#fellowship twenty

[reverend-meat]

I-

[cellamare]

[lavenderprose]

I'm thoroughly convinced that in any sort of modern-day AU, Rook and Emmrich are the couple whose first date basically just never ends. There's a meet-cute. They meet in the grocery store when they both reach for the same jar of pickled eggs. Or in an elevator of a fancy hotel where Emmrich is attending a conference and Rook is on a galpal's bachelorette vacay. Or at a blood drive where Emmrich is grading papers and Rook is reading the trashiest novel she could get her hands on.

They hit it off. Emmrich, of course, finds Rook charming and Emmrich is, of course, the king of unassuming rizz. They exchange numbers. They go on a date that weekend to some stuffy gastropub that Emmrich apologizes for recommending no less than six times mostly because Rook looks at the prices on the menu with the kind of dismay that Emmrich remembers from being young and poor and hungry.

He pays for their meal, of course, and utterly insists that she order dessert.

They go for a walk. They Uber home, again on Emmrich's dime. Emmrich walks Rook up to her doorstep and intends to leave her with a quick peck, maybe even on the cheek, and a promise to call --but Rook slinks her arms around his neck and presses her body to his and invites him up.

"Terribly sorry," Emmrich half-yells into the Uber driver's passenger side window "It seems we're both staying here! I have--a tip--" He shoves a twenty dollar bill through the cracked window. It flutters anticlimactically onto the passenger seat. "Here you go!"

Rook's apartment is small, cluttered but clean, and they do not reach the bedroom. Emmrich fucks her on the sofa, which is second-hand and which they sink into alarmingly far, and they enjoy the afterglow together by scrolling through late-night offerings on a delivery app because Rook mentions that the gastropub's serving sizes were abysmal. They order a pizza, and Rook eats wearing nothing but her lacy purple thong and Emmrich's discarded white button-up. Emmrich watches her and feels his heart nervously flutter.

He stays the night.

In the morning, he plans to make her coffee and offer some eggs and then take his leave, because it seems polite and he has no reason to think she wouldn't want her Sunday to herself. Instead, Rook drinks the coffee, pops out of her chair and mentions that there is an Antivan bakery just down the street if he wants to walk with her.

He does, of course.

"I'm applying to graduate programs right now," Rook tells him, chewing on a biscotti, cute fingers wrapped around a second coffee. They sit in the window of the bakery on a pair of charmingly previous-century wrought iron bistro chairs. "There's one program...I want it so badly, but they only accept six candidates every three years. I've been out of school for a few years and I was going through some stuff in undergrad, so my GPA wasn't the greatest. I'l doubt I'll get in."

"Which program?" Emmrich inquires. Each of their pairs of legs are folded under the table, his right-over-left and hers left-over-right. They periodically tap their feet together and each time it happens, he smiles.

"It's a fellowship to study at the Grand Necropolis," Rook tells him. "Specifically, their program on funerary practices from the turn of the first millenium, which is--what?"

"Oh," Emmrich says, a little flustered. "Nothing, it's just--well, I'm tenured at the Necropolis. I know exactly the person who will be reading your application. It's not my program, of course, but I could...would you like me to look over your application? I know what she'll be looking for."

This is how Emmrich ends up sitting at Rook's dining room table well into the afternoon, reading through her extensive application to the Necropolis' fellowship program. She's undersold herself extensively--and he tries to aim her in a better direction while also not getting any of his fingerprints on the application. Myrna would easily be able to tell if she was reading an application written by someone who she'd eaten brunch with once a month for the past eight years.

"I should probably be going," Emmrich says, stretching out his back after several hours. "I have a...well, my bird gets nervous if I'm gone for long periods of time."

"You have a bird?" Rook asks, with delight, and this is how he ends up being driven back to his place by an overly-excited Rook, who apparently had a childhood dream of owning a parrot.

Manfred seems equally fascinated by her, as he hops onto her shoulder and makes a serious of hisses.

"His previous home evidently had cats," Emmrich tells her, gently petting the top of Manfred's head, and Manfred displays his other skill--screeching 'Emmrich!' over and over.

This is when things start to blur. Emmrich makes dinner, they eat, watch an episode of whatever is on the TV, and then have sex again--in the bed this time, Rook on top, hair down, and she looks...well, he doesn't last long.

In the morning, she goes to work. Texts him in the middle of the day to ask if he likes Tevinter food. He says yes, and she asks if he's free that evening. Also yes.

It's about a week later that Emmrich realizes they haven't spent much more than a workday apart since Saturday. It being Saturday again, Emmrich mentions it.

"Oh," says Rook, looking suddenly unsure. "I'm sorry, did you--if you need me to go, I can--"

"No!" Emmrich all but yells. "I just meant--am I monopolizing your time? Do you have...things I'm, er, keeping you from?"

Rook settles back against the sofa, which she's been lounging on beautifully on this rainy Saturday morning in Emmrich's pajama top and underneath Emmrich's mother's crochet blanket.

"Most of my friends are also, y'know, busy professionals," Rook sighs, head leaning on her hand, hair draping. "It's hard to make time. And I don't have family, really. I can leave if you want, really, I would understand. I just got a little carried away because--well, it's nice. To have someone to come home to." She frowns. "I don't know, is that weird to say?"

"No," Emmrich says, tears watering in alarming fashion. "No, darling, it makes perfect sense."

Everyone is only vaguely concerned when Rook moves into Emmrich's place a month later.

"It's not like we're getting married," Rook scoffs repeatedly.

Except that they do, before the end of the year. By that point, however, it seems that everyone has made peace with the situation--mostly because they finish each other's sentences, and sigh like lovelorn puppy dogs when they're apart, and mostly because nobody can really imagine them any other way nowadays.

[prettyboypistol]

Hey, love your work anyway so you know how Hobbits, Dwarves and Elves age much slower? How'd they react to reader going like "dude I'm like twenty"?

How the Fellowship React to a Younger Company Member! || LOTR x M!Reader

context for hcs: You are surrounded by your companions around a nice fire for the night, only for you to mention that today is your birthday! The fellowship ask how old you turn and you proudly say 22.

Frodo

"Oh goodness I've dragged a child into this."

genuinely starts apologizing to you near manically, then shuts himself off.

You go to him and explain that no, you're far from a child in human standards, and that even 16 yo's can be drafted into wars. Frodo is shocked.

It makes him feel a little better, but he starts to try and teach you things subconsciously about herbalism and mushroom picking.

Samwise

"GOOD GODS TWENTY-WHAT?"

has a good nervous laugh about it, mentioning that now Pippin isn't the baby of the fellowship anymore (ref- Pippin is late-20s)

After you explain that humans mature faster, he seemingly calms down, but still jokingly fusses at you

mothers you "jokingly" after that, but seems to be more attached to you in case you get hurt.

Merry

"Ay- ay! Pippin! You're not the youngest anymore!"

Honestly doesn't see it as a big deal, hell, feels more at ease that theres yet another youngin in the fray of adventure that he can mess around with!

Will try to include you in on his and Pippin's shenanigans, and excitedly dragging you along when you agree to some of his insane ideas.

Pippin

"IM NOT THE BABY ANYMORE!!!"

Calls you "youngling" and "little brother" as a joke, takes a liiiiittle too much fun from that for your liking.

Feels a little weird about sharing his pipeweed with you at first, but as soon as you hit that blunt with g r a c e he's laughing along and giving you as much as you want

Likes to hold your hand "as a joke" to guide you through places, he includes you in places that he and Pippin hide in when in danger.

Gimli

Jesus christ this man nearly had a heart attack, not only that, but when the hobbits mentioned how old they were!? He's travelling with CHILDREN. BARELY OLD ENOUGH TO BE IN THE FORGE!

Becomes oddly silent as he mulls over these facts- that he's seen everyone drink before, do drugs, and even make sexual innuendos that he laughed at... eugh. icky feelings. icky all over.

Aragorn pulls him aside and explains that humans and hobbits age uch faster than dwarves, and that he himself in only in his 80's. Gimli feels only slightly better but it takes him a few days to recover from the shock.

Legolas

haha yall are all BABIES

Legolas is aware of humans' quick deterioration, so it doesn't come as a surprise to him. With your smooth skin though, he assumed you were younger? Perhaps about 17-19?

Then again, he is shit at jusging ages, since elves are forever young and pretty.

makes fun of gimli for being to torn up about you being "only 22"

[todayontumblr]

Monday, December 18.

Willkommen.

History was made on this day, twenty years ago. The last installment in The Lord of the Rings trilogy, The Return of the King, was released in cinemas. It grossed over $1.1 billion worldwide, making it the second highest-grossing film of all time. It won all eleven Oscars for which it was nominated, including Best Picture (the first fantasy to do so), at the 76th Academy Awards. The sequel to 2002's The Two Towers, and the completion of the story started by The Fellowship of the Ring, it was a cinematic landmark and a pop culture behemoth. Like its two predecessors, the film was widely acclaimed by critics and loved by audiences across the globe. But they were, all of them, deceived—for another film was made.

In 2004, Dominic Monaghan, the actor alias used by renowned German film critic Hans Jensen, interviewed the trilogy's star, Elijah Wood. In these nine bracing minutes of footage, Mr. Jensen probed his interviewee on the matters of the day: losing time within yourself, kicking balls, dolphins, and the wearing of wigs. It makes for quite remarkable viewing almost two decades later.

[tolkienmatters]

The eldest of these, and Bilbo’s favourite, was young Frodo Baggins. When Bilbo was ninety-nine he adopted Frodo as his heir, and brought him to live at Bag End; and the hopes of the Sackville-Bagginses were finally dashed. Bilbo and Frodo happened to have the same birthday, September 22nd. ‘You had better come and live here, Frodo my lad,’ said Bilbo one day; ‘and then we can celebrate our birthday-parties comfortably together.’ At that time Frodo was still in his tweens, as the hobbits called the irresponsible twenties between childhood and coming of age at thirty-three.

Happy Birthday Frodo & Bilbo Baggins, Fellowship of the Ring, A Long-Expected Party

[verecunda]

No, Charles Edwards Isn't Too Old to Play Celebrimbor, Actually: a sourcebook

Apparently this particular wank is going around again, and people are trying to frame it as an issue of fidelity to the source material (again), so I decided to round up some references to the physical appearance of certain Elves in the books.

Before we even begin, I'm going to point out that there are literally no physical descriptions of Celebrimbor in canon. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. So you could cast literally anyone and it wouldn't ~break canon~. But the age of the actor seems to be a big sticking point for some people.

In the main, yes, Tolkien's elves tend to appear youthful beyond their many, many years, but there are some notable examples. One of the most extreme is Gwindor, who spends many years as a thrall in Angband and eventually returns to his own people "now seeming as one of the aged among mortal Men, because of his torments and his labours". Gwindor is an extreme example, though, the result of exceptional trauma. There are more natural examples, though.

The big one is Círdan the Shipwright, memorably described thus: "his beard was long, and he was grey and old, save that his eyes were keen as stars."

Elrond, meanwhile, at the end of the Third Age appears somewhere in the middle: "The face of Elrond was ageless, neither old nor young." Contrast with Glorfindel, who is considerably older than him - give or take a death/re-embodiment episode - whose face is described as "fair and young" just one paragraph earlier.

Then we have the sons of Elrond, who are probably among the youngest Elves in Middle-earth at the end of the Third Age, but who seem to take after their father, being described as "neither young nor old", but at the same time with "elven-fair" faces.

By any human yardstick, it doesn't seem logical that Glorfindel should appear obviously younger than Elrond or his sons. You could argue that their half-elven nature might admit signs of ageing where other Elves wouldn't, but then we have Arwen, daughter of Elrond. She is well over two thousand years old - though barely a hundred years younger than her brothers - but she appears young. When the twenty-year-old Aragorn first beholds her, we're told, "she had seemed of no greater age than he" - at least until he sees the elven-light in her eyes. (Note that when Frodo first sees Arwen, the book says, "Young she was and yet not so" - though, like many Elves, this seems to have more to do with the wisdom and memory apparent in her demeanour, because we're also told that in terms of physical appearance "The braids of her dark hair were touched by no frost; her white arms and clear face were flawless and smooth".

