#I find so many promising scholarships only to be told:

[fortes-fortuna-iogurtum]

give one up for all the girlies struggling through the scholarship search and application process >.<

#my friends I must ask #WHY IS THIS SO HARDDD #I find so many promising scholarships only to be told: #- their deadlines have passed #- they only apply to students currently in high school #- they only apply to students currently in college #- they're only for STEM majors or science-y people in general #WHy is there NOTHINg for the poor starving humanities girls WHY is there nothing for students who have chosen to forgo college #and work retail for 2 years #to avoid going into life-changing debt >.< #gurt says stuff #college woes

[dragonflylady77]

This is my contribution to the Harringrove Relay Race! ✨

@harringrove-relay-race

Read it on Ao3

I took the 500 words minimum word limit and blew it out of the water, so... enjoy.

(unbeta'd)

***********

I wanna do everything with you

the coffee shop au x college au x enemies to lovers x there was only one bed fic you never knew you needed... (also, with basketball!)

***********

“Out of the way, pretty boy.”

Steve grits his teeth and presses himself closer to the coffee machine so Hargrove has room to walk past him. Why the guy decided to bring in another box of coffee grounds during rush hour when there are three full bags in the cupboard already, Steve has no idea. 

The Californian import is probably doing it to mess around with Steve as usual. Steve sighs as he gets back to making the next drink on his list. As much as he has enjoyed working at The Dolphin Café over the summer, he can’t wait for fall to arrive and classes to start. He won’t have to see Hargrove again after that.

He isn’t sure why Hargrove has it in for him like that, he’s barely talked to the guy since he started. Not on purpose, but they usually have different shifts and the way Hargrove stares at him sometimes when they’re working together makes Steve uneasy. Makes him feel things he’d rather not think about.

Billy Hargrove is hot and he knows it and he seems to loooooove the attention from everyone, regardless of gender. Golden curls, a killer smile, a sculpted chest he keeps exposing by not buttoning up his shirt, no matter how many times their manager reminds him he should and jeans so tight they look painted on. Yeah, the guy is the full package.

Too bad the full package is also arrogant as fuck and determined to get on Steve’s last nerve every shift. So Steve takes deep breaths and smiles even when he wants to scream, and he focuses on filling orders and the end of summer. 

He is counting the days until he can see Robin again, once she’s back from her trip to Germany. He’s really missed his best friend all summer and he knows there is no way his dad would have agreed to their deal without her. 

Steve will always be grateful to Robin for helping him craft a proposition Richard Harrington agreed on. They’d even got a lawyer involved and his father had signed off on it, promising he’d pay Steve an allowance while he’s in college if he managed to get accepted and hold a job all summer beforehand. 

Steve knows how lucky he is to have gotten in, even if it’s on a basketball scholarship. The look on his father’s face had been worth all the extra work he’d put in. The knowledge Richard Harrington has lost this particular battle against his only son, whom he deems a complete idiot, is the cherry on top.

Now Steve just needs to survive the last couple of weeks at the coffee shop, with Hargrove breathing down his neck at every opportunity. Then he’ll be free, and in college, and he can hang out with Robin again.

***

“Tell me more about this guy,” Robin asks the second she gets in his car, her bags filling the backseat and the trunk of the Beamer. 

Steve instantly regrets offering her a ride to her dorm. It’s a long drive back to Chicago and his last shift is still fresh in his mind. Well, what happened when he’d clocked out for the last time anyway. Steve said goodbye to the manager who reminded him he could still come back for weekend shifts. Steve once again declined his offer and told him he was done with the Dolphin Café, as staff anyway. Hargrove was behind the counter and stared at him for the duration of that entire conversation, his eyes full of what looked like hurt. Steve glanced away and walked out without a word.

“You know as much as I do already, why must we spend more time on the subject?” Steve knows he’s whining but fuck, it’s not enough that he spent all summer working with the guy, now his best friend wants to talk about him as well? Steve is so fucking glad he never told her about the dreams. No one, EVER, needs to find out about those. 

“Because, dingus,” Robin starts, cutting him that look of hers that means she knows something Steve doesn’t. It’s a look he’s really familiar with by now. 

He sighs. “What? Spit it out, Rob. It’s a long drive and I’d rather talk about something else.”

Robin snorts and Steve glares.

“The dingus doth protest too much, methinks,” she says and Steve groans.

"Stop it."

“Oh come on, Steve. From everything you’ve told me about this guy, it’s clear to me you have a crush on him and I th—”

“What? What the fuck, Robin?” Steve swerves a bit from the surprise but manages to keep the car in the appropriate lane. “Leaving aside the fact that I am, you know, straight, how exactly did you get to that conclusion?”

“Really? Did you not hear yourself over the past three months? Hargrove this, and Hargrove that, you haven't stopped talking about him.”

“Because he’s been a pain in my ass since the day he started at work! He’s constantly in my face, calling me names and making a nuisance of himself.” Steve is getting worked up, because why can’t Robin see the problem? He takes a few calming breaths, and focuses on the road.

“He’s pulling your pigtails, dingus.”

“What? No! He hates me, and I didn’t even do anything.”

Robin shakes her head and Steve doesn’t need to sneak a glance her way to know she’s rolling her eyes. 

“Steve…” 

“No.” There is no way. Is there? 

“Fine. Enjoy staying in Egypt, I heard it’s nice this time of year.”

“Whatever.”

Steve is glad that Robin drops it then and moves on to talking about the classes she is gonna be taking when college starts.

***

Billy is stacking the latest batch of lemon blueberry muffins on the display stand when he hears a familiar voice. He glances up to scan the sparse Sunday afternoon crowd and spots Harrington walking towards one of the booths in the back.

He’s chatting animatedly with a girl Billy hasn’t seen before. She’s got light brown hair and big eyes and talks with her hands a lot. Harrington must have said something stupid because the girl punches him in the shoulder and he laughs it off, while rubbing the spot she hit. Their behavior gives off a sibling vibe, which does nothing to quell the longing in Billy’s chest.

They sit on opposite sides and the girl looks up at the menu on the big boards behind the counter. Harrington sneaks a few glances around and Billy looks away before they make eye contact. 

It’s a surprise to see Harrington again after he announced his departure a week ago. Billy is still getting over the feeling of betrayal upon finding out his secret crush was leaving, as he was walking out the door. 

He thought he’d have more time to try to turn the stupid rivalry into some kind of friendship. But he always seems to rub Harrington the wrong way, no matter what he says. From the day Billy started at The Dolphin Café at the end of July, he’d tried to make friends but Harrington wanted no bar of it. 

Billy finishes placing the last muffin on the stand and puts the dome cover on top in time for Harrington’s friend to come up to the counter to order.

“Hello, welcome to the Dolphin Café. What can I get you?” he smiles as he asks and the girl smiles back, her eyes dropping to his name tag for a second.

“Hey Billy. I’m Robin. The best friend. Can I get two of those delicious looking muffins please, a cappuccino and a mocha with four sugars and extra whipped cream.”

“Ah, yes, the Harrington special. Coming right up.”

The girl snorts and Billy chances a glance in Harrington’s way. He is reclining in his booth, glaring at them, and looks away the second Billy’s eyes meet his.

“Is that an actual item on the menu or a name you made up just for him?” she asks, leaning her elbows on the counter.

Billy feels his face warm up and he turns towards the coffee machine, praying Robin can’t tell he’s blushing. He busies himself making the drinks she ordered, mulling over his answer before things get too weird.

“Um…” He shrugs, sprinkling cinnamon on her cappuccino. “I mean, I did ask Hop to add it to the menu as a legacy item since Steve left, but he declined.”

“Aw, my poor dingus is not special enough to make the menu. He’ll be heartbroken.” The smirk on her face and the tone in her voice belie her words and it’s Billy’s turn to snort.

“Pretty sure he hated this place so…” Billy places the drinks on a tray, with the muffins Robin ordered. “You go sit down, I’ll bring them over.”

“Thanks, Billy.”

Billy follows Robin back to the booth and carefully unloads the contents of the tray on the table. He manages to not look at Harrington while he does but he can feel him watching his every move. It’s unsettling and rekindles the fire in Billy’s chest. 

Fuck.

“Thanks.” The frosty clipped tone does things that it shouldn’t to Billy’s insides and he focuses on Robin instead.

“Enjoy. Sing out if you need anything else.”

“Thank Billy,” she says again with a grin.

With a nod, Billy leaves, stopping to clear a table and wipe it clean on his way back to the counter. He needs a smoke but it’s a while yet until his break. A loud group walks in and he is happy to be kept busy. He still notices when Harrington and Robin leave and wonders if that was the last time he’s ever gonna see him.

***

A week later, Billy walks into the gym for the first basketball practice. His advisor was surprised he’d picked a sport as an elective, he’s an English Lit major after all. Makes Billy want to cackle really. Seems people either think he’s a meathead and want him for his body, or they’re shocked to learn there’s more to books and case studies in his life.

He steps around the corner in the changing room and a familiar voice stops him in his tracks. Keeping his eyes on the locker numbers, he locates his and heads over, dumping his gym bag on the bench in front of his assigned locker. 

“Hargrove?” Harrington’s voice reaches him, surprise and dismay thick in his tone. “What the fuck?”

Billy glances at him and nods once in acknowledgment before focusing on getting changed. He can hear Harrington muttering about him to the guy he’s standing with a few feet away but he manages to tune them out. Force of habit, really. Growing up with Neil Hargrove has taught him not to react and he has become really good at it.

The coach walks in and sends them into the gym to do some laps as a warm up. After some drills to see where they’re at, he splits them into two teams. Billy plays skins, and to his great delight, Harrington ends up on the opposing team. 

They’re both point guards which means Billy can get up close to try and stop Harrington when he gets the ball. He is thrilled to discover that Harrington is as competitive as he is on the court, even if he seems to have trouble staying upright when Billy crashes into him to steal the ball.

Billy offers Harrington a hand, half surprised when the other guy takes it, and he leans down close, the pendant around his neck nearly touching Harrington’s chin.

“You were moving your feet. Plant them next time, draw a charge!” He lets go of Harrington’s hand, his fingers tingling from the contact and steps over him to go back to his side of the court as they reset the play. He feels Harrington’s eyes on his back as he walks away but forces himself to look straight ahead, trying to get his breathing under control.

Fuck, that was exhilarating. Billy knows he needs to be careful how close he gets to Harrington because basketball shorts don’t hide much and he doesn’t need the embarrassment or the rumors that would follow him like the plague.

Once training is over, he showers in a corner as fast as he can and gets out of there, glancing at Harrington on his way out. He nearly walks into the door jamb when he clocks the hair on the guy’s chest and manages to dress in record time, despite the semi he’s now sporting.

Tight jeans conceal anything, thank fuck for small mercies. He shoves his gym clothes in his bag and hightails it out of there like hellhounds are on his tracks.

Once in his car, he allows himself to breathe, closing his eyes and letting himself remember the literal fur covering Harrington’s fucking chest. He’d give pretty much anything to run his fingers through that.

Billy groans, pressing his palm on his crotch to relieve some of the pressure and turns the engine on. He’s got a shift at the Dolphin in ten minutes and he can’t afford to be late. Jerking off to the memories of Harrington naked in the shower will have to wait.

***

“One Harrington special!” Robin announces as she puts down Steve’s drink on the table, before flopping on the chair across from him.

“Shhhh, Robin, we’re in a library!” Steve whispers and Robin rolls her eyes.

“No one cares, dingus.”

Steve takes a sip of his coffee, watching Robin get her laptop out of her bag. He frowns. “What did you call my drink just now?”

“Oh, um, the Harrington special. That’s what Billy called it the other day when we were at the coffee shop.”

“I’m sorry. Billy?” Steve stares at her and she shrugs. “Robin, why are you on a first name basis with that guy?”

“Cos he’s nice? And funny? And, like, really really clever?”

“What. The. Fuck?” Steve has no words. He can’t comprehend the betrayal twisting in his gut right now. 

Robin sighs. “He’s in my Romantic Poetry class and also my Literature of the Commonwealth class. He’s also in my Creative Writing Workshop class and we may or may not be working on a project together. Don’t be mad.”

“Robin. I… you… what?”

“See, that’s why I didn’t want to tell you. I know you’d be weird about it.”

“Only because you seem to have swapped me for my fucking nemesis.”

“Oh my god, you’re so fucking dramatic. You’ve been hating the guy for months for no reason.”

“Robin! I told you what he did. How he was with me. All summer when I worked at the Dolphin! If anything, he’s the one who hates me.”

Robin gives him that look that says he’s being a giant whiny baby (her words) and Steve sits back in his chair, sipping his coffee. He doesn’t want to talk about it anymore. Robin won’t listen or take him seriously anyway.

“Steve, let me ask you this,” Robin starts, and he can tell she’s trying to be patient with him. “Why would a guy who hates you name a drink after you?”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“I don’t know, okay. I don’t know how his brain works, or why he called me pretty boy and sweetheart for three months straight. Makes no sense to me.”

“Really?” 

Okay now she’s giving him the ‘oh can you so fucking dense’ look and Steve decides enough is enough. 

“You know what, whatever. I’m gonna go.” He closes his laptop and starts gathering his notes. His statistics assignment can wait. He already got an extension anyway. “Need to pack for my trip. We’re leaving at the crack of dawn tomorrow and I need to go to bed early or I’ll miss the bus.”

“Ah yes, the basketball trip. Billy mentioned it at our study session last night.”

“Last night? That’s why you blew me off for movie night?” Steve is getting more pissed off by the minute. He closes his backpack and grabs his coffee, though he’s not sure he wants to drink it anymore.

“Did you miss the part where I said we are working on a group project for a class?” Robin asks, leaning forward on her elbows, one eyebrow raised. He hates that she can do the eyebrow thing and he can’t.

“He better keep his hands to himself or I will punch him.”

“Yeah well, you can relax with your macho bullshit, cos he knows about me not liking boys.”

“You told him?”

“It came up,” Robin replies, mysterious as ever.

“Fine. Whatever. You know what? Keep your little secret rendez-vous and your brainiacs study sessions that I will never understand. I’ll see you when I get back, unless Hargrove kills me while we’re away.”

He leaves the library in a huff, Robin’s cackle following him out the door.

The next morning, Steve gets to the bus with two minutes to spare. He shoves his bag in the luggage compartment before stepping onto the bus, running a hand through his hair to try and tame it. Of course he slept through his stupid alarm and now he owes Robin, again, because she called him to check he was awake.

He spots Hargrove at the back of the bus, with Tommy Hagan and Jason Carver, so he sits at the front and keeps his head turned towards the window.

They get to the school where they’re playing that afternoon and Coach gets them to run drills and warm-ups for a couple of hours. Steve manages to stay away from Hargrove as much as possible, though Hargrove seems to have dialed down the hostilities and only shoves him once.

Soon enough it’s time for the game and they get stuck into it, the instructions yelled by Coach taking precedence over everything else.

It’s a hard fought battle, the opposition is really good, but their team prevails at the last moment, thanks to Hargrove. 

Finally, it’s over, Steve is exhausted but happy. He ends up next to Hargrove for the team huddle and for once he doesn’t mind being this close. They’re all riding the high of beating a good team and it’s a heady feeling.

After they’ve all showered and filed back onto the bus, they make their way to the motel. Once they park there, Coach announces that due to budget issues, they’ve had to reduce the number of rooms they could book and they’re all gonna have to bunk with each other.

A collective groan travels down the length of the bus at the revelation. Steve barely pays attention. He doesn’t care who he gets told to bunk with as long as it’s not Hargrove, and he’s pretty sure the other guy feels the same and will ask to stay with Tommy or Carver.

“Right, lads, me and Ms Ross decided that the easiest and most fair way was to lump you alphabetically.”

When Steve hears that, he knows he’s fucked. Because he knows the names of every guy on the team and he’ll either be bunking with Tommy, who he hasn’t talked to since ninth grade, or Hargrove.

Fuck.

Sure enough, a moment later, Coach says Hargrove’s name then his, and a room number. They get off the bus in pairs and grab their bags, with a reminder that they’re expected to be back on the bus at 8am the next morning. 

In the lobby, most of the guys on the team arrange to meet at the diner across the road once they’ve dumped their bags in their rooms. Ignoring the noise, Steve gets the key from the front desk and heads down to room 7. 

He gets into the room and stops in his tracks when he sees the bed. As in, singular. 

One bed.

It’s a big bed, but it’s only one bed. 

Fuck.

With a sigh, Steve drops his bag at his feet and he’s about to turn around to go back to the desk to demand a different room when he hears footsteps behind him. Clearly his day can get worse.

“Hey, Harrington,” Hargrove says as he enters the room, “what are you doing standing here in the dark?” He flicks the lights on and drops his bag on the desk to the side.

Steve watches as he takes in the large bed taking most of the space. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.” 

“It’s okay.” Hargrove shrugs then unzips his bag and starts looking through it for something.

Steve turns his head to look at him. “It’s okay? Nothing about this is okay.”

“Oh my god, dude. Don’t freak out because we need to share a bed. Jesus. We can put some pillows down the middle of the mattress if you’re that stressed about it.”

“I’m not stressed about it!” Steve is quick to say, earning himself a look of disbelief from Hargrove.

“Whatever. You going to the diner with the rest of the team?” Hargrove asks as he heads to the ensuite, holding some clothes and his toiletry bag.

“No, I… I’m not hungry.”

“Suit yourself.” The door shuts with a soft click and Steve closes his eyes. He needs to talk to Robin but he knows she is out on a date with some girl she met at work.

Once Hargrove has left the room to get dinner, Steve eats a protein bar he found in his bag then gets ready for bed.

He slips between the covers, ready to leave this day behind. He makes a point to not pile pillows between the two sides of the bed. No need to give Hargrove more ammunition. 

***

Billy sighs and checks his watch again. He’s been staring at the ceiling for two hours and is no closer to falling asleep than he was when he got back to the room. Less, even. Because he was sleepy after dinner and not in a mood to get drunk with his teammates, on beer purchased for them by Carver’s boyfriend, the only one old enough to legally buy alcohol.

Billy was surprised to see no pillows separating the two sides of the bed when he walked in. Even more surprised to find Steve fast asleep. 

He gives up and sits up, hazarding a glance at Steve. He’s lying on his side, the light coming from the crack in the curtains giving a golden shine to his hair. He looks peaceful and soft and Billy would love nothing more than to cuddle up to him and feel his arms around his back.

He runs through his conversation with Robin for the four hundredth time since it happened three days ago. He was surprised to see her in three of his classes but glad they got paired up for the Creative Writing assignment. From the interaction he had with her at the Dolphin last week, she seemed quick and witty and that hunch had proved right. She’d also clocked him as queer faster than anyone beside Heather ever had and her coming out to him had reassured him immensely. 

He isn’t a hundred percent on board with her assessment of Steve’s feelings towards him though. That seems a bit hard to swallow considering the past three months, but she is Steve’s best friend, so Billy figures she might know what she’s talking about.

He’s about to turn the side lamp on and grab his book since he can’t fucking sleep when Steve lets out a whimper. Frozen on the spot, Billy listens, in case Steve is having some kind of nightmare he’ll need to wake him up from (Robin mentioned something about that).

But then the guy starts moaning, a low raspy sound, that causes Billy’s ears to heat up as his sweatpants get a bit tight in the crotch. Billy hears the rustling of the bedding, and Steve doing some kind of squirming that has Billy immediately on edge.

It only gets worse when Steve starts muttering. It’s not really words at first, and Billy rolls over so he’s closer, and can hear properly. He regrets it a minute later.

“P-please… Don’t stop, please,” Steve mutters and Billy bites his fist to stop from making a sound.

This is not happening… 

Billy can’t believe he has to lie there silently while Steve is having a fucking sex dream. He moves away and sits on the edge of the bed, his back to Steve, hands balled into fists at his sides, willing his dick to go down because this is beyond pathetic. Yes, he has a crush on the guy, but getting off to his sex dream feels one step too far.

Yet, Steve keeps making goddamn sex noises, and apparently willing whoever he’s dreaming about to keep doing whatever they’re doing to him in his mind and Billy is two seconds away from having a cold shower at three in the morning when suddenly he hears his name.

