hey, let me help." he said, dropping the towel on one of the couches and hustling over to you.

"Thanks." you said, and together you set all of the bags and the coffees onto the kitchen island. Carefully, you lay his garment bag flat on the surface.

"No, thank you for doing all of this." Timmy insisted, taking his attention from the items on the counter to look in your eyes.

You felt like his green eyes were piercing into your soul. This was the real Timmy. He had showered and sobered up from the drunken night before. "Well, it is my job."

“I know, but I’m still really grateful for you. Not everyone would put up with me for as long as you have.” he smiled.

You returned a smile to him, then said, “I should get these groceries put away.” you grabbed one of the bags, “But go ahead and tell me what’s on the agenda for today.”

As you started taking items out of the grocery bag, he cleared his throat, saying, “Oh, um, I just got some calls to make, so if you’d go through and answer emails for now that’d be great. After you’re done in the kitchen of course, I mean, no rush.” Between his sentences, he was also unloading the bags.

“Okay.” you giggled at him trying to help you, “I can get this, Timmy, you go make your calls.”

"Yeah," he set down a can of coffee, "yeah, okay." He gave you a soft smile before turning to leave the kitchen.

To you, he seemed almost...nervous? The vibes with him were different today. Not bad, just different. You didn't know what was up with him, but it was not your place to pry.

.......

A little bit later, you sat at his dining room table, replying to his vast number of emails on his laptop. In between calls, he would look through a script and read over his business contracts.

It began to feel like a normal workday again. Every once in a while, you would ask him a question and he would answer you and vice versa. He was himself.

"Alright, thank you, bye." Timmy ended another phone call. He sighed; it had been hours since he started. You knew that he was exhausted from talking to people for the day.

You peaked up from the laptop screen, still expertly typing your email message. Timmy made his way over to you.

As you typed, you heard his footsteps coming closer, until he was right next to your chair. You hit 'send,' and went on to another email, as nonchalantly as you could.

He leaned down, his hands on the table, his arms caging you on either side. You stopped, turned your head slightly to look at him, your heart was beating so fast.

January 5, 2025

Happy New Year, guys! Let me know if you’re excited for this new story!❤️

@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @softhecreator @tchalamss @lixzey @bitchyunknownuser @ducktapebar @aoi-targaryen @yukideadinside @elloise0 @thatoneweirdgirl17 @mel-vaz @sammy-halpert @iwishchalamet @that-one-fangirl69 @jindongdongie @briefkittenearthquake @imnotoverlyobsessive

[starrihan]

Higher Than Heaven (Yeonjun Fic)

→ Pairing: Yeonjun x afab! Reader

→ Plot: a group project is the last thing you want for your midterm, but working with the student who smokes makes it 10x worse

→ Genre: smut, tiny tiny bit of angst, protection (yes!!), kissing, hickeys, piv sex, reader is judgmental + hates smoking, swearing (Imk if i missed any!!)

→ Warnings: smoking, mentions of food, joke about dead grandparents

→ Word Count: 7,746

→ Notes: hey guys! This is the first fic of my Sanctuary Series! For more information about the series I would recommend going to this post here!I just want to clarify that I do not share the same views as the reader does in this fic, it was purely for plot purposes! Hope you enjoy pt 1 of the series 😚

༄ ༄ ༄

You were always a goodie two-shoes. Perfect attendance, good grades, class president, the story writes itself. You grew up playing different instruments and were always enrolled in a sport or after-school club to keep yourself busy and your portfolio reflecting nothing less than perfection. So how did you go from valedictorian and class president of your high school to a college student who is on the verge or dropping out? 

The amount of work you’d allowed to accumulate over the past few weeks was enough to scare even the professors, making them question whether they actually assigned that much work. You could feel your grays coming in at the sight of all your work, exhaling as you decide to tackle the easy assignments first. 

It’s the middle of the day on a Thursday. You had a couple of assignments due tomorrow night that you absolutely could not afford to push off any longer. You had already asked for extensions on most of your assignments so far and you didn’t know how many more dead grandparents you could have before your professors questioned the validity of your failed punctuality when it came to turning in your assignments on time. You had class at 3 p.m, giving you a good two and half hours to get some work done. 

༄ ༄ ༄

You pack up your belongings as the clock strikes 2:30 p.m. You had gotten a couple of your easy assignments done, though it was very taxing to say the least. You make your way to your class, bundling up as the cold was brutal enough to warrant a cancelation, though, your university would never do that (speaking from experience because wdym its 2℉ out and i have to walk to class when theres black ice on the ground??).

You make it to your class about 15 minutes later, shivering from being cold yet sweating due to the many layers you had on. You take a seat next to your best friend, who had gotten there before you and saved your seat. 

“Can we go get food after class? I’ve had back to back classes and meetings all day and I’m starving.”

She drones on. You nod as you take out your laptop, waiting for the professor to start class. You’re prepared to mindlessly take notes for the next hour and half during lecture, but are pleasantly surprised when the professor doesn’t pull up the lecture slides. 

“Good afternoon class. I can all tell you guys are doing great so far.”

Her joke lands for some people, getting little chuckles and giggles from different corners of the lecture hall.

“Your midterms are a month away. I would normally give an exam for this class, but this year I have decided to switch it up. I have you all in pairs and you will be submitting a group assignment as your midterm. You will not be required to present but I will give you free reign on the design, layout and mode of presentation on the project meaning you can use any platform or software you would like to get the information across. I have sent you all emails with the name of the person you will be paired up with.”

You and friend look at each other and groan, knowing that the chance of you two being in a group is slim to none. Surely enough, you check your emails for your project partners.

“Who is Choi Yeonjun?” 

You ask, looking to your friend to see if she has any answers. She scans the room, presumably to see if he’s in class to point him out to you. 

“You see that kid in the middle row to the left? The one with the red hair? That’s him.

You look at the back of his head, sighing as you realize you don’t know this person and that this project is going to take a lot more time out of your busy schedule. 

“At least you’re not working with Choi Beomgyu. I heard he can be a handful.” 

Your friend rolls her eyes, burning holes in the back of the blonde boy's head, who happens to be sitting next to Yeonjun. You follow your eyes to see the boy, laughing at the irony of your partners sitting next to each other, just like their partners were. 

The rest of the class is drag, the growling of your stomach making it seem longer than it was as hunger consumes you. 

“Let’s go to the dining hall. I can’t afford to spend any more money on that overpriced cafe.”

Your friend says as you follow her out. It’s gotten pretty dark outside and there weren’t many students walking around in the cold. There were a couple of people here and there, probably walking back to their dorms after class. You two find yourself walking behind a person with their hood up, paying no mind to him until a cloud of smoke hits your face. Your audible groan at the smell of weed alerts his attention as he turns around and apologizes for smoking right in front of you. As he pulls his hood down, you recognize the tuft of bright red hair sitting on the top of his head. 

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t know you guys were behind me. I didn’t mean for the smoke to hit you.” 

‘Great,’ you thought. Not only did you have to work with a random stranger, but he also smokes publically on campus. You didn’t like smoking or people who smoked. You couldn’t understand why people do it or what joy butchering your throat and lungs could bring you. Your friend knew that about you and sensing your irritation, she speaks up for you, dismissing the incident on your behalf while you both walk ahead of him. 

As soon as you know that you’re far enough away from Yeonjun, you ask,

“Can we switch partners?”

Your friend snickers.

“If he smokes, I can almost assure you that his friend does too, so switching partners wouldn’t help.” 

You finally enter the dining hall, taking in the heated building before putting your stuff down in search of mediocre food. 

༄ ༄ ༄

You spend the next few days catching up on any missing work, putting the project aside since you still have a month left to do it. You decide to use Sunday as your rest day, drained from the assignments you were able to get done. You still had many assignments left to do, but you could only do so much work and you were already feeling burnt out. Doing more work wouldn’t be eventful in any way. 