So it's clear we have a lot of variation between Elves' relative ages and the "age" of their appearance. I've seen some attempts to pass off the negativity over Charles Edwards' casting to concerns over sexist double-standards: why is a 50-something actor playing Celebrimbor when Galadriel, who is canonically older, is played by an actress in her thirties? But frankly, I'm calling bullshit on that one, because when the Fellowship meet Galadriel and Celeborn (again, this is at the end of the Third Age), the book tells us: "no sign of age was upon them, unless it were in the depths of their eyes." This is despite these two being among the oldest Elves still living in Middle-earth. So if Galadriel can appear more youthful than, say, Elrond and his sons, why could she not potentially appear more youthful that Celebrimbor (of whom, again, we have no physical description)? If there is a double-standard in evidence, I'm afraid it's one that must be traced back to Tolkien himself.

Frankly, I think it's fairly obvious that a lot of the wank about Charles Edwards' Celebrimbor stems from people being unable or unwilling to separate fanon from canon. It's not exactly a secret that in the main, fandom tends to portray Celebrimbor as hunky and youthful, and I've seen plenty of mean-spirited posts opining that he's too unattractive to play the character (which on the "fucking the old man" website is hilarious). But like, beauty is subjective.

And even within the books, there are variations in beauty and body types. Remember Nerdanel, a master artisan despite being "not among the fairest of her people"? (Even if you don't personally find the actor attractive, why couldn't Celebrimbor take after his grandmother in this respect?) The Fall of Gondolin also, memorably, gives us the "heavy and squat" Salgant. There are rare exceptions, true, but it's quite apparent that canonically, Elves don't conform to any one standard of beauty or body type.

As for complaints about him being too light-haired to play a grandson of Fëanor? Look, I tend to imagine Celebrimbor as black-haired when I'm reading the books, but the fact is, canon is utterly silent on the subject. For all we know, his mother could be light-haired and he could take after her. Or - idk - he uses the same Laurelin Sheen hair-dye as Uncle Celegorm. (Because somehow fandom seems to have no problem with him being portrayed as Extremely! Blond! despite having even less excuse. As a side note, I'm sure Elven genetics don't work quite the same way as human ones - like, I feel an attempt to draw up an Elven Punnett square would probably result in madness. But whatever.)

In conclusion, then: Tolkien's Elves clearly display variations in their appearance of ageing, which have nothing to do with their actual age. Canon gives us exactly no descriptions of Celebrimbor's physical appearance, therefore the casting of Charles Edwards can't be regarded as in any way uncanonical. Attempts to dress up complaints about his age and looks as anything more worthy are blatantly disingenuous, when they're not being downright immature and mean-spirited.

Personally, I think Edwards is a fine actor, and while he doesn't fit my own image of the character, he does fit lots of the personality beats I associate with him, which can be gleaned from canon, and which frankly matter much more to me. I'm very much looking forward to seeing his performance in series two. Thank you for coming to my rant talk.

[hughes86-43]

giving jack a massage to help him feel better after a rough game- no smut :) <3

thank you for the request!! hope you love it!! :)

Massage | J. Hughes

warnings - none! maybe a bit cheesy, but just sweet fluff! there could be grammar mistakes!

You were watching the devils game from your apartment today as you had various homework for your master’s degree due and had to work late today, so you couldn’t make it to the game to watch your boyfriend in person. However, you got all cozy on your couch watching the game with your dinner, blankets and your laptop.

The devils were struggling today and then ended up losing 6-2 at the end of the game. During the game, your boyfriend Jack had gotten hit multiple times against the glass, and not to mention, the amount of times he had fallen over his own feet. You knew that he would be sore for the next day.

Right after the game, you had received a text from Jack.

jack 🫶🏼: be home shortly love

You replied back for him to be safe and you’ll be waiting on him. So with that, you got back into working on your homework on your laptop.

About an hour later, you hear the front door unlock. Looking up, you see Jack walk through the door carrying his various bags and then locking the door back behind him. He drops his stuff off on the bench in the walkway. Looking up, he sees you waiting on the couch.

Smiling he says, “Hi, love”.

Making his way towards you, you pat the seat on the couch next to you. “I’m sorry about the loss, babe.” He sits next to you, you pull him into a hug, then he winces. Instantly you pull back, giving him a concerned look.

“It’s okay, I’m okay, I just got hit a few times and fell a few times,” he says grabbing your legs and putting them on his lap.

“I saw that, some of them looked like they hurt. Do you want me to give you a massage? It might help a bit, plus it would take some of the tension away from you and help you relax,” you say with a looking into his eyes.

“I’d love that, but I want to shower real quick, so you can give me one after, if that’s okay.”

Nodding your head, you say, “That’s fine, baby, I just want you to feel better. Now go shower and I’ll join you in the bedroom. I’m just going to tidy up real quick.” He gives you a kiss before heading to the bathroom to shower.

Twenty minutes later, you tidied up the living room and made your way into the bathroom to do your nightly routine and changed into some pajamas. While Jack finished his shower and changed into sweatpants and joined you on the bed.

“Lay on your stomach, love,” you say. Jack moves to where he is laying on his stomach. You move beside him on the bed on your knees. You start with his shoulders, rubbing and kneading circles into them.

“That feels great, I can already tell how much this is helping already,” Jack says with a sigh.

“I’m glad. Where else are you hurting at?” You say, as you want to get as much tension and pain out of him as you can.

“My lower back is hurting a bit, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course not, I just want to make you feel better. I would do this all night, but my arms would probably fall off,” You say with laugh.

Moving to his lower back, you begin kneading away. “How was your day today? I feel bad because we’re so focused on me, and I hadn’t gotten the chance to ask you baby,” Jack says while still laying face down, fully content with the massage. He loves the way that each caressing touch that you do is filled with so much love and care for him.

“It was good, I just had to work late at the firm to get some paperwork done since I left early the other day with that headache. I finished mostly all of my homework for my classes, and I filled out some information for my fellowship for my degree,” You say still massaging his lower back, while also going back up to his shoulders. “I hate I had to miss the game, since I haven’t been to one in over a week with being busy.”

“It’s okay, baby, I’m just glad you still watch them at home. I know you’re busy, and I’m still just as proud of you and how you deal with it all and deal with me and my pain,” Jack says as he turns around and goes back to laying on his back but against the pillows now. He pulls you to sit on his lap, straddling him.

You put your hands on his chest, looking into his eyes, you say, “Of course, we’re a team, I’ll be happy to take your pain away any time, any day. I hope my massage helped, although I wouldn’t call myself a masseuse at all,” You laugh.

Jack smiles at you, “You did good, baby. Now let’s go to bed, I’m tired.” You give him a kiss and lay you forehead on his, savoring the moment. Then you hop off his lap and lay on your side of the bed snuggling under the covers.

Jack pulls you into his side, “I love you, goodnight love.”

Laying your hand on his chest, you say, “Goodnight baby, I love you.”

[letsgobarbs]

Crying Cryptids & Canoodling Cupids

Pairing: Javi Gutiérrez x Plus Size F!Reader

Prompt: Javi G + “What cryptid are you trying to be, Mothman’s cousin?” 

Summary: Javi is having a terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day. Scratch that. He was having a terrible week, a horrible month, a no-good year, and just, a general, very bad time. He was convinced this movie was going to end his filmmaking career. Nobody will ever want to see any of his work again. It was shit. And there was nothing he could do about it. And he might have just made the sweetest woman cry— someone he is so sure is his soulmate. 

Warnings: Fatphobia, no smut for you nasties… okay maybe just a little hint because I couldn't resist, just a mention of it though. 

A/N: This is for the PPCUVDAY event organised by @peepawispunk Is it Valentine’s Day? No. Is it even February yet? No. But I spun the wheel and got a prompt and a fic manifested. So we all get this— as a little treat. It is a classic Soulmate AU, where the first words your soulmate will say to you appear tattooed on your body.

dividers by @saradika-graphics

You can also read this fic on ao3 <3

Javi had always been quick to temper. He had just learned to never express it, because that was an invitation for being hit— or worse with Lucas. But now he wanted to throw a veritable tantrum— fuck the consequences. 

The headset around his neck was strangling him, the usual soft feel and comforting weight of it was replaced by a crawling sensation that made him want to jump out of his skin. He wanted to tear the script resting on his thigh into tiny, minuscule, little pieces and shower it into the air— the corner of the paper was scratching at the exposed skin of his knee, yet another irritant that was making his leg restlessly jump. He needed to jump off a cliff and into a cool body of water. Step away, reset. 

Too bad none of them would be getting that. This was supposed to be a movie. He was supposed to be a director. But all this was shaping up to be was a circus and he wasn’t even the ringmaster, he was a sad little monkey walking on stilts and jumping through hoops. Even worse, he was letting all the other sad little monkeys who had faith in him down.

It was his first time trying to make a horror movie— an intense, realistic, gritty psychological horror that offered a poignant insight into both the good and the evil in the nature of mankind. The script had been good. Lucien and Dieter were giving some of the most honest and amazing performances of their careers setting them both up for the greatest comeback after their stint in rehab. The crew was good, he had worked with these people before. 

But then the producers started cutting costs and the real horror show had begun. They had terrorised the crew— changed the lighting, equipment, locations, costumes until it looked more like Cliff Beasts 7: Fellowship of the Furious– Journey to a Stranger Tide or something. They had even shooed in a heroine who wasn’t even in the script, naturally, the script had to be rewritten. He just wished she could act…

He had wrapped up filming yesterday after more than twenty takes on one of her simple scenes, making do with the shot of her actually remembering her lines even though they were delivered like she was acting on a Disney sitcom. Javi wished he could wrap up today as well, they were all exhausted from several demanding scenes and it wasn’t shaping up to be any better for her but they were running so behind schedule. Moreover, the costume and make-up department had worked so hard to put her in the monster get-up, they owed it to the crew to at least try. The original script didn’t even have a monster. 

She did look monstrous but for all the wrong reasons. She looked huge, hulking at a little over seven feet, covered in bronze armour— why did they have to add big boobs to the metal? There were two giant wings behind her, confusingly made of feathers instead of metal like the rest of her costume. They had given her two fuzzy antennas that reminded him of oversized spruce twigs or moths. The armour was far too big for her he thought with a wince; sure the monster was supposed to represent corporate greed but making it fat was just wrong. 

The most placid, emotionless garbled noises rang out of the giant tin can; Javi tried to unclench his jaw, hiding his expression behind a tight fist. His chest racked with effort to draw in a large breath. That’s it, he’s done.

“CUT!!” He roared. The script fell off his lap as he stood from his chair. Javi could feel the anger flooding over the dam he had built; he could feel it prickle in his throat like dry smoke, taste its bitterness on his tongue. 

“WHAT CRYPTID ARE YOU TRYING TO BE, MOTHMAN’S COUSIN? Because woooow, that was really fucking pathetic.” He seethed as he maintained eye contact with the two large red bulbs for eyes on her helmet. 

Javi whirled around to face the freelancer from the costume department before the actress could fight him, “And WHY IS SHE SO FUCKING BIG?”

There was a collective, shocked gasp on set as everyone stared at him in abject horror. Javi was panting now, still overwhelmed with rage while Dieter scowled at him a dark, menacing look on his face.  

“Dude—” But Dieter was interrupted by a dog. A squeaking, whimpering dog. Oh my god, there was a chihuahua in the tin can. For a horribly brief moment, he wondered if he would find multiple dogs stacked together under that armour, it would certainly explain the bad acting. Everyone quietly stood around as the crying continued in quiet keens and puppyish whines. 

“Hey, don’t cry—” Dieter cooed at her. Since when was he so nice to her? 

His giant cryptid lifted the visor of her helmet, red bulb eyes, moth antenna and all. Javi peered up into the sweetest face that certainly did not belong to the lead of his movie. Fuck. Her face was covered in a glistening sheen of sweat and tears; she looked down at him with glassy eyes and brows furrowed with hurt. She made a strange eep sound as she tried to hold back more of her sobs— it drew his attention to the most kissably pouty lips. They wobbled from the emotional strain. Javi felt like a despicable cur. 

“You’re the worst.” She whispered. Her voice choked with tears. And he felt his heart break. He hadn’t meant to hurt her, he didn’t even know who she was.