“Billy… Billy, please…” 

Oh fuck.

His fingers dig into his thighs with the effort it takes to not touch his dick and get some relief. He can’t breathe, there is no air in the room, only Steve’s moans and whimpers and his desperate pleas.

And Billy knows it doesn’t mean anything, okay? He knows that Steve can’t stand the sight of him, no matter what Robin said the other night. And there’s nothing he can do about it. Maybe he’s just bad at flirting with a guy he actually cares about. Maybe there’s just something about him that Steve just can’t stand and it’s not his fault. But that doesn’t stop his brain from sending images of what he could be doing to Steve with his fingers and his mouth and, fuck, he really needs to stop thinking about that or he’s gonna blow his load in his pants like a fucking twelve year old.

He doesn’t remember ever being so hard as he is in that moment, when Steve’s breath quickens and he keeps saying Billy’s name over and over and over.

Billy needs to do something, either pretend to sleep or lock himself in the bathroom, because there is no way Steve will react favorably once he’s awake. He’ll either pretend it didn’t happen or be angry at Billy for no reason, as usual.

Unable to listen any longer, he races to the bathroom, slamming the door shut and flicking the lock before he turns the shower on to cover any noise he’s about to make. Leaning against the counter with one hand, he reaches inside his pants and wraps his fingers around his cock, hissing at the contact.

He is barely aware of the movements of his hand, his mind still in the room, in that bed, imagining a hand that’s not his touching him instead. He knows he won’t last long because he’s too keyed up from listening to Steve. He squeezes the head of his cock, and groans at the feeling, his knuckles turning white on the counter.

Billy closes his eyes, pretending Steve is there with him. He can almost feel Steve’s lips on his neck, Steve’s body against his as he jerks him off… The visual is so clear, so much what he craves, and he’s so close now, he can almost taste his orgasm.

“Billy?”

Steve’s voice reaches him through the door and wraps around him and he comes with a grunt he can’t silence, making a mess in his underwear. Panting and trying to catch his breath before his legs give out, he washes his hands and wishes he’d have taken the time to get undressed and step into the shower.

Steve is knocking on the door now. “Are you done? Dude, I need to use the bathroom.”

“Gimme a minute!” Billy’s voice sounds wrecked even to his own ears and with the shower going. He shuts the water off and unlocks the door, steeling himself to face Steve before he opens the door.

Steve’s hair is a mess and Billy forces his eyes to a spot to the side of Steve’s shoulder as he pushes past him and into the room.

“Billy?” Steve’s voice stops him in his tracks and he turns around slowly, taking in Steve who’s standing in the doorway, illuminated from behind by the light in the bathroom. Billy doesn’t remember Steve using his actual name before tonight, he’s always called him Hargrove.

“Yeah?” Billy asks softly. He’s still feeling wired from the whole thing and doesn’t have it in him to maintain the usual bravado in front of Steve. He is not sure what to think when Steve steps closer until he’s standing a foot away. Billy makes sure to keep his eyes up, his gaze following the trail of beauty spots on Steve’s shoulder and up his neck.

He is not so out of it that he doesn’t notice Steve’s eyes tracking down then back up, snagging somewhere on Billy’s naked chest then his mouth before Steve locks eyes with him. The warm spot in Billy’s gut starts boiling.

“Um, Robin said… um Robin has this theory, and… and I think she might be right.”

Billy sighs. He just wants to clean up and get into bed but Steve has never looked at him that way before so his curiosity gets the better of him. “What theory?”

“About me and how I’m not actually, you know… straight.”

“Okay…” Bill isn’t sure what to say. He’s not exactly surprised, in light of the dream Steve was having not that long ago.

“She said something else too.”

“Oh?”

Steve moves forward and he’s so close now that Billy can feel the heat from his body. He doesn’t know where to look or what to think. He takes a deep breath to calm down, and realizes his mistake when all he can smell is Steve and it’s overwhelming. 

“You don’t hate me, do you?” Steve asks, his tone sounding more assured now. “You know, Robin reckons you have a crush on me.”

Billy chokes back a moan and bites his lip. Steve’s eyes immediately zero in on that and Billy shudders.

“What are you doing, pretty boy?” Billy whispers, his heart in his throat.

“What feels right,” Steve whispers back, his face so close he’s all Billy can see. “Stop me if you don’t wa—”

Billy breaches the gap and slants his lips onto Steve’s, groaning when Steve tangles both of his in Billy’s curls to pull him closer. Steve’s lips are softer than Billy imagined and he grabs Steve by the waist, using Steve’s needy moan to slide his tongue in Steve’s mouth.

The kiss goes on, hands grabbing and pulling, as they stumble backwards towards the bathroom, bodies pressed close from shoulder to toe. 

“Fuck meeee…” Billy whispers when they break to breathe, blinking to adjust to the light. He feels like he’s seen God and can’t get enough of Steve’s tongue in his mouth.

“Maybe later,” Steve replies with a grin, and Billy digs his fingers into Steve’s hips at the thought.

“Steve…”

“You know,” Steve starts, moving away to turn the shower on, his eyes never leaving Billy’s even when he takes his shirt off and drops it on the floor, “I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you say my name.”

“Yeah?” Billy stares as Steve walks back to where he’s standing by the countertop, his eyes straying to Steve’s waistband hanging low on his hips before moving back up.

“Yeah…” Steve stops in front of him. “I wonder how loud I can make you say it…”

Billy gasps then loses the ability to make words when Steve drops his pants. Then Steve hooks his fingers in the waistband of Billy’s sweatpants, a question in the tilt of his head. Billy nods in agreement, and Steve slides his hands around then down, over the curve of his ass, fingers splayed, before he pulls Billy’s pants and underwear down.

“Wanna shower with me?” Steve asks and that shakes Billy out of his trance.

He steps out of his clothes and slides his hands around Steve’s waist, pulling him up, and laughs happily when Steve curses even as he wraps his arms and legs around him.

“Baby, I wanna do everything with you.”

He steps under the warm spray with his precious cargo, pressing him into the wall and finding his mouth again.

*****

Please look forward to the lovely/wonderful/amazing work from the next contributor, @harringrovest.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #billy x steve #dragonflylady77 #harringrove relay race #coffee shop au #college au #enemies to lovers #there was only one bed #all of the tropes #because why not

[screamingatanemptyroom]

Please Fix the Story- Side Part - Adonis

My first side part of two. Will plan for a second one for Liam. Hope you guys enjoy seeing it from a "hero's" perspective!

Enjoy!

Masterpost linked here!

____________________________

 I am the hero.

I believed this with every part of my being. Every cell and every atom within me screamed for me to step into the spotlight that was rightfully mine. The center stage that everyone longed for but so few could touch.

I grew up in obscurity. A father in a dead-end job whose lack of drive and ambition led our family to live paycheck to paycheck. Coming home just to drink and complain about work. I also had two older brothers who finished high school and went straight to work in the shop like our old man, with little regard for the world beyond our small town. But my mother… my mother was like me. She was a dreamer.

During my childhood she would read to me every night before bed. Classics, sci-fi, adventure stories… any book my mother could get her hands on. We explored world after world from the safety of my room as she read to me, equal parts excitement and longing shining in her eyes as she described faraway places and people that she would never get to see.

But her favorite story, the one we read most often, was a classic. A story of a brave knight, a hero. A story of a beautiful princess. A story of an evil dragon. I would listen with childish wonder as she described the princess being kidnapped and guarded in a tower, the knight and the dragon’s harrowing battle, and the happily ever after that awaited the hero and the princess.

“All stories should be like this one.” She told me confidently. “It is the best story in the world.”

She would point to pictures of the knight in the story book, a man in metal armor with a brightly shining sword. “When you grow up, you are going to be a great hero, a great man like him!”

I looked up at her, confused. “What about dad? Isn’t he great? Shouldn’t I grow up to be like him?”

At my question, her eyes were filled with sorrow and rage. “Don’t you EVER end up being like your dad. He’s a nobody.” She pointed at the book. “There’s no pictures of men like your dad in here, because they’re not important enough to get pictures. They don’t defeat the dragon, they don’t marry the princess, and they don’t have happy endings.”

“But Dad married you, and you are better than any princess!”

“…” She just stared silently at me for a moment. “Promise me you won’t become like your father. PROMISE.”

“… I promise.” I looked down at the knight in shining armor again, feeling determined.

I am the hero.

____________________________

My mother left us shortly after. Quietly walked out with her bags while we were all sleeping. My father didn’t say much to us about it. Just worked harder at his dead-end job and drank more when he was home. I watched it all, and knew without a doubt: My father was unhappy because he wasn’t the hero my mother wanted him to be. But I was different than him.

I worked hard, studied harder. Got into college on a scholarship. I was studying finance, determined to get into a career that would make a lot of money. To be different from my father. Packed away with all of my textbooks and papers, however, I still carried around my mother’s favorite book, the only memento I had of her, the only thing she had left behind for me to keep.

And that’s how I met Arabella.

My fairy tale book slipped out of my bag one day as I sat on bench trying to find a specific paper. I bent over and reached out to pick it up, but she got there before me.

“I love this book! Such a classic!” She smiled at me as she handed it over.

I fell in love with her smile.

We talked at length about books and stories. She was an English major, a lover of writing in all its forms. After that fateful day we spent many hours together. Talking, laughing, trading ideas. I fell deeper and deeper in love with her, fantasizing about confessing my feelings, and having her reciprocate. We would get married, have children, become successful, important people. Different from my father and mother.

She was my princess, my happy ending.

… Until she wasn’t.

“This is my boyfriend, Ben.” She introduced him with a different smile. I had thought I had seen all of her smiles, but it turns out that her most beautiful one, the one filled with love, was saved for someone else.

I hated him.

Hated how he seemed to shine in every space he was in. Hated that he was always the center of attention. He was a natural born leader, a great conversationalist, an all-around good guy that everyone liked. I hated everything about him, but most of all I hated the fact that he stole the love of my life from me. My darling Arabella.

She was mine.

But when I finally worked up my courage to tell her my feelings, instead of a smile filled with love, I got a look of pity and concern. She didn’t feel the same. She hoped we could still be friends.

I was humiliated. I thought I was the hero of her story, but I was just a nobody, a friend, an extra on the sidelines.

I was just like my father.

I hated my father, hated myself for being like him. But slowly, inevitably, my hatred took a new turn.

Arabella. Why did she not love me? Why was she ignoring our obvious connection? Why did she look at me with pity when I was so much better than that loser she was dating?

I hated her too. If she had never been there, I would have never felt so weak and helpless. I felt trapped in the sidelines, and couldn’t see a way to escape this fate of being nothing, of fading into obscurity. I had to do something. I refused to disappear into nothingness.

I am the hero.

So I fixed the problem.

And as I stood over the bodies of Arabella and Ben, my hand still holding the blood-stained knife, watching the blood pooling under them, rolling slowly towards my shoes. I realized the truth behind my world:

I was special.

The world froze. An inhuman being, the System, offered me a chance to work with it, to save the universe.

It was everything I wanted and more. Power. Prestige. A mission. I would be the main character, the knight I read about. I would be the hero.

It warned me that if I left with it, this world would be destroyed. I looked around. Now that I knew that this world was a lower realm, a romance story that I was a side character in, it all seemed so… small. Worthless. This world had done nothing but contain me, and I deserved to escape it.

I felt a brief flash of conscience. If I said yes, everyone I knew would be destroyed. My father. My brothers. My friends in college.

My mother.

Arabella.

But what have they ever done for me? I looked at the two options in front of me, and selected “Yes” with a firm hand.

And in that instant, they were gone.

And I was free.

____________________________

The System and I came up with a plan to save the universe. We tied all the heroes to me, to help me improve their character, in bonds called Fate.

But it wasn’t enough.

So we got a dragon, an evil creature who could be a good prototype for the villains in the lower realms. My nemesis to fight. But this failed too. The dragon was weak. For all its anger and desperation in the beginning, it soon became like a soulless, lifeless puppet. Silently completing its mission in each lower realm, often dying so quickly that I barely had time to influence the hero’s story. Punishments, threats… nothing worked. The nameless villain just looked at me with eyes that seemed like they belonged to something dead.

“You cannot threaten me.” It whispered. “You have already destroyed everything I love. My family is gone. I am alone.”

I felt a brief moment of panic at his words, but pushed it down and walked away. Refusing to dwell on the thought that rose up at his words:

We were similar. We both lost everyone. We were both alone. But we were so different… I lost mine by choice.

It didn’t matter. I did what I had to do.

I am the hero.

____________________________

We were getting nowhere. We needed something more, before the universe became too unstable, and all of the lower realms collapsed.

We needed a heroine. My princess.

There was only one option. One woman that I would accept. The love of my life, the heroine of my story,

Arabella.

I knew the System could do it. It was the god of this universe, filled with strange, unnatural abilities. It could bring her back, erase what I had done.

It had to.

After much arguing, the System agreed to “create” an Arabella.

I met her in the higher realm, the System had dressed her in gorgeous clothes, just like the princess she was meant to be.

I looked at her, and she was just as beautiful as I remembered. And she was mine.

But then everything went wrong.

She looked like Arabella. And sometimes had similarities to Arabella, such as a love for stories. But she was also so very different.

“Call me Bel.” She asked me one day, her eyes filled with frustration.

“But you ARE Arabella.” I felt desperate to explain.

She shook her head. “It doesn’t feel right. I don’t want to be called that. You mean something different than me when you use that name, and it makes me uncomfortable.”

What could I say. How could I explain? I bit my tongue and agreed.

It was so frustrating. Having my Arabella so close, yet so far away of me. She learned about our world quickly, and displayed an astonishing talent for fixing the lower realms in a variety of ways, but never once in the way that I wanted, the true and better way.

I tried to tell her about the higher story. About fate. The princess and the hero needed to fall in love. Our happiness, our love would stabilize all of the lower realms. Save the universe.

But Bel after listening to me, gave me a look. A look I knew all too well. It was the same look Arabella gave me in my original world.

A look of rejection.

I had become a higher being. Becoming the hero that would define all heroes. Much more than the silly hero my mother showed me in a worn-out story book. But still my princess refused me. She would leave me, just like my mother left my father for being a nobody. An extra. A background character.

I refused to let that happen.

I am the hero.

____________________________

I continued the story. She would be “kidnapped” by the dragon. I would rescue her, we would fall in love, and the dragon would be defeated. All would be right.

But she refused. She decided to die rather than be rescued. And then the System made her a deal.

I watched her disappear. I watched the foolish dragon make a bad deal to follow her. And as they faded from the realm, I panicked.

They had left me behind, the hero, the main character. I had to stop Bel from succeeding, from changing her fate to join the villains. She would accept her fate. She would be my heroine again.

The System, for the first time, fought me. I wanted my memories, control over some of the story, power. It argued that I would only push her further away. I refused to compromise.

Finally, the System agreed, but would only send me to a few worlds.

“She’s already visited twelve worlds.” It stated in a dispassionate voice.

I was in shock. “It’s only been a few minutes!”

“Time moves differently in the Void.”

“SEND ME!”

____________________________

A zombie world. I was the hero, Eric, already in a relationship with a cheerful girl named Hannah. She was a lovely heroine, but utterly helpless. As she stared up at me with love and respect in her gaze, I should have felt happy, content. She treated me as the hero I was, as the center of her universe.

I didn’t care.

She wasn’t Arabella… Bel. She was just a small little character of a broken lower realm. I didn’t need such a worthless being’s love.

I needed HER.

I turned my attention to Jason, Eric’s friend.  A pathetic secondary lead. I despised him, watching his struggles with disdain. Jason was a disgusting worm, following the heroine around like a lost puppy. Oblivious to the fact that she only loved the hero. He was a nobody, an extra.

He reminded me of my father.

I hid his role in Bel’s character’s death. Filled his head with thoughts of violence, planning on using him at just the right moment.

And when Bel showed up, I put myself forward as the perfect hero. Reasonable, friendly, respectful of boundaries. After all the time I spent fixing lower realms with her, I knew what she would like best. The only downside is that I had to play my role, to pretend to love Hannah. I felt the bonds of fate. Anytime I tried to break away from them, the System’s power would correct me. But I still tried my best, hoping that Bel would see beyond the characters we played, see the true me.

But instead, she paid me little to no attention. Only focusing on Hannah, or on the pathetic bastard of a villain who trailed behind her. He was as weak and useless as always, his character supposed to be the leader of a violent gang. Instead, he cooked meals and brewed tea, calling himself a support spouse.

I wanted to kill him.

But I couldn’t. I needed to be a perfect hero. Otherwise, my princess would never love me.

In the end, I failed. The dragon died, but Bel still didn’t look my way. She completed her mission and left the world without a goodbye.

Heartless as always.

____________________________

The System agreed to send me to a second world. A vampire realm. I played her brother Alexander. 

The realm was a disaster. I tried to be perfect, tried to be reasonable and helpful. But I had pushed too far from the character’s role. The System forcefully corrected me, treating me like a puppet over and over, acting like a foolish teenager in love rather than a confident immortal being. I watched in silent rage as the dragon married my princess with a smirk, calling me brother-in-law. I could do nothing but seethe, trapped in this cage of a character, unable to do anything but watched as she saved the realm again.

In the end, it felt so good to kill him. I watched the dragon die under my hands with a smile. And if Bel reacted poorly… well she just didn’t understand my point of view. She didn’t remember our destiny together. She didn’t remember that the dragon was a monster, a villain.

I just had to convince her.

____________________________

“YOU FAILED.” The system told me in the void. It had no emotions, no humanity, but even so I felt that there was a note of panic within its voice.

“You wouldn’t let me do anything!” I argued back. “Give me more freedom, and I promise I will convince her of our point of view.”

“WHAT IF SHE REFUSES?”

“Then I will make sure she fails her mission. Either way, we win, correct?”

“…” The System was silent for a few moments. “YOU HAVE ONE LAST CHANCE. SHE HAS NO MEMORY IN THIS REALM. SHE MUST FAIL. ”

I laughed. “She will.”

I did everything I could. Desperate, this time I resorted to all means: kidnapping, drugging her, lying to her. I betrayed the whole world to the alien race, trying to force her mission to fail.

But she still won. She still refused me, even when her mind and body were falling apart.

And with her power, she restarted our story in the higher realm. She chose the dragon again. She chose to reject fate. And at the end of it I realized her plan was never just to simply join the villain. She became the new System. She became a god.

____________________________

She looked at me, filled with a power I would never know. Standing next to the love of her life that wasn’t me. And I couldn’t help but wonder:

Had I really been so wrong?

“I have a much better ‘fate’ in store for you:” She told me. Smiling a smile I had never seen before. Different from any I had ever seen before A cruel smile. And I truly believed in the depths of my soul, that she was not, she never had been Arabella. The girl I thought I loved, died on the ground after I stabbed her in the heart. Not even her body was left behind as I destroyed the world behind me.

I am the hero.

“You will be banished to a lower realm. To live out your days as an insignificant side character.”

Her power lifted me off the ground, healing the wound in my side. I was helpless against it. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be! I was the knight! The hero! I would defeat the dragon, save the princess. I would live happily ever after!

“NO! YOU CAN’T!!!”

I am the hero.

“By day, you will remember nothing… but every night, your memories of the higher realms will be returned to you, just enough so you can always live in regret for what you have done.”

“NO!” I struggled against her powers, but there was nothing I could do. I stared into her eyes. So familiar, but foreign. And filled with nothing but weary disdain. I knew that look, knew it all too well. It was the look sealed into my heart, in the depths of my worst nightmares.

It was the look my mother gave my father the night she left. That look couldn’t be for me. It was for nobodies. For extras. For people of no importance. Not for me. Never for me.

I am the hero.

“You must accept your fate, Adonis. Goodbye.”

____________________________

“Heading home, Adler?”

Craig, the middle-aged man in the cubicle next to mine, spoke up as I stood up at my desk.  His space was decorated with miscellaneous motivational signs and pictures of his smiling family. He hid a space heater under his desk, but everyone liked him too much to report it to the manager.

“Yeah, shouldn’t you be done for the day too?” I responded blandly, putting on my coat and walking away. I didn’t really want to get drawn in to a long conversation, which Craig was well known for. From a distance I saw a man and a woman talking, and felt a tightening in my chest. I didn’t want to talk to them, but I couldn’t resist saying hi to her.