You prepare for your day as normal, showering and throwing on a cute, weather appropriate, outfit as you make your way to the cafe on campus. You needed something better than the dining hall coffee for a change. You went there quite often, as you were high school friends with one of the baristas there. You smile as you spot him, walking up to the counter. 

“Taehyun! How’ve you been?”

The boy beams brightly at you, loving your cheerful spirit upon seeing him.

“Y/N! I haven’t seen you for a couple days! I’m good, how are you? And, do you want your usual?”

“I know, I’ve been busy and broke. But I’m doing alright, just catching up on all of my assignments. And yes please.”

“Oh, that’s good at least! Also we have a new employee that I’m training so it might take a minute to get your order. Is that okay?”

“Yeah of course! Take your time. Thank you!” 

You say, paying the balance of your meal and waiting at the end of the counter to get your food. You see a tall boy with red hair come out from the kitchen. You scoff to yourself as you recognize Yeonjun. ‘Of course he works here,’ you think. It takes him a couple of minutes to make your drink, still new to all the syrups and flavors that are available. As he finishes he calls out your name. 

“Y/N!” 

You walk up to him, remaining polite as you thank him for your order.

“Thank you.”

“Sorry if it took a while, it’s only my third day here.” 

“It’s okay, thank you for the food!” 

He stares at you and you’re about to grab your stuff and walk out, but he stops you.

“Wait, Y/N? Are you taking history 2204? With Professor X?” 

“Yeah?”

You feign ignorance, pretending not to know who he is. 

“Ah, I see. I’m Yeonjun. I think we’re partners for this project. It was nice to meet you.” 

He says as he smiles. You felt a little guilty about your prejudiced dislike towards him. He seemed nice enough, so what if he smokes? And you couldn’t lie to yourself, finding his smile and crinkled eyes cute.

“Oh yeah! It’s nice to meet you too!” 

“Can I give you my number? So we can discuss what days work for us to meet up and work on the project?” 

You nod as you hand him your phone. You watch as he types away his number, smiling as he hands it back to you.

“Thank you, Yeonjun. I’ll text you my schedule and we can figure out what works then.” 

He wished you a good day and you smile, finding his manners charming. 

༄ ༄ ༄

A week had passed since you met Yeonjun at the cafe. You were officially back on track as you submitted the last of your missing assignments the night before, finally being able to focus your time and energy on this project. You had yet to message Yeonjun and you didn’t know why you were nervous to text him. You didn’t want to start off the messages awkwardly so you went with a simple yet forward message to start the conversation.

“Hey! This is Y/N from history class. You gave me your number last week at the cafe.”

You release the breath you were subconsciously holding, hitting ‘send’ and waiting for a response. You didn’t want it to seem like you were glued to your phone, waiting for him to message you back so you bide your time by doing other things around your space. Cleaning up your desk, putting away your clothes, etc. 

You hear your phone go off, waiting a couple minutes to check who the message is from. You groan when it’s just one of your friends asking if you wanted to hang out later. You replied ‘sure,’ and went back to doing anything you could occupy yourself. 

It had been a couple of hours since you messaged him and still no response. Now pissed that he hadn’t yet gotten back to you, you decided to get ready to go out with your friends. There was a party at a bar on campus and you allowed yourself to go out as a reward for completing all your assignments. Putting on some light makeup, you chose a rather revealing outfit despite the winter weather, assuming that it was probably going to be hot in the bar. 

You met your friends there and all started with some drinks. You were talking about your days, just checking up on them. You had all been so busy with midterms coming up that you barely had time to hang out. After having about two more drinks, your friends dragged you onto the floor, dancing to whatever music the band was playing. 

“Y/N!!” 

You hear your name being called and turned around to find the source of the noise. You spot Taehyun and instantly your mood brightens up. 

“Taehyun! I didn’t know you’d be here!” 

“I wasn’t planning on coming but my friend asked me to come with him. I think you’ve met him before, Yeonjun? He’s the one that made your order a week ago.” 

You grimace upon hearing his name. At first, you cut him some slack because he seemed nice enough. You felt guilty about judging him because he smoked. But after not messaging you all day and then hearing that he was at this party, you went back on your word, the idea of disliking him appealing to you again. 

“Oh yeah, I know him. I remember meeting him last week.” 

You say, emotionless. 

“I want you to meet him again. And my other friends too, they’re all cool so I think you’ll like them.” 

You trusted Taehyun so maybe you had to hold off on your hatred a little longer. Though you were good at using your words, your expression and body language always failed you, never being able to hide your negative emotions. 

“These are my friends, Yeonjun, Soobin, Beomgyu and Kai.” 

“Hello, it’s nice to meet you guys, I’m Y/N!” 

“Ah yes, we’ve heard a lot about you. Taehyun told us how you guys were best friends in high school.” 

Soobin said, his tall frame and black hair are easy on the eyes. 

“Yeah, me and Terry go way back! It feels like we met just a year ago but it’s already been 7 years”

You say, laughing. Yeonjun chuckles at your comment, sipping at his beer. 

“It’s nice to formally meet you Y/N. And I like your outfit, it suits you.” 

You stare towards him is cold but your cheeks betray you, heating up at his compliment towards your outfit. 

“Thank you…” 

Your night goes on, hopping between your friend group and Taehyun and his friends. One by one, they all start to leave as you’re left with one of your friends, Taehyun and Yeonjun. You introduce them all to each other and stay at the party for a little longer before deciding to leave. 

“I think I’m going to head back, Y/N. I’m tired and I have classes back to back tomorrow,” 

Your friend says, gathering her things.

“Alright but you can’t walk back by yourself? It’s too dark and you know how dangerous it can be.” 

You look around, trying to find a solution so that your friend doesn’t go back by herself. 

“Taehyun! You live on this side of campus right? Can you walk back with her?”

Taehyun looks to your friend, who’s blushing a little as you try to help her out. 

“Yeah sure but, what about you? You live on the opposite side so what are you gonna do?” 

“I can walk her back. I live around there anyways. It would be no trouble, really.” 

Yeonjun says, smiling as his eyes disappear. You mentally curse yourself for being left with Yeonjun, even though there was nothing else you can do about it. You all nod and go your separate ways, Taehyun with your friend and you with Yeonjun. 

On your walk back to your dorm, Yeonjun fishes a lighter out of his pocket, using it to light the joint that was in his other hand. Taking a drag, you immediately smell the inebriating plant and walk faster. He can sense something off between the two of you, the tension weighing down the atmosphere. 

“Did I do something to upset you? It just… seems like you don’t like me or don’t want me around?” 

You stop in your tracks, having been walking in front of him this entire time and turn around to face him. You exhale loudly before starting:

“First of all, I was not in the best state when the professor announced we were working in random pairs for this project. Not really your fault but then I’m walking behind you as we leave class and you’re smoking! Let alone, the smoke blows into my face and I hate smoking, let alone people who smoke. Then I met you at the cafe and you seemed really nice so I gave you the benefit of the doubt and thought that maybe I judged you too quickly and then I felt guilty. But then this morning, I text you and you left me on delivered all day and then I find you here, at this party and now you’re walking me back to my dorm. So yeah, you can say I’m not really fond of you.” 

You huff, the feeling of letting all of that off your chest almost euphoric. He puts his hand with the joint down next to him, taking his phone and checking his messages, and found that you did in fact text him and he didn’t read it. 

“I’m sorry for not reading your message, I was busy all day and I’m not allowed to use my phone during work. And I do apologize for smoking in front of you, even though it blowing in your face isn’t my fault. But that’s it? I didn’t actually do anything to you, so what’s the judgment for? Why do you hate people who smoke?” 