The pretty cryptid clunked out of there, her feathery wing slapping him across the face— as he deserved. Javi felt the embarrassment curl in his stomach for her, poor girl deserved a more graceful exit but instead, the costume sounded like pots and pans clanging around in the utensil cabinet while she fruitlessly tried to manoeuvre around the set pieces; the noise grated on his ears and made his teeth itch. The shrill, brassy clashing sound of metals abruptly turned into a loud thunk and a crash as she fell just a few steps away from the exit. A mean, taunting little giggle rang from some corner breaking everyone out of their reverie. 

Lucien reaches her first, gently helping her to sit while the assistant he had just screamed at tried to remove the stilts from under her feet. Javi moves to rush forward, she must have hurt herself in the fall. 

But Dieter held him back, “Give it a moment, you’ll only upset her more.” 

She did seem pretty upset, her face had darkened but her eyes were impassive she barely responded to Lucien as he soothingly comforted her. The sight of her blank look was tugging at his heart, he just wanted to cradle her face in his hands, wipe her tears and smooth away the hurt. He settled for doing the next best thing and gave a terse command to finish up for the day. 

Javi noticed her painful grimace as Lucien helped her to stand, making a mental note to make sure she saw a doctor; he would pay any of the medical bills. For now, he helplessly watched, a strange caustic feeling blistering under his skin— it wasn’t anger, not quite. But he disliked the way his arm wrapped around her waist, or how her arm was seeking support on his shoulder as she stumbled farther away from him. Javi thought De Leon was being a bit pretentious.

Oh fuck, you’re the worst. 

You loved cryptids. Halloween was your favourite time of the year; every year since you were fourteen you had dressed up as various cryptids. Your interest had spiralled from just Halloween costumes to owning a shelf full of books about cryptids, a wall covered in newspaper clippings of cryptid sightings and stories; your family and friends would gift you cryptid clothing and accessories on Christmas— your favourite being the bright blue Nessie ladle in your kitchen drawer and a Kraken tentacle ring which was always wrapped around your finger. You even owned several monster sex toys; you had your favourites there too— a silicone tentacles dildo with amazing bumps and suction cups along its length, and a neon green and purple vibrating monster cock with the most delicious ridges.  

It had all started with a small birthmark just to the side of your calf muscles, which spread across your skin as you grew up forming the first sentence your soulmate would say to you. What cryptid are you trying to be, Mothman’s cousin?   

You had imagined so many ways your soulmate would say that to you; maybe it would be a pretty girl striking up a conversation at the local cosplay event, or perhaps a cute guy flirting at a Halloween party, or someone sweet and sly who would playfully tease you about your outfit of choice. 

Most people do not end up finding their soulmates, but you were so convinced you would find yours one day. Because your line was so detailed, while others had a variation of hi, hello, hey, good morning— something so mundane their soulmate could be anybody. There were even shows that helped people with commonplace soulmate tattoos find their life partner— the current contestant on The Bachelor’s Soulmate was a pilot whose tattoo read, “Hey, what can I get started for you today?” 

People with tattoos of greetings could never be sure they ended up with their true soulmate you’d watched a TLC show about them. And now, more than ever, you wished you had one of those boring soulmate tattoos. Never in your life had you imagined the words from your tattoo would be shouted at you, followed by being called pathetic and then he’d called you fat— fucking huge. You burst into more tears at the thought, muffling your sobs against your fingers. 

Lucien wiped your tears again, gently dabbing a tissue to your cheeks. You wished he wouldn’t hover, you just wanted to be left alone. You know he is trying to be kind— mostly out of guilt your mind whispered to you. Which wasn’t true… even if it was, it didn’t matter. He hadn’t always been kind, you had worked with him when he was still struggling with his drinking issue. He was mean and had almost cost you your job once. He was nicer now that he was sober, or at least more aware of the people around him. You were happy for him.

“You know he didn’t mean it that way…” He murmured. 

It didn’t matter whether he meant it or not. You had decided you didn’t want him. Someone not being with their soulmates was unheard of, because why would anybody reject a person that was made, curated, for you by the universe. But the truth was Javi Gutiérrez did not want you— not really. He thought you were fat and pathetic. 

Your heart still clenched every time you thought about his words. And even if he was mysteriously accepting about him being your soulmate, and instantly fell in love with you because you were perfect for him or he loved your super cool personality, you would always know, in the back of your mind, that he hadn’t wanted you. In the quietest, most intimate moments with him, a mean little voice would be the loudest and it would always remind you that you were just thrust upon him by the universe. But had the choice been his, it wouldn’t be you.

This was Hollywood, most of the time it didn’t matter how nice and sweet you were, men would always go for the prettiest, sexiest woman— then too nobody over a size 6 and very rarely somebody who was a size 8 but only if they liked curves. You had met Javi’s ex-girlfriend Gabriela who works for a different production company, she was not only tall and gorgeous but also very very sweet and sassy. She was perfect. 

You were just some low-level production assistant, running errands, printing scripts, fetching coffees and meals, cleaning up the set and trailers, chauffeuring actors to and from the set. Often it was the assistant directors or the other team leaders passing forward instructions. Even when Javi had introduced himself to the crew, you had made yourself scarce because the sight of him had made you so flustered and tongue-tied— you just hadn’t wanted to make a fool of yourself.

He was far too beautiful— all sun-kissed skin and soft curls. Every time you delivered something to him, you would quickly scurry away before he even had the chance to thank you because of how nervous he made you. You didn’t think you would last if he looked at you with those puppy eyes and spoke to you with that accented voice. He was endlessly kind and polite with everyone on set. You would be an idiot to not want him. 

So maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t your soulmate at all. That would make the most sense. You tried to think of the first thing you had ever said to him, your mind sadly pulling a blank. Perhaps, his soulmate tattoo read something you had never said. And there was someone else out there for you who was waiting to ask you what type of cryptid you were trying to be. Your heart lurched at the thought of him not being yours— the idea that he could be was so irresistible that it physically hurt to believe otherwise.   

A cough disrupted the air, you looked up to see Javi standing by the entrance of the trailer giving you a shy, toothy smile. You instinctively smiled back at him, too distracted by how violently your heart was flutteringly— you felt queasy like you were hanging onto that single lock of hair curling over his forehead as it swung with the evening air. So, you didn’t notice the two men share a charged look and tense smile before Lucien softly patted your head and made his way out.

Javi had the warmest, twinkling brown eyes, sweet and innocent. You had dreamed about how that plush bottom lip would feel between yours, on your skin, on your pussy. 

Stop it, you stupid slut. 

He was probably here to scold you for being in front of the camera and taking the heroine’s place. But it was not your fault! She had begged you to do it, said it wasn’t that big of a deal since they didn’t need to see her face in the scene and they could voice over her lines post-production— it’s just monster noises and screeching anyway. 

Initially, you hadn’t wanted to do it because you didn’t trust her intentions but she had it cleared with the producers as well. They said you would be just like a stand-in. Then you had seen the silly monster costume, it was so bad— but it had the Mothman eyes and antenna. And you couldn’t resist because of the soulmate tattoo. You had thought, what if this was how you found your soulmate?

“Hey, are you okay?” His teeth were so straight, smile so adorable— it made his eyes squint, one closing just slightly more than the other in a way that made your stomach contract. And that nose… the bold slope of it was downright salacious. 

UGH, shut up, don’t be a whore. Have some self-respect. He doesn’t want you. He doesn’t want you. He doesn’t want you. Fat and Pathetic. Fat and Pathetic. 

“Yeah, I’m okay…” You furtively glanced around the trailer, hoping that not looking at him would make you feel less overwhelmed. 

“That’s good, I think I’m your soulmate.” He stated in a calm voice followed by a warm, awkward chuckle. But his hands were trembling, and he rubbed them along his thighs.

“Um, no. You’re not.” You croaked, refusing to meet his eyes as you lied to him. 

“No, let me show you.” He pulled off his shirt revealing broad, tanned shoulders. You wanted to lick the freckles that dusted over his skin there, kiss the ones that dotted his neck. 

He lifted his hand straight up and showed you a string of letters that ran up his underarm. You couldn’t make sense of them at first, they looked like keyboard smash starting from his forearm; some of them were capitalised, some letters lowercase, a few of them had accents on them and some of them were even ligatures. 

Then he started pronouncing them in a strange whimpering, squeaking voice. And you wanted to scream. Or laugh. Was he trying to imitate your crying? You knew you weren’t a pretty crier but he made you sound almost… endearing. Especially when he tentatively looked at you with those aggrieved eyes of a kicked puppy. He whispered the last of the words as the letters disappeared into his armpit— you’re the worst.

You tried not to visibly flinch. Were those really your first words to him? How horrible to carry those words on your body for your whole life. He looked so guilty and ashamed, lines formed between his brows and the creases in his forehead deepened in distress. 

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to say those awful words to you.” His gaze on you was steady and sincere, begging you to believe him. 

You swallowed, feeling an anxious tightness in your chest. You surged through before you could change your mind. 

“Sorry, but I don’t think you’re my soulmate.” You insisted, looking down at his knees, they were so close to yours. He was sitting in the seat facing you, and suddenly the trailer seemed much smaller. You could smell him— open oceans, sweet citrus, hints of something minty and herby lavender. 

“Oh, what does your tattoo say? Can I see it?” The disappointment in his voice nestled just under your ribs, painfully digging into your heart. 

“It says hello.” You lied. 

“That’s great! I must’ve said hello to you.” He perked up at the possibility. Eyes radiant with joy again. He hadn’t said hello, but that wasn’t his fault. It was ironic but you had mastered the art of being invisible— despite your size.

“No, you didn’t… You said Hi.” At least, he would have if you hadn’t evaded him at all times, mooning over him from afar.

“Noooo… I must’ve said hello— I mean hi, hey, hello. So hard to remember, I said hello. I’m sure.” He argued. You tried not to cry. 

You weren’t so insecure. Sure, being the weird chubby kid who liked cryptids wasn’t easy. But you had grown up— learned to love your body. Today just… wasn’t a good day. You felt raw, vulnerable and humiliated. You’d taken off the costume but couldn’t forget how unflattering it had made you feel, and that mean little giggle was still ringing in your ears. Your mind was also regurgitating his harsh words.  

She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. And she insisted she wasn’t his soulmate.

Javi couldn’t take his eyes off her face. Well, he could, but then he would be looking at the way her t-shirt stretched over those lovely boobs, or the cinch of her waist before her form generously curved into the most delectable hips— he could almost picture the way his fingertips would disappear in her flesh if he gripped her. Shut up, this is so wildly inappropriate.

He balled his shirt on his lap to hide the hard-on he was sporting in his shorts, sitting in only his white, sleeveless undershirt. His heart was racing, and he could feel the heat climbing up the back of his neck. He had been so convinced she was his soulmate. He still felt like she was lying to him, but why? Did she not want him? 

It would be understandable, not a lot of people wanted him. He was just a geeky film nerd who talked about movies until everyone around him was bored and exasperated. He wasn’t strong, or cool, or dashing. Sure, a lot of people flirted with him now but he wouldn’t delude himself into thinking they wanted anything more than his money. He was the kind of guy who took years to stand up to his cousin. At most, he was cute. But why would this goddess want him when she could have Lucien De Leon. 

Not even Gabriela had wanted him and they had known each other since they were kids. They both had realised very quickly that while they cared for each other, their relationship had been based on loneliness and scarcity. He had liked her because she was the only one on the compound who had been genuinely nice to him— she was his only friend. And she had liked him because he was the only decent, non-violent man in the international criminal organisation. 

They had long broken up when Gabriela had found her soulmate. He wished them all the happiness in the world, she deserved it. Because he would have never survived without her— not even in Hollywood. She had been the one dealing with the production companies for him. Fuck, and now he had to deal with one on his own.

Javi looked at the woman before him, she seemed so lovely and kind. He wanted her to be his soulmate. For years, he had been terrified his soulmate would be someone Lucas had kidnapped, hurt or harmed. He was always afraid he wouldn’t be able to save them— why else would someone call him the worst?

Well, it had finally happened, out of his own stupidity too. He hadn’t even known they were using one of the production assistants as a stand-in. The producers had conveniently left him out of the loop for a lot of things. Dieter had informed him how his lead actress was the daughter of the man who owned their production company; she’d joined the movie for a chance with Lucien. And had planned this whole fiasco as a horrible prank when she had lost his attention to this enticing woman in front of him. Javi briefly wondered if he should tell her that the lead actress was trying to bully her. 