“Hi Anne.” I joined the conversation between the two, ignoring the flicker of frustration that crossed her expression. Hopefully she’s just tired. “… Hi Brad.” I added after a long hesitation.

They both greeted me, and fell into an awkward silence. I knew they wanted me to leave, but a strange stubbornness kept my feet rooted in place. “Have you heard about that new movie about knights and dragons that’s coming out soon?”

Anne still seemed annoyed, but showed a brief look of interest at my question. “Oh yeah! I’ve been wanting to go see that one!”

Then would you like to go with me? I bit the words back before they could slip out. It would not go over well, especially with Brad, Anne’s boyfriend standing next to me. Instead, I said something I didn’t mean. “Maybe we could all go see it as a group?”

“Maybe.” Her response was noncommittal.

“…”

“…”

After the silence stretched on too long, I finally couldn’t take it anymore. “Well, have a good night.”

They both waved silently at me, and returned to their conversation with one another, never sparing another glance my way.

I walked away, feeling uncomfortable.

My apartment was empty. I had considered pets, but it would be too much extra cost to the monthly lease. I turned on the light, set down my coat, and looked around with a sigh. The room was pretty bare. I had a few sparse decorations, but couldn’t be bothered to do more. All I needed was a few pieces of furniture, and multiple shelves of books.  I made myself a quick microwave dinner, and since I had finished my latest book last night, went searching through the bookshelves for what I wanted to read next.

My hand paused over a well-worn book. It was a classic story, about knights and princesses and dragons. Basic, childish almost, but I always felt drawn to it. I picked it up once more, and settled down to read.

Passing a quiet evening, I got ready to sleep. I stared up at the ceiling above my bed, a strange emptiness within me.

I wonder what Anne is doing now?

A sigh escaped me. I knew she didn’t return my feelings. She didn’t even like me as a friend.

I’m just not the guy for her. And I need to be content with that.

After all, it's not like I'm the hero of a fairy tale.

With that last melancholy thought, I fell asleep, my hands still clutching the book of fairy tales.

…

…

…

And I remembered.

I remembered everything.

I was the higher-level being Adonis. Hero of the universe. Cast aside by Bel. Banished to a lower realm.

And now I was powerless.

Helpless.

Nothing.

THIS ISN’T RIGHT!!! THIS ISN’T ME!!! I AM SPECIAL. I AM MEANT FOR GREATNESS!

I AM THE HERO!

I woke up, shaking in terror and agony. My trembling hands clutched my sweat soaked face. And in the dull light of the sunrise streaming through the window into my bare and empty apartment…. I screamed.

I tried to hold onto my memories, but I could already feel them fading away. I would once again become Adler, the pencil pushing nobody who read fantasy books and nursed a silent crush on a woman at work who already had a boyfriend.

Until night came again. And I remembered once more.

This was my punishment.

This was my hell.

My only solace was that in this lower realm I was mortal. I would grow old. I would eventually die. And I would be free from this wretched existence.

My memories grew foggy, confused.

I thought of my mother, of my promise to her to be the hero of her story book. I thought of Arabella, of her bright smile that I fell in love with. I thought of Bel, our adventures, and her triumph over fate.

And I hated them all.

“NOOOOOO!” My anguished cry tore through the apartment, but there was no one around to hear it.

“I AM THE HERO!!! THEY ARE NOTHING!” I tried to scramble out of the bed, desperate to run away, to escape.

“I AM THE HERO!!!” I fell to my knees, my thoughts becoming vague.

“I AM… THE… HERO!” I desperately held onto the word. I knew it was important.

“I…. AM….”

I blinked, feeling confused.

“What was I saying?”  Wiping my forehead, I grimaced as it came away with a cold sweat. “Must have had a nightmare.”

I stood up, heading to the bathroom to shower. I had a long day of work ahead of me. I had several reports due soon, and maybe… just maybe… I could catch a glimpse of Anne when I passed by on my lunch break.

As I walked towards the shower, I caught sight of my face in the mirror, and came to a stop. As I stood there, staring into my own eyes, I felt the strangest urge to scream.

But it quickly passed and I went back to getting ready for my day.

“Hopefully tonight I sleep better.” I muttered to myself, looking away and closing the door behind me.

I didn’t want to be late to work.

#writing #please fix the story #side part #adonis #fantasy #murder #no plans for redemption

[maximotts]

𝙻𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚃𝚠𝚘; 𝙰 𝙱𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚏 𝙷𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚝

a/n: Wanda, you sweet baby bean, I'm sorry people suck. That's all I've gotta say about this chapter uhm... please don't yell at me too much, I promise it's all going to be So Fine

✎— priest's daughter!Wanda x college student!reader

✎— confessions AU; a surprise over lunch leads you to spend a lot more time with Wanda. You like her and she does as well, but not everyone is happy about your new friend

✎— warnings: this is an 18+ series, minors DNI; I've said before since turning this into a series we're going to have a slower, more subtle corruption kink so: mentions of handsiness/groping, Wanda being a shy yearning gay, R being a terrible student, bullying, jealousy, Wanda shedding a tear because my friends seem to think I need to make that a warning

✎— words: 5.5k

series masterlist. || main masterlist.

Even with your lunch offer, Wanda couldn’t bring herself to let you do all the work; after picking up sandwiches from her favorite deli, she directed you down the block to her -and apparently, your- apartment building. When realization set in, the two of you had a laugh until you suggested going to your unit. 

“You’re serious?”

“What, afraid I’m luring you into my apartment to have my way with you?” Wanda didn’t respond to that, just shook her head as you quickly discovered she did whenever she was talking herself out of a thought. Oh what you’d give to see what was running through that imagination. “Such a good girl, not trusting strangers, but I don’t bite, I promise. We can go to yours instead?” 

She had to have told you her apartment number along the way because you’d gotten there with ease, guiding her down the hall with a hand on her back, but two simple words made her forget the whole walk. Wanda was a good kid, an amazing student, she’d heard words of encouragement so many times over the years— none of it affected her how it had earlier. 

If you noticed her nerves, you were gracious enough not to point them out even as she carelessly dropped her bag to the floor and ran to the bathroom, shutting the door tight. Wanda calmed herself with a splash of water and a quick talking to, reminding to keep it together. This wasn’t a date, it wasn’t anything, it was lunch. All this meant was you were a decent enough human not to stoop to the level of an overgrown schoolyard bully and feeling bad doesn’t make them a friend. Certainly didn’t mean she had a chance with you. 

That rationale didn’t stop her from talking out her nerves in the form of oversharing.

From that, you learned a lot about Wanda. She’s a twin, the younger one as her brother Pietro so often loved to remind her. They were close, but when it came time to choose colleges, he decided on another university in the next state over— mostly because of a very generous track scholarship he was offered. She nearly went with him, wanting to take advantage of their massive literature program, but their father said it’d break his heart if both of them left and Wanda, darling daughter that she is, caved and attended a more local school. 

Part of her compromise was being allowed her apartment. Leaving home to live off-campus by herself was an instant no, but for once, Wanda pushed. It was around the same cost of any room and board fees and she had the freedom she insisted on having. Partially to live away from home, but mostly because the possibility of rooming with one of her childhood enemies was high and she’d rather go without college than deal with that stress.

“I raised such a fuss that night, Pietro thought I’d lost my mind. It’s worth it, I think. I like it here.” Here in what turned out to be your shared building, blaming different schedules on why you’d never run into the other. In the end, her dad could rarely hold firm against Wanda’s puppy dog eyes and constant pleas and she won the small space now filled with various plants and cozy furnishings.

“Well, I for one, am very happy to find out the cute girl I’ve been wanting to talk to only lives a few floors away.” You said it so casually, like it was easy as chewing your ham and cheese sandwich to call her cute. It wasn’t helping that she’s just being nice mantra Wanda had going in her head to keep her calm.

While you ate, Wanda searched for any other reason you’d be so flirtatious and came up empty. Still, she couldn’t discount her inexperience for how she perceived your wanting to have lunch, your compliments, even the comment about asking her to dinner could’ve just been a passing joke she hung on to too seriously. She’d never been allowed to date, not that it mattered with how she got treated like the plague, and she didn’t know the first thing about well, anything. Somehow Pietro fared much better in that sense, sneaking out and rebelling any chance he could. 

Some nights when she couldn’t sleep, Wanda would catch him stumbling out of the woods that bordered their backyard and tired as she was, helped him climb through the window, questioning him all the while about his disheveled clothes and the glittery lip gloss smeared along his neck. “Stop being dad’s golden child and maybe you’ll find out one day.” Wanda never was bold enough to try nor did she like the options to try with. None of her classmates were interesting enough to be worth getting in trouble for.

The few times she did go out, the situation got the better of her and she had more anxiety than rowdiness. Wanda tried, really she did, there was just so much to remember: how to drink, who to drink with, the perfect things to say and no matter what, she always came up short. Then came that dreadful night after junior prom; her fatal mistake— distressed to the point of tears, Wanda called her father to pick her up, not thinking how not parent-approved the activities swirling around were. His appearance and the subsequent adult discourse at church the next morning solidified her status as Westview’s pious snitch. Ultimately, as much as she hated talking about it, even after Pietro took her side and offered to take matters into his own hands, she didn’t regret it for one day.

Opportunities to act out quickly dropped to zero after that incident. College was supposed to be better, new people and new surroundings, maybe a whole new her if she could figure out how to upgrade, but the proximity to her hometown made the past three years an extended high school. And then, there you were, shiny and brand new, straight out of her prayers— but they got to you first. 

Wanda resigned herself to staring at you in class, watching you text under the table with Carol Danvers who’d given you her number almost as soon as you’d first sat in your chair. If you’d been in the front of the class, she’d have slipped you her number instead; that’s what she told herself at least. Everyone else was too fast and forward, and Wanda didn’t stand a chance when everyone’s classes overlapped as much as they did. Each time Wanda caught you looking back at her, she turned away so fast she missed your smile or the silent waves you tried sending her way, too afraid to see if you’d regard her with the same disdain your new acquaintances offered. 

There weren’t a lot of people in class today; the middle of the semester meant burn out was creeping in, students skipped more now, but you were there in your usual spot, empty seats all around. If you weren’t always cutting your arrival so short, Wanda could’ve moved next to you, but class began and, not wanting to disrupt, she stayed put. Those next ninety minutes were the most distracted she’d been her entire college career, solidifying exactly how she’d introduce herself, act cool and collected while she gave you her handwritten phone number, written and rejected countless times over so Wanda could draw the little heart at the end just right. She’d been so close too, just feet away from your desk; Brock always had a way of ruining even her best laid plans.

“Earth to Wanda, where’d you go?”

“Huh?” The poor girl had been staring much too intently at her crumpled sandwich wrapper for the last few minutes, having decided she wasn’t listening when she didn’t react after your suggestion to run away and buy an RV. Wanda was adorable when she zoned off, playing with her rings absentmindedly and spinning them around her fingers, but you did wonder where she flew off to. “Sorry, I got distracted.”

“Clearly…” Gathering any lingering trash gave Wanda a task away from your watchful gaze, wiping off the table with another mumbled apology before skipping off to the kitchen. She took a deep breath, steadying herself against what to do now that she’d gotten this far. Her plan only went as far as exchanging phone numbers, maybe putting the digits in your phone if she was brave enough, but you’d skipped that stage and gotten straight to the apartment hangouts and she was… lost. 

Luckily for Wanda, you had no problem taking charge. The moment she returned to the living room, you took hold of her arm and pulled her down until she was finally sitting right next to you instead of her far off spot. All of lunch she’d been far away and selfishly, you missed how close you’d been when you walked earlier. Now with Wanda’s thigh brushing against yours, you could see each one of her little reactions intimately. “What’s going on in that head?”

“I was thinking about earlier and got carried away, nothing important.” Wanda shook her head again, hoping to settle at least a fraction of the blush that’d overtaken her face, but when she tried to pull her hand away from yours, you held tight. As much as she loved the feeling of your warm, steady hand wrapped around her cold and shaky one, Wanda feared growing too used to it too fast and having to fight not seeking out your touch from then on.

“If it’s got you this frazzled, it’s gotta be some kind of important. You can tell me, I promise.” You almost wondered aloud who you’d tell, but she didn’t need to be reminded of who you talked to. Not that you’d ever say anything, no, mostly you just wanted to see Wanda all sweet and flustered, committing the sight to memory on the off chance she kept her distance after today. 

She stared hard, judging your sincerity before deciding whether or not she’d lie or divulge the truth. Unpracticed as she was with this, Wanda wasn’t an idiot; this afternoon was nice, but she couldn’t blurt out her crush only a few hours after your first official meeting. She could tell half-truths, thoughts buzzing in her brain that ranked lower on the exposure scale to hopefully not scare you away. “Well.. you know how I tried talking to you in class?” 

You nodded, politely letting her continue, and Wanda bit the inside of her cheek, trying painfully hard not to think about your thumb rubbing over the back of her hand. It was a small gesture, obviously, but it meant everything to Wanda who’d never been on the receiving end of such gentle reassurance. “I’d been waiting to do that since the first week of class.”

So you weren’t imagining her sneaking glances at each class; good to know you could still sense when someone was into you. Most girls tended to talk way before Wanda did and you started wondering if your attraction to her made her small acknowledgments into something a lot bigger than it actually was. “Why didn’t you?”

“Someone else always got there first.” The truth was embarrassing. As isolated as Wanda had been, she didn’t actively dislike most of her peers. It was that one particular group you hung out with that seemed to go out of their way to not only make Wanda’s life hell, but also warn anyone they possibly could away from ever giving her a chance. She grew up being taught hateful behavior only bred more hate, that it wasn’t polite or productive, but if there was anyone she hated, it was them.

When she saw you with Brock and Carol and the rest of their tiring friend group, she nearly cursed aloud, strangely mad that of all the transfers, they had to get you too— it wasn’t fair. In her defense, Wanda gave ignoring you a good, honest try, but every time she saw you wander through the door, she wanted to be the one who waved you over, who sat with you and leaned in close or put a flirtatious little kiss on your cheek. “You seemed..busy.” 

Finally, once the jealousy threatened to consume her alive, she did change course, ignoring you wasn’t working so why not try talking? Worst case scenario, you tell her to shoo or get lost; painful, but nothing she hadn’t heard before. When she heard Brock talking about her, the brunette swore she felt her heart drop into her stomach, any hope she had of possibly getting close to you just… dashed in an instant. She had to pack her stuff quickly, not because she was afraid, but because she felt so embarrassed she knew she’d cry if she heard another word of that conversation. 

“I’m not stupid, I know they talk about me. They don’t really try to hide how they feel.” Wanda’s laugh held a bitter edge, laced with the defeat of someone who knew what to expect when trying to make new friends. “I just- I didn’t want to interfere or get you involved with any of their weird… whatever and.. I don’t know, it didn’t seem like it’d go over well to talk to you when you’re already friends with them.”

At first you laughed, disbelieving Wanda could ever think you were off limits just because you’d spent a month or so interacting with people who, admittedly, weren’t the greatest, but one look at Wanda’s troubled face showed she was all too serious. “I can talk to more than one person, you know!” 

You weren’t the type to blindly follow everything someone said, preferring to make your own judgements, and after a few hours with Wanda you could tell that, just as expected, she truly wasn’t as bad as everyone made her out to be. Shy and reserved, sure, but you couldn’t count those as bad qualities. Not when she was just as gentle, funny, and kind as you’d imagined she’d be. 

“It’s always more than just one person talking or inviting you somewhere or shoving their phone in your face asking you to text them…” The last part was mumbled, but you caught it all the same. Her earlier confirmed watching combined with that last comment had the last piece sliding into place so perfectly in your head, you’re sure you heard a snap. 

Wanda didn’t just want to say hi, she wanted what she saw; flirtatious texts, low-spoken promises of naughty after class activities— not that Wanda knew that’s what she was asking for. Sweet thing… you’d show her how it all worked.

“Can I tell you a secret?” You beckoned her closer with a finger and she leant in with innocent curiosity, shivering as you came to whisper in her ear. “I’d rather text you so I’d like your number, if you don’t mind.”

It was the truth; sure you messed around with one of two girls since being here, but none of them stopped you wanting the darling girl in front of you. The longer you sat with her, the more you wanted to know and not just to sleep with her. Not that Wanda would probably let you right away; she didn’t have to say it for you to know she was virginal as a little lamb.

Your lips brushed against her cheek, the barest hint of a kiss, but it stunned Wanda all the same. She pulled back, searching for her phone much more intently than needed to play off how affected she really was. “Does that mean you want to have lunch again?”

“I want to do a lot more than just have lunch with you but..” Eventually you gave Wanda your own phone to give the poor girl something to do where she was not so subtly scrambling. When she handed you hers, you punched your number in and as she took it back, you watched her sign your name off with a set of hearts. How precious. “Yes, if you want to?”

Wanda agreed perhaps a little too eagerly, but she couldn’t stop herself planning your next lunch date complete with food she made herself. She really hoped you liked homemade things. “Absolutely!”

♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡

And so it went like that for the following weeks, walking around campus with Wanda and having lunch together when you were both free, going to her apartment multiple times a week to collaborate on school things or just to talk to her. Whatever you were doing, Wanda was a pleasure to be around and she never complained when you copied her answers on homework or came over just to lay on her couch and watch movies.

For Wanda’s part, she might as well have been in heaven; having someone to spend time with regularly was nicer than she remembered. Of course, growing up, she had Pietro, but this was different. You made her laugh just as much as he did, but you didn’t torment her nearly as much, and the big difference, obviously, was that she most certainly did not want to kiss her brother. 

When she showed up to your apartment door with a box of heart-shaped sandwiches, she felt silly, but the moment your face lit up when you laid eyes on them… she wanted to drop the food and kiss you until you fell to the floor.

But she’d always wanted her first kiss to be special, memorable and at least pleasant; it couldn’t be over a stupid sandwich in a doorway. So Wanda waited until.. well, until she felt the time was right to politely ask.

You made her nervous, not in the frightened way others had, but with a giddy, butterflies in her stomach feeling that left Wanda always wanting more. If you’d asked Wanda a few months ago, she’d say her ideal romance was to be blissfully swept off her feet like she’d seen in movies, brought flowers, chocolates, and lovingly courted until she finally says yes— meeting you through all of that out her balcony window. For the first time in her life, Wanda wanted what she’d seen her peers get ever since hormones descended over her sixth grade class. She craved casually possessive hugs and touches, that anticipated first kiss… special private time she’d stumbled upon during late-night internet browsing.

The first one thankfully Wanda didn’t have to wait for. 

Startling as it was the next day when you not only walked with Wanda to class, but traded your spot in the back of the class to coax her to sit off to the side, she didn’t complain. How could she when you insisted sitting next to her made class more bearable; whether it was true or not, Wanda couldn’t know, but she didn’t care, the compliment made her blush every time.

A chair next to the top student should’ve meant you paid more attention, but it was the opposite. Before you’d watched Wanda from afar, now with her close, you couldn’t help but stare longer, much more intrigued with how she bit her tongue whenever she concentrated than anything your professors taught. 

Even more since you’d begun vying for her attention during class, Wanda liked to ask questions of them after lectures were done, getting clarification for anything she couldn’t pick up in the discussion. Jokingly, you called her a nerd, but you took her notes to study from all the same so you figured the least you could do was hang back and wait for her— the perfect opportunity for Carol to strike up a conversation. 

“She wheeled you right on in, didn’t she?” The blonde also went to school with Wanda and while she wasn’t ever directly antagonistic towards your new friend, she’d never made an effort to include her either. To you Carol was nice enough; if you were being honest, you hadn’t given it much thought whenever you fell into bed with her.

Hanging out with Wanda meant abandoning your typical seat next to Carol in your Wednesday morning class and while you missed her sharp banter and the silly drawings she snuck in the corners of your notebooks, nothing beat sliding your arm around Wanda and toying with her skirt under the desk. She didn’t fully know what you were up to, grew squirmy as she felt the room’s chill on her thighs, but even when you pinched at her hips, Wanda didn’t want to cause a class disruption by protesting. 