You didn’t want to stand in the cold any longer, and you didn’t want to have this conversation either. Really, you were avoiding his gaze because you really did have no valid reason to hate him. He never actually did anything to you. But you couldn’t back down now, otherwise you’d be embarrassed. You just huff as you turn on your heel, walking in the direction of your door, the rest of the walk back remaining silent. 

He walks you up to your building. You feel your phone ding, grabbing it from your pocket to check the notification. 

“I sent you my schedule. Let’s get this project done as quickly as we can so we don’t have to see each other again.” 

You hang your head low, guilt hitting you like a truck at the sight of an upset and hurt Yeonjun waiting for you to walk in. Even though you told him that you didn’t like him straight to his face, he still had the courtesy of waiting for you to enter your building so he can say he waited until you were safe to leave. You look back at him one last time, feeling worse than before as you run in and take the stairs up to your room. 

༄ ༄ ༄

You stare at Yeonjun’s schedule that sits in your messages, debating on whether or not you should ask your professor if you could work alone. You’re seriously contemplating it but ultimately decide that you should at least fix whatever you started, as it would be unfair to Yeonjun to leave him to do the project alone, though after your encounter last night, you’re sure he would appreciate not being your partner anymore. 

“Hey. I’m free this weekend if you are to work on the project.”

His reply is almost immediate, like he had been waiting for you to text him back. 

“Yeah, I’m free this weekend as well. Time and place?”

“Would you be comfortable coming over to my dorm at like 12 o’clock tomorrow? I want to apologize for the things I said and the way I acted…”

You bite your lip as you send the message, waiting for the rejection message to pop up.

“Sounds cool. I’ll see you at 12 tmr.”

No rejection? You were utterly surprised at this chance of redemption though, a little taken aback at how nonchalant he sounded. You lived in a single dorm so cleaning up wasn't that bad. You made sure to have plenty of snacks and drinks stocked in your mini fridge and made a little cozy corner for him to work in, while you would sit at your desk. You even made sure to text Taehyun and to ask what Yeonjun’s favorite drink was so you could have it ready for him when he arrived. 

༄ ༄ ༄

You woke up early in the morning, getting ready for the day as you make your way to the cafe to pick up the drinks you had ordered for both yourself and Yeonjun. 

“Hey Taehyun! Do you have those drinks ready for me?”

“Hey! Yeah I do. I have your usual and an iced americano for Yeonjun!”

The boy says, big eyes gleaming as he hands you the drinks. 

“Thank you! I’ll see you later!”

You didn’t tell him about the events that transpired after the party, and from the looks of it Yeonjun hadn't told him anything either. You say your goodbyes and make your way to a little pop-up event on your campus. They were selling cookies and cupcakes to support their club, so you thought it would be a nice gesture to buy you and Yeonjun both a cookie and a cupcake each. 

Struggling to open your door with all the treats in your hands, you manage to get inside of your room and put all your stuff down. You check the time to see that it’s only 11:30 a.m, relieved to see that you still had some time to yourself. 

You hear a knock on your door a little bit later. You had sent Yeonjun the details of your dorm room before he got there but were still startled by the knock. You compose yourself, nervously opening the door to see a blank-faced Yeonjun staring back at you, this time wearing a loose sweater that hangs off his shoulder on one side, gray sweats and black, thick framed glasses. 

“Hey Yeonjun. Come in, I have some things prepared.” 

He nods as he walks in, slipping off his shoes at the little welcome mat you have placed in front of the door. The dorm itself is pretty small, enough for one person but it could still comfortably afford a guest. 

“First of all, I want to start with a verbal apology. I’m sorry for being prejudiced against you based on your smoking habits. And I’m sorry for lashing out on you last night when you asked a valid question. I know it wasn’t your fault that the smoke blew into my face and I guess I was just anxious about this project and texting you that I didn’t even stop to think and consider the fact that you could’ve been busy and didn’t have time to check your phone. Secondly, I asked Taehyun what your favorite drink at the cafe was so I got you an iced americano, and a cookie and cupcake from the fundraiser one of the clubs on campus is having.” 

You shyly hand over the cup with his drink and the snacks that were packed into a little plastic box. He takes the snacks out of your hand and for the first time all week, you relax your shoulders as Yeonjun smiles, accepting your apology and finding it cute in the process. 

“Thank you Y/N. I know you don’t know me and I don’t know what your deal with hating smoking is, but I accept and appreciate the apology nonetheless. Shall we get started?” 

You nod as you instruct him to put his stuff down in the little workspace you created for him, a small throw pillow and fox blanket resting on the inflatable chair you had blown up for him to make use of. He chuckles at the cute setup, settling his stuff down and getting comfy to start working.

༄ ༄ ༄

Throughout your working session, you had some conversation here and there when things got boring or you ran into a particularly difficult part of the project. A couple hours into working you both decide to tap out, noticing the time and finding that you had been working for 6 hours straight. 

“Oh my god, it’s been 6 hours!” 

You say, surprised that you were able to focus on the same assignment for so long though, to your credit, it felt like many different assignments bundled into one. 

“Damn, I didn’t even notice how late it was. That wasn’t so bad actually.” 

Yeonjun says, getting up to stretch his legs, americano and snack box empty as you both refused to leave the room to eat lunch. He picked up his trash, throwing it in the garbage before returning to his corner, looking at you before asking you a question you didn’t think he’d ask:

“Would you ever try it? Smoking I mean?

You stare at him blankly. Your immediate answer was no. Smoking is bad for you, it can cause illness or death. But when you opened your mouth to answer, you didn’t expect this to come out: 

“Maybe one day?” 

You’re speechless yourself at your answer. You were so adamant on hating smoking and never wanting to try it. What about Yeonjun asking you made you change your answer? Was it the way he so confidently stood up to you last night? Or the way he walked you to your dorm despite learning about your true feelings for him at the time? Or the way you wanted him to find you different from the character you first gave off, the one that judged him for smoking in the first place? As if he could see the inner struggle etched onto your face he remarks,

“I thought you hated smoking? What makes you want to try it?” 

Your face heats up at your own silence, but you respond anyway.

“I do hate it. And I actually don’t want to try it. I don't know why I said that. But why do you smoke in the first place?” 

You ask, trying to change the subject to be towards him. Catching onto your little trick, he humors you. 

“It’s a relaxing way to unwind after a stressful day. Sit back, throw on a movie and take a couple hits and you’re there. Relaxed as can be with no other care in the world. You should try it, maybe then you won’t be as tightly wound.” 

You scoff at his little jab at you towards the end of his explanation. You couldn’t lie, with the way he was explaining it to you, the idea of smoking did sound very enticing. But nonetheless, you were willing to stand your ground on this topic, after all, this whole situation you were in with Yeonjun stemmed from your hatred towards smoking and you weren’t going to back down now. 

“As if. And I am not tightly wound, thank you very much. Maybe you can’t tell because you’re brain fried from all the weed you smoke.” 

Thinking your remark has granted you victory in this argument, Yeonjun smirks, offering you a challenge. 

“Try it. Prove me wrong that you won’t feel relaxed. That it won’t make you feel like a weight has been temporarily lifted off of you.” 

He reached down into his bag, pulling out a metal box and setting it on your desk. Upon clicking it open, the smell of weed immediately wafts through the room, filling your nose and causing you to cough slightly. 

“Do you mind not opening that up in my room? We’re not supposed to smoke in the dorms anyways!” 

You said, grabbing air freshener to dilute the smell of the weed. 

“Relax, it's fine. Plus the hall directors on this floor all do it too, so they won’t care.” 

You scoff as he takes a seat, carefully grinding the bud so as not to get any on your desk. He then fiddles with the contraption used to pack the weed into the paper, sealing it off after having packed it fully. 

“I’ll demonstrate how to do it and then you take a hit, okay?” 