He watched her squirm in her seat, rearranging her legs so her knees pressed together and turned slightly away from his. He tried very hard not to think about the way her thighs flattened and spread on the seat under her, because then his mind would provide him with the lewd images of the same thighs framing his face, their weight on his shoulder, his teeth sinking into the soft inside— marking her, tasting her.

She folded her arms over her stomach, her hand comfortingly stroking her upper arm. Was she cold? Because Javi was feeling overheated. He subconsciously wiped his temple, finding a light coating of sweat there. He couldn’t see the soft swell of her belly anymore, which meant he really shouldn’t be thinking about pressing his fingers into her warm skin there and pinching, twisting the flesh to watch it mould around his unruly touch— her waist would roll and twist to escape him, she would probably softly gasp, her eyes wide and aggrieved. 

She awkwardly cleared her throat, and it snapped his attention to her face. Her lips were pursed as she glanced around the trailer. He really hoped she hadn’t noticed him staring at her like a creep. 

“That’s a nice T-shirt”—he looked down at her top, relieved that it was indeed a T-shirt—“Loveland Frogman? It’s almost Valentine’s Day, isn’t it?” There, he was just looking at her top and totally not having any inappropriate thoughts about her body. But he loved the way ‘Loveland’ stretched over those tits. Fuck.

The T-shirt fit snugly over her sweetly rounded shoulders. Javi felt his teeth itch with the desire to bite down on them. She watched him, confused and bewildered at the abrupt change in topic, before glancing down at her T-shirt as if she hadn’t realised what she was wearing. 

“Oh, um, Loveland is a place. It’s in Ohio, Frogman is their local cryptid. But turned out it was just a giant three-foot-something iguana. I got the shirt when I watched a musical about it. There’s also a found footage horror movie about it with this absolutely bonkers ending— Sorry, I’m rambling— anyways, are you going to fire me?” 

“What? No. No. Of course not.” She had the most charming twinkle in her eyes. He would set fire to the set before firing her. 

“Today was entirely my fault”—He felt shame coat his throat, and his next words came subdued and choked—“I’m a shit director—” 

“No, you’re not. You are an amazing director. You have a very clear vision for the film, and you’re able to communicate and explain that vision. You won’t believe how many directors just can’t explain what they want. You give the actors enough creative license to explore their characters instead of demanding they do as you tell them to. You respect the crew and everyone’s time, so many directors just treat us like we’re servants to be taken for granted. You’re passionate about your work. You’re a film lover, and you enjoy watching other people’s work. I love that you are still exploring your own visual and story-telling style. I mean, it is easy to tell where you get your inspirations but you still make it so intrinsically yours—” 

Her lips were sweet and warm. Javi hadn’t been able to hold himself back and swooped over to kiss her. She was tense for a moment before her lips softened and melted against his. He kissed her slowly at first, selfishly, it wasn’t because he wanted to put her at ease or make her comfortable. He was in disbelief that he was kissing her or that she was letting him in the first place.

She nibbled on his lower lip, and Javi felt himself whimper into her mouth. He cradled her face, pushing closer to her as he licked the corner seam where her lips connected. He was addicted to the divot of her cupid’s bow, the swoop of her lower lip, and the maddening way she was tracing the shape of his lips. 

“You don’t want this.” She whispered against his lips. And Javi simply angled her face again before slotting his lips over hers once more. She moaned against him, and he heard a soft, answering groan rise from his chest as he kissed deeper into her, exploring the curve of her palate, the gummy lining of her mouth, and the fascinating way the top of her tongue was different in texture to the side of it. He couldn’t remember wanting anything more.

He was unwilling to part with her even with their mutual need for air, Javi continued kissing her, worshipping just her lips, showering them with tender pecks and kisses. He felt her warm breath fan across his cheek, and the wild beating of her pulse under his hand. He had never been one for overly sweet things, but he could taste something sugary on her— maybe she’d had some chocolate, or honey, or maybe a candy. Whatever it was, he couldn’t get enough of it, he was hankering for more.  

His lips slipped from hers as they both panted for breath, pressing affectionate kisses to the side of her lips, her cheek, her jaw and another just under it. He noticed her take a deep shuddering breath, eyes still closed as he touched his forehead to hers, noses grazing each other. She smelled of soap, freshly laundered clothes, and something uniquely her.

Her eyes fluttered open, and he felt his breath hitch; they were a world unto themselves. He memorised the pattern of her irises, the variation in their colour; he admired the fuzzy line of her pupils, the curve of her eye line and the length of her lashes. She looked so adorably befuddled, her eyes wet and glazed over— he could almost see himself reflected in them. Javi caressed the apple of her cheek with his thumb.

“We should take you to the doctor’s…” 

“Huh?” Javi chuckled at her confused state.

“For your leg, I noticed you hurt yourself when you fell.” He reminded her. 

“Oh, no, I’m fine. It doesn’t hurt that much, and I took a shower so I ran some warm water over it and it feels better already.” She was gripping onto the fabric of her skirt; she still looked a little uncertain, as if searching for something in his eyes. He gave a wide beam, but her smile was shy and tentative. Wait.

“You showered in Lucien’s trailer?” He didn’t mean for it to, but the question came out a bit accusing. It wasn’t his business where she showered. Except that he had just kissed her, and he wanted to do more. Did she want more as well?

“Well, yeah, he offered. And there isn’t a shower in the employee tent so I took him up on the offer. The armour made me so sweaty and sticky— wait… Why did you ask it like that?”

“No reason.” Except for the fact that she was exactly the type of pretty thing Lucien would like to sink his claws into— his other parts too for that matter. He felt an uncharacteristic sting spread through the walls of his heart like his own blood was astringent. He was jealous.

“Are you and him…”

“No, God, no. We’re not—”

“So, do you want to go on a date with me?”

She stared at him for several long moments, looking like a deer caught in headlights and her mouth agape. Silence stretched between them— an awkward, flustered kind. Her eyes quivered, as if she might cry. And Javi wanted to stuff the words back into his mouth. He was so stupid. 

She had kissed him back, but otherwise, she had not touched him at all. He was the director of the movie, her boss. She probably felt like she had to accept his advances. He leaned as far away from her as possible, too disgusted with himself to notice the way her face fell in disappointment and tears brimmed her eyes.

“I’m so sorry, you don’t need to feel—” 

“Why even kiss me if you’re not attracted to me? Was it some kind of a prank?” Her voice was pained, she sniffled. His heart broke at the way she was looking at him— like he had broken her heart.      

“I am attracted to you… that’s why I’m asking you out.”

“I’m not your soulmate. You called me fat and pathetic!” She raised her voice in indignation. 

“I did not!” Javi hotly defended himself. They were both riled up now. He would never. 

“Yes, you did. You called me fucking huge.” Her words knocked the wind out of his sails. She scowled at him with angry, resentful eyes. He thought back to his outburst on set, grimacing as he recollected his words. 

“I meant that you were almost eight feet tall. And the armour was purposely made too big and unflattering, it just wasn’t right for a monster that represents corporate greed.”

“Well, you still called me pathetic—”

“I thought you were the lead actress and those were some of the most lacklustre, pitiful monster noises in the history of cinema—”

“It wasn’t my fault they said they would voice over it and I should be quieter.” 

They both took several large breaths before Javi slipped down his seat and knelt at her feet, gently prying her skirt from her fists and taking her hands in his. 

“I’m sorry. I was an idiot.” He watched the tension fall from her shoulders and gave a gentle squeeze to her hands. She huffed a small, conceding little laugh. 

“It’s okay.” 

“Will you at least let me take a look at your leg?” He inquired.

Javi felt relieved to see a smile grace her features again, the light in her eyes made him feel warm. And he gingerly clasped her ankle in his hand as soon as she had nodded his permission. 

“Tell me if it hurts,” He said as he pressed and massaged around her ankles first and then her feet, twisting it one way and then another— noticing the wince on her face even when she didn’t verbalise her pain. Finally, he moved up her leg, pressing to check for any tenderness or pain. He gently eased her socks down her calf to check for any swelling or bruises. 

And right there, wrapping around her calf, was her soulmate tattoo. His fingers twitched over the words before he slowly traced them, gently twisting her leg to catch the words as they rolled around the back— not that he needed to see what they said. 

What cryptid are you trying to be, Mothman’s cousin?

Javi gasped as the realisation settled in. He snapped his head up to look at her. And she nodded, confirming what he hadn’t dared ask. His vision was blurry with tears as joy and elation coursed through his body, he felt a laugh bubble up his chest. Excitement zinged across his nerves. His soulmate!

“Why wouldn’t you tell me?” He demanded, no real rancour or admonishment in his voice as he pulled his soulmate into a crushing hug. He marvelled at the press of her body against his; his hands stroked along the contours of her body, pressing her closer to him. She was his soulmate.

“I thought you didn’t want me…” She mumbled so softly that he barely heard her. 

Javi relinquished his hold on her to grasp her face again, cradling her jaw and wiping her stray tears, “I would always want you. I wanted you even when you were a giant cryptid in stupid bronze armour and feather wings.” 

“No, you didn’t, silly…” She giggled as she teasingly rolled her eyes at him. Javi reverently traced the tattoo on her leg again. 

“I’m sorry…” He mumbled, giving her a dimpled, mischievous smile before guiding the sole of her foot to press against the hardened cock he had been trying to hide, “I’ve been trying to cover this up as soon as I’d come in.” 

She adoringly tucked a few of his curls behind his ears, her fingers brushing over his stubble. She pinched his chin in her palm, pulling his jaw so he looked up at her. Javi felt his heart race, heat pooling in his belly, and more blood rushed lower to his cock where the heel of her foot was dizzyingly stroking over it. She insistently pressed her toes to his balls. He gulped despite his dry mouth.

Her thumb caressed and wiped at his lower lip, testing the softness of it before she arched a brow in challenge. Her eyes twinkled with mischief and lust. 

“Kiss me to make up for it?” Javi went enthusiastically into the arms of his lover. What followed the desperate kisses and the fervent touches was an intimate introduction of bodies and a reacquaintance of severed souls. 

And if Lucien accidentally caught a glimpse of their sweet production assistant with her T-shirt stretching under her arms and bunched into her mouth to expose her swaying tits, a foot propped up on his vanity, head lolling back and watching her pretty pussy obediently take the director’s cock in the mirror then… no, he didn’t.

He knew better than to mess with the PAs on set if he wanted to enjoy the simple joys of life like a clean trailer, a hot coffee just the way he liked it and warm meals on time. It was a lesson he had learned the hard way. 

A/N: You can find a little more smutty crumbs of Javi and his soulmate's life here.

[xdhluvrs]

Young, Ashamed, and Foolish (pt. I) ⋆₊˚⊹ ࿔⋆

Pairing: non-idol kwak jiseok/gaon x Reader Tags: classmate au, academic rival au, afab reader, jiseok and reader are med school students, jiseok pov (for pt. I) Warnings: nsfw (at the end), angst (it will be resolved i promise), possessiveness/yandere!jiseok if you squint, jiseok is struggling, reader is struggling, suggestive content, solo masturbation (m), more in pt. II Word Count: 5.2k Synopsis:  Kwak Jiseok, esteemed second-year medical student constantly battling with self-doubt and exhaustion, is drowning. Though admired by his peers as one of the school’s “perfect students,” he remains haunted by a past interaction with the only other person who shares that title - a classmate he once regrettably dismissed too quickly. As Jiseok navigates the challenges of medical school, his fascination with her only deepens, revealing an unsettling truth: what began as admiration has given way to something far more consuming. When a conversation overheard by chance upends what he thought he knew about her, Jiseok is faced with a choice - continue watching from the sidelines or finally bridge the distance he had put between them.

🍇's note: Hi guys! This is my first fic, and it's honestly so exciting and surreal to finally post it somewhere. I know that it seems really angsty but I promise that I have some great stuff planned for the next part, so please stick around if you enjoyed! Any feedback, questions, comments, suggestions, etc. are always appreciated! <3

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮

Medical school wasn’t for everyone, and even though he was entering his second year, Jiseok still wasn’t sure if it was for him. Growing up with a strong interest in science and a desire to help others made human medicine an obvious choice to pursue, but that didn’t mean it was easy. Majoring in biochemistry felt hard enough during his undergraduate years, and now he had taken on a work load almost double that of what it used to be. However, Jiseok wasn’t a stranger to hard work. The desire to give up, to be free of the constant pressure of new information and assignments, still existed in his mind. But he was able to lock the feeling away within his heart, to compartmentalize, just as he had done in his first four years of college. 