Not that you and Carol hadn’t done the same, but Wanda’s reactions were so pure and sweet, just like her. Carol was fun, but Wanda was something else entirely and you actually wanted to get to know her. The brunette was easy to be around in a way you couldn’t remember experiencing and where Wanda didn’t go out of her way to mention your first friend group, you didn’t miss the judgemental looks Carol shot Wanda’s way whether the brunette’s back was turned or not.  “It’s easy when you’re not an asshole. Try it sometime.”

She brushed off your comment, sliding further in your line of sight until she blocked your view of Wanda at the podium. What you two shared might’ve not been serious, but losing your situationship to someone like Wanda was an ego hit Carol refused to believe was actually real. “I’m having a party on Saturday. You’re coming.” 

“Guess I’ll cancel my plans…” The singular party of Carol’s you’d been to was a riot. Admittedly, you didn’t remember much besides large hits from shared pre-rolls and waking up in her bed the next morning with a pleasurable ache between your legs, but even after stumbling back to your apartment with a throbbing headache, you were more than excited at the prospect of going to another. Coincidentally, that particularly reckless night was days before you first talked to Wanda and now, only a few weeks later, you hesitated. 

“Is anyone invited?” You searched over Carol’s shoulder to find Wanda still chatting away, dutifully scribbling down something your professor was referring to. You couldn’t imagine she’d be upset if you went at all; Wanda might even appreciate a Saturday night to herself after you’d wormed your way into her plans week after week. It was you who didn’t want to go to the party without her.

Both of you knew the singular ‘anyone’ you were referring to, and Carol’s expression soured. “I said I’m having a party, not bible study.” 

Sam walked over then, the large guy you’d met at orientation having also made fast friends with the people who threw the best after hours get-togethers. He was nice enough, louder than his roommate Steve, but always a fun time. “Come on, Danvers, she can’t be that bad. Besides, isn’t her dad like, an hour away now?” 

Word really did travel fast on this campus. Even new kids retained personal facts about the girl who didn’t know the first thing about them, but Sam was another one who hadn’t bought into the group verdict on Wanda and for that, you were grateful. If you did bring Wanda along, you thankfully wouldn’t be the only one looking out for her. Not that you planned on letting her out of your sight. “I doubt she’d call the police.”

“Doesn’t sound like something I’d want to chance.” She wouldn’t get grounded like she had back in high school, but violating the lease on the house she and her friends rented wasn’t in the cards either. Catching sight of Wanda making her way back over to where the three of you gathered, she nudged your shoulder and you felt a heavy lump in your throat. The last thing you wanted was to be caught talking about her, much less make her believe you were plotting anything malicious. 

Carol was well aware of your growing soft spot in the past few weeks, taking note how you instantly shifted focus away from Wanda whenever someone dared bring her up in your presence; it’d almost be sweet if she didn’t hate her. And so, instead of cutting the chat short, Carol waited until she was sure Wanda was within earshot, “If she ruins anything, it’s on you.” 

Wanda, reticent as she was, strolled right up to you with a smile, but your stunned face made her brow furrow. She knew she’d been the topic of conversation, both having caught the tail end of Carol’s conditions and gauging the apprehension you regarded her with. 

“Look who it is, missionary of the hour…” Carol mumbled, Sam only getting a fraction of his snicker out before you shut him up with a warning glare. 

With a nervous breath, you tried playing it off, but the blonde’s icy temperament was impossible to mask, “We were just talking about this thing Carol’s got going on Saturday, but it’s a party so…”

Wanda nodded, ignoring the other woman completely, which only made her stew further. Honestly whatever was said wouldn’t be anything new; she did have a terrible reputation for disrupting parties and she was far past expecting to be wanted there. The hesitation didn’t bother her, but Carol did; if she could come out on top just once, she’d die happy. 

So this time, instead of being forced to watch Carol flirt with you and exchange texts in class, Wanda was the one who’d spent hours getting to know you and the last lecture blushing through your teasing, pushing you away when you got too handsy, giggling into her hands when you told her something especially funny; she knew, on some undescribed level, you liked her better. 

Maybe that’s where the confidence to link her arm with yours and press a chaste kiss into your temple stemmed from, “Well, I love parties! We have to go!”

If your eyes weren’t already wide enough to fall out of your head, they certainly were now. The blonde’s eyes narrowed, darting between the two of you while Sam, loud as ever, laughed at the clear and present tension between the two women on either side of you. “Last thing: Don’t let her wear anything like…” Carol gestured to Wanda, dressed in a light floral dress and one of her favorite cozy sweaters, “that. I’m not having a church social.”

Wanda’s grip loosened at the insult, brief confidence struck down as fast as it’d come, but you didn’t let her fall away completely, winding your arms around her midsection. “I told her she should wear this sweater today. But don’t worry, she’ll look even cuter than she normally does.” Scooting the stunned girl closer until she was snug between your legs, you kissed her cheek and gave her a squeeze of reassurance. 

When Wanda didn’t move a singular muscle, shoulders still slumped, you wished there was a hug tight enough to say I’m sorry I let them hurt you again. “See you Saturday!”

You never did thrive amidst conflict, preferring to sit back and let any drama go by far away from you, but it wasn’t fair staying silent when Wanda could barely stand up for herself. Whether it was your defense of Wanda’s outfit choice or your protective hold you kept, your defense was enough to get Carol to roll her eyes and back off for now, “Fine whatever, I’ll text you the details later.” 

Sam left you with a pat on the back, shaking his head at the tension he happened to stumble in on and couldn’t wait to tell Steve and Bucky, “Way to stand up for your girl, kiddo, well done.”

“Don’t call me kiddo! You’re maybe six months older than me, and she’s not my— fuck, whatever.” He was jogging out the door before you could correct him, but you dropped your arms anyway and Wanda tried to ignore the loss she felt. She longed to admit she needed at minimum five more minutes of that hug to truly keep her tears at bay, but she couldn’t ask. 

It was bad enough you had to lie about picking her sweater; Wanda threw it on not only because it kept her warm in the often chilly lecture halls, but Pietro bought it for her years ago for her birthday and the familiar fabric kept her calm. She wore the sweater and her current dress often enough for the outfit to be considered a wardrobe staple, Carol saw it constantly; there was no way she didn’t know how pointed her insult was. “Sorry about that…”

Wanda half expected you to run after Carol, trying to smooth things over with her for the sake of preserving whatever you two had that Wanda threatened. Instead she found her hand loosely caught in yours, thumb rubbing over it just as you had the first day she shared her anxieties, and when dim green eyes traveled from your touch to your face, she saw concern so genuine Wanda wanted to fall back into your arms and sob. Not only for herself, but for you and how much of a burden she feared she was already becoming. Her family always dubbed her the crybaby and she couldn’t deny it; of the three of them, Wanda was the first to let her eyes go watery. The only thing worse than dealing with what you’d just witnessed would be having to console the crying mess of your new friend.

But you wouldn’t have minded, not one bit. “Don’t apologize when you didn’t do anything wrong. That’s not fair,”  You spotted her frown and longed to ask her what you could do to help, but as soon as you opened your mouth, Wanda pulled away.

She was quick to replace her sad expression with another smile, pushing your forgotten books into your now empty hands. If you didn’t watch her so much, the sudden change wouldn’t mean anything, but the smile she was trying so hard to pass off didn’t reach her eyes— it wasn’t real. “You’re going to be late for class again, get moving.” 

“Well yeah, but…” Clearly, Wanda was deflecting again, you’d be a fool to miss the nervous way she hugged herself tight as if she could hide the knee length dress she’d walked out of her apartment in so happily just hours ago. Choosing the sweater wasn’t a lie, but what you thought about her look wasn’t; Wanda dressed in a comfortable yet sweet style you found wholly endearing. “Are you alright? I didn’t mean for all that to happen, I only wanted to ask if I could bring you along.”

The brunette scoffed loudly and in the interest of not making the situation any worse, you ignored how her voice cracked, “I’m fine, don’t worry about me.”

“Right okay, I just- I’ll see you later then? If you’re up for it?” If Wanda didn’t want to talk about it now, maybe this afternoon she’d be up to discuss and unfortunately, she was right. You only had about ten minutes now to rush across the courtyard to your next lecture; no time to argue with her. It was too early in the semester to routinely skip all of your classes.

Wanda joined you to the door, hands tight around her backpack strap. The walk was short, too short; you hated leaving her to fend for herself when she was obviously still upset. You’d make it up to her later, maybe ask her favorite movie and bring over pizza to watch it with her. For now, resolved to be on time, you left her with a hurried wave and a clumsy sprint that admittedly did make her chuckle just a little, “You know where to find me!” 

With you gone, tears pricked at the corners of her eyes and Wanda wiped them away with the knit sleeve of the sweater she couldn’t stand wearing right now. It was too cold out to only have her shoulders exposed, but she tore it off anyways, bundling it as small as she could in her clammy palms. 

She walked briskly, destination clear, but for once, she wasn’t going home. Any other time, Wanda would’ve been polite enough to text ahead and assure she was welcome, but the harder it got to hold back a full cry, the less she worried about etiquette. If anyone could tell her what to do, how to proceed, anything… it was them. 

From the class schedules they’d shared with her at the beginning of the year, they should be in; Wanda hoped their ‘you’re welcome whenever you want some company, no questions asked’ sentiment held true just this once.

The route home seemed endless, late summer breezes stinging her blotched cheeks; she looked a mess and she knew it, her frazzled appearance driving her to practically run down her apartment floor hall. Wanda knocked on the door just a few doors down from her own, the one she hated to bother but loved being in all the same, “I know it’s the middle of the day, but I really need your help, please?”

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff fic #wanda maximoff au #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff series #wanda maximoff imagine #marvel imagine #confessions au. #motts writes. #maximotts

[merrellholland]

Not So Bad After All → P.Parker AU

HEYYYY YALL; its been a minute and I am sooooo sorry LMAO. I promise to get back into my writing era <3

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Person: Peter Parker (Tom Holland)

AU: college hockey player, frat boy, still spider-man in secret

Words: 2.4k

Warning: swearing, slight bullying (but nothing too deep)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Never in my life would I expect to have been dressed up in the most stinky and bulky fury suit… yet, here I am dressed as Sparky the Eagle. I was currently a junior at Empire State University located in beautiful New York, and throughout the years I may have found myself in a bit of a dilemma. 

Money was never an easy task for my family and I, in fact I got into this school with a huge scholarship to help support my financial needs. Despite that, I still needed to pay some tuition fees and that meant that I needed a job. This isn’t my first rodeo though, back home I had many jobs all at the same time during high school in order to help my mom with paying bills. The only hard part was trying to find a job in New York, a place that I’ve never been to until I started my first semester at Empire State. 

As I’ve completed the first two years and am now currently in my third, I’ve noticed the major stereotypical things for a college on T.V were coming to real life. The sorority girls were straight-up obnoxious and cruel to other girls who weren’t part of their sorority house, the frat boys were shirtless 24/7 while playing beer pong and having girls in bikinis all over their front yards of their gigantic frat house every Friday, and lastly the sport-frat boys. These guys were a whole different level of frat boys, and I’ve learned that very early on. These guys? Not only were they known for their handsome looks but most of these guys were going to real professional sports leagues after college, and we all know how that goes for them… in terms of love life. 

All the girls (and some guys) would be over, flirting constantly with them and not really taking interest in their sport but rather their six-pack abs and looks.  

As much as it pains me to say the cliche phrase “not like other girls” it's true. I really wasn't like the other girls swooning over these guys 24/7 and attending their friday night parties after classes were done. I was more the type of person who would prefer to finish homework and then cozy up with some blankets and a classic 2010’s rom-com. 

But now I can’t even do that since my new job requires me to be at the ice rink every week on Fridays from 6-9pm. Six to nine! That’s three hours of prime time that I could be doing homework! And that’s not even the worst part,my job was that I had to be the mascot for the ice-hockey team during their games and interacting with the fans. The Empire State hockey team was one of the best in the college leagues throughout the nation and most players got into the NHL as soon as they graduated. 

And now I’m their mascot, well I dress up as their mascot and that means getting a big sweaty and gross costume every Friday for 3-4 hours… great. Not that I could complain though, since surprisingly the pay wasn’t that bad due to the fact that you’re a student. Today was my first day on the job. The Empire Eagles were playing against the Cornell Big Red’s today and it was a home game so many students were going to attend. 

After I arrived at the rink, the manager handed me the keys to the supply storage room to change into the eagle costume. Getting into that costume was a full ass workout, the smell is something I’ve never smelt before and the amount I was sweating was unbearable. Nevertheless, I got into that God awful attire and headed outside to the ice-rink. The coolness of the air inside did help a little, but I could still feel the beads of sweat trickling down my face. 

My manager told me to practice walking on the ice with the costume since during the halftime break you had to collect all the tokens of appreciation from the fans as they threw it onto the rink from their seats. I slowly walked onto the ice with my giant eagle feet and waddled back and forth to try to get used to it before the game started, I practiced bending down to pick up the gifts  in character and tried to come up with some signature eagle moves… might as well have some fun with it righ–

“Yo excuse me but the rink is for the players to practice right now.” 

I quickly snapped my head to look behind me and– 

Great. A sport-frat boy. 

Peter Parker was someone that was greatly known throughout the university, top GPA, great looks, apparently great in the bedroom (so I’ve heard), and was the centerman for the Empire Eagles hockey team. Though I’ve never really paid attention to him. And as much as I wanted to dislike him, I’ve never personally met him before or even talked to him… so who am I to judge? 

After all, he did ask somewhat politely and– why the heck am I overthinking this? Just apologize and move on Y/N!

I cleared my throat and attempted to have a deeper voice, “Sorry dude I wasn’t aware, I’ll be on my way now” I said… and cringed internally after saying that. 

Peter nodded his head and smiled, “No worries, just a little jittery for the game so I wanted some extra practice” He replied. 

I nodded my head and then exited the rink, going back to the storage room so nobody would see me yet. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

The game started and was currently ending the second quarter with the score being 2-1, the Empire Eagles winning and the Cornell Big Red’s tailing behind. I could tell that all of the players from Empire State were filled with happiness… and might I add overconfident and cocky. But that was something that I couldn’t pay attention to since I had to focus on giving it my all while I walked towards the ice rink at halftime and collected all the gifts that were thrown onto the ice from the fans in the stadium. 

I walked in character as the fun spunky eagle while walking on the ice and picking up the teddy bears with a girl's number in sharpie written on it and a bunch of red roses. As I picked them up and headed back, I took a quick glance and the audience. There were some students who seemed genuinely happy to be there and there were those… What do people call them? Oh yeah puck bunnies? Yeah there were a whole lot of girls wearing those boob jackets from lululemon and attempting to look cold but also cute and petite. I mean again, I’m not one to judge so you do you I guess. 

After I collected all of the gifts from the fans, I took some pictures with a couple of kids and I enjoyed that part. I liked seeing the smiles on their faces as they stood proud with me as their parents took photos. It definitely seemed like a core memory for them and I’m glad that I somewhat got to be a part of that. 

As the third and fourth quarter went on, it was brutal for us. Cornell absolutely demolished Empire State and beat us 4-2. I guess that’s what our players get for being cocky and overconfident throughout the whole game, thinking that they’ve got this. 

After the game ended and the fans left the stadium, my manager said to stay behind and clean the place up and pick up any extra gifts that were left. As I bent down (still in my eagle costume) to pick up some flowers that were left on the ice, something extremely heavy bumped into me from behind causing me to fling forward and make an umph sound. 

“What the fuck?” I cursed in a whisper. 

“DUDE what the fuck are you still doing here?! You need to get out, it's closed practice now looser” the voice said. 

I turned around and looked at the man who was clearly a player on the Empire State Eagles, he had blonde hair and green eyes and was definitely 6’1”. Shit, what was I supposed to do? My manager literally told me to clean the place up and then help security to lock up the stadium! 

“Bro be nice, you don’t gotta be mean” Another boy said. 

As I looked up, I saw that that other boy was no other than Peter Parker. But before I could register that, he offered me a hand and I immediately accepted it. 

I attempted to not sound like a scared wimp so I deepened my voice a little, “Uh thanks dude, I wasn’t aware that it was a closed practice… I’ll uh keep that in mind next time” I said to him. 

He smiled, “Don’t worry, Charlie’s just a snob” He replied. 

“Yeah I can tell” I responded while walking out of the rink. 

He laughed again while combing through his sweaty brown curls, giving me butterflies–

Wait what. 

Nope. Nope. Never. Never in a million years. I refuse. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

The next couple of weeks went by normally, except I’ve started to notice Peter Parker more often. I never realized he was in three of my classes. In my morning class he would wear his hockey sweatshirt with gray sweatpants and in the afternoon he would take off his sweatshirt, revealing a tight-fitted white shirt that showed off his biceps. 

Damn, now I understand why girls swoon over guys like him… bro’s majestic. 

But my mama always told me to focus on my studies, boys come after. And that's what I planned to do, stay focused. He probably doesn’t even know me since at school I’m practically a nobody. I mean I join clubs, I’m in choir, and I’m part of many study groups so most people would know who I am but they probably have other friends to talk to besides me. The same goes for my roommates, they know me but they have other friend groups. 

Once again, it was Friday and that meant that we had another home game. The Eagles were playing against the NYU Bobcats. I went into the stadium and got into my disgusting and sweaty eagle costume. Throughout the weeks, I think I slowly got into character and found new dances to help entertain the little kids during timeouts and in between quarters. 

As the game started, I did my little dances whenever I could and the score at the end of the second quarter was 1-1. The stakes were going to be high but I have a feeling that we were gonna win this one. 

During the third quarter, I sat on the bench that was reserved for me and watched Peter, jersey number 4, skate all over the ice with his hockey stick. He had the puck, all of his attention was on it. The whole audience had a feeling that he was gonna score a goal but then all of a sudden one of the NYU players stole the puck from him and skated furiously across the other side of the rink. 

You could see Peter cursing and quickly going to the other side along with his other teammates. Ever since that moment, it seemed that something triggered Peter… he was starting to get more aggressive and ruthless. It made me anxious to see his behavior on the ice, but nevertheless I kept watching. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Despite the tight game, the Eagles won 3-2 and the whole crowd celebrated which meant that many gifts were thrown down onto the rink. Teddy bears and roses were everywhere and it was all me that had to clean it up. I walked on the ice with my feet stuck in the puffy eagle claws of my costume, gathered all of the gifts, and put them in a big container that I dragged with me across the ice. After I got all the stuffed animals and flowers in the container I headed towards my manager to give it to. As I handed it to him, he thanked me and said I was free as soon as I checked the whole stadium again to see if there was anyone else. I nodded and went back to the arena. 

I checked to see if there were any other fans that were trying to stay behind, but didn’t find any… but gosh my feet hurt so much and I just need a little break before heading back to my dorm. 

I took out the headpiece of the eagle costume and sighed as the cool breeze from the arena chilled my flushed cheeks. I then took out the rest of my costume which left me with my sweaty ponytail and loose hair strands framing my face along with my black leggings and shirt. Though I didn’t take it into consideration that there would be anyone else entering the stadium again after the game was over. But I guess I was wrong, because all of a sudden I heard a voice from behind me: 

“I didn’t realize you were a girl,” I turned my head around to see who it was. 

Peter Parker? I thought in my head. 

“Or pretty.” he finished his statement with his mouth parting slightly. 

I could feel my cheeks warm up despite the cool air as I laughed awkwardly, “W-What? Oh t-thanks… you look pretty too” I replied, not thinking about what I just said. 

Peter just nodded and he looked like he was seconds away from drooling as he continued to stare at me… he really does make a girl feel special. 

“Uhm, are you doing some extra practice? Or–” I say trying to break the silence. 

Peter slightly shook his head and cleared his throat, “Uh yeah, it’s just I don’t feel like I gave it my all today even though we won so I wanted to get some practice in… if that’s okay?” he says. 

I smiled and nodded my head, “Yeah sure, I’ll just go tell my manager and put this costume away.” I told him as I stood up.

He smiled back at me with his teeth as I walked towards the manager’s office, feeling intense butterflies cause Peter fucking Parker just called me pretty… WHAT IS MY LIFE?!