You gulp nervously, teetering between the idea of kicking him out or waiting to see how this all plays out. Were you really going to get high because a cute boy challenged you? You’re quickly broken out of your thoughts as you see him flick open the lighter, the smell of burning paper replacing the smell of weed in your nose. He lets it burn for a while, opening your window in the process. 

“When you take a hit, blow out of the window otherwise you’ll set off the fire alarm.” 

You mock a smile as he laughs, bringing the joint up to his lips as he takes a small inhale. You watch as the fibers of the paper burn, the weed contents turning gray. You analyze the way he takes the hit and hold it in his throat for a second before slowly blowing the cloud of smoke out of the window. 

“Your turn.” 

He passes you the joint, as your clammy hands impatiently reach for it. You look at him one more time nervously, bringing the joint up to your mouth and inhaling. You don’t know how fast you ripped it, throat burning and violently coughing as Yeonjun scrambles in your fridge to bring you a bottle of water. You chug the water to stop your coughs, handing the joint back to him as you catch your breath. 

“Nothing about that was relaxing in any way.” 

“That’s because you did it too fast. Look, watch me. You slowly inhale, don’t let the feeling of it in your throat bother you otherwise you’ll start to cough.” 

You hold a little grudge in your stare, cursing at the fact that you were so easily convinced to try the one thing you spited and how your resolve crumbles so easily before your very eyes. You watch him bring the joint up to his lips again, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat before taking another hit. This time you watch how he holds it in his mouth, counting the seconds before he blows it out. 

“Think you got it this time?”

You take the joint from his hand, silently reassuring him that you’d be fine. You try again, this time slowly inhaling. Remember his words from just a few moments ago, you let the particles settle in your throat for a moment, slightly inhaling before releasing the breath, successfully blowing the smoke out of the window. You look up at Yeonjun with big eyes and a proud smile. 

“I still don’t feel relaxed.” 

“You will in about 3 more hits and 15 minutes.” 

You continue to pass the joint to each other, careful not to rip it too fast or inhale too much. You can feel your eyes start to get a little droopy, a constant smile appearing on your face as you feel your body loosen. You feel slower but not heavy as you turn to Yeonjun and start giggling. 

“I can tell that you’re starting to feel it now. Gonna tell me you don’t feel relaxed?” 

You nod, giggling at his smile. The longer you stare at him, the cuter you think he is. Even in your high state, you couldn’t blame the weed for the attraction you felt for the red-haired man. Maybe you were starting to form a little crush. You think about the sweater he’s wearing, how his neck and collarbone are so perfectly on display, longing to be nipped at. Or the way the glasses make him look more sophisticated and smart, you did like nerdy looking boys. And the way his thick lips wrapped around the joint, eyes following his every move as he takes another drag. You couldn’t help the way you were rubbing your thighs together, the idea of his lips on yours creating a need to form within you. He looks at you, dumbfounded as he himself is now high as well. 

“How are you feeling Y/N? Do you feel good? Do you feel relaxed?” 

This time, you could blame the weed for what you say next:

“I feel great. I would feel even better if you kissed me.”

You laugh at your own comment, finding Yeonjun’s shocked expression priceless and thus further causing you to laugh. You allowed yourself to be bold, not knowing when again you’d have this opportunity. 

“Don’t say things you don’t mean, Y/N. You’re high right now and so am I. Neither of our judgments can be trusted right now.” 

He tries to play the mature, responsible role. He was the one that got you high so he felt responsible for any and all actions made by you or towards you by himself. But the slight, ever-growing tent in his pants was giving him away, revealing that he was not as grounded in his resolve as he wanted to be.

“What? You don’t believe me? Should I prove it to you?”

You take his previous words of challenge and use it against him, playing him at his own game. You walk up to him slowly, eyes red and droopy as you stare into his. You place your hand on his chest, tippy toeing to try to reach up to his lips. 

“Help me out a little?” 

As if all rhyme and reason was thrown out the window, Yeonjun doesn’t hesitate to lean down, capturing your lips with his own. He throws one arm around your waist, the other carefully holding the joint so as not to get any ash over your floor. Your hands remain on his chest as your lips move slowly in sync, breaths heavy from the temporarily shortened capacity of your lungs. You still feel a burn every time you inhale, but it’s worth it for the way Yeonjun has you feeling right now; completely relaxed and carefree. 

He pulls away for a second, grabbing your hand with his free one and placing the joint in between your lips, guiding you to take a hit before he puts it in the metal box with his other weed essentials. His eyes watch you in awe as you close your eyes to take the hit. He pulls you onto his lap as he takes a seat on your desk chair and you happily follow, hands around the nape of his neck as you play with the hairs there. You take your time holding the smoke in and he kisses you again, running his hands along your sides, squeezing as you gasp, letting the smoke out from your mouth into his. He takes the opportunity to gently slip his tongue into your mouth, causing you to moan at the contact, grinding down a bit into his thigh. Your mouth is dry, partly due to the cotton mouth you're experiencing, and partly due to the nerves that had worked their way into your body when you decided to be bold and admit to wanting to kiss him. 

He licks the inside of your mouth before pulling away a little to suck on your tongue, teeth grazing it as he pulls away to trails kisses down your jaw and neck. You’re panting out of breath at his actions, the wetness between your legs only growing as you feel his hard-on press against the side of your thigh. You giggle as he nips a particularly ticklish spot on your neck, the effects of the weed present and causing him to giggle as well. 

“Can I kiss your neck?” 

“Well when you ask so nicely…”

He laughs, pulling away from your neck and tilting his head to the side, granting you permission to mark him up. You lean down, lightly nipping at his milky skin, biting around the area of his collarbones and he rests his hands on your hips, rocking you back and forth on his thigh. Your little whimpers at the contact only turn him on more, hard cock throbbing against his sweats as you eye the clear outline of them. Pulling back to look at your little marks, you’re satisfied as you pull him into your lips once again, this time more hungry. His hands that were settled on your hips move to grab your ass, squeezing as he presses you down harder on his thigh. Your moans are drowned out by his lips as the makeout becomes heavier and messier, saliva escaping from the corner of your lips and dripping down your chin. He pulls away first, admiring your red and puffy lips with a dazed smile. He stands you up, grabbing the joint and taking a big hit, holding it as his hands sweetly caress your face and he gives you another kiss, letting the smoke cascade into your mouth as you try your best to inhale and not choke. He smirks watching the excess smoke slip between your mouths, putting down the remainder of the joint and feeling you up underneath your shirt. 

“No bra?”

“I was in here all day. There was no need for it.”

You respond simply, taking a step back to fully take your shirt off, giggling as you watch his eyes open dramatically at the sight of your bare tits, nipples hardened as a result of the cold air. He pushes you against your desk, leaning you back over it as he takes one of your nipples into his mouth, not even bothering to get you both on the bed. He swirls his tongue around the sensitive bud. You moan at the contact, harshly gripping his hair as he grazed his teeth against them. He takes the chance to slide his hands down the waistband of your pants, settling just above your pussy. 

“Yeonjun…” 

Your whimpers turn him on further as he begins rubbing circles on your clit through your panties and you throw your head back at the sheer amount of pleasure you’re feeling at the moment. He switches his attention from one nipple to the other, trading his fingers up and down your slit, feeling the wetness collect on the fabric separating his fingers from your heat. You don’t realize your grip has gotten impossibly tighter, accidentally pushing his head further into your chest, not that he minded. 

“You’re rough, I like it.” 

He pulls his head away from your chest and you whine at the loss of contact, the warmth his hold brought you being replaced by the cooling of his saliva all over your boobs. He pulls you close enough to him to help you take off your pants and underwear, sitting you back down on your desk as he admires your glistening lips, sliding down both his sweats and his boxers. 

He goes over to his bag and pulls out a condom before rolling it on to his painfully hard erection. 

“You just carry condoms on you at all times?”

“It came in handy, didn’t it?” 