Although this was an effective way to stay on top of school, the process of locking his feelings away caused him to neglect other aspects of his life. His beloved guitar that once received attention every day was now only held for thirty minute intervals once a week. The friends that he had made in college were rarely texted, and even less so visited by him. He tried to tell himself that this was okay, that it would all be worth it, that once he received his M.D. there would be time to pick back up the things that he loved. But there were still three more years of school, and then his residency could be three or more years, and then what if he needed to complete a fellowship too? How old would he be by the time he was done? Would he have spent his entire twenties in schooling? Was that something that he was okay with? 

Now isn’t the time to be thinking about this, Jiseok murmured to himself while brushing his teeth listlessly. It was 6:04 in the morning, just a little over thirty minutes after his first alarm had gone off. The autumn chill left him feeling particularly listless in the mornings, but his desire to succeed was stronger than his desire to stay comfortably stationed in bed. The man looking back at him in the mirror was clearly disheveled, dressed in a black Green Day shirt and oversized sweatpants. His frizzy, bleached hair was concerningly untamed, something which he blamed his friend for. Seungmin was a childhood friend of Jiseok, and was extremely hard to deny. When he called Jiseok over the summer asking if he could bleach his hair for cosmetology school, Jiseok didn’t hesitate to say yes and help him out. However, it would be a lie to say that Jiseok was prepared for the challenges and responsibilities that came with having bleached hair. He cringed as he brushed his hair, remembering how terrible it looked after the first attempt of bleaching it. Thankfully by the time the new semester had started Jiseok’s hair had become more manageable, and he no longer lived in fear of it. After changing into his ceil blue scrubs and eating a quick breakfast, he grabbed his coat and exited his apartment, beginning the short and dark walk to campus. 

Classes didn’t start until 8:00, but Jiseok still tried to arrive at campus at least an hour early every day so that he could get a head start on reviewing the upcoming content. Despite his internal struggles, Jiseok was highly regarded by his peers in medical school, and even considered by some to be one of the two “perfect” students at their university. Walking into the campus coffee shop, Jiseok inadvertently made eye contact with the second “perfect” student, a common, painful occurrence in his daily routine. Painful only because of his own actions - his own shortcomings. She sat in her usual spot - the counters by the window and held a mug of her usual drink - a spiced latte - beside her. I wonder how long she’s been here, he thought to himself, feeling slightly inadequate. After placing his order, Jiseok slowly made his way to a booth before pulling out a laptop from his bag and beginning his routine. From his seat he could barely see the back of her head from across the shop, which he watched rock from side to side over the span of the morning (or something adjacent). Although it had been over a year since they had first met, their interactions with each other were generally limited to the brief eye contact they shared each morning. As he mindlessly scrolled through his emails, he couldn’t help but reminisce about his first meeting with her, and how things might have been now if that night had gone differently.

When Jiseok first met her, he didn’t like her. Orientation Night for first years had begun only an hour ago and yet she was already being swarmed by other students, drawn to her like moths to a flame. Her smile was bright and friendly, and she spoke kindly with sincerity to everyone around her. Without even speaking to her, Jiseok had already overheard everything that he needed to know. She was a perfect student during her undergraduate, and had been a part of several research groups and student organizations. She was accepted into multiple prestigious medical schools, but for some reason chose to go here, probably because they offered her the greatest scholarship, Jiseok thought to himself. He chose to dislike her because he didn’t understand her. It was obvious to him that she was someone who had never had to try that hard to be exceptional. It was so obvious to him because it was so opposite to who he felt he was: someone who was constantly trying hard just to keep up with the average. At that moment he made the decision to distance himself from her, as he knew himself well enough to understand that they were in completely different circles. Hours passed, and after listening to several boring speeches and making small talk with some of the other incoming MS1s, Jiseok decided it was time to take his leave from the event. It’s not that he wasn’t excited to be starting this new chapter in his life, but his feelings of doubt and uncertainty had quickly outweighed the excitement, making him feel distant from those around him. He began to walk silently towards his apartment complex, internally criticizing his past interactions with his peers, wishing that he had said something different, or wishing that he had said nothing at all. In the midst of his thoughts, Jiseok heard the chatter of other students who were still nearby, but continued to make his way further away from campus until he heard a slightly louder exclamation. Surely they weren’t talking to him, so he kept with his pace until-

“Hey, wait a second!”

 After being certain that the voice was in fact being directed towards him, Jiseok stopped in his tracks and turned around, coming face to face with the person he had so quickly chosen to dislike.

“Oh, sorry…” He trailed off, making eye contact with the girl and then quickly breaking it, “I didn’t know you were talking to me.” He involuntarily swallowed, making a mental note of his dry mouth. He felt guilty knowing that the person he had been trying to avoid had gone out of their way to speak with him.

 “It’s okay, I’m sorry to have shouted at you like that. I just realized that I hadn’t gotten to meet you yet.” She said with a polite smile, before introducing herself to him. Jiseok obviously already knew her name, but proceeded to introduce himself, adding a brief “nice to meet you.” As he spoke, his gaze once again reached hers, and he immediately realized why the world around him seemed to be so enthralled by her. Although the sun had set hours ago, her eyes still twinkled, perhaps from the dimly lit streetlights, or perhaps from something faintly glowing within her. While looking at her, Jiseok felt as if time had stopped, or at least slowed down significantly. He felt his heart beating hard against his chest, and did his best to appear normal and unfazed by the sudden conversation.

 “It’s nice to meet you too, Jiseok” she said, with a slightly larger smile this time, “Tonight was pretty long, right? Are you headed home now?” She casually asked him.  Something about how she spoke to him made him feel that he too was in fact special, and worth spending time on the way that she was. It was almost intimate, he thought, the way that she maintained her eye contact with him, and the way that she was able to speak his name so easily. Was this a skill she had been born with? Or was it carefully crafted and improved from years of practice? Jiseok didn’t have the luxury to think about the possibilities, as he had to quickly formulate a response to her before too much time had passed. 

“Yeah, I guess. It must be hard being the center of the attention” he mindlessly retorted. The harsh words quickly escaped his mouth, like they needed to be freed from his body, as if Jiseok would somehow feel better with them outside of himself. His hand involuntarily reached to cover his mouth, almost like his body was shocked that he had said something so insensitive to someone he didn’t even know.

 “Oh,” she paused, briefly making an expression that was indecipherable to Jiseok, “Is that how it seemed to you?” She asked, reverting back to her polite expression. Why did I say that? Jiseok immediately felt guilty, and scrambled to try and repair the damage he felt he had caused, accidentally biting his lip in the process.

 “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that” he stammered, “I think I’m just really worn out from today…” He trailed off, with a pained expression, unable to look the girl in her eyes anymore. Why did he lash out like that? This wasn’t the type of person that Jiseok wanted to be, yet he was already making such a poor impression of himself before the school year had even started. He felt the stuffy heat of shame rise throughout his face, and felt the taste of blood pollute his mouth as he looked down at his shoes. Jiseok had always been one to feel things strongly, which he had always found to be a curse rather than a blessing, this situation being one to further his point.

 “Don’t worry about it!” She started, a little too quickly, “It’s totally fine. I’m feeling pretty worn out too” she chuckled softly, feigning unbotheredness. Jiseok easily saw through this though, as being one that feels things strongly meant that it was obvious to him when the people around him were not “totally fine.” Although she maintained her pleasant mask, he could see that the twinkle in her eyes now more closely resembled unshed tears.

 “Well, um, I guess I’ll let you go now. Goodnight Jiseok!” She spoke awkwardly, as she turned away quickly, trying to end their interaction as soon as she possibly could.

 “Goodnight…” He spoke past the lump in his throat, trying to keep his voice from trembling. She continued to walk away from him, leaving no evidence that she had heard his feeble good night, not that Jiseok felt like it would have changed anything. The desire to leave that he had experienced before interacting with her was nothing compared to what he felt now. He needed to get away - from everyone and everything. To be by himself would allow him to decompress and recalibrate, which would at least temporarily improve his mood. The pain in his throat became more apparent as he quickly started walking back to his apartment, and he still felt as if his heart was going to break out of his chest due to how hard it was beating. 

Why? Questions of “Why?” and “Why not?” plagued his head as he tried to forget about the situation he had just undoubtedly fumbled. The fifteen-minute walk felt more like an hour of torment, but finally Jiseok arrived back to his haven. He immediately undressed and laid face-down on his bed, letting out a loud and pained noise that was hopefully muffled by his comforter. Afterwards, Jiseok tried to normalize, running through the steps of his evening routine and eventually bringing himself into bed…

“Jiseok…? Hello…?” 

Jiseok nearly flew out of his booth at the sound of her voice suddenly addressing him. Standing before him was the girl that he had just spent the last half hour reminiscing about, looking somewhat confused at his startled response.

“Huh? I mean what? I’m sorry, I-” Jiseok began, surprised by how loud his voice sounded inside the relatively quiet cafe.

“It’s okay, I’m sorry to have interrupted you.” She said politely, before setting down a warm mug on his table. “The barista called your name several times, but I didn’t think that you heard them. I was on my way out anyway, so I thought I’d bring this to you.” She gently nudged the drink towards him, with a slight smile. 

“Ah, Thank you so much. I must have been really invested in my studies.” He spoke, chuckling shyly and internally cringing at the words leaving his mouth. He watched as her eyes moved slowly across his face, and then to his laptop screen, which clearly displayed his email inbox, and no other open tabs or applications. Jiseok’s face grew slightly pink, realizing that he had just been caught in a fib, yet he didn’t say anything to try and cover his tracks. He secretly hoped that she would call him out, that she would gently laugh, or even that she would try and change the subject out of pity. Anything just to prolong this interaction with her would be a positive for Jiseok. But instead, all she did was slightly raise her eyebrow - a habit of hers that Jiseok had noticed, but wasn’t quite sure of it’s meaning - before saying a quick goodbye and walking away. He watched her silhouette slowly disappear through the window of the shop, which was somewhat obscured due to morning sun, before retreating back into his internal world that he had been absorbed in.

To Jiseok’s surprise, the beginning of the first semester was incredibly mundane. Sure, the content and workload was insane, but the social aspect of medical school was much easier for him to navigate than he had expected. The events which occurred on the night of orientation had left him exceedingly nervous to interact with his peers, but for some reason unbeknownst to him, everyone seemed to like Jiseok. Sure, he was nice enough to everyone and did his best to act thoughtfully and be considerate of those around him, but it still didn’t seem to make any sense. In an even greater shock, Jiseok placed top of his class at the end of his first semester. And, this time not to his surprise, no one other than the most capable woman he knew placed second to him, leading to the two of them being admired and respected by their student body, and earning the nicknames of “perfect students”. He secretly hoped that this would bring two of them closer together, now that they had both achieved such a feat and had been recognized for it. He had desperately wanted to right his wrongs, to fix what he felt he had broken, or at least damaged to some extent. However, Jiseok felt too nervous to speak to her by himself, and she seemed to show no interest in approaching him either. The longer he went without talking to her, the harder he felt that it would be to change that, and opted instead to observe her from a distance with the rest of his other admiring classmates. 

Through his observations, Jiseok quickly noticed patterns in how she spoke with her peers - likely unbeknownst to them. Although she was kind and genuine, she was also extremely private, at least when Jiseok was within earshot. She seemed to keep personal opinions to herself, which was confusing as he doubted she had any hidden, controversial beliefs. He knew that she didn’t actually listen to the same music that her classmates liked, and he knew that she actually did get nervous when it came to presenting in front of the class. In addition to this, she was an incredible listener, and had the ability to make anyone feel interesting - as he had experienced first hand from her on the night of their first meeting. Unfortunately for Jiseok, the more he learned about her, the more he slowly began to fall into her trap. 

He knew she was beautiful the night that he met her - anyone could see that - and overtime he discovered that her beauty was so much more than skin deep, ast she was genuinely a good human being. The way she seemed untouchable, like a well-kept secret, was so upsettingly irresistible to Jiseok. He selfishly wanted to be special, to know and truly grasp who she was as a person and why she had become that way. Had he initially been wrong about her? Was there a chance that she was more like him than he had first thought? Probably not, but thoughts of her drifted across his tired mind, and became a small source of comfort for Jiseok as he faced the challenges of medical school.