You know, I said in the beginning that I wasn’t like other girls but now I definitely think I am (well at least internally). 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

AN: PART TWO?? 😏

#peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x reader #peter parker au #peter parker #merrell holland #spiderman au #new york #empire state university #mcu peter parker #mcu peter x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker ice hockey #tom holland ice hockey #peter parker ice hockey au #peter parker one shot

[luvskyxx]

WORTH IT

Part 3

Summary: the start of Rafe and y/n's affair. (this part takes place before parts 1 and 2. This can also be read alone)

Warning: smut, drinking, and swearing

“You are going to have so much fun.” Sarah smiled as you both walked into mid-summers. It was more of a reminder than a promise. You hated places like these. How awkward they are. It was always a day you dreaded. How your parents would do all out for you. Buying you a nice dress and shoes. Bragging to all their rich friends about the scholarships they got.

It wasn't like anyone truly cared about you. It was more of a competition. Who was the better family? Who looked like they had it all together. The truth was everyone was a little fucked up.

Topper's parents were neglectful, and hateful forward their son. Kelce's parents were more focused on the business trips. More like vacations they went without him. They regretted having a son. It drained them. It wasn't like kelce was a bad kid they just were not ready to raise one. Your parents only spent their time with your siblings. How cute and young they were. The potential they have. How you wasted yours trying to find yourself. And the Cameron's pretending they had all this money when they were so far in debt they couldn't even see how far of a hole they were digging.

That all changes on the night of mid-summer though. All the problems were saved for another day. Parents bragging to one another about their families. Hoping the lies they told would start to come true. Hoping they would believe it as well.

“These places are nothing but a social event.” Rafe murmurs. You turn your head to Rafe as he sips some alcohol he stole on his way into the room. Rafe was the only other person who hated these things as much as you. There wasn't enough alcohol to drown out the nonsense each one feeds the other.

“Do you see Topper anywhere?” Sarah whispers to you completely oblivious to anything else in the room. “Ohh I see him come on” her arm caught in the grasp of yours as she drags you to the other end of the party.

“Sarah hey” Topper spoke with the biggest smile on his face. You stood next to Sarah as they both flirted with each other for the next hour. Going on and on about stupid shit. It didn’t take long before you started sneaking drinks from the counters. One after another. It was easy as most people were already drunk or too busy talking to care.

It only took so long before the table of drinks where gone. Not a waiter in sight to refill the table. The more you waited the more antsy you got.

Your legs shook the table as you tried to resist getting up to get another.

“You got any plans tomorrow?” Topper's voice started to become more prominent in your head as the drinks started to wear down. Your eyes rolled in the back of your head as you finally got up.

Looking for the nearest table with a set of drinks. You quickly marched over to a table swiping a glass.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You felt an arm grab you spilling your drink a little.

“Jesus Christ!” You yelled as you almost choked on your straw. You looked up to see Rafe looking around to see if anyone was watching. “Scared the shit out of me” You looked down to see your hands stacked in alcohol. As if you didn’t read enough of it. Your hands became sticky as the liquid dried on you.

“I’m sure I did” Rafe spoke finally pulling his attention back to you.

“Got my dress all dirty too” you spoke trying to wipe off the red substance on your white dress.

“You’ll live” he spoke looking down at your dress. How he admired you in white. How your tan glowed through it. And your eyes seemed to be so visible to the sun. “Real question is how many have you had?” He pointed to the half-empty cup you were still holding.

“Like five…. teen” you shrugged.

“Yeah that’s enough” he spoke taking your drink as he sets it down. Your hands follow his in hopes to hold that cup at least one more time. The comfort you felt while holding it.

“And how many have you had?” You huffed crossing your arms.

“Not important” he spoke pushing his hair back with his hand.

“Not important my ass” You rolled your eyes looking around the room. The sun finally setting making everything glow just slightly. All the glasses shone off rainbows across the dance floor.

“Y/n! Y/n sweetie!” Your mom flagged you down as she and a group of people made their way over o you.

“Shit” you softly spoke as Rafe have you a glance before looking at the group of people heading over.

“Here she is.” Your mom spoke with a smile.

“You have gotten so big y/n. I swear it was just yesterday you were a little girl running around here with your pink flowered dress. Ohh you remember that one she use to wear all the time” One of your mom's friends went on and on about memories you don’t seem to recall. Wasn't so much of the alcohol than the fact that it was so long ago. “And Rafe Cameron I didn't know you too were going out” A smile on the girl's faces as they looked at you both in awe.

“No-” you tried to speak before Rafe cut you off.

“We wanted to wait before we announced anything” his hand wrapping around your waist as he pulls you closer to him. A smile grew on his face as he enjoyed every minute of torching you.

“Well might I say you two are very cute together”

“I think so too” Rafe smiled looking down at you in his arms before looking back at the group of older women.

“Well let's go find our seats” your mom changing the subject as she was tired of the game you two were playing. And quite frankly she could smell the liquor off you both not to mention the stain now on ur dress. She gave you a glance back before following the group of girls over to a table. A look of disappointment as if you just made a fool of her.

“Well, I think that went well” Rafe broke the silence still being you close.

“Ohh fuck off” you spoke pushing him away as you turned around finding the drink Rafe put on the table earlier. You quickly grab it slugging down whatever was left.

“You think I made a good impression?” he turns around putting his hands on the table as if he was concerned about the approval. “You know like it being our first outing and everything” You gave Rafe a look like how dare he drag this longer than it needed to be. It wasn't till you saw a smile leave his face before a laugh to tell you he was done joking around.

“I can't be around you anymore” you spoke walking away before he grabs your arm again.

“Hey hey hey wait” he spoke pulling you back around to face him. “This isn't good for our relationship.” he stood there trying to find whatever smile he was hoping to appear on your face.

“You're an idiot” you spoke pushing his arms off of you before you walked away. His laugh filled your ears even as you left.

He loved watching you get all flustered. How you fell into his traps so easily. You were like another sister of his. Someone he could mess with over and over again and still fall for it every time. And how he enjoyed every minute of it.

If only he thought of you as a sister maybe he could have convinced himself to not think about you.

Yet he did.

He watched you throughout the party. Wishing you didn't end your interaction with him. You were the only person he really wanted to talk to. You're the reason he even put on a happy face tonight. How he doesn't complain about the suit he had to wear. Or the people that came up to him asking him questions as if they cared. He did it all for you.

You grew up knowing the Camerons. Rafe being the older brother you never had wasn't always something you wanted. Deep down you had a crush on him but as he continued to pick on you growing up. You knew the member felt the same.

So once Rafe finally reached the age where he found interest in girls he somehow was interested in you. And you only. It didn’t matter how many girls he brought over to make you Jealous as you and Sarah sat by the pool playing mermaids because it wasn’t you.

He knew you. Like really knew you. He didn’t want to know anyone else. The way girls would explain their interests to him made him realize he doesn’t want to start over and know someone else. Not when you were back at his house watching your favorite movie with Sarah for the 100th time.

“Hey Sarah” you spoke sitting down at the table. Sarah not even paying attention as she continues to talk to Topper. You knew you didn’t miss much of their conversation as they continued flirting with one another.

It took another second before Sarah and Topper left the table leaving you all alone. A sigh leaving your lips as you hated this feeling.

“Hey y/n we are going home are you spending the night at Sarah’s again?” You felt your mom tap you on the shoulder. You lift your head slightly to look up at her as you nod with a smile. You were too out of it to understand why she said till she was gone.

It took you a second before you desired to search for Sarah. Wobbling every step you take till you get inside. As much as you wanted to yell for her your voice wouldn’t let you. At this point, you would just walk home.

“Shhh” a hand came across your face covering your mouth as you were dragged into the long hallway.

“God damn it Rafe” you yelled pushing him away. A laugh filled the room. His laugh the laugh you loved so much it killed you.

“Come on you liked it” he Leander back on the other wall pushing his hair out of his face.

“No god your gonna give me a heart attack”

“Mhmm, your age? Definitely” his smile appeared on his face. How contagious it was it was now on yours. “What are you even still doing here?” He questioned as his shoe played with your leg. Both of your bodies are leaning on different sides of the hallway.

Everyone had left the party considering how late it was now. The sun went down an hour ago and so did the music for that matter.

“Waiting for your sister” you smiled playing with his foot.

“Yeah?” He smiles as both of your attention is on each other's feet. Tapping each other's shoes back and forth. You were too drunk to see how stupid this was but it was amusing. “Well I wouldn’t count on her for a ride” he paused for a minute. “She left with topper a while ago”

“Fuck” you yelled collapsing down the wall.

“You want me to take you home?” A smile on his face as he looked down at you on the floor.

Home! Like it was yours and his. How he loved when he said that. It only made him love it more when you didn’t correct him.

“Please” you beg.

“Come on” he pushes off the wall before grabbing your hands to lift you up. Following him to his truck.

Most of the cars had already left. The only people left were the employees or the drunk idiots whose ride left them. You were one of those drunken idiots.

Luckily Rafe stayed behind just for you. He told Topper to go for it with Sarah tonight hoping he would take his advices. Once he saw Topper and Sarah walking along the beach he knew he should stay a bit longer for you. And there you were in the hallway eating to be taken home.

“God damn Rafe” you yell squirming in your seat. “It’s so fucking hot in hear” you yell turning the heat down as it blew in your face. “It’s the middle of summer” you explain. Lifting your hair up to get some cold air on your neck.

“Sorry,” he said softly turning the heat down more. His eyes switched back and forth from you to the road. Eying your dress that had slid up your legs a little too much.

It was way too hot for you to care though much less notice. But Rafe noticed his eyes were on you the whole night why would he stop now.

“Fuck” he softly mumbled shifting in his seat as his pants grow tighter thinking about all the things he wanted to do to you right now.

How he wanted to fuck you right here in his dad's truck.

“What?” You questioned as he continued to shift in his seat. It wasn’t till he glanced down at his pants that your eyes followed his. He only looked for a second but you quickly caught on. He looked over at you as you just stared at him. You both kept quiet not saying anything.

It wasn’t till you leaned back letting your dress ride up your legs even more that Rafe broke.

“Fuck you need to stop doing that” Rafe leaned back in his seat as he gripes the steering wheel harder. You ignored him leaning back even more. “I swear to fucking god y/n I will fuck you right here if you don’t stop” he griped the steering wheel with his life trying so hard not to look over at you.

It wasn’t till Rafe had enough. You didn’t even move this time. Yet he was throbbing in his pants.

“Fuck this” he pulled over as you look at him confused.

“I didn’t even-“

“Shut up right now,” he said climbing into your seat. He leaned over the top of you fiddling with his pants before pulling them down. “God you make me so angry sometimes” he mutters to himself.

“Rafe” you look up at him.

“I said shut up” You let his hand feel up your thigh sliding your dress up more and more. “You’ve been teasing me all day baby” he breaths onto your neck leaving kisses all down. He pulls your underwear to the side enough for his index finger to slide down your folds slowly, collecting your arousal, “All needy for my cock, huh sweetheart?” He whispered against your ear, your hands gripping onto his bicep as he finger-teased

“God you're soaked”

“Mhmm... Rafe, we can't do this” You pull away.

“Please, baby... I'm hurting so bad right now. I need you.” he begs as his hands toy with your clit. He takes your silence as an answer as he moves his throbbing cock to your entrances.

“Rafe” you beg.

“Just the tip baby I won't go anymore I promise” he reasons with you as you nod in agreement.

He lines up his cock again slowly sliding in just the tip. It was killing him not to push into you. “Fuck baby” he begs. It doesn't take long before he pushes always into you bottoming out.

“Rafe stop!” you plead with him as your hands push his cheat away.

“I'm sorry baby, I'm sorry” he breathes out before pushing deeper into you. Your moans fill the truck. As your hands slowly lose power fall.

He thought about this moment forever. Having you all to himself. How he could use you however he wanted. He loves it. He loved you in every way.

“God I can't hold it anymore baby” he thrust harder into you as your hands grasp onto his back for support.

He needed you right now. He didn't care that he was in his dad's truck or the fact that he planned this all out. It was the only way he was going to keep you. And once he had you he wasn't going to let you go. Ever!

#rafe cameron fluff #rafe x reader #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron smut #obx fanfiction

[joyfulapostate]

Hey!

I was raised aetheist, and I never really realised how badly Christianity could screw people up. There were some people in my extended family who were religious, but it was always just this vague distant thing that existed on the periphary. The only times I entered churches were in a touristy way, and only then because my mum dragged me into them - I've always hated churches, they have bad vibes.

Then I met my best friend who was raised in a religious family, and they described a lot of the strange, disturbing rituals they would perform in church. Around the same time, I began watching a content creator who was raised in a religious family and was going through the process of reconciling their religious upbringing with their homosexuality.

Since then, I've been really fascinated by how this religion can screw people up and make people doubt their entire being. I think a lot about how on earth this one religion - or cult - from a city thousands of years ago became so persistent and all encompassing.

I was wondering, what do you know about the real-world history of the Christian religion and Jesus? One can assume that Jesus was a real person, but what are the details? Was he a cult leader? A rebel? Both? How did he make people believe he was a prohpet? Why did he make people believe he was a prophet? I'm fascinated by the real historical events that occurred to create such a long-lived ripple effect, but I'm cautious of researching "religious history" on my own because I don't know how to avoid the many dangerous people one would be likely to come across in that feild. Do you have any knowledge to share?

-🟪

My favorite biblical historian is Dr. Bart Ehrman (link to his website). He’s a former Christian, current agnostic which I think gives him a balanced view of biblical history. He talks about what it was like to believe in the Christian story, what it was like to figure out what is real and what isn’t, and what actual biblical scholarship should look like. His books helped me disentangle the complicated stories around Jesus and develop my own sense of scholarship.

Most historians believe that Jesus was a real person who existed around the same time and place as was claimed in the Bible. We have no eye witness testimony about anything Jesus said or did. All we have are copies of copies of legends that people wrote about him decades after his death. We have no real way of knowing what Jesus thought about himself or what he claimed to be.

That being said, we can try to understand the traditions of the stories told about Jesus. I’ve heard a lot of fundamentalists claim to be going back to the “early Christian church” but there were so, so many traditions that sprang up around the story of Jesus all believing different theologies. For example, early Christian mysticism is a weird, wild rabbit hole to go down if you’re ever curious. 

We can try to understand the man that Jesus was by looking at the stories told about him. These stories were based in apocalypticism under Roman rule: the belief that the end would come, but hey at least it would free people from Roman tyranny. Jesus was an apocalyptic preacher whose death caused shockwaves of grief among his followers. I do believe that he made promises about the coming kingdom and when those promises were suddenly impossible after he was killed by his government, his followers found a way to make those promises relevant again in their own minds.

I find this stuff interesting, but I really wish that this specific history didn’t affect people’s lives in the modern world. I wish it were just a weird history niche instead of a direct threat to people’s wellbeing. Being hesitant to research biblical history makes sense. There’s a lot of nonsense out there to dig through and it can be exhausting. Take care of yourself first. Biblical history is not as important as your wellbeing. But if you do enjoy researching, have at it! Find people that you respect, hold on to ideas loosely so you critically evaluate them, and be ready to take a break if you burn out. 

#exchristian #asks

[catb-fics]

Forbidden Part 1

I have so many parts to post before I can get up to date with this story! Student/Professor AU. Cliché as fuck I know but it has been so much fun to write 🖤

Words: 2.2k

Warnings: None really for this part… just Van’s skin tight jeans 🤭

Story Masterlist Main Masterlist

"Remember the coursework's due in on Friday. The deadline's 2pm. I won't be accepting any excuses."

You feel your heart sink at your lecturer's words. You'd barely even cobbled together enough material to write a 1000 word report, let alone the mammoth 6000 word essay that needed to be submitted. And it definitely needed to be submitted. You were barely scraping through as it was, teetering on the edge of failure. Another unsatisfactory module mark and your chances of progressing on to the second year were looking pretty bleak.

It's not that you couldn't cope with the content of the BA History course you'd joined the previous year in September. You were certainly bright enough. In fact with your A Level grades you had probably sold yourself short in picking your current university. You'd not chosen it on its academic merits or league table rankings though, you'd blindly followed your boyfriend there who'd bagged himself a full sports scholarship playing football whilst studying Sports Science. What you hadn't banked on was finding him in a compromising position with the student coach of the ladies volleyball team only a month into the first semester.

Things had swiftly gone downhill from there. All of a sudden poring over textbooks in the evening was replaced with downing shots in the Students Union bar. You told yourself you were having fun, you were only young once, it was just the first term, you had plenty of time to buckle down and better your weak grades after Christmas, but unfortunately your first semester exam marks were a harsh wake up call. If you didn't pull your socks up you'd be out of the course and off campus by the time early summer rolled around. And then Professor McCann came on to the scene...

Professor Ryan Evan McCann or 'Van' as he urged the students to call him was a recent addition to the Faculty staff. Fresh from his PhD studies and eager to teach, he'd fast become a firm favourite amongst both staff and students alike. He was friendly, enthusiastic and always took the time to explain the course content thoroughly. But it wasn't just his engaging teaching style which saw his module fast oversubscribed with keen students. He was drop dead gorgeous, and the flurry of excited whispers that had flowed around the lecture theatre when he'd stepped up to the lectern to deliver a short introduction on semester two options day had less to do with real excitement for the subject, and more to do with the tightness of his skinny jeans and his piercing blue eyes. You could practically hear the collective sigh from most of the females in the room... and a few of the males too.

And now here you were, three weeks into the term, your self-made promises of turning over a new leaf looking more and more like empty vows as night after night you ventured out rather than taking your studies seriously. Not even the thought of impressing your attractive professor was enough to tempt you away from two-for-one cocktails at the Union club nights.

In fact he'd been the main reason you'd been out until two in the morning the night before. It had started innocently enough. Loud cheers and cheeky remarks as the usual gang of revellers from your hall of residence had spotted Van and a male colleague enjoying a quiet early evening pint in the corner of a bar in the town centre. You'd struck up banter backwards and forwards across the room until Van had caved and agreed to join you all at the next bar in your planned pub crawl. Pint after pint had been sunk, and soon enough it was impossible to tell exactly who the responsible adult was. You'd all seen another side to Professor McCann, a fun, reckless, impulsive side which only served to make him all the more attractive. If only you'd not had that last cocktail you probably would have been able to restrain yourself.

You cringed internally as you recalled bumping into him as he was coming out of the toilets at the nightclub you'd ended up at. How you'd grabbed the lapels of his shirt and backed him into the wall of the narrow corridor, showering him with compliments which he'd awkwardly rebuffed. If you'd left it at that you probably could have laughed it off, kept your head down for a few lectures and there would have been no harm done, but you hadn't. Spurred on by your drunken state and your worries about flunking the course, you did something bad. Something you weren't going to recover from with a flushed face and an awkward apology.

You'd propositioned him.

One hand flat against the wall, the other toying with his belt buckle before slipping down to firmly caress between his legs as he looked back at you wide-eyed and disbelievingly.

"So... Sir," you'd slurred, voice thick with inebriation. "Is there anything I can do to help me pass your module this semester?"

You'd seen a spark of something in his eyes, but it was only fleeting. He'd quickly recovered, firmly pushing you back, hands on your shoulders, spinning you around so you were now the one against the wall.

"Y/N... you're drunk," he'd stated. "I'd think very carefully about your next actions if I were you or you're going to get yourself into a situation that's beyond your control."

"Ooh... d'ya like being in control then?" You'd giggled, pouting suggestively, reaching for him again.

He'd grabbed your wrists, hard, his grip firm as he pushed them back against the wall. "I mean it. Don't make me do something I'll regret."

His eyes flashed dangerously, boring into you for a long moment before he pushed himself back from the wall, releasing you and then stepping away, muttering that he was leaving.

You let him go.

It was supposed to be a warning, a show of his authority to deter you, but it didn't have the desired effect. In fact it did the exact opposite, and as you stumbled home and into bed that night all you could think of was his hands on your wrists, pinning you back against the wall. How it would feel if his lips had met yours and his body had pressed against you.

You fell asleep that night full of thoughts of him running through your head and woke up just hours later, hungover and restless, your head pounding.

"Come on Y/N, you've got a 9 o' clock lecture. You can't be late again."