He smirks at your failed attempt at being snarky, grabbing your waist as he slides the head between your folds. Your arms rest on his shoulders, one hand playing with his hair as the other twiddles with the necklace he has on.  

“You tease too much…” 

Yeonjun guides you back and forth on his dick, relishing in the little yet satisfying pleasure he’s giving himself right now. One hand rests on your pelvis, thumb reaching down to circle your clit as you hiss, biting your lip to suppress the moan you desperately want to let out. 

“Please Yeonjun…” 

Your begging only made it harder for him to resist you, slowly bringing the head down to your sopping entrance, groaning as he pushes it past your walls.

“Fuck you’re so tight. Gotta stretch you out on my cock.”

You wince as he pushes himself in deeper, releasing a sigh of content as he fully sheathes himself inside you. He keeps his thumb on your clit, the speed of his actions constant. 

“Y-you can move now…” 

He moves slowly, still letting you adjust before moving at a more constant pace. You’re mindful of the moans pushing past your open lips, finding it hard to contain them as he sets a firm rhythm. You look down beside you and pick up what’s left of the joint. Yeonjun takes note of your actions, holding you steady with both of his hands as you grab the lighter to reignite the substance. You bring it to your lips once again, letting the effect of the weed wash over you, reveling in the heightened effect of the drug. 

You hold the joint up to Yeonjun’s mouth, smiling lazily as he takes a hit, his hips never stopping their relentless pounding into your pussy. He attaches his lips to your neck once again allowing the smoke to escape and you to stabilize yourself while his thumb goes back to circling your clit, this time much faster than before. He also speeds up thrusts, the volume of your moans increasing as his harsh thrusts knock the desk back into the wall over and over again. You’re afraid of the amount of noise you’re making, worried about whether or not your neighbors can hear the scandalous sounds coming from your room, but all worry flies out the window when Yeonjun leans you back, bringing your hips up to a whole new angle for him. 

“Yeonjun!!” 

You scream as his tip hits your spot so deliciously, legs wrapping around him, pulling him that much closer. He chuckles as your face scrunches up, indicative of your close release. He can’t help but to move faster, pistoning his hips at an incredible speed, one that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head as a gush of liquid comes rushing out of you. 

“Yeah that’s it, squirt all over my cock for me. Let it all out…” 

You’re so high that you barely even register the fact that you just squirted all over him, creating a mess on your floor. Your feelings only seem to intensify as the overstimulation kicks in, sensitive walls clenching down on him as your second orgasm approaches you quickly, his fingers still working your clit. 

“I’m… I’m gonna cum again… Y-yeonjun please…” 

Your whines come out broken and sporadic, not sure how much more you can take. 

“Hold on for me a little longer baby, I’m almost there.” 

You nod as you pull his head back down to you, kissing him one last time as he nails his final thrust, hips stilling in you as he feels himself fill the condom. Your pants and sighs fill the now smokey room. 

“I didn’t know you could squirt like that baby girl. You’re so fucking hot”

He carefully pulls out of you, making sure not to let any cum seep out of the condom. You wince as he pulls out, legs feeling like jelly as you release him from your hold. After discarding the condom, he quickly reaches for the napkins you have sitting on top of the fridge, cleaning you up before kneeling on the cold floor to wipe up any remnants of your release. 

“You look good when you’re on your knees,”

You say playfully, biting your lip as you watch him clean your floor. 

“I was right.” 

Your head feels empty and you’re slightly tingly. The high you were having definitely intensified the feeling you were having during sex but it did nothing to help jog your memory. 

“What are you talking about” 

“Have you already forgotten”

You shrug as you jump off the desk, using his shoulder to help ground yourself as your legs recover from their jelly-like state and proceed to put your clothes back on. 

“I told you that smoking would help you feel more relaxed. I guess in your case it also helped you be more bold.” 

Your usual eye roll was replaced by a giggle. 

“Did I really say that? I guess I had no idea what I was talking about?” 

He laughs with you as he finishes cleaning the floor, pulling his pants back on before putting his weed materials away, shirtless. 

You keep staring at him, realizing that you were too high and too needy to notice his toned abs before. 

“I can send you a picture of them if you want? You don’t have to keep staring at me like that.” 

He pulls his sweater over his head to which you pout, upset that your view was now covered. 

“Relax, you’ll see them again the next time we do this.” 

“Next time?” 

You couldn’t say that you hated the feeling of being high, but maybe you weren’t in the right mind to be making decisions like that. 

“Yeah? Next time we work on the project we can get high and do this again. It was fun.” 

He puts his stuff away in his bag, leaving it on your inflatable chair. He wasn’t just gonna leave you after fucking you whilst you were still high. 

“We got a pretty good portion of the project done today. We don’t even have to meet up to finish out individual parts.” 

You say, reminding him about your 6 hour grind to finish as much of the project as you could. 

“What are you trying to say?” 

He says while fixing his glasses and hair in your mirror.

“I’m saying the next time we meet we don’t have to do work.”

He makes eye contact with you through the mirror, his smirk hard to hide at your insinuation.

“You dirty girl. So bold when you’re high, only want me over to have sex.” 

“Well… to have sex and get high! I do enjoy your presence but I’ve never felt so good before. That was like heaven.” 

Even though he didn’t know you that well, he could tell the effects of the weed were still strong on you, watching you yap away, knowing you probably won’t remember this conversation in the morning. He just laughs at your comment as you put your stuff away. 

You watch as he goes back to his seat, moving his bag back to the floor. You walk up to him, sitting down on his lap. You tangle your fingers in his hair, staring at his lips again, which are also swollen. His eyes follow your gaze and he throws his head back in laughter, scaring you a little as you flinch at unexpected sound. 

“You’re still horny?” 

“What makes you say that?”

You play dumb as if you weren’t just drooling over his lips. 

“But we just put our clothes back on!” 

He whines, fixing your position so that you’re properly straddling him. 

“Yeah but, you aren’t gonna reject me right? Not when I’m high and needy because of you?” 

You feign your best soft voice and puppy eyes, trying your best to hold back from laughing in his face at your own antics. Yeonjun takes your face in his hand, giving you a sweet smile.

“No of course not, that would make me a monster.”

He says, pulling you back in for another kiss as you settle in. Maybe smoking a little bit of weed wasn’t so bad after all. 

[typicalopposite]

Congratulations on 500! I'm so lucky to have met you this year Saint Rebecca of the mpreg 🤣🥰 my prompt for you:

Buck and Tommy both found out they were pregnant post break up and kept it a secret until they run into each other at prenatal yoga (or childbirth class...something like that)

Hannnnnah! You are the sweetest! And I will forever be grateful to have met you too!! But you had my brain doing a workout for this one :) but I hope you enjoy it

Double Trouble

Maddie picks Buck up thirty minutes early so they can stop at ‘Galactic Holes’— the donut truck that parks outside the building— before their Prenatal Class. She had wrangled him into coming with her to the classes when he finally open up about his pregnancy; even if she didn’t always agree with his insistence to not tell Tommy, it was nice to get some bonding time with his big sister as both of their pregnancies progressed. 

They walk through the door, eating the last few bites of their donuts, and Buck scans the room for an empty table. There’s one in the back corner, and he nudges Maddie towards it as they say their hellos to the other parents-to-be attending. Everyone is friendly enough, albeit extremely nosey, but that’s expected in group settings like this. A single expectant father who isn’t willing to give much, if any, information about the other parent is bound to cause whispers among anyone… At least they keep the whispers quiet enough he never hears them. 

*

The class starts with some discussion of everyone’s current pregnancy stages, some stretches since they will be mostly seated today, and a handout to help everyone write down a detailed birth plan. Maddie has whispered more than once how boring today’s class is and Buck has repeatedly agreed. 

Then in an instant everything becomes extremely interesting… to say the least.