Vrrrp! A small vibration from his phone interrupted Jiseok’s train of thought - it was 7:45. So much for studying this morning, he thought to himself, before packing up his laptop and briskly walking across the courtyard to class. Thankfully he made it to class on time, and his usual seat in the lecture hall had been saved for him by a few of his peers.

Another uneventful series of morning lectures had passed, and Jiseok slowly exited the lecture hall to make his way to one of the various lounge rooms to enjoy his lunch. Several friendly classmates asked if he had wanted to review together over their lunch breaks, but Jiseok has opted out today, as he craved some alone time before having to spend another five hours taking notes in the auditorium. Walking up to the first empty classroom’s door he could find, Jiseok placed his hand on the knob and began to twist it before -

“So I’ve been meaning to ask- how are you and your boyfriend? Are you planning on taking him to the Winter Formal?”

He heard the voice of who he assumed was one of her close friends, or at least he hoped that was the case if they felt comfortable asking her such a  personal question. It was no surprise to Jiseok, or likely anyone, that she had a boyfriend. However, that didn’t keep him from wincing slightly any time it was mentioned. Not only did he flub his first meeting with her, but she also had an insufferable boyfriend. Well, he could never admit to that, but the jealousy and disdain he felt towards this man that he’d never even met was enough proof of his true feelings. Her boyfriend didn’t attend the same program as Jiseok, but with minimal time and effort he was able to learn about him by word of their gossiping classmates. Sure, the guy was tall and handsome, and maybe nice too. But Jiseok was confident that this man would never really understand her the way that he himself could. He’d never understand how she thinks, how she carefully chooses her words and responses, and surely he’d never truly understand her motivations and dreams. But Jiseok could. And he would be more than eager to prove that if her heart didn’t already belong to another man. He would do anything to support her, to care for her, to please her in any way imaginable… 

Jiseok internally smacked himself before allowing himself another thought. The prolonged silence from the other room was making his heart and mind race - Why was she taking so long to respond? He so desperately wanted to peek through the thin window of the door, just to see what type of expression she was wearing. Say that you two are doing great. Say that you will take your stupid boyfriend with you to the Winter Formal, Jiseok thought to himself as he tried to resist the painful creep of jealousy that he’d worked so hard to contain.

“Oh…” He heard her voice waver, “We actually broke up last summer. Sorry, I didn’t really tell anyone.”

Jiseoks froze, no, the entire world around him froze. What? How is that even possible? How did I not notice? A flood of thoughts rushed through his mind before he snapped back to the present moment and tore his hand from the door knob. He felt his pulse heavy through his body, numbing out the continued commotion from the conversation he had been eavesdropping upon. Despite the shock he was feeling, Jiseok feigned normalcy before calmly walking down the hallway to an actually vacant classroom and seating himself for what he had originally intended to do: eat his lunch. This was going to be okay - he tried to reassure himself. He had done this before, he knew how to compartmentalize, how to stop feeling or thinking when things felt too big. Jiseok just had to make it through class, and then he would allow himself to think about his newly gathered knowledge. After silently recollecting himself, he hesitantly took a bite into his packed lunch and accidentally bit the inside of his lip in the process. The metallic taste of blood quickly overwhelmed his tastes, but Jiseok fought to ignore this, and instead swallowed down his heavy feelings alongside a few unshed tears.

The next five hours of class were a blur. Jiseok, who was usually a stellar student and active participant in class, felt nearly catatonic after the events of his break. Once he had finally been released, he quickly said his goodbyes to his peers before rushing out of the building and beginning the trek back home. All I have to do is make it home, he internally repeated to himself, praying that it would sooth his nerves until-

“Jiseok! Wait!”

 Fuck. Everything that he had been trying so hard to lock away was at risk of slipping through his fingers. Feeling like a deer caught in the headlights, Jiseok slowly turned around to face the one person he couldn’t bear to speak to. 

“Hey, sorry… one second.” She spoke as if she was slightly out of breath, likely from trying to keep up with him as he attempted his escape from campus. Pushing a stray piece of hair out of her face, she continued “I know the PBL presentation isn’t due for a couple weeks, but I still wanted to get your contact information.”

What? Jiseok was puzzled, and could only bring himself to barely meet her gaze and hope that she would elaborate. He had just presented his last PBL case last week. What was she talking about? Why would he be doing another one- Oh. Memories from the first week of classes uncovered themselves within his head. The small group PBL presentation would be due at the end of the semester, and be worth about 25% of his final grade in his Clinical Investigations course. It must have been addressed in class today, but had been far too preoccupied to pay any attention.

“Oh, yeah…” Jiseok said quietly, before shakily reaching into his pocket and grabbing his phone. “I, um, here. You can put in your number” He said, holding his phone out to her general direction, painfully aware of his awkward behavior. Thankfully, she seemed unfazed, and gently took his phone from his hands.

“Perfect, thank you. It seems like you’re in a bit of a hurry, so I’ll let you go.” She said, handing the phone back to him after sending a quick text to herself from his number. “Though, I would really appreciate it if we could try and find some time to get together and make a plan this week.”

“Yeah, of course.” He said before adding a quick “good bye” and “thank you” and heading off. 

You can do this Jiseok, he told himself while trying to appear relaxed as he walked away from her. As soon as he was certain that he had escaped her line of sight though, his composure dissipated and he quickened his pace. After practically running home to his apartment, he was filled with a slight sense of relief as he finally slammed the front door behind him, locking himself safely away from the rest of the world. Jiseok grasped his face between his hands, before taking a deep breath and sliding back against his door,grounding himself. Despite his attempts at deep breathing, Jiseok still felt anything but calm, and decided that the next step would be to try and wash away the burdensome feelings he held. He stood up shakily, discarding his bag on the couch, before slowly trudging to his small apartment bathroom. Although the water pressure wasn’t ideal, Jiseok was always able to get the temperature practically scalding, something that usually helped him unwind after long days. He shed his clothes, throwing them to who-knows-where, before stepping into the stall and submerging himself in the warm water. He exhaled audibly, finally feeling some peace after being on edge for the past few hours. While washing himself, Jiseok allowed his mind to wander and begin the long process of decompressing the events of today. Not only was she single now, but she would also be an integral piece in Jiseok’s academic success for the fall semester. Observing from afar would no longer be a plausible option - it was time that he addressed his true feelings about her.

I want her, he thought to himself, and immediately felt repulsed by how easy it had been to admit.  This feeling was something he thought he had tucked away - something he had locked up and buried, hoping that it would never find the surface again. Sure, Jiseok wasn’t a complete stranger to intimacy - he had been an active participant in a handful of casual relationships during his undergraduate years - but medical school had left him drained and with little time to spend on himself, let alone another person. The stress of school was enough to dampen his sex drive, and the only person he was remotely interested in had been in a committed relationship. However, that was no longer the case… and this revelation threatened to have Jiseok burst at the seams. The hot air and steam began to feel suffocating to him, and as an additional hit, he felt his dick twitch with need. Surely this was okay, wasn’t it? Not only would she never know, but it also would never affect her. Even better that she was single now, too.. There was no other person occupying her time, occupying her mind, her body…

Fuck, this is so wrong, he thought to himself, bringing his hand to forehead. He felt his face crinkle up in disgust as he became more and more aware of his growing arousal. However, the shame that ran through his core was now being outshined by his impending need for release. No, he could still pull himself back together, just turn off the shower and go to bed, pretend none of this had ever happened…

Fuck it, Jiseok leaned forward against his shower wall, holding himself with his left arm and letting the hot water pour over his back. He bit his lip to no avail, unable to hold back a moan as he finally grasped himself. He had crossed a line, and lost the  battle with himself - but the pleasure he felt was too agonizingly enjoyable to stop. He let out a soft sigh, his jaw going completely slack, as he began to move his hand, basking in the slight relief after how painfully hard he had become. Closing his eyes, she appeared so clearly in his mind, and before he knew it he was lost in the fantasies of her that he had so effortlessly created. Her tantalizing smile as she began to undress in front of him, the warmth of her body as she climbed on top of him, and the coolness of her fingertips as she traced the freckles across his body. It was too tame though, and before he knew it he was imagining her legs wrapped snugly around his neck, holding him in place as she pleasured herself against him. It was visceral to touch himself like this, to fuck his own hand wishing that it were her. Would he lay back and watch while she took the lead? Or would he be draped over her, hard at work in pursuit of her enjoyment?  Jiseok cringed at the obscene words and sounds falling from his mouth, but a small part of him was turned on by how pathetic he was acting. As he felt himself reaching his peak, he picked up his pace, relentlessly jacking himself off as he imagined how she would look taking him. All he could do was say her name, quietly at first, but soon becoming loud sobs as he hastily finished. 

For a brief moment, Jiseok felt blissful, coming down on the sweet waves of pleasure that he had so desperately craved. However, after finally opening his eyes, a sharp wave of sickness flooded through his being as he watched the evidence of his crime wash down the shower drain. I’m disgusting, he thought to himself, moving directly under the running water, hoping that it would somehow cleanse him of the actions he committed. Tears hotter than the water from the shower head ran down his face as he cried silently, staring down at his feet. After allowing himself a brief moment longer to ache, Jiseok reluctantly turned off his shower and dried himself off before changing into a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt. Despite everything he had learned about the importance of nutrition in his metabolism course, he couldn’t bring himself to eat dinner, the shame leaving him slightly nauseated.

Everything would be the same as it had always been. Sure, he was going to be working one-on-one with her for the next few weeks, but after that it would be as if nothing had ever happened between the two of them. And, nothing had happened between the two of them - at least, not to her knowledge. Jiseok repeated these thoughts to himself like affirmations, hoping that they would somehow become true if he just continued to focus on them. After mindlessly clicking through Anki review decks and allowing his hair to air-dry, Jiseok finally crawled into bed. Tomorrow will be a good day, he tried to convince himself, ignoring the pangs of guilt and uncertainty that he felt in his chest. Everything would be the same, right?

[oopsallgoalies]

Snitches Get Stitches: Prologue

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Part of the San Diego Dogfighters universe

Summary: Jake Seresin, golden boy of the NHL and Captain of the Dallas Stars makes headlines when he unexpectedly signs with newly-formed San Diego Dogfighters. When your future seems at the verge of crashing down, you receive the opportunity of a lifetime to become the team physician for the Dogfighters. You never expected to be working directly with your favorite hockey player. Jake has a secret and you have a job to do. Will he be able to trust you enough to help and will you be able to trust him with your heart?

Series CW: 18+ ONLY, swearing, car accident, suggestive language, medical inaccuracies, hockey inaccuracies etc. No use of Y/N.

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: This is a repost of my completed series, Snitches Get Stitches. It was originally posted in October-November 2023, and was lost when my blog was deleted.

Series Masterlist // Next Chapter

Two weeks out from the end of your fellowship should have felt better. Fifteen years of work and you were so close to the finish line that you could taste it. You’d worked your ass off, topped your classes over and over, sacrificing every bit of your social life, sleep, and general welfare to guarantee that you’d have your choice of job once you came out the other end, and you had. That was at least until three months ago when everything came crashing down. A misunderstanding, a miscalculation, something that felt so far beyond your control and the past fifteen years had been swept out from under your feet. Now you refreshed your email in desperation instead of excitement. You were sitting on a dragon’s hoard of student loans and not a single job offer. The downside of being at one of the top fellowship programs in the country was ironically the same as the upside, they were extremely well-connected. As a result, you were basically blacklisted by every potential employer.

Anyone else would question how you did it, getting out of bed like nothing was wrong and going to your fellowship with a professional smile plastered on your face as if everything was right with the world and you’d be on your way to the first day of your dream job in just two short weeks. It turns out that delusion is highly motivating. You’d refresh your email every morning as if an offer was going to suddenly appear, then go about your day as if maybe this evening something would show. At least that’s how most days went. Today everything that could have gone wrong, had. Your alarm hadn’t gone off because your phone was dead, your charging cord seemingly having given up its last breath sometime over the last twenty-four hours. Then the hot water had been out, for the third time this month, so you were shivering like a drowned sewer rat as you hauled yourself into your car, running too late to make your tea.