Your best friend and room-mate Lizzie had appeared at your bedside, holding a glass of water in one hand and a couple of paracetamol in her other open palm. You'd raised your head stiffly, blinking at the harsh sunlight and groaning before sinking your head back down into your pillow face-first.

"Y/N!" she'd grumbled, louder this time. "Hangover or not, you're gonna be in so much trouble if you don't go to McCann's lecture."

The sound of his name reverberated around your head, bringing to mind images of you blatantly  throwing yourself at him the previous night. You considered just pulling the covers up over your head and blocking out the day, but you knew Lizzie was right. If Van decided to fail you then you were out, no second chances. If you even still had a place on the course after your shameful behaviour.

You'd grudgingly dragged yourself out of bed, dutifully swallowing the painkillers and the entire glass of water, then slunk off to the shower.

You'd kept your head down, quite literally, for the whole of your two hour lecture. If it had been any other academic up there presenting the material you would surely have dozed off by now, but you weren't going to miss a second of Van. It captivated you how he commanded every student's attention, his obvious enthusiasm shining through as he animatedly delivered the lecture. And what's more, despite being out until the early hours on a brutal pub crawl like you were, he didn't look hungover at all. In fact he looked fresh as a daisy and even more devastatingly handsome than normal. How the fuck did he even do that?

"Remember the coursework's due in on Friday. The deadline's 2pm. I won't be accepting any excuses."

So here you are, fuzzy-headed and shame-faced, trying to keep your head down as you merge into the steady stream of students as they file out of the lecture room. A sigh of relief is waiting with the big inhale you've taken as you step past Van, eyes fixed firmly on the carpet as you notice his boots in your peripheral vision. You’re nearly there, the threshold of the doorway just inches away...

"Y/N... I'd like a word please."

It isn’t a question. You don’t have a choice. You stop in your tracks, letting the remaining students slip past you, waiting until the last one walks through the exit and the door’s closed behind them.

It’s quiet in the room, stiflingly so, and it makes your heart pound with a raw kind of nervousness as you turn slowly, eventually looking up at Van as you come to a stop facing him.

You’re expecting him to look stern and disappointed in you, a disapproving glare to show that you've let him and yourself down, so when you clock the slight smirk simmering at the edge of his lips you’re taken aback. Your cheeks flush a deep shade of scarlet as he holds you locked in his gaze.

"How's the head?"

You giggle girlishly, overcome with a shyness that doesn’t usually afflict you, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. "Oh, it's... errr... it's... I've been better I suppose... Look... about last night..."

You tail off, see his eyebrows raise expectantly as he cocks his head to look at you, his smirk widening. He knows you’re mortified and he’s thoroughly enjoying this. This is how he’s going to punish you, but you deserve to squirm. You suppose a touch of humiliation is a small price to pay for your actions. Especially as trying to bribe your way into an academic's pants to get an honours degree is grounds for an instant expulsion.

You carry on awkwardly, stumbling over your words, tongue-tied and pathetic. "I'm... really sorry. I was just... drunk... I... errr... I didn't really mean it."

"So what did you mean Y/N? Do you want to enlighten me?"

He takes a step towards you and you counter it, then another and another and then you feel your back hit the wall. You take a deep breath, holding it, your mind scrambling for a fitting response.

"I just... I... I don't know..."

"You thought you'd just suck my cock and I'd award you a First? Is that it?"

This hits you like a slap in the face and you let your exhale go quickly, your mouth falling agape.

It’s the way he says it, matter-of-factly like you’re discussing a mundane topic and not a sexual act in payment for your success. He isn’t flustered in the slightest, in fact he looks calm and collected. In control. It makes your heart race and that wild, wayward part of you come to life. The part that takes chances and doesn’t conform.

You look at him right back, a challenge you aren’t backing down from.

"And what if I was? What then?"

A spark lights in his eyes and he isn’t hiding it this time, it simmers there with a tension that you feel in every fibre of your being as your nerve endings bristle with electricity.

"Well... I couldn't just leave it ignored. You'd need to be punished of course."

His words light a fire between your legs as a dark part of you stirs and comes to life. Your pulse races and your breathing deepens.

"Van..." you begin, but your words don't come.

They catch in your throat as he leans in, one hand flat on the wall and the other rising up, two of his fingers trailing gently down your jaw. You swallow deeply, anticipation thick in the air as his fingers come to rest on your chin, tipping your head back so you have no choice but to look up at him.

"It's not Van to you, it's Sir... You got that?"

"Yes... Sir..."

It comes out like a whisper, breathy and full of desire. His lips curl up into a devilish smile as he looks down on you. There’s a long moment where you just look at each other, your heart thudding hard in your chest, your fingers twitching at your sides as you long to reach out for him, tangle your fingers in his hair, grasp at his hips as you push your own against him. Anything... anything to satisfy the ache between your thighs.

But it isn’t happening. He steps back, eyes still on you as he backs up, watching you carefully.

"Don't be late for my lecture tomorrow... or there will be consequences."

Then you watch as he turns and walks away, pushing through the door without so much as a look behind him, leaving you there breathless and wanting, coiled tightly like a spring.

#forbidden #catfish and the bottlemen #van mccann #van mccann x reader #au fanfic #vanfic

[nerdylike]

Bittersweet Goodbyes / Roseblings

With Gemini and FWhip Tay’s parents ruling over Grimlands, the twins have always been together for as long as they can remember.

Even though Gem was the “rightful” heir according to the law, she knew their parents wanted FWhip as their heir. One of the reasons for FWhip being preferred as heir is the fact that he loved Grimlands, from its landscape to its fishy animals. Gem, on the other hand, loved the greenery and magic.

Though that’s also due to Gem telling her parents that she would not give up learning magic. Ever since, the two parents were strict on Gem, for Grimlands never really liked magic. That leads them to many arguments until one heated argument finally hits both the parents to kick Gem out of the mansion.

“Gem, wait! Maybe I can still talk to them about not getting you kicked out.” FWhip followed Gem as they entered their room.

“FWhip, you heard our parents, I’m being kicked out and given the time to pack and say goodbyes.” Gem quickly kneels down to grab something under her purple and white bed.

“Gem, please, I know I can convince them otherwise, so let’s go down and talk with them again.” FWhip tries to persuade Gem.

Gem sighed as she pulls out a green bag under her bed, “FWhip, I’m so, so sorry. I don’t want to leave you but I have no choice. Besides, you knew I was planning on leaving at night had they not kicked me out earlier.”

“Then let me come with you!” FWhip volunteered, becoming more desperate.

“FWhip, no, our parents won’t and I don’t want to be blamed for ‘dragging’ you with me, plus, what will you be doing while I study magic?” Gem reasoned, opening the cabinet to get more of her clothes.

“I can study how to make better inventions-”

“The best education for those is here, FWhip, in Grimlands. They’re offering a scholarship for you here. Your future is better here. Plus, we’ll have to work on part-time jobs and I won’t be able to be there when you get into trouble.” Gem turned around to face FWhip, cutting him off mid-sentence.

As Gem grabbed some clothes and shoves it down her bag, FWhip looks down as he ran his hands to his hair, “I don’t want to lose you, Gem” he mumbled.

Gem paused. She knew FWhip overheard her when she plans on leaving. She also knew he would try to stop her if she attempted to leave.

That’s the only reason Gem never attempted to leave in the first place. She wouldn’t bring herself to face FWhip, no matter how much she planned. Even if she avoided him, she knew she wouldn’t forgive herself for not even saying goodbye to his twin brother.

She already finds leaving hard enough. She never considered that being kicked out and FWhip begging her to stay is harder.

Gem turned around, her heart being crushed as she saw FWhip’s eyes begin to water, “FWhip…” she whispered.

“Gem, please… don’t leave me. I don’t- I wouldn’t even know what the first thing to do-”

“FWhip. I’m sorry, truly I am. But you know I’ll never cooperate with our parents, not if it meant pushing down my passion or my abilities.” Gem apologized.

FWhip closed his hands, shaking, he knew Gem is right. He’s seen the happiness and wonder the day that Gem discovered she has more magic abilities, that she can study magic spells.

“I’ll write to you, every time I’m in a new place, what happened to me while I’m studying, I’ll even tell you the inventors I met along the way. I promised you, FWhip, you won’t lose me.” Gem stepped closer to him.

FWhip felt something being wrapped around his neck. He opened his eyes to see a red scarf. He looked up at Gem, bewildered.

“Gem, but this is- This is your favorite scarf knitted by Grandma. I’m not-”

“I told you, you wouldn’t lose me, right? You see, you definitely won’t lose me.” Gem sadly smile.

“Ok, fine,” FWhip gave up, “just… promise me you’ll stay safe, and no lover without my permission.” FWhip joked on the last part, sort of.

Gem chuckled, “Y’know I’ll only be studying, right?”

“Yeah, I just want to make sure we’re clear on that.” FWhip elaborated.

Gem saw what FWhip was trying to do and decides to tease him, “Aw… is my little brother worried about me?”

“Of course, I’d be worried and it’s by four minutes, Gem! Four!” FWhip admits.

“At least I’m older than you.”

“At least I don’t wear big hats!”

“They’re not that big, you know that!”

The two stared at each other and laughed at their banter.

FWhip moved to hug Gem, which Gem obliged immediately, hugging him harder.

“I’m gonna miss you Gem…”

“I’m going to miss you too, FWhip.”

The two stayed like that for a while. Comfortable with the silence.

Knock, knock…

“Lady Gemini Tay, your parents are getting impatient. Sir FWhip Tay, you will be late for your private lessons with xxxxxxxxx.”

“Goodbye Gem…”

“Goodbye FWhip.”

The two pulled away from each other and went out of their room. It will be many years until they see each other again but they’re both willing to wait.

#empires fwhip #fanfic #empires jimmy #empires lizzie #empires au #empires gem #empires katherine #empires s1 #empires shubble #empires smp #empires sausage #empires scott #esmp #esmp s1 #empires joel #empires joey #empires pixl #roseblings #light angst #wizard gem #count fwhip #nature wives #flower husbands #empires s2 #esmp 2 #esmp gem #esmp 1 #esmp fwhip #wither rose siblings #wither rose alliance

[jabbage]

#Letters from Watson #lettersfromwatson

[augment-techs]

Do you have hc/thoughts of a teen Skull trying to raise spike?

....yes, but you'll have to forgive me if I go a little...incoherent in writing them down. Especially most of my thoughts are on the possibility of what could happen in the comics, with only a little of the live action as optional. *ahem* I (and a happy few) are of the opinion that it is a much better option in that Skull did not get some girl pregnant and find Spike on his doorstep after Bulk left for the colonies, after Skull had gotten a steady job with employment. That would be too easy and...so boring. I like to think that, at sixteen/seventeen, when Rita and Zedd were still about and being total assholes, Rita decided to be especially sick and experiment on humans in an effort to get stronger Putties. Guess who got picked for the experiment? In the aftermath of what was probably the most painful birth in Earth's history (though this was in the palace on the moon, I might add; with no anesthesia and no help), Skull woke up to find himself in a medical room in Grace Sterling's Promethea, completely wired to about fifteen machines to make sure he didn't have a seizure or start coughing up blood. Liquids and medication and supplements pumped into him every hour, and the promise of multiple surgeries in the days, weeks, even months to come--including a transitional one for his genitals because of the mutilation he went through just to have the tiny, two pound infant in the incubator right next to Skull's bed. I should like to think that this took place when all of the original Rangers were still around; Billy Cranston and Kimberly Hart especially. Billy having totally freaked out when Skull was brought in with almost all of his color gone and a tiny infant that switched back and forth between a human and a putty form; Kim having a level head and going to give the infant contact and comfort while Skull flatlined and had to be brought back twice in twenty-four hours.  Bulk would be in that weird in-between of being worried for his best friend, anxious about the baby, and ready to burn down heaven if it meant he could slaughter Rita Repulsa himself. But when Kim put the baby in his arms, it was something that put all the fire out in him, because Skull was both mother and father to this tiny little one. And when it settled on a human visage, it looked so much like pictures of Skull that Bulk almost cried. Now, because there were so many people in the know about this, it was slightly easier to take care of little Spike, because it takes a village after all.  But Skull still got kicked out of his house by his mother when she was told what the infant was and where it came from. His older brother tried to reason with her, but he had already moved out and didn’t have a key to even help Skull take things out of his room, and couldn’t even offer a place to stay as he only had a one-room apartment where the kitchen and the bathroom were in the same corner. So he flip-flopped, staying for short stints in other people’s houses, on sofas, looking for a job, trying to finish high school, trying to get scholarships, and all the while being without medication for his anxiety and post-partum depression. Oh, and since Spike is an alien, he has a few alien additions to himself that I think would be interesting. He’s part Putty, but he can only change into other animals or beings from other worlds--he CANNOT turn into other people. And when he changes form, he’s bound by it; he can speak in animal form, but very badly. And each transformation takes energy, like exercise.  He started being able to change at about a month old, and had more intelligence and knowing than a normal human--like a human being if gestation to ACTUAL full term was plausible without killing the parent carrying them. Also, Skull started lactating because of the stress and hormones and being emaciated from the birth and suffering one of the side-effects of regaining the weight, so Spike was breastfed like so many medical experts say babies should be. (IT HURT A LOT.) Skull got lucky and became popular in music circles in producing off-the-cuff soundtrack pieces for commercials that snowballed into his own works after moving in with Billy and becoming close. Spike didn’t really care that his two daddies never got married. In fact, he was a little annoyed when all four of his closest uncles (Stan, Bulk, David, and Tommy) all had wedding ceremonies that he had to go to, being the ring bearer in ALL of them by the time he was seven.  He takes his position as oldest cousin (dear lord, how many cousins he has through the Power Ranger generations is ASTOUNDING) very seriously, even if he is still a huge clown most of the time. He’s the one who J.J. came out to as trans first, when the little guy was just eight, and Spike almost decked Grandma Oliver when she said J.J. was too young to decide such a thing. He also almost throttled the woman when Tommy and Kat had J.J. diagnosed on the autistic spectrum and she said he should go to a therapist to be fixed, too; so though he was held back, none of the adults that mattered ever gave him a hard time about it. Skull adores his son and has never done anything to stunt his growth or make him believe he’s unwanted, but there were hard time, too. The after-effects of the pregnancy--traumatic as that already was--left him with the insistence of the doctors and scientists who worked on him to visit them at least twice a year, with varying results each visit. Many scientists that would go on working with other Ranger teams--Hayley, Fairweather, Kendall, Billy himself--would all remain professional and rather loving around him, considerate over his and Spike’s needs, but there was always new blood that saw them as little more than lab rats. And that often left Skull feeling worse than when he went in for a check-up. Then when Spike turned sixteen, Skull had him go train with Bulk in Panorama City, stating that he needed a little time to work on new material, but in actually he got sick with something unknown that caused multi-system organ deterioration. Billy was his rock through all the tests and surgeries and trial runs of alien medications the Blue Ranger picked up, and Skull did heal by the time whatever was happening with the Samurai Rangers ran its course, but he never did tell Spike about how close he came to almost dying in those two years. Billy swore never to tell him, either. Something akin to actual wedding vows: they would never do anything to scare the people they love most. ...And they would also scare off the first few relationships their son brought home. Mia was a nice girl, but clearly working through some things and using Spike as a test run. That gamer duo who were friends of the Samurai Green Ranger were friendly and considerate, but gave Skull high school flashbacks. And they were all quietly in the know that dating Jayden Shiba was just Spike’s way of trying to help the poor idiot realize his true feelings for Antonio; romance was never an option. Sometimes Skull feels worried that his son will never find someone good enough for himself, but Billy is constantly there to reassure him, “Hey, there are infinite worlds out there. Anything’s possible.” Also, Spike cannot become a Power Ranger because of the magic residue from Rita’s machinations still cloying to his genetics, but the Grid does see him as worthy enough to use as an aid from time to time. Usually Orange, but sometimes Gold and Bronze, too.

#ask fill #prompt fill #headcanons #Pulling Gold From Saffron #A Glimmer of Excellence #shadows of previous works cited #boom! comics power rangers #mmpr #ggpr #Mighty Morphin Comics #go go power rangers comic #power rangers samurai #spike skullovitch #eugene skull skullovitch #billy cranston

[bazwillendinflames]

Playlist Please

Prequel to Second Chances | Read on AO3

Kaitlyn was nearly out of options. She could become a one woman show, or she could give whoever the hell Dylan Lenivy was a chance. 

After two years of co-hosting their morning show together, Jacob is forced to drop out and Kaitlyn has only a fortnight to find her new co-host. Her best option comes from an unlikely source - a talkative freshman who submits a playlist.

How Dylan and Kaitlyn end up working together.

“Ouch.” 

“You can’t be serious. You're quitting asshole?”

Jacob rubbed his shoulder, where Kaitlyn had punched him at the news. “I knew I should have told you over the phone.” 

“You love doing our show,” Kaitlyn said. “This was your idea.” 

Jacob at least had the decency to look guilty about it. “I know. And it has been fun, really. But the Bears need me.”

“You’re ditching me for football?” Kaitlyn asked. “Are you for real?” 

“I’m on a sports scholarship. Our coach moved practice to mornings. I can’t be in two places at once,” Jacob explained. 

“Why didn’t you open with that?” She asked, her annoyance already fading a little. 

“Maybe you can take a break too. Sleep in. Let some new dynamic duo take over.” 

Kaitlyn crossed her arms. “No fucking way.” 

Hosting the radio show had been Jacob’s idea but it was her baby. For the last two years she had woken up and dragged her ass to the edge of campus where the radio station was located and poured hours into planning, recording and updating the show.

Years of walking up at five in the morning to help out at her parents car shop had prepared her for the morning shift, seven till eleven. The later shifts were covered by a mix of students doing mechanics or communication projects, or special guests, but only she and Jacob had stayed as permanent fixtures. 

Until now. 

“I’ll help you find someone new,” Jacob promised. “And there’s two weeks until football season starts, I’ll stick with you until then.” 

Kaitlyn grinned. “Okay. Thanks. But no lame ass freshman. I’m not babysitting.” 

   Only freshmen applied. Worse, only four freshmen applied. 

Things weren’t looking good. Kaitlyn was halfway through her own degree, majoring in engineering, so she understood that other juniors would be busy - seniors and post-grads especially. But it wasn’t a good turnout. 

It made her feel a little miserable, watching fresh faced eighteen year olds in shiny new clothes talk about their dreams of being a big DJ. 

Kaitlyn had been in their position once too. Two days before her big move she had cut her hair. Back then she had planned to major in film. (Kaitlyn had kept the short hair, adding a buzzed undercut and nose ring, but she had loved her engineering courses so much she stuck with it, much to her parents' joy.) 

Even after interviewing all the options, Kaitlyn found herself no closer to finding her new co-host. The freshmen had been excited at the idea of being a cool DJ but the reality - an old building without AC, early hours, the tiny recording booth - hadn’t been as glamorous. 

None of them had the right spark, no easy banter. Kaitlyn and Jacob had been friends since before they could talk, they’d grown up on the same street, been in the same elementary, middle and high school. He was basically a brother to her. (Minus the part where he had her first kiss at twelve. And the time they made out at the prom after party after too many cheap beers. Both memories that she had tried her best to repress.) 

So when Kaitlyn received the last application - handwritten in chicken scratch, submitted two days late and another fucking freshman - her hopes weren’t very high. 

Still, she was nearly out of options. Kaitlyn could become a one woman show, or she could give whoever the hell Dylan Lenivy was a chance. 

   The first thing Kaitlyn noticed about Dylan was the bright pink cast on his left arm. The second thing was he never seemed to shut up. 

“-and that’s why I’ve sworn off truth and dare.” Dylan’s brain seemed to finally register her unimpressed expression. “Uh, what did you ask again?” 

“What happened to your arm?” 

“Oh right. So that graduation party I was talking about. There was an empty pool in the yard and I fell in.” 

“Oh so you can tell a short story,” Kaitlyn said, smirking. 

“Okay rude. Sometimes the story is better than the answer.” Dylan rolled his eyes. “Do I get to ask you a question?” 

“I’m interviewing you,” Kaitlyn replied. “But maybe after, if you’re well behaved.” 