The door pushes open and someone walks in. Buck doesn’t look up at first, busy filling out exactly how he plans to labor when the time comes. “Sorry I’m late… I was given the wrong address,” a voice that’s all too familiar says from the front of the room. 

“Oh that’s fine,” the teacher says. “How did you learn about the class?”

“A friend pretty much insisted I come…” the voice— he— Tommy… says with a half hearted laugh. Buck still hasn’t found the willpower to look up. “She said it would be… beneficial.” 

“How far along are you?” Someone else in the class asks. 

“Uh… thirty— thirty six weeks,” Tommy says, and Buck’s head snaps up, making Maddie shift in the seat next to him, and Tommy’s eyes immediately lock onto his. 

Thirty six weeks. 

Buck is thirty. 

Buck knows he had to have gotten pregnant very close to their anniversary, which means… Tommy was pregnant long before then. Did he know when he—

“Oh wow,” one of the other members— Caroline— says loudly; dramatically. “You really waited till the end to reap those benefits huh?” 

Buck watches Tommy hastily break his eyes away to look at her, he offers a smile. “Better late than never, right?” He shrugs and finds a single empty seat up front. Instantly Buck watches as Caroline leans over to one of the others and starts whispering. He watches Tommy glance over at them then down at his hands, seeming to shrink himself into his seat. Part of him feels like yelling for the gossipers to worry about their own lives, part of him is as curious as he’s sure they are. Mostly he is just hurt… but he didn’t tell Tommy about his own pregnancy, can he really be upset at Tommy?

“Wow…” Maddie finally exhales beside him. 

“Yeah…” Buck says, suddenly completely uninterested in the birth plan he currently was making up. “Wow…” 

MAKE ME WRITE! <3

[reidsbabyhoney]

the move in | hozier

roommates (i)

the one where you’re meeting you’re new roommate for the first time

pairing: hozier x fem!reader category: fluff cw: this is not my best work, please forgive me the original was so much better. promise, promise the next chapters will make up for this!! wc: 1.7k a/n: this is much shorter than planned. mainly just an introduction to the story and a bit of background. future chapters will be longer and add more to the plot. also this entire story is basically a self-insert oc, if that makes any sense. it is not very vague when it comes to backstory or personality, but really what fun would reading fanfiction be if you couldn't pretend to be someone else?

series masterlist hozier masterlist

There was a common theme with the thoughts currently rushing through your mind: dread. And it's been all you’ve felt for the past week.

Though you were already in your third year of university, the unease of this year's living situation began creeping up.

For the first two years of university your roommate, Sienna, was one of your closest friends. But at the end of last semester, she decided that university was no longer for her and she would drop out. Though you would remain friends, not having her as your anchor who was literally only a shout away created an unwanted storm in your mind.

Obviously, you were supportive of her decision. You had no reason not to be when she wanted to create her own business and was more than prepared for every possible thing the world could throw at her. Sienna was also very impatient, so she decided she didn’t need the final two years of, “Unnecessary professors telling me things I already know,” as she liked to remind you.

Since she had dropped out, you didn't have anyone to room with this year. Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem. Most students would just decide to get an apartment off campus and commute to class when necessary. But the scholarship you were on required you to have on-campus housing, how great.

Not wanting to go through the trouble of finding a new roommate, you signed up for the school's anonymous roommate program and hoped for the best.

Though it's not exactly the school that pairs you, more so a random website that seems more like a dating app than anything. After fifteen minutes of answering an intruding questionnaire to match you with the absolute best option for a roommate, you were paired with someone named Andy.

When you received the email about who the website paired you with, you nearly stopped breathing. Andy was short for Andrew apparently. For the entirety of your third year in university, you would be living with a man.

According to his profile, his hobbies were literature and music. He also happened to be very, very cute.

Out of pure anxiety, you haven’t opened the message he sent you once you two were paired together. You assumed it was him attempting to get to know you better before you were due to move in, and that message was sent a week ago.

You knew yourself well enough to know that you were a hopeless romantic at heart. You were practically raised on romance, both in movies and in literature. You knew if you answered his message your mind would run wild with scenarios between you and him, even though you had yet to interact. That’s just how you worked. So you refrained from talking to him until you could do it in person and find one of his flaws to turn you off from him if that was even possible.

The only good thing that’s come out of this entire thing so far is that instead of sharing a small room with your new roommate, the school assigned you to one of the student flats. This means you had an entire house to yourself. Well yourself and Andrew.

After a week of anxiety being the only emotion you knew, today was the day you were set to move in. Being an international student you didn’t have any family to help you, so you’ve dragged Sienna back to school for a day to help you get settled.

“I didn’t think someone could hide this many pots and pans under their bed for an entire year at uni,” Sienna says with a huff as she breaks down the final box that contained your kitchen supplies.

You chuckle at her words and playfully roll your eyes as you reach up to place a cup into the cupboard.

“Don’t be so dramatic, I barely went shopping for most of this stuff in February, most of them lived at your family’s house. I only had a few in our old flat anyway.”

“Why do you need so many kitchen supplies anyway, trying to get into this man’s pants by cooking or something?” she asks with a raise of her brows, already knowing you found your new roommate to be “blessed by the gods” as you’ve mentioned.

Your eyes widen as the words leave her mouth, moving to smack her arm with the kitchen towel you had in your hand.

“You can’t say stuff like that. What if he just walks in and hears you say I’m trying to sleep with him by cooking for him?”

Sienna's eyes only widened at your response, looking past you as if something had caught her eye.

But it couldn’t be what you thought, right? There’s no way you were that unlucky. There's no way the first introduction to your new roommate was you saying you had ulterior motives and wanted to get into his bed. Right?

As someone clears their throat in the hall next to the kitchen, you knew you were wrong. So utterly and embarrassingly incorrect.

“Well at least he’ll have someone cooking for him, better than what I did for him.”

It’s the voice of a man that breaks the tension in the room. As you turn around you’re met with someone that is not Andrew. And you accidently voice that.

“Disappointed?”

My cheeks heat at the playful jab, “I-sorry that was rude. I’m Y/N and this is Sienna, my best friend.”

“It’s nice to meet you, I’m Alex. Here to help Andy move in.” He says, offering you a hand to shake.

You take his hands and are about to open your mouth when the door swings open and you see the man who has been occupying your thoughts for the past week.

See, haven’t even met him yet and you’re already creating stories in your head.

“Alex, what’re you doing? You’re meant to be helping me, not flirting.”

His voice meets your ears like honey dripping on toast, smooth, sweet, and completely addictive.

Once you look to Alex’s left you’re met with possibly the most beautiful man you’ve seen in your life.

He was wearing a loose fitting pair of jeans and a white button up that strained against his arms with the box that he held in them.

If you weren’t already completely embarrassed, you’re sure you would be drooling at how good this man looked.

Once again it’s Alex that breaks you out of your thoughts, “Not sure I was the one doing the flirting,” he says, giving you a look with raised eyebrows.

Great, this isn’t going to be forgotten about any time soon like you might’ve hoped.

Before Andrew can ask any questions you quickly speak up.

“I’m Y/N and this is Sienna, it’s really great to meet you. We’ve just finished unpacking my stuff in here so we’ll be in my room if you need anything!”

With that you grab Sienna and practically drag her to your room and slam your door shut.

Once you're in the comfort of your room, she can’t help but let out a loud laugh. Basically folding in on herself as she cackles at your embarrassment.

“Oh, I had no idea you could embarrass yourself that bad when meeting a cute guy, babe.”

“Please don’t make it worse. I don’t know how I'm meant to live with him,” You say with a huff.

Walking to your bed, you throw yourself down face first. Allowing yourself to wallow in self pity for a few minutes before Sienna inevitably drags you back out to the living room to get to know your beautiful new roommate.