Even the Anaheim sun couldn’t seem to warm you as you pulled onto the highway toward Los Angeles. Not even five minutes later a piercing chime sounded through the vehicle and your dismayed gaze fell on your gas light, shining bright since last night, when you had been far too exhausted to brave a seedy gas station in the dark, relegating it as a “tomorrow problem.” Tomorrow was here and you swore defeatedly as you made your way to the next exit, issuing irritated commands at your phone to find the nearest gas station. You swore your whole attention was on the road as you did your best to follow the monotone directions from your speakers as you pulled into the gas station when the motorcycle flashed across your field of vision, fast but not fast enough. You screamed as your brain caught up to the sight in front of you. You don’t remember putting the car into park in the middle of the entry to the gas station and vaulting out of the vehicle, burying your panic as you go into doctor mode, rushing to the aid of the driver sitting up on the asphalt.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, sir are you alright? I’m a doctor.” You sputtered as he turned to look at you, a rueful smile on his face.

“Oh, no worries, Doc, I’m all good.” He scratched the back of his neck as he looked over to his motorcycle which lay abandoned a few feet away. “I need to remember I’m not twenty-five anymore.”

“Sir I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist that I check to see if you have a concussion.” You glanced around, searching for something. “Especially since you weren’t wearing a helmet.” You couldn’t help the annoyed purse of your lips. He chuckled, nodding as you squat down next to him, fiddling with your phone to turn on the flashlight.

“So, you’re a doctor, huh kid? What kind, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Sports medicine, and I mean yes I’m a doctor, I’ve graduated from medical school, but I’m still finishing up my fellowship so I’m not employed as one yet per se.” You sat back on your heels, satisfied that he really was alright. His eyes brightened at your words.

“Sports medicine? What sport are you working with?”

“I’ve worked with a bunch of different ones through my fellowship but my dream job is hockey.” If you ever got a job that was.

His face split into a huge grin. “You don’t say? When do you finish your fellowship?”

“Two weeks… why?” You suddenly remembered that this man was a total stranger as his questions became more specific. It was at that moment that your brain finally exited doctor mode that you realized that he was in fact not a total stranger, not really and you recognized exactly who was sitting on the concrete not even five feet from you. “Oh my fucking god, you’re Pete Mitchell.” The words tumbled out of your mouth in a rush before you could stop them. He barked out a laugh as he extended a dusty hand to you.

“The one and only.” You stared at his hand like you were wondering if it was safe to touch, which is ridiculous. You worked with star athletes for a living and you’ve never gotten star-struck. But that was within the four walls of your job, where you were completely and totally in doctor mode, not squatting in the driveway of a gas station. You shook your head, unsure of how long you’d left him hanging before taking his outstretched hand and shaking it, introducing yourself. “It feels ridiculous to ask, but are you an Anaheim fan?” He asked, flashing his signature grin. You flush, embarrassed.

“They’re my second favorite but my dad’s a ride-or-die.” Pete laughed at your brutal honesty. “But, I mean, everyone who’s everyone knows you.” You sputtered. “You have one of the longest records in the NHL. 26 years is a long time, and with three cups on top of that? You’re practically hockey royalty.” He smiled, seemingly amused with your floundering.

He stood then, helping you up with him. “Could I get your information?”

“Oh yeah, of course. I’m so sorry about your bike, is it good to drive?” You gave the abandoned motorcycle a worried look. “I’m sure my insurance can cover whatever repairs you need.”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that.” He shook his head gently, laying a fatherly hand on your arm. “I actually wanted to offer you a job. Well, an interview, I’m not actually authorized to offer you a job, not my department.”

“I mean I did hit you with my car, WAIT WHAT?” The full effect of his words hit you like a truck. He laughed again.

“Sweetheart, I promise you I can take care of the damages,” giving you his best I’m a multimillionaire retired athlete look. “And as for the job? I’m serious. You’re clearly responsible, professional, good in a crisis, and the team I’m working with is looking for a physician. Unless of course you’re already committed to another job?”

“No! Uh, no, no I’m not.” Shame crept up your neck. “I really appreciate this, Mr. Mitchell.” You stammered as you fumbled for your wallet and produced a business card that you offered to him, doing your best to hold back the tears of gratefulness threatening to fill your eyes.

“It’s not a problem at all, Doc. I’ll be in touch, and please, call me Mav.” He handed you a piece of paper in return and you stared down to see his signature scrawled across it with a brief note Congratulations on such a talented daughter. - Pete “Maverick” Mitchell “Tell your dad I said hi.” He said with a wink before turning away from you to his motorcycle. You stood there, frozen in shock as he got the bike upright and drove away with a wave. The moment he was out of view, the tears escaped your eyes. You’d been desperate for someone to take a chance on you, but never in your wildest dreams would you have expected that person would be Pete fucking Mitchell.

[teddy06writes]

X Reader Fic Masterlist

~~

Dead Poet Society:

General/Unit:

Charlie Daltons Annuel Dead Poets Holiday Party: Halloween Edition Diner Days Everything Falls Apart Study Session Repercussions Dating the Dead Poets HCs

Neil Perry:

Music of the Night Why'd I Guess the Ending? Anywhere... Just Not Home Happiness Here For You A Quiet Moment Everyone But You

Todd Anderson:

Favorite Poet Surprise Cuddle Sessions Friday Night Fun, Monday Meetings

Steven Meeks: Of Little Love Poems, Secret Admirers and Anonymous Notes

Charlie Dalton:

Friends to Lovers Hcs

Gerard Pitts: None yet

Richard Cameron: None yet

Knox Overstreet: None Yet

~~~

The Outsiders:

General/Unit:

Being the Fourth Curtis Brother HCs Thanksgiving Special '24

Dallas Winston:

Never Fall In Love Again No Matter What Ghost Stories Late Nights By The Fire Oh How The Turn Tables People Watching Whumptober '24 Day Twenty

Sodapop Curtis:

Golden Too Old? Yeah Right! Meltdown Soda x theaterkid!reader

Two Bit Mathews:

I'll Try Too Old? Yeah Right! Spooky-est Place On Earth

Darry Curtis:

Pumpkin Spice Everything Hot Tea Heals The Soul Morning Routines Whumptober '24 Day Two Whumptober '24 Day Twenty Three

Johnny Cade:

Protective Cool, Calm, and Collected-- Until He Smiles

Steve Randle:

1955 Chevy Delray

Polyam Jally:

Take Me Back to the Night We Met

Polyam Dallypop:

I Told You It Was A Dumbass Plan

~~~

Top Gun: Maverick:

General/Unit:None Yet

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw:

Whumptober '24 Day Nine

Jake 'Hangman' Sersin: None Yet

Javy 'Coyote' Machado:None Yet

Natasha 'Phoenix' Trace: None Yet

Robert 'Bob' Floyd:

Whumptober '24 Day One Thanksgiving Special '24

Mickey 'Fanboy' Garcia: None Yet

Ruben 'Payback' Fitch: None Yet

Polyam Hangster: None Yet

Polyam Bobnix: None yet

~~~

The Bear:

Carmen Berzatto: None yet

Sydney Adamu: None Yet

Richie Jerimovich: None yet

Marcus: None Yet

~~~

Peaky Blinders:

Tommy Shelby:

Can't Sleep? Whumptober '24 Day Five Get Some Rest Soft Nights Ghost of His Lips Bitter Goodbye

Arthur Shelby: None yet

John Shelby:

Whumptober '24 Day Seven

Lizzie Stark/Shebly: None yet

Alfie Solomons:

Interrupted Date Nights Lost Words Win Win Much Ado About Nothing Whumptober '24 Day Six Whumptober '24 Day Ten Whumptober '24 Day Eighteen Whumptober '24 Day Twenty Two Tired... "You know I have no problem with either." New Year, Same Us

Michael Gray: None Yet

Luca Changretta: None Yet

~~~

Star Wars:

Cassian Andor:

Stubborn

Jyn Erso: None Yet

Polyam CassianxJyn: None yet

Bhodi Rook: None Yet

Din Djarin: None Yet

Han Solo: None Yet

~~~

Lord Of The Rings/The Hobbit:

The Fellowship: None Yet

The Company: None Yet

Aragorn:

Whumptober '24 Day Fifteen

Boromir:

Whumptober '24 Day Eleven

Legolas: None Yet

Gimli: None Yet

Frodo Baggins: None Yet

Samwise Gamgee:

Harmony

Pippin Took:None Yet:

Merry Brandybuck:None Yet

Faramir: None Yet

Eomer: None yet

Eowyn: None Yet

Bilbo Baggins: None yet

Thorin Oakenshield:None yet

Kili:

Whumptober '24 Day Seventeen

Fili:

Whumptober '24 Day Four

Bofur: None yet

Bard Bowman: None yet

~~~

The Umbrella Academy:

General/Unit:

Whumptober '24 Day Sixteen

Number Five Hargreeves: None yet

Klaus Hargreeves: None Yet

Diego Hargreeves:

Whumptober '24 Day Three Whumptober '24 Day Nineteen

Allison Hargreeves: None Yet

Luther Hargreeves: None Yet

Viktor Hargreeves: None Yet

Lila Pitts: None Yet

~~~

Marvel:

Bucky Barnes: None yet

Sam Wilson: None yet

Steve Rogers:

Overworked

Natasha Romanoff: None yet

Loki: None Yet

Druig: None Yet

Makari: None yet

Sersi: None yet

Eddie Brock/Venom:

Quiet Days

~~~

Criminal Minds:

General/Unit:

Thanksgiving Special '24

Spencer Reid: None Yet

Aaron Hotchner:

Whumptober '24 Day Eight Whumptober '24 Day Twenty One

Derek Morgan: None Yet

Emily Prentiss: None Yet

~~~

Wicked (2024):

Elphaba Thropp: None Yet

Galinda Uppland: None Yet

Fiyero TIgelaar:

Long Day Take Care of Yourself Fears, and Comforts for Them

Polyam (Any combo of the three): None Yet

~~~

MIsc...

Chris Knight:

Impending Deadlines, Evil Essays, and Late Nights

More potentially to be added...

[bugstuff4ever]

Hey gigolas shippers! Welcome to my blog! Please scroll to your hearts content.

While you’re here, feel free to check out any of my gigolas fics on ao3!

*Princess (E)

Twenty times that Gimli calls Legolas ‘princess’

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63453175

*Truth or Dare (M)

The Fellowship gets drunk around a campfire. Hijinks ensue.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/59261599

*Five Times Legolas and Gimli Held Each Other (M)

Friends to lovers? Forced to snuggle for warmth? Slow dancing? We got it all.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54495637/chapters/138063502

*Archer in the Sky (G)

First kiss under the stars!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/56794864

Thanks for being here, comments are always always always appreciated! Ily babes!

[intoxicated-chan]

OMG YAY

i love the first part of angel of small death and the codeine scene i just want to know what happened next when he says he’ll look after them boromir has peak dad energy to me.

BUT ALSO i feel like it would be really cute to see him teach them how to use a sword and defend themselves

ANYWAY TAKE YOUR TIME LOVE YOUR WRITING

𝐒𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐏𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞

Summary ➳ While wandering the castle, you stumble across the brothers practicing.  

(A/n) ➳ I had this sitting in my word docs for so long that I forgot! I am so sorry anon!! But I seriously might make this into a series, but I do want to see your guys request/questions, I love hearing them! I’ve also decided to add Faramir!!!

Word Count ➳ 630 

Content Warnings ➳ Gender Neutral Reader, Reader’s age is eight, Reader is referred to as (little one/child), light violence...  

Series’ Masterlist 

Thirteen Years Before LOTR: Fellowship of the Ring – Reader's age is eight, Boromir’s age is twenty-seven, Faramir’s age is twenty-three 

Life within the castle was completely different when you lived on the streets. You were surrounded by luxuries you dreamed of having, a soft bed, warm meals, and clean clothes. Every day was a new lesson in etiquette and behavior, yet the adjustments were challenging.  

You still craved to be out and onto the streets, rushing through the thin alleys, and having your heart pumping while being chased by others or guards. You were out of place. 

It was the afternoon when your wandering brought you to the training grounds. You jumped at the sound of swords clashing and grunts, you peered your head around the corner.  

Boromir and his younger brother, Faramir were sparring with their swords. But you could only focus on their banter and laughter, it was a different sight to whenever their father was around. They were happy and relaxed in his absence.  

You didn’t notice you had been spotted until Faramir called out. “Hello there. Come now, do not be shy.”  

You froze, trying to decide if you should flee or stay. Boromir looked in your direction, his smile widening as he sheathed his sword. “Come closer, child.” He waved you over. “You needn’t hide from us.” 

Though rather hesitant, you stepped forward. “What brings you here, child?” 

“I was... Walking.” You replied, your eyes dropping to the ground. 

Faramir approached you, kneeling to your level. “Have you ever held a sword before?” His hand comes under your chin, carefully lifting your head to meet his gaze.  

You shook your head, your head turned to the wall, eyes widened when you eyed the numerous swords hanging. “No, I have not.” You gaped.  

“Today’s a good day to begin.” Boromir handed you a wooden training sword, its edges dull, much safer to handle than a real sword.  

But the sword felt heavy in your hands, but a nod from Boromir gave you encouragement. He began teaching you the basics, his instructions were better than the teachers.  

And he was patient. He understood your shyness when being watched, he knew what it felt like to hold a sword for the first time. Like it was not made for you.  

And with his guidance, you began to learn. It was your footwork that was good, but it seemed that the sword kept slipping out of your hands.  

“Hold it like this.” He adjusted your grip. “Keep your stance firm, do not tremble under my eyes. Stand tall and proud, child.”  

Faramir sat nearby, his sword resting beside him. “You’re doing well.” He commented. “Better footwork than I have.”  

As the training went on, you were getting more confident and comfortable. You picked up on his tips. And Faramir’s occasional comments and laughter added to the lighthearted atmosphere.  

You even managed to catch Boromir off guard with a swift strike from your sword, drawing a laugh from both brothers.  

You continued until the sun began to set, you were getting exhausted. But you needed it after being cooped up in the castle. Boromir caught you when you tried to lunge at him.  

“Easy now.” He chuckled, taking the training sword from you. “I think that is enough.”  

You all sat on the grass together, and you felt a sense of peace. Your exhaustion caught up with you, drifting off to sleep in Boromir’s arms.  

Boromir looked down at your sleeping form, his hand caressing your hair. “They’re a remarkable child.” He uttered. 

“They’ve filled the castle with warmth, and I have never seen you smile so much.” Faramir replied. “They’re lucky to have you.”  

“No.” Boromir corrected softly. “We are lucky to have them.”  

© Intoxicated-Chan 2024, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without my permission. 

[as-warm-as-choco]

boromir didnt stop wielding his sword to protect merry and pippin when an arrow pierced HIS HEART (in the movies). BOROMIR DIDNT STOP PROTECTING THE HOBBITS TILL HIS FINAL BREATH and it took MANY ARROWS to stop him from doing so. Boromir was asking for FORGIVANCE by Aragorn with his final breath for trying to take the ring from Frodo.... more than twenty orc corpses laying around Him. He kept saying he FAILEDDD T_T 

The final scene of the Fellowship may stray from the book but GAWD oh god omfg whyyyyyyyyy do i FEEL things whyyyy do i expect a MIRACLE every. fuckin. timeeeee >_<<<<<< 

[therealcocoshady]

Recovery - Chapter 2

Eminem x Reader (Y/N) fanfiction

Summary : Marshall takes Y/N for a drive and they open up about their sobriety experiences.

Tags : mentions of substance abuse

The drive wasn’t very long but it was kind of silent. You did not really know what to say, so you kept to yourself, as Marshall was driving. After a short while, you arrived to some sort of observatory, from where you could see the whole city of Detroit. The view was breathtaking. It was starting to get dark so you could see the lights from the building.

- Woah, you said as you got out of the car.

- Nice, huh ? Marshall asked.

- Definitely better than my room, you admitted.

- It’s one of my favourite places in the city, he explained. When I started recovery, I thought I was going crazy, staying in my house. So I started coming here everyday. Sometimes for twenty minutes. Sometimes for hours. But at least it got me up from the couch and out of the house.

- The city looks great from here, you said. I can’t believe I’ve never been here before.

- It’s not highly touristic, Marshall explained. Not many people know about it. That’s what is so great.

- I have to admit I haven’t explored much of Detroit yet, you said.

- For how long have you been here ? He asked.

- About four years now. I came to get my Master’s degree, as an exchange student at University of Michigan. And then I got a PhD fellowship so I took the opportunity to stay. Plus, I got together with Simon around the same time so it kind of felt like it was meant to be.

- Simon’s your boyfriend ?

- Ex, you quickly corrected. We split up. Actually, he left when I was in the hospital. Hence the living situation with Jamal and Talia, who were kind enough to take me in.

- I see, Marshall said. So he left you because of the OD ?

- Kind of.

Without really thinking about it, you proceeded to tell him about the breakup. Something about Marshall made it easy to talk. He was easy-going and made you feel safe, as if you had known him forever and could share everything with him.

- I really thought we were endgame, you said. We were talking about getting married eventually. And having kids, too…

You stopped talking as you felt a knot forming in your stomach. Simply mentioning your plans of having kids with Simon brought back the memories of the miscarriage. That very event had been the beginning of the end for the two of you. Even though Simon had been saddened by the miscarriage, it hadn’t affected him much. You were the one who gad to deal with the days of bleeding, cramping and crying. You had become attached to this baby and had troubles coming to terms with the loss of this pregnancy. Simon, on the other hand, seemed to be doing just fine.

- We’ll try again, he had said. It happens. Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be, you know ?

Even though you knew he was right, you were hurt. It wasn’t about trying again. It was about processing your loss and grieving. It felt as if Simon had moved on as soon as you’d been told there was no heartbeat anymore. As time went on, you felt unable to talk about your grief, your pain and the trauma. So you started using more and more pills.

- YN ? You heard Marshall’s voice pulling you back to reality.

- Sorry, you said apologising profusely. I got in my head.

- It’s ok. Breakups are hard to talk about, he said. You’re really strong, you know ? With everything you’re going through right now.

- I kind of brought it on myself, you said sheepishly. If I hadn’t been using, I wouldn’t be going through this breakup right now.

- You never know what could have been. You just need to focus on getting better right now.

- Any wisdom to share ? You asked with genuine interest.

In fifteen years of sobriety, you assumed he had gained some wisdom you could use.

- Don’t be afraid to talk. Like, ever. In fact, I think that staying silent and alone with your thoughts makes you insanely more vulnerable and at risk for a relapse. Also, there are thousands of things I could tell you right now, but the only thing that matters is that, as lonely as you may feel, there are many, many people going through the same thing. You are not alone. Your road to recovery doesn’t have to be a lonely one.

He smiled and got closer to you as he spoke. He gently put a hand on your shoulder.

- You may lose people in the process but that doesn’t mean you can’t be surrounded by love and support, he finally said.

You felt a little lump in your throat and, for a second, you thought you’d cry.

- How did you get over the disappointment you caused people ? You asked, looking into his piercing blue eyes.

- By making amends and, mostly, creating new memories with them. The hardest thing for me was letting my family down, especially my children. I missed Christmas with them when I OD’d. I’ll never have that time back. But I make a point of sharing meaningful moments with them now. More than ever before, he said.

- Do they resent you ? You shyly asked.

- I’m pretty sure they did. My daughter is the one who found me unconscious, two hours away from dying. I guess the kids did suffer from my absence. They needed me as a parent, not as a burden. But I’m better now, I’m present and I’m here for them. That’s what matters. It’s in the past, now. What matters the most to me is that they know I love them.

You watched Marshall’s eyes as he gazed upon the horizon. Obviously, talking about his kids struck a chord.

- You seem like a great dad, you said. Your kids are lucky to have you.

- I try to be. To be fair, they’re the ones who are great. I owe them everything.

- Tell me about them, you asked.

The way Marshall spoke of his daughters sparked your interest. The sparkle in his eyes when he mentioned them warmed your heart and you could only hope that, one day, you would be so lucky to have kids you could love as much. Obviously, he loved talking about his daughters and bragging about them. You couldn’t help but think it must be a bit odd for them to have Eminem as a dad, growing up.

You chuckled at the thought of your own Dad, who was so different than Marshall, even though they were about the same age.

- What is so funny ? He asked with a smile. Sorry, I’m such a geek when I talk about my kids.

- No, it’s not that ! You reassured him. I was thinking of my father. I think you’re about his age but somehow you’re… cooler, I guess ?

- You’re only saying that because I’m not your father, Marshall assured you.

- Pretty sure not, you insisted.

After all, you highly doubted that Marshall’s daughters would trade their rapper father for yours. Maybe it was a matter of culture, but Marshall was warmer, more emotionally available.

- Are you close to your parents ?Marshall asked. They must be proud of you, getting your PhD and stuff.

- My mom died when I was two so I don’t have a lot of memories of her. I was raised by my father and his new wife. We’re not really close but I guess you could say they’re kind of proud, you explained.

- Do they know about your OD ?

- No, you admitted shyly. I couldn’t disappoint them like that. How would you react if the same thing happened to one of your girls ?

- I don’t think I’d be disappointed, Marshall said after a few seconds of thoughts. I’d be scared, concerned and, frankly, disappointed in myself if they ever felt the need to hide this from me. My job is to be there for them, come what may. If you were my daughter, I would want you to know that.

- Well, my Dad would never forgive me, you said without a thought.

- I think the forgiveness that matters the most is your own, he pointed out.

Marshall’s words meant a lot to you. Talking to him so candidly felt so good.

- What if I can’t forgive myself, Marshall ? You asked with tears welling in your eyes.

- You can. You deserve to, Y/N. Just because you fucked up doesn’t mean it’s over for you. You deserve to have great things coming your way, he replied as he pulled you in for a hug.

- But I’m a failure, you pointed out. I lied to everyone, I screwed everything up with Simon and even Talia doesn’t trust me anymore. I don’t even deserve you being so nice to me. Why are you so nice to me ?! You blurted out.

A smile started to form on Marshall’s lips.

- Because kindness isn’t meant to be deserved anyway, He said. When I got sober, I had amazing people helping me out. I always told myself I’d do the same for anyone else in need, he explained. And you may think you deserve to have everyone hating you, but the truth is, I haven’t heard anything but good things about you from Talia and Jamal. They love you and they think the world of you. That tells me you’re pretty cool.

You let out a laugh and dried your tears.

- Thank you, Marshall. For everything.

- My pleasure, Y/N.

The two of you kept on gazing at the lights of the city for a while, making small talk. At some point, you found yourself shivering. Marshall offered you his jacket but you felt kind of tired and asked if he would mind driving you back instead. On the way home, you stared at him and realised that, even though you’d just met him, you felt insanely comfortable around him. You were thankful for making his acquaintance. Also, you couldn’t help but tell yourself he looked as good as he was kind - which was saying something. He wasn’t really your usual type but you found him quite appealing. And you started blushing as soon as you realised that you were kind of attracted to someone who was old enough to be your father. You shrugged it off and told yourself that it was probably your vulnerability playing you.

When you arrived at Talia and Jamal’s, he stopped the car and stepped out to open your door. He hugged you goodbye and reached for his necklace before handing it to you.

- It helped me through some tough times, I hope it does the same for you, he said before kissing your forehead.

- Won’t you need it though ? You asked.

- I’m good, he simply said. Take care, Y/N.

You smiled and waved goodbye as he got back to the car. You had no idea as to whether you’d see him again or not, but it did not really matter in this moment. You felt as if there was purpose in the moments you just shared. Even if you never crossed path again, you knew you’d forever be thankful for him. You put the necklace around your neck and entered the house with a smile on your face.

- Well, someone looks cheerful, Talia said as you walked through the door.

- Yeah, we had a great talk, you said. He is very nice. Is everyone gone ?

- They went out to dinner, she said. I stayed so that you wouldn’t come home to an empty place.

- You didn’t have to !

- I don’t mind, really. Plus, I think it’s good for Jamal.

- He loves having you around, you pointed out. And everyone seems to like you too !

- They’re super cool, she admitted. But I can do without the boys’ talk, she added with a grin. Plus, now, I have a live-in bestie ! A bestie with a necklace that definitely rings a bell, she pointed out.

As soon as those words left her mouth, you knew you were in for a long series of questions.