“Oh, so never?” Dylan quipped. 

“Glad we’re on the same page,” she said. “What made you want to apply?” 

Kaitlyn was expecting another story about lifelong dreams to become a DJ or something. But Dylan was surprisingly sincere. 

“Uh, nostalgic I guess,” he said. “I went to summer camp as a kid and they had a whole broadcast system. We used to carry around our own little radios so we got to listen at any point around the camp. I was fascinated by how it worked so I badgered the counselor who ran it everyday with my questions. I also had a big ol’ crush on her, which didn’t go anywhere because I was nine. But mostly it was the science of it that I was into.” 

“Huh.” Kaitlyn took a moment to process. “You’re into tech stuff then?” 

He leaned forward. “I know it’s a hosting job. But I’d love to poke around at all this broadcasting stuff. Um, not literally. I won’t press any buttons I’m not supposed to.” 

Kaitlyn grinned. “Okay. Do you mind the early hours? You’ll have to be in at half six at the latest.” 

Dylan pulled the same face as the rest of her interviewees. “What time does the on campus cafe open?” 

“Six.” 

He nodded. “Oh for sure then. I’m a STEM student, I can survive on coffee and power naps for days.” 

“We have a coffee maker too, but she’s older than half of this broadcasting equipment.” Kaitlyn couldn’t tell if the radio station had no funding or if Mr H was just a hoarder. All the old VHS tapes in his office suggested the latter. 

“Is it good?” 

“It’s free coffee,” she replied dryly. 

“Ah the magic words.” Dylan leaned forward. “Did you look at my playlist? That was my question from earlier.” 

“No?” 

His hopeful expression dropped. “Really? I wrote it on the back of my application. It’s the perfect mix of nostalgia, high energy dance vibes and modern classics for helping you feel alive at seven am.” 

Kaitlyn rooted through her tote bag, pulling out the folder of applications. She flipped over Dylan’s. He had written a list of a dozen songs, from David Bowie to Tessa Violet, each carefully annotated. 

“You really worked hard on this,” she noted. “You set your own homework nerd.” 

“Yeah. I couldn’t believe you didn’t ask for song suggestions. That’s the best way to see into someone’s soul.” 

Kaitlyn looked over the crumpled paper to Dylan. He was right - the list of songs told her more about him than anything else. The messy hair, the creased band shirt, the cast, the jokes were clues, but the music was revealing. He shifted under her gaze. 

“Are you free to start Monday?” 

   Dylan arrived at exactly half six, balancing an iced coffee covered in caramel syrup and whipped cream awkwardly against his chest with his broken arm. Kaitlyn had gotten her coffee from the machine and was drinking it black but she still felt a little jealous. 

“I know, I know. I’ll brush my teeth after,” he joked. 

Dylan looked around for somewhere to put his stuff down and eventually settled on throwing his jacket and backpack on the floor so he could give his coffee his full attention. 

“You didn’t brush your teeth before?” Kaitlyn wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Don’t lie. That booth is small enough I’ll know.” 

“You didn’t mention that on the job listing.” 

“Didn’t want to be mobbed,” she joked. 

“Yeah lucky me,” Dylan said, with an overly exaggerated wink. “I’m not hitting on you,” he back-pedalled quickly, “uh sometimes people think I am, because I’m kinda intense.” 

“Relax,” Kaitlyn said. “Don’t worry, if you get too close, I’ll let you know.” 

“Ominous threat, great work place environment.” 

“Come on, take your dessert and I’ll show you around,” Kaitlyn said. “And there'll be more threats to come, by the way. It’s my love language.” 

Dylan grinned. “Yes ma’am.” 

   Kaitlyn was catching up with Jacob over smoothies. His was full of protein powder shit and bright green: she could smell the spinach from across the table. She had stuck to a classic strawberry and banana combo. 

“I caught the end of your show yesterday.” 

“Oh yeah. What do you think?” 

“You guys are good!” Jacob said, in his usual overly excitable, puppy-like way. “I didn’t think anyone could keep up with you. But this Dylan guy manages.” 

“Yeah. He’s pretty witty. Dude has bad puns for days.” 

“I feel less bad for ditching you now.” 

Kaitlyn punched his arm again, for old times sake. “Nope. You should still feel bad.”

Jacob pouted. “Ouch. Okay. I take it back, I still feel bad. Are you happy?” 

Kaitlyn sipped her drink. “Yeah. Music to my ears.” 

“You’re kind of a mean person.” 

“Absolutely.” She grinned at him. “But you’re right. Dylan and I are kinda the dream team. He even managed to fix the coffee machine.” 

“Old Aggie?” Jacob asked. “I kinda miss her funky coffee.” 

“Not so funky anymore. Turns out Mr H hadn’t been changing the filters.” 

“Gross,” Jacob said. “Look at you, super into a freshman, cradle snatcher.” 

“What?” 

He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. Or at least tried too. “Come on Kait. You two have great chemistry, he fixed Aggie for you, all the love songs.” 

Kaitlyn shook her head. “Okay no. You try to find a song that isn’t romantic. We’re friends. And I’m not dating any fucking freshmen. That’s just gross.” 

“Fine.” 

She stirred her drink. “Anyway, Dylan had this whole dream scenario where the love of his life will be listening. Like if he plays the right niche indie song, they’ll realise and call in and declare their love for him.” 

Jacob laughed. “Ah, the sweet the innocence of youth.” 

“You were just as bad with Emma,” Kaitlyn reminded him. “You started playing Taylor Swift the day you met her.” 

Jacob groaned. “Okay, let that one go.” 

“Never,” she said sweetly. “I’ll let Dylan keep daydreaming.” 

“You’re a softie.”

“I’m a good friend.” 

“Just not to me,” Jacob grinned and they laughed. 

#the quarry #kaitlyn ka #jacob custos #dylan lenivy #the quarry fic

[spogwam]

Professional Development 3 - Further Master's Research

I am continuing my research into Master’s course at other universities, and based on current rankings, am looking at degrees at Strathclyde University. Strathclyde offer the highest ranked Business and Management Master’s course at their prestigious Business school in Glasgow. This course is another one-year postgraduate course for uptake in September, and they welcome applicants from any previous BA (Hons) course at a minimum of a 2:1. Unlike other universities, this course is designed for students without business degrees already, which is ideal for me. The course is accredited by the Association of MBAs (AMBA) as a Pre-Experience Masters in Management. It has the benefit of only requiring a degree for entry, not practical experience as a manager, which is what Pre-Experience means. The business school is triple accredited, also accredited by EQUIS and AACSB.

Strathclyde is a great Uni, my brother and pals have studied there, and it seems very good, having won The Awards for UK University of the year in 2019 (for the second time). The most problematic aspect of this course the cost, which is high at £16650. I do believe that this cost is justified given the accreditation of the course, but presents some problems with feasibility. Given the high cost of this course, I would have to apply for support from SAAS, likely to cover both tuition fees and living costs. I have done my due diligence in researching this possibility, and SAAS would be able to cover the costs for a postgraduate diploma that takes up to one year to complete.

This seems promising, but I am not counting my chickens yet. The maximum amount coverable by SAAS for postgraduate single year tuition fees is £7000, meaning I would still need to find a way to cover the remaining £9650 with other funding and likely, partly cover it myself. This is not impossible, but I’d almost certainly require funding from somewhere to be successful in applying. I’ve asked my brother, who studies a postgraduate Master’s at Strathclyde, where he received funding from. He told me his course cost much less than the business one, and so he didn’t require any additional funding. I’ve also reached out to Strathclyde to ask them if they know of any bursaries or loans that could potentially help me with this option. I’ll relay any updates here on my blog with this option.

Moving on to the National Film and Television School, I attended the NFTS Screenwriting course online open day on the 23rd of March this year. This course looks truly amazing, and has a long history of producing outstanding writers for film, television, animation and games. The course also allows students to see their writing adapted in production. The writer of Sex Education, The Woman In The Wall, The Good Nurse, Grace, Redemption, Casualty and Noughts and Crosses all studied this course, making it a clear stepping stone into industry writing. The course leader Brian Ward has many years’ experience as a screenwriter in Film and TV. Course leader and visiting tutor Tammy Riley-Smith and Angeli Macfarlane are also experienced writes with many credits to their names.

I’ve viewed the student showcase for this course and they look exceptional and professional, including lots of animated films as well as live action. I think my favourite I’ve seen is the trailer for City of Lost Children, a near future thriller set in a refugee camp for kids in the UK. The course is for entry in January of next year, with an application deadline on the 9th of May 2024. This is a nearby deadline, and I intend to start working on my application as soon as possible. The UK tuition fees for this course are £14800 per year, but they have much funding available. The NFTS are proud to award more scholarships and bursaries to British students relative to size than almost any other educational institution in the UK, with approximately £1.5M awarded in grants in total. If a student is successful in applying for this course, you will be contacted by a funding team with details on how to apply for one of these scholarships. They have a comprehensive funding guide, including details of potential scholarships ranging from £1000 to £12000.

The course is 2 years long and study will take place in Beaconsfield, London. This would definitely be a welcome change of pace for me, but appears to be the best possible option for a Master’s degree. I hope that Napier and NFTS’s shared connection to Screenskills would bolster an application to study here. According to the website, this course covers all aspects of screenwriting across film, television, games and animation, in different forms and genres, from the development of ideas, treatments and bibles, through the drafting of scripts, into production and post, and you’ll receive comprehensive preparation for the professional world of the screenwriter.

Written work will be workshopped by professional directors and actors, and samples of work will be read by literary agents, broadcasters, commissioners and film and television production companies, in advance of a round of industry meetings in your final term where you can pitch your ideas directly to the industry. In terms of industry access, this seems to be the most strong course for entry into a competitive field. Entry requirements for this course are surprisingly open ended, with a strong portfolio, alternative qualifications, or a creative track record the equivalent of a degree from a British university. I feel I cover many of these bases, as I feel my creative portfolio is strong, and I have multiple qualifications in both filmmaking and screenwriting outside of this course. However, this means that a degree is not prioritised by this university for entry, giving an admissions team much more flexibility in terms of accepting applicants. This could either be a detriment or a strength; as more of an all-rounder, I may not have a body of written work as comprehensive as other applicants, as I’ve had to adapt to role requirements throughout the duration of the BA Film course.

Accompanying an application here should be an original screenplay of 12 pages in length. For this requirement, I would confidently attach my latest draft of my Graduate film script (which sadly was not adapted this year), entitled In the Breeks. This is my strongest and most personal script to date, following problems faced by youth in a drug afflicted rural town in the Highlands of Scotland. I would also need to attach a one page synopsis, which I already have drafted for a previous pitch, so this is achievable. I’m excited to apply for this course and compile this application, and will include a drafted application in my completed portfolio.

Another course of interest to me at NFTS is the Creative Business Masters course, another two year programme offered by this university. The name alone signifies exactly what I am looking for in terms of blending my creative and business skills as a career. This course claims that you will learn from players across the creative industries and build a lifelong network of contacts to help grow your business. The course covers the business and creative dynamics of seven areas – film, TV, games, theatre, publishing, digital content and music. You’ll learn about market analysis, negotiation skills, and learn how to make a business plan, with the personal and professional tools needed to set up and run your own business in the entertainment industry.

Completing this course would put me in good steading were I to return to Edinburgh to start a production company, as I’d leave with a fully worked-through business proposal or plan that has been taken to investors, partners and has been mentored by a dynamic business leader in the field. The caveats for this option pose a bigger challenge, as the requirements for entry include entrepreneurship, or current involvement in the development of an existing business. This is something I am currently lacking, but could potentially demonstrate by the time it comes to the application deadline on the 4th of July this year. This grants me a more relaxed window to craft a strong application. I would say I am better qualified for the Screenwriting Masters, but having recently produced the graduate project Under the Gorse, I would still have plenty of work to support my application. On this film project, we shot using 16mm film and worked with child actors, presenting a unique set of challenges to overcome and constant pragmatism in problem solving, much of which would be useful to discuss in my application.

My current work in marketing the Crowdfunder for Under the Gorse could also prove useful in bolstering my application for this course. Graduates form this course have seen much success, producing films like Jojo Rabbit, producing the Cannes selected film La Chimera, and working on promotional material for large companies like Little Moons, Garnier, HOMETHINGS, and Zapp.

I will continue my research into these degrees and draft applications/cover pages for each of these applications. In my next blog post, I will delve specifically into career options in the Gaelic and wider UK film industry.

[godspeedwarrior]

Recently I happened upon the mother of an old friend while wandering the halls of a recent con. We exchanged pleasantries despite our probably having met only once prior many years ago. We'll call her Margo.

Taking a break from my wanderlust, Margo decided to join me to lounge by the convention center's large bay windows. A lovely view I don't assume many con-goers care to take a step away from panels or the dealers room to enjoy. It would no doubt be a beloved spot for cosplay photos, but much of that experience was behind me at this point in my life. It was almost eery in how quiet the area was compared to the rest of the expo center

I suppose that's what truly got the conversation going. To break the awkward silence, I asked how things were going with her and her daughter(we'll go with Kat), since Kat was how we met.

With almost a sneer, Margo remarked how she wished she had any idea. First she dropped out of college, moved in with friends Margo didn't feel good about, and changed from this eccentric extroverted person onto a recluse that shunned the world. It actually struck me how long it had been as Margo began to unravel her tale of woe over Kat's life.

I had assumed in that time Kat would have Margo reminisce about how proud Kat was coming along. Before the major blow out in our cosplay group, Kat was honestly the most talented out of everyone. I'd dare even say the most strong willed too.

With our mutual friend being her daughter, I can understand how the dynamic of our two relationships would differ too. Where I had seen Kat as a peer with great talent and promise, Margo watched as she basically threw all that potential away for nothing.

I didn't feel quite the same negative connotation about dropping out. But with more insight, I could understand Margo's frustration. For me, I went to college because my mom asked me to. I didn't have any plans with my life because anything I actually wanted to do as a child was labeled a fantasy. Frankly, I hated school and was happier with my life in the job field getting a feel for what I liked doing.

But Kat had been working on becoming an artist all her life. And not like a painter, but a special FX artist. Someone who makes props or designs for movies. She had scholarships she worked for, schools picked out, and probably more planned for her future.

But something changed. And part of me was concerned it started with the end of the cosplay group.

See, back when we hung out, Kat's only boyfriend cheated on her with a girl from our cosplay group, got caught, broke it off, and was now married to the other woman who was the vice president of that group. I had been kind of on the outset of the group at the time because I only found out what happened because by chance I walked into the same restaurant Kat and the cheater's sister discussing the drama at!

But at the time, Kat seemed to be taking the whole thing well. Even had the sister on her side. So I just assumed she was going to start over in college and come out on top.

But here we were talking like Kat had given up. She didn't talk to any of her old friends. Her and her best friend of 18 years had a major falling out. It was like her life suddenly spiraled out of control, and Margo felt totally helpless on what to do.

Margo tells me, Kat used to talk about becoming successful, finding a man and settling down to have a family. But anymore, she talks about love as poison, children as a bane of her existence, and that she dying alone is the best she can do for anyone.

To lighten the mood I changed topics. Told her about how I met my wife, the fire in our apartment building that displaced us for 6 months, how I now had two beautiful children; and was blessed with grandparents willing to take them off my hands for a weekend. And lamented how crazy it was how things could change so drastically in 5 years.

She laughed and asked to see photos. Proudly telling me that she could see how good of a father I was becoming. Tried to share some wisdom about parenting, and hoped my kids didn't run into Kat's problem.

And all I could think to say was, that she needs time. I wasn't ready to have children until this point in my life. I needed my years of suffering and exploration. I don't look back fondly on my time in depression, but it's an experience I can relate to now.

She then asked me something I didn't expect.

According to Kat's stories about me, I had a habit of just wandering about cons and never really interacting with much that was going on at them. Which part of that was true, but I imparted onto her why I liked to wander.

Over the years, cons have kind of lost their luster. Back in the 2000's some cons were a wild west of nerd culture and media. Back then we were all a bunch of weebs imposing on the classical nerds. Full of excitement about our first dealers room. Going to a big city for the first time. Getting lost on the way there, and being in awe of the venue. The age of the yaoi paddle has come and gone. Anime is main stream. The internet's meme culture has peaked. And the cliques have taken over.

If anything, I wander the halls of each venue to explore. And sadly, I think the thing I'm looking for is my old enthusiasm for cons.

I relate back to when Kat and I first met. She was dressed as Ciel Phantomhive and her best friend was dressed as Mad Mod. It was my first time at our local game expo and I had just gotten together the best version of Link my new to sewing hands had managed to piece together. They had a costume contest and I was just excited to be apart of the experience. Right after judging, the main floor was turned into the dance floor and we danced well into the night. I wished nights like that didn't have to end, but I was also exhausted afterwards, so I can only say that in hindsight.

I remembered Kat so fondly that when I ran into her and her friend at the Japanese festival, I recognized her immediately. This was when I had met the cheater and her sister too, and the four of them formed the cosplay group.

It felt so strange to be apart of something that I was there for, but not really be involved with how it worked. Basically, anytime a con came up, I was there for the ride. Ironically, when I think back, I probably was just invited because I was the only one who could drive the cheater's parent's massive SUV.

But that was such an early time in our friendship.

Then Margo threw me for another loop. She asked if I felt Kat would have made a good mother. It took me a moment to realize that maybe Margo was asking if she had been a good mother.

It was a tricky question, especially considering my own background. The long and short of it was,"I don't know." My parents divorced when I was four. It wasn't until recently that I even knew what a good relationship was, and even now still have to work on it because of my own bias. Kat being a mother should be her decision.

I waited to have kids until now because I felt I needed to live my life without any major responsibilities to bind down my decisions. After a year of working in martial arts, and having a greater understanding of children, I truly felt I was ready to have my own. From what I'm hearing about Kat, she's still got a lot to figure out.

"Ahh, sometimes I wish you two had gotten together." Margo said with smirk.

This wasn't something I wanted to hear.

"What makes you say that?" I say with dread in my heart.

I had never been forth coming with anyone about my feelings towards Kat. I may have felt she was probably the most beautiful women I had ever seen upon first meeting, but I didn't have the guts to admit that then. I wanted to get to know her first, be a friend that liked something more than a pretty face. In hindsight, I may have been unwittingly open about my feelings. But Kat never showed interest back, so I simply thought she didn't feel the same.

Margo gave me almost a disappointed look, "Well, she did talk about a lot about you." My heart sank. "Then when I finally got to meet you, you seemed much more compatible than that Jeremy guy she was with at the time." Considering he cheated, that's an understatement.

"I guess, I just see your happiness and wish it was my own. You've grown into such wonderful man, it's practically a shame to see what she's missed out on."

I have to stop her there.

I'm no psych major, but that whole thing was really fucked up to me. Envy aside, Kat and I are not the same people we were 5 years ago. We'll never know what our compatibility is because we never gave it a shot. And frankly, I'm the man I am today because of my wife. I tried to play it cool, but that really was a dickish thing to say.

I know she meant well, but Kat's life isn't over just because she's in a rough spot in life. And her life wouldn't magically be better if we had gotten together back then.

I tell Margo that you can't live life on "what-ifs" and wishful thinking. It's disrespectful to the present where you can actually change things. Then I reassure her that she just needs to be there for Kat and help how she can. If she's really in a dark place, then it's emotional support that she needs more than anything. That's what I needed in my years of depression.

Put simply, a person won't fix what isn't broken. Until they see the problem themselves nothing is "broken" about them. I wish it was as simple as pointing it out, but no one likes anything being inherently wrong with them either.

We said our goodbyes and went our separate ways. I eventually shook it off, but the shock of it all still remains. I know I said it on the spot, but I think I needed to hear it as much as Margo did.

Stick to the present, it's the only place you can change anything.

#storytime

[saltlightmain]

have you met BELLA FIELDS yet? SHE has lived in saltlight for 10 YEARS & i believe they’re THIRTY TWO. they are TOUGH, PERSISTENT, & LOYAL, but can also be CHAOTIC, NEGATIVE, & DESTRUCTIVE; they work at GRACIOSA as a DANCE TEACHER. they look exactly like LINDSEY MORGAN & their label is THE DANCER.