“You sure you don’t want to re-enroll so we can live together again,” your words come out a bit muffled but Sienna can understand you enough. Enough for her to throw a pillow at your head and force you to sit up.

“Okay stop. You will be fine, there’s no need to be dramatic. You didn’t embarrass yourself to the point of death, now go out there and get to know him before I start sharing stories about you myself.”

As she speaks, she drags you out of bed and into the hall that leads to the living room. Surprisingly, the guys seemed to have unpacked fairly quickly and were sitting on the couch finding something to watch.

Alex is the first to see the two of you walk out of the hall and he gets up. Patting his legs, he stands up and stretches.

“Okay well, time for me to go. Don’t have too much fun without me.”

Alex waves bye to the three of you and quickly leaves, signifying his absence with the harsh shut of the front door.

“So, Alex told me all about this villainous plan of yours,” Andrew breaks the silence between the three of you and you’re reminded of why you didn’t want to be out here in the first place.

“I-See I didn’t mean it in the way he probably heard. I have no intention of cooking for you to get into your bed,” you say quickly walking closer to the couch as the words frantically leave your mouth.

“Well, I can’t say I would be opposed to the idea.”

Before he even finished his sentence your eyes are widening and you’re turning to look back at Sienna who’s giving you the same expression.

Did he really just say that?

“Wait, I-No. I didn’t mean I want you to sleep with me. I meant, no that sounds wrong. You’re beautiful really, but I don’t expect-”

His words are cut off by sharp laughter that leaves the two of you at his rambling.

Looking up at his face, you see the deep red that coats his cheeks and runs down his neck.

Rubbing the nape of his neck, he clears his throat before speaking, “What I meant is, I wouldn’t mind you cooking, if you ever wanted to of course. I wouldn’t force you to do any of that. I mean we’ve barely met.”

Looking up he sees the small smile you have on your face and covers his with his hands, “I’m truly sorry.”

“No,” you let out another small laugh at that, “we can call it even now.”

You were truly fucked, and once you met Sienna’s eyes your thoughts were solidified. There was no way you were going to survive this year without falling in love with your new roommate.

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tags: @man-i-love-folklore @the-song-of-flowers @songbirds-sweet @cowboycatreign @celery-grace @alexis-34 @inejghafawifesblog @colddarkearth23 @hauntedworld @sleepy-time-dreamy @midsummervixen

[yell0wsalt]

Fic: Dreams to Reality

For @meljaymicrofics Day 4: Fantasy by Mariah Carey

Rating: G

Relationships: Jayce Talis/Mel Medarda

Summary: Dreams don't have to stay that way. Sometimes it starts with a glance and a touch.

aka Mel's fascination with Jayce may be more than a working relationship over his dreams

word count: 1026

“Piltover, the land of progress, equality, innovation. I know it sounds impossible, but when have we ever let that stop us? Please, just give us a chance.”

Jayce’s proposal, bordering on plea, clung onto the light beaming from Mel’s flashlight that cut through the obscurity of the night.

A flash from Jayce to Viktor, then back to Jayce. “One night, gentlemen,” she decisively said. “Impress me, or I’d suggest you pack your bags.” Speaking with a finality, her flashlight flicked off as the clicking of her heels dampened with her stride away for the night. 

One last glimpse over her shoulder catching a silly grin evoked a smirk out of her. 

Fascinating.

****

A little over two years into Mr. Talis’s “Hextech” research was proving to be a wise investment thus far for Mel. What started off with small prototypes such as Hextech capacitors and the like quickly gained momentum to Hextech regulators, assembly tools, and more. While the rest of the council continued to give scornful eyes towards the man, shying away thanks to Heimerdinger’s influence, Mel tucked a nonexistent stray hair behind her ear and listened closely.

She was frankly intrigued. 

Hextech had boundless potential to make the activites of the people of Piltover easier in their work and general day-to-day living. 

Being the only member of the Council who was in support of Mr. Talis’s Hextech innovation ideas, Mel maintained a careful eye on his and his partner’s progress. The man frankly made it very easy. When she was buried in her own paperwork, he’d become a pleasant respite. 

Just as much when Mel would be done with her work for the day, she wouldn’t mind taking the longer route to the exit if it meant stealing a few glances at Mr. Talis’s fine back at work.

Pleasant thoughts could melt one’s stress and fatigue away quite easily.

****

“Business and income have been thriving lately,” Mel’s assistant Elora was one step behind flashing through incoming reports. 

Mel chuckled. “It’s what we like to hear, Elora. Mr. Talis has been a lovely ass to the Medarda House’s claims in Piltover.”

“Asset, Mel.”

“Yes, exactly,” nodding confidently.

“No, um–” Elora’s eyes briefly darted about skittishly before pulling a cupped hand to her mouth, leaning into Mel’s ear. “You said ‘ass,’ Mel.”

Mel pulled away as if burned. “You’re fantasizing such things,” coolly condemning such allegations. Certainly Elora was someone Mel saw as one of her closest friends, but she was not one for that degree of tomfollery. Medardas had no place for it.

A heat crawled to Mel’s cheeks, feeling Elora’s eyes scan her up and down. Gratefully such heat fell when Elora took a step back and hummed. 

“Maybe I am. My apologies. In any case…” With a smooth flick, she turned the paper in her report book, continuing to present projections for the upcoming year and proposal timelines for Mel. 

Tried as she might, Mel decided she could review the details of the report on her own time. A certain golden boy’s figure was slipping more frequently through the gaps of the roaring fire in the center of the ballroom and the swirls in her gut were getting hard to ignore.

 ****

The invention and implementation of the HexGates were thus far one of Mr. Talis’s greatest contributions. To essentially negate the factor of travel time when journeying abroad… all of the neurons in Mel’s brain lit up as a clear night sky. Part of her wondered if Jayce truly grasped the cascading impact this would have on history. 

Efficiency in economics, trade, and communication, Mel couldn’t be more proud of her golden boy.

Not hers hers in that regard, he had certainly won the heart of many citizens of Piltover over these years since the beginnings of Hextech, but a woman could dream of what that meant. What that could mean.

Mel wasn’t an idiot. Far from one. She could feel his eyes on her longer than necessary when she’d either leave a room or lead a path for the two of them. She was more than sure he wouldn’t complain if she put extra emphasis in the movement of her hips with each step.

If she could close her eyes and reach out, the daydreams would almost feel real to her.

****

“Thought I might find you here.”

Jayce’s figure standing by the edge of the balcony overlooking the city became more clear to Mel and she smiled brightly.

He turned to Mel with a faint smile before turning his gaze to the closest HexGate. “Generations ago through their tools, grit, and bare hands, my family helped the people forge this city from the ground up. Now, Piltover has become a beacon for innovation and progress. I can’t help but think of the power of magic– the power of HexTech– being the tool placed in citizen’s hands. The future and possibilities it could create!”

When Jayce reached towards the stars, so did she. “The history of the Medardas has been rife with destruction and self-profit,” Mel admitted. “This time, I’m glad I was in a position to do the opposite.” A soft nudge to the back of Jayce’s hand brought him back to her and her insides flipped once more at his handsome smile. 

“Couldn’t have made it this far without you.”

Maybe it was the level of openness and comfort they’ve grown into over the years. 

Maybe it was observing the beautiful cobalt blue of the hexcore illuminating the night along the stars, but Jayce’s admission brought a peculiar light to Mel’s chest.

If she could close her eyes and reach out…

Inhibitions cast aside when one hand intertwined with his, the other laid on his firm chest, and her lips captured his. As he reciprocated the affection, wrapping her hands around her waist, a not insignificant part of Mel was relieved the long glances over the years weren’t merely in her head.

When her hands were free to roam the expanse of his broad back and thick hair, Mel sighed into their kiss, feeling her very being bloom under his touch…

This must be that kind of love they write about in those stories and songs.

[marryinred]

A fresh wave of panic began to simmer in the pit of Lydia’s stomach. This was not good.

Part of their original binding contract stated that Lydia was, quite literally, Betelgeuse’s anchor to the realm of the living. Where she would go, he would go, and vice versa. In the time they’d been together, they’d never tested the boundaries and limits of the invisible leash, and now Lydia was desperately wishing they had. 

With a quick, chilly kiss to Lydia’s cheek, Byron was quickly rushed out the door with her father. She remained standing there in the living room, anxiety rolling through her like an oncoming storm as she stared at the closed door. Letting out a deep exhale, she turned and walked past the kitchen. Delia was still busying herself with straightening up after breakfast, so she decided to use that moment to dart back upstairs to the sanctuary of her bedroom, shutting the door behind her. 

Lydia began to pace back and forth, her long black skirt swishing as she would turn direction. She was confident in Betelgeuse’s immense power, but what would happen if he wandered too far away from her? Would the leash function like a Netherworld version of an ankle monitor? Would the Powers That Be assume he was breaking the contract and wreaking havoc upon the world? Or would he be automatically teleported to her side? 

A gentle knock at her bedroom door interrupted Lydia’s chaotic thoughts.

“C-come in!” She called out, trying to keep her voice level. The door opened to reveal Barbara, smiling, but with a slight apologetic expression. The curly-haired woman slipped inside, leaving the door open just a crack. Lydia straightened, giving her a small smile she hoped would pass as friendly and not anxious.

“Hey, honey,” Barbara began, her voice soft and gentle as she spoke. “I just wanted to apologize for earlier. I didn’t mean to upset you.” The ghostly woman fiddled with her fingers, having nothing to do with her hands. “It was just…shocking, you know, to find out you’d told your new boyfriend–”

“Byron,” Lydia interjected.  “His name is Byron.”

Barbara nodded. “Right. It was a surprise that you’d told Byron about us, about…” she waved her hand, gesturing vaguely. “About life after death. Juno was very clear to Adam and I… we can’t let living people know about us. The fact that ghosts are real. It could be dangerous.” Lydia shook her head, coming to stand beside her window. She stared out at the expanse of the town of Winter River down beyond the bridge. God, please hurry up and get back, Beej.

Barbara continued.

“It’s–It’s not that I doubt your judgement, Lydia. I can understand being excited to… share your life, all your secrets, with someone when you get close to them. But I just think…maybe you shouldn’t have told him about us?” After a beat of silence, she continued. “How well do you know him, anyway, Lydia?” At that question, Lydia’s head swiveled back to look at Barbara. 

“I know him better than anyone. And he knows everything about me, too.” Turning now to fully face the ghost woman, Lydia could feel her panic fading into an emotion she rarely let herself express; anger. Lydia had spent the years after her parents’ divorce desperately craving the love and care of a mother and father. While Adam and Barbara were incredibly supportive and loving, they were also almost smothering in their care. What Lydia had thought was comforting in the beginning became overbearing. Through no fault of their own, it was too little, too late.

“What was I supposed to do?” Lydia asked, holding her hands out towards Barbara in a questioning manner. Her voice held a bitter edge as she spoke. “Stay here, in Winter River, forever? Never make friends, never have a relationship? Never really share my life with someone because of this big dark secret that hangs over my head? Was I just supposed to lock myself up in the attic? Be the town’s crazy spinster that can see and talk to ghosts?” 

While she was speaking, Lydia waved her hands for emphasis. Barbara shook her head in protest, and opened her mouth to try and explain she never wanted that for the young woman. Two things happened then– the way in which Lydia moved rang a bell of vague familiarity in Barbara’s mind, and while gesturing with her hands, the light from the window glinted off of the ring on Lydia’s left hand. Chocolate eyes narrowed, Barbara stepped forward and gently grasped Lydia’s wrist, bringing her hand into the light for examination.

At first, Lydia was confused, halted in her expression of a few years’ worth of pent up angst. She glanced down to her ring and realization struck her. She could tell by the look on Barbara’s face that it was all slowly clicking into place for her, as well. Although Adam and Barbara had only been around the poltergeist a handful of times, Barbara could easily remember their first meeting. After having dug him out of his grave in the model, he’d thrown himself at her like a man half starved. When he’d wrapped an arm around her shoulders, she’d recoiled in disgust. She remembered casting a glance to his hand, repulsed by the mold and dirt adorning his fingers. Her attention was drawn, however briefly, to a large gold ring beset with a ruby on his index finger.

An identical ring, although smaller and more feminine, could be found on Lydia’s left hand, where a wedding band would reside. 

It all added up for Barbara now. Byron’s mannerisms, the cadence of his voice, the thinly-veiled contempt in his eyes when he looked at her…

Lydia felt her face drain of all color–how could she have been so forgetful? She’d always kept the ring covered with little lace or velvet gloves, passing it off as another addition to her eccentric style. She’d grown so used to allowing the world to see, openly referring to Betelgeuse as her husband, that she’d forgotten to keep up the guise when she returned to Winter River.

Time seemed to slow down, and silence between the two women seemed to stretch on for eons, before they both began to speak at once. Barbara’s voice was shrill in her concern for the girl, her eyes wide and full of panic. 

“Lydia, what have you done? Did he trick you into this? We’ve got to tell your parents! Adam and I, we can go to Juno, we can get him taken care of for good–”

“Please, please don’t tell my dad and Delia, I didn’t want you all to find out like this–”

Lydia was panicking, and in her mind she was screaming.

This is bad. Please, hurry back, Beej! Hurry!

The panic that was tightening in her chest began to subside the very moment Betelgeuse embraced her.  Lydia closed her eyes and inhaled deeply as he placed a gentle kiss against the top of her head. She gazed adoringly at him as he gave Barbara what-for, and she couldn’t help the faint smile that began to play at the corners of her mouth.

God, I love him, she thought to herself.  

Barbara, however, stood completely still, her chocolate brown eyes wide as dinner plates. Adam, too, was shocked, his jaw gone slack in awe at how this complete stranger was speaking to them as if he knew them. 

But he was passionately defending Lydia, and wouldn’t he do the very same for Barbara? Adam took note of the man’s gentle nature as he silently comforted Lydia, and how the young woman completely melted into his arms. He saw how Byron’s hand gripped Lydia’s shoulder–soft, yet with an undertone of possessiveness. As a man, he read the body language easily. It screamed “She’s mine, and you’re hurting her. This is a warning.”

Byron’s spiel ended as Charles appeared in the doorway, blissfully ignorant of what had just transpired between everyone. There was a moment of terribly awkward silence as they just stood there, not knowing how to react. 

“Oh! Uhm! I changed my mind!” Delia called out, her voice cracking a bit. She immediately started bringing out skillets and placing them on top of the stove. “How does sausage, eggs, and bacon sound? Hm? Want some toast as well? There’s orange juice in the refrigerator!” 

Lydia smiled inwardly and gave her dad a good morning kiss on the cheek. She lead Byron into the living room to sit for a bit, just so she could decompress after what had just happened. Barbara’s eyes followed them all the while, until Charles and Adam began exchanging pleasantries. 

“Thank you,” Lydia whispered, her hand finding Betelgeuse’s and giving it a tight squeeze. 

[bluewaterlily]

My birthday is one week away and I’m still losing my shit over the fact that I’m gonna be alone all day.

[phagodyke]

weekend melancholy is starting to kick in >~<

[darcyolsson]

i'm genuinely terrified for how i'm going to get through my thesis and not even fore the usual reasons but mostly bc i don't have any classes which means that i now literally have no routine and no irl social contact (because i have a job and living situation where i don't have any social contact except short interactions) and i can already tell that's getting to me even though it's been like not even a month. literally someone come and get me

[chiisana-lion]

^ had to look at their old classmates' and childhood friends' graduation pics and celebrations and whatnot