Being the daughter of a doctor & a legal aid attorney, it was always hoped that she would graduate as valedictorian and go on to be accepted into an Ivy League university. For Bella, it was a lot of years of disappointments and high expectations. She couldn’t help that she’d struck out in the genetic lottery; she was smart, but she wasn’t a genius and her SAT scores weren’t off the charts. Her older brothers went on to be impressive business men, while Bella hated school. She would never forget the moment she told her parents she wanted to be a dancer. It was on her sixth birthday & her aunt had gotten her a few lessons at the local studio as a gift. She watched her mother nod and smile, it never really reaching her eyes as she promised the young girl could try it. For Bella, this was as good as law and she took those three dance classes- then three more until she was at the studio every other day after school. Her heart came out in her dancing, the movements fluid and graceful. The teacher marveled at her talent at such a young age, and began coaching her to think about her future even as young as age ten.

Her lessons grew longer, time at home and school was spent distractedly and haphazardly paying attention to the world outside of the studio. Her family wasn’t thrilled with this path in her life, but they tried to support her as much as they could. High school came & went for Bella; she had friends, she had boyfriends, but ultimately her eye was on Joffrey. It was everything she’d ever wanted, everything that had been held in front of her as a goal from her first grand jeté. Four years of hard work for good grades paid off, & she was accepted on a scholarship to Joffrey Ballet School. Bella was utterly on top of the world. In a few weeks, she would graduate and shake the small town dust off her feet while never looking back. Ballet was her life, and it was about to be her ticket out of the small town she’d been stuck in- until the one night that managed to tilt her world off it’s axis.

It happened on the way home from a graduation party. Bella had never gotten drunk in her life; her parents drilling responsibility into her head from a young age. Her friends usually counted on her as the designated driver, & she was willing to make sure everyone got home safely after they were intoxicated from one too many beers. She was doing the right thing; she was not at fault for what she could’ve never known would happen. A drunk driver swerved out of his lane & hit their car from the left side at an alarming speed. A moment of impact. One event that altered the course of her life forever. Waking up in the hospital, her parents waited until she was more coherent to break the news to her; her knee would require surgery if she wanted to walk, & even if the surgery was one hundred percent successful, she could never dance.

After the surgery, Bella made a full recovery in the following months; being able to get back to everything she used to be able to do- except dance. Her entire world felt as if it were shattered, and she could barely breathe in her own home. Her parents began to worry for her, as she withdrew and grew sullen & resentful. Their once happy bubbly child was a thing of the past, and the girl in her place was miserable. She was finding herself slipping into a deep depression, so she began to get her kicks from the meds that began as painkillers after the surgery. Why not have a little fun, what else was there to do? Her spiral was only getting worse, worrying those who care about her, but she found it extremely difficult to care & that worried her as much as it worries her family. Soon enough, she began a series of stays in rehab to deal with her growing addiction, and when she was released, it was clear that she needed a change of scenery, away from the gossiping locals who had known her all her life. Bella wanted to go somewhere no one knew her name, so she found Saltlight.

Living in a small two-bedroom next to the ocean proved to be healing for Bella, as did getting a job teaching the youngest dancers at Graciosa. It was enough that she felt as if she was returning to what she loved, but not strenuous enough that it would risk her body falling apart- and that was a compromise she could live with. She’s still far from the bubbly dreamer she once was, quieter and more introspective, but Saltlight proved to be a place of healing for her, and she’s found her place in the world outside of dance- something she never thought she could.

Written by Sara.

#rp rec #new rp #appless rp #tumblr rp #skeleton rp #characters #closed

[kookiecrumb]

jjk|| Your Head

"tags": @kazthebrekkerofinej

word count: uhhhh

summary: Jungkook is the heir to the throne of your Kingdom! In this tale of duty versus heart, will love prevail victorious?

tags: Royalty!Jungkook x Peasant!Reader, oneshot, smut, fluff, slight angst, some crack, pining, forbidden lovers, Jungkookie has a sweet tooth, strangers to friends to lovers

warnings: explicit language, impact play, birthday sex (technically), fingering, oral (m receiving*), love marking, alcohol consumption, s&m themes, horny grinding, praise kink/body worship

a/n:

hey guys!

Firstly, I want to say how proud I am of myself for growing so much during this fic. I learned a lot about what I'm comfortable with, what I'd like to work on, and where my confidences lie.

I won't lie and say it's been easy, because writing this meant dealing with a lot of my fears? I'm excited for all the works that are to come.

The only thing I can do is be as receptive to growth as possible, so I'm looking forward to learning...

*I actually learned that Vaseline wasn't invented until like the 1870s? The fic is written in the 1810s, so I actually had a choice between having them do it with vegetable oil or spit. Spit won.

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5 years ago

You bend over to pick up an apple that had rolled over under your father's produce cart, praying that it isn't bruised so that you have to pay for it out of your dinner, when a crumpled piece of paper hits you in the ass.

Confused, you crawl out from under the stand and unwrap the paper.

The paper itself is of the finest quality you've ever seen. It's a sturdy cardstock, bleached white with gold etchings on the borders. The print on the top of it reads "His Highness Jeon's Royal Study," and scribbled in some kid's amateur cursive below, "Nice butt."

You directed your gaze upwards, towards the towering castle walls. Sure enough, a boy no older than 15 had his noggin popping out from the top of the rampart, with two wide eyes staring down, curious as to your reaction. This was Prince Jungkook, heir to the throne of your kingdom.

"Shouldn't you be equestrian horse riding or playing polo or something?" You shout. He furrows his eyebrows, apparently offended at your assumption, and then disappears behind the edifice.

Moments later, another paper hits your shoulder as you're practicing your caligraphy behind your cart. It lands between the apples, so you reach your hand over and fish out out.

You glance up at the anticipant, and sure enough he's there with his doe eyes and his coconut head, ogling.

"No, dumbie. That's at MID-day." Well how were YOU supposed to know the royal schedule of the crown prince, it wasn't just common knowlegde you learned from being a humble farmer's daught--

Ah!

"Will you STOP?!" You put your foot down. "Unless you're here to buy my apples, then you're not getting ANY, little Prince." Oh, shit. You gave him ideas. Now it was really over for you.

In less than half an hour, half a company of men arrived at the marketplace, asking about your little old apple stand, and sure enough, Jungkook had bought out the entire cart so that you were forced to help with the transaction.

The young prince had eyes frankly too big for his head, with the most prominent cupid's bow you've ever seen. His nose slightly outgrew his face and his ears were hidden away behind his short, black hair. "Now you can talk to me." He gave you a rose he'd stolen from the royal garden. "I am Jungkook, heir to the throne of--"

"I know who you are." You interrupt him, documenting His Highness' total in your calligraphy book.

With a hand perched on his chest from surprise, he scoffed. "And I happen to think you're really pretty, so I was going to ask you to be my very first consor--"

"You're 15, you have playmates not consorts."

"And how old are you?!" He's had it, raising his voice and taking a bite out of one of your apples with force.

"16, old enough to have suitors." You tease. Jungkook hangs his head a little. He just needed someone to talk to, it would seem. Reluctantly, you scribbled down your address down on a piece of note paper and handed it to him.

"Look, if you buy more of my apples, I'll have an excuse to tell my Dad so I can hang out with you." You spoke in a low voice as to not raise suspicion.

Your dad is standing negotiating with the guards about prices, his usual embarassing haggling gruffly overpowering the guards elegant twiddle-tones.

"Wonderful! See you soon, my sweet!" He resumes his confident demeanor, tucking the paper into his overcoat with a small smile. He salutes you boyishly and marches away with a year's supply of apples.

For the next week, the royal kitchen had baked 3 apple pies, made 5 fruit salads, 4 batches of apple muffins, and threw the rest of them in Sangria; that's the same Sangria as King Jeon finds himself drinking in his wife's drawing room on Sunday.

"Call Chef, fetch him up here." He waves to his assistant, keeping his eyes on the outside. He was deep in thought, his hands stoicly behind his back.

The Kingdom had been prosperous for over many years now, and war had not come close to threatening its borders in a lifetime. Negotiations were always successful, and quality of living was high. The work of a King, in a situation such as this, was to perfect the image of the royal family as strong rulers, and to paint his daughters as desirable to foreign heirs.

"Your Grace," the assistant called his attention, "Head Chef Sung." The dainty man bows and scurries off somewhere else.

Chef Sung is a portly man, who carries himself heaving with every step, his great belly inflating with each hefty inhale. He approaches the King, and kneels down to kiss his hand with his fat lips.

The King recoils in disgust, but quickly collects himself and his words. "Where are these apples from, is it France or Spain?" He demands.

"Neither, Your Highness." Mr.Sung lifts up his eyes. "They are from our Holy Kingdom; by order of Prince Jungkook, an entire cart was purchased of these apples and we have not been able to get rid of them." Tears threatened Chef Sungs eyes at the very mention of the fruit.

'Well, there's one thing the kid's done right.' King Jeon now faces the Chef, setting down his drink on a mahogany table, leaning against it casually. "Well! Good. I'd like to meet the owner of that cart, invite him to my Sunday brunch."

"Oh, yes, of course sir! You'll never see them in our kitchen aga--What?" Chef Sung takes out his handkerchief, waving it around in the air and drying his tears at once. "So you like them! Why...Yes! Yes, of course!"

Your father thought it would be valuable to have you around the kitchen, learning from the skilled men and women employed by the Jeon family. He only visited once a week to drop off fresh produce, (he'd been officially hired to handle restocking of goods) but you, after showing promising signs of being a gifted baker during one of your father's restocks, were granted scholarship by Ms.Kang to be her aid.

You were now, officially, a resident of the Jeon Estate, residing in the servant's quarters, immediately adjacent to the kitchen. This was convenient. It was far too convenient for a certain little Prince to get the idea of wanting a midnight snack and wandering downstairs.

One day, he does just that. He finds his way into the first bedroom to the right of the stairs facing the kitchen, and that happens to be your bedroom.

He pokes you awake. "Ow! Ow, whyyy~" You whine and toss yourself over to the other side of the bed. His irritating poking persists. You grab his fingers and your eyes shatter open.

You sit up, alarmed. "You could have me arrested, what the fuck are you doing?!"

"I wanted a midnight snack! Besides, I wanna talk to you." He pouts, still holding a small teddy companion.

"Fine. I'll bake you ONE sheet of cookies." You slip on your night shoes and shuffle to the kitchen, and Jungkook tags along.

By the time Jungkook's 18th birthday comes around, he's in the kitchen helping you whisk buttercream to top his cake while having a tease at the Austrian Princess' mole.

"You have one right under your lip, look!" You take a little buttercream from the bowl and stain the dark spot with it.

He licks it up and hastens to add, "it needs more sugar, lady!" as he turns to grab a puffy bag of confection sugar.

"You're impossible to please." Snatching the sugar away from him, you smirk. "You can gobble down as many sweets as you want when the ball commences. Remember, this is the year you're supposed to be keeping your eye out for a girl of a good fam--"

"Yada yada, must have hips for childbearing, yada yada yada..." He mocks the speech his mother had told him that morning when he got dressed.

"Exactly." You set your bowl aside to fix Jungkook's tie. "Yes, and that's your duty, as our heir."

You step back and examine Jungkook one more time. He'd grown so tall in the last year, his legs like spider's and he was just beginning to grow into his features. Handsome boy.

You, too, had grown into an elegant young woman. You had a poised complexion, ready-mannered and graceful. Your hands seemed out of place in your otherwise feminine frame, carrying an extra bit of girth from baking. You were 19 years old.

Marriage was becoming an uncomfortably frequent topic during your visits home, as your mother had married young, herself, she expected the same of you.

Truth be told, there were plenty of offers for your hand. You were a skilled and very esteemed individual, who had broken into thr artisinal class. But your father knew better than put a dowry on your happiness. So long as you worked, he saw no reason to marry you off just yet.

"Now, go. Your sisters must be worried sick! Go out there." You shoo him, pushing him out the door of the kitchen despite his flailing arms.

Throughout the party, you'd been carrying a platter of your own baked goods, serving them to the aristocrats attending the Princes' coming-of-age ball. Accents from all over Europe and some from Kingdoms as far East as Cyprus jubilantly engaged in artful conversation which filled the air with good spirits.

Jungkook, himself, was busy being introduced to as many women as possible, a medley of presenting duchesses, ladies, and even Princesses of your Kingdom. They were each more qualified than you'll ever be, ten-fold.

One was a Greek Princess, her hair cascaded in darling curls down her shoulders and her eyes were deep-set, her voice a flirtatious trill.

Another, a Prussian Princess', posture radiated excellency, and whose complexion sparkled like powdered snow. Jungkook greeted her warmly, pleased with her appearance.

Distracted, you tripped up your skirt and dropped the remainder of your pastries. With that, you stepped off to use the restroom.

The sound of Strauss' Rosen aus dem Süden faintly loomed in the air as you wiped tears from your waterline in the mirror. That was just the way it was, wasn't it? Princes come of age, and they find wives who they commit their lives to.

"Married men don't have friends who are girls." You say out loud, just to realize it. Jungkook was now expected to find a mate within the season, and he was, in fact, quite the eligible bachelor.

Little did you know that Jungkook had been keeping an eye out for you throughout the party, not only because you were carrying his favorite Danish pastires, but because he knew your company was his greatest comfort.

He's in the midst of greeting the Duchess of Kent when he excuses himself to go look for you. He finds your mess first, frowning as he realizes something has gone terribly wrong.

He catches you in the hallway, face puffy and shaky. He grabs your wrist to keep you from darting back to the kitchen.

"Please don't do this, it's my birthday, y/n." It's as if an unspoken rule had been broken between you, and he feels it. Something is making you uncomfortable. "Was it the girls? You told me about this, it's my duty to at least greet them and--"

"Yeah, you sure did greet the Prussian woman nicely." You speak through tears. "She's the girl you were born to be with, huh? Your birthright?"Jungkook is silent. "Every girl at that ball wants to be your wife, want to have your children. They haven't known you for a day and yet they're ready to be your bride."

You search Jungkook's eyes for any sign of coherence, hoping that he would defend against you, that he would speak up and tell you otherwise. No such argument comes.

You yank your arm from his grip and march to the kitchen to remake the pastries you spilled.

You had the job of clearing off all the tables upon the departure of the last guests. It is midnight, and the windows of the castle stream moonlight down on the carpet beneath your feet. The glow of candles soothe you as you hum the waltzes which echo in your mind. It's a brilliant evening.

The centerpieces of the tables were gardenias, lush rose-like flowers with yellow pistils.

Summer, 1809

"Jungkook, wait! You're going to make me trip!" You shout from the top of the hill.

"You've gotta come see before the sun sets! It's the only way we'll get there on time, now run!" Jungkook's speeding down the terrain towards the Sycamore tree which grew deep and wide beneath the banks of a great rushing river.

You groan and throw caution to the wind, rolling down the steep mount in your Sunday dress. Jungkook turns to watch you, a grin spreading across his handsome face. "Look at you!"

You land on your feet at the bottom and scurry off to join Jungkook under the grandfather tree, out of breath entirely. "Now, look what you made me do. You're such a boy, you know that?! Making me come out here just to see some bloody--"

Jungkook has plucked a gardenia and placed it behind your ear. "Would you shut up? We got here on time. Behold."

In all its glory, the sun bathes you in its vivacious rays, creating a feeling of heavenly bliss as it dips below the horizon. The sky blushes pink, its clouds mere whisps above you. Wind rustles the leaves of the grand tree, rousing the birds to chirp their afternoon song.

"Mom used to come here all the time with my Dad, because of these." Jungkook clasped the blooming flower in his tender hands.

After a while, he says "the bugs will come out soon, so we ought to go back," as if he's trying not to scare something away. He helps you up, and with one last look across the valley, you walk next to each other back to the East Quarters.

You take all the silverware and plates by the tub to the dish-washing station and toss all of the linen napkins into the washing machine. All you had left was to blow out the lights in leading upstairs.

"Prince! It is very late, and there are no guests left for you to entertain. What troubles you?" Jungkook's sitting on the stairs with his head in his hands, still wearing his best suit.

"I disappointed you, y/n...I didn't like any of them." He admits, lifting his head up to sulk at you. "I should have told you then, but I didn't want to make you upset!"

Did Jungkook mistake your jealousy for disappointment?

"I'm not upset because you didn't hit it off with the girls..." You sigh. A confession is due, and he's ready to hear the truth from you about how you feel about him.

"Well, the truth is, I didn't like any of the girls because I like you, y/n. But you know that, don't you?" You pause, asking him to elaborate.

"Remember when I bought all the apples because I wanted to be with you? Like...I told you that you were my consort and I kind of meant it?" He felt pathetic now, realizing that you weren't just ignoring his advances. "So you didn't friendzone me for 2 years, you actually didn't know that I liked you."

It was almost laughable, a situation you would read in one of your illegal novels which you kept tucked away in your pillow at night. "No, Kookie, I didn't." You admit to your insolence.

You can't bear to lead him on any longer. You needed to put duty over your own self interest for the sake of the kingdom, even if it shattered his hope. It was better this way.

"But, you do know that we can't ever be a thing, right? It's just silly." Your heart tightens with the words which fall out of your mouth. "It is. Nevermind what your parents would think, what would it do for your image? You're on the world's stage, Jungkook, and you're a selfish person if you think you can just throw all of your duties away to date a scum of the Earth like-- like me!" With your heart in your throat, dry your eyes with your sleeve. "And...I want to, I really really want to, more than anything else to love you, Jungkook. I love you! I...can't." Through the blur of your tears, the shapeless blob that Jungkook has become stands up.

Taking his thumb and swiping it under your eyes, he sighs. Words escaping him, he takes your trembling body against his chest and nestles his head in the crook of your neck. Your cold hands travel underneath his overcoat to hold his waist. The Princes' lips plant a gentle kiss on your neck, chaste yet deep and satisfying.

"I will not accept any bride if not you, my love." He draws back, meeting your fervid gaze. "To the world, I remain a bachelor for a few years."

"And after those years, Jungkook?" You ride your hands up to caress the man's jaw. "You will still love me after those years, and then what?"

"I don't know," he says, voice as soft as powder. "I don't know many things, y/n, that's why I need you to teach me." His palms are rubbing at your waist, beckoning you closer.

His breath quickening as you lean your body against his hold, and you figure it must be the wine he drank to calm his nerves. That was it, wasn't it? He was drunk.

"You're not drunk, are you?" Your face sours, really hoping it's not the case as you feel your body temperature rise.

"Y/N, I've only had a glass. You saw I was a wreck back there." His lips kept chasing yours in a dance you can't quite describe. "I have wanted to hold you like this since I saw you selling apples on the street. Give me the honor..." His forehead against yours and his strong hands supporting your back, he's already fucking you with his eyes.

"The pleasure of being your lover." He squeezes your waist tight with his forearms, planting brisk kisses behind your ear and breathing in your scent. He smiles against you. Your skin pebbles at his affectionate touch, purring softly as your eyes roll back in delight.

"Kookie..." You breathe, leaning on his broad chest. "Kook, the maids are wondering where I am, I have to go..." You slur, tugging at his collar.

He grunts in protest, taking your ear between his teeth and nibbling it.

"If you let me go, I'll steal some cake for you tomorrow at breakfast." If there's anything Jungkook likes more than Cream Ice, it was cake. He unravels you from his arms and nods, his eyes softening.

"Request my service tomorrow, from Ms.Kang. She's been sweet on me lately." You peck his cheek before stepping back. Your rouge has embarrassingly stained His Grace's cheek.

Jungkook bows and presses a kiss on your hand, eyes rising to meet yours. "Til' morrow, babe."

Jiyoo shakes you awake the next morning, handing you a cake and a note that reads: "Prince Jungkook has a commission he must discuss with you. Meet him at his chamber immediately."

Lacing on a simple corset over your nightgown, you try not to look too red in the face as you climb up the stairs to His Majesty's room. You'd be up there alone, as requested. The girls would absolutely start rumors based on that alone-- rumors which you realize are probably totally true. This was stuff of scandal, after all...

'There shouldn't be anything scandalous about love.' You decide as you rap on His Highness' door.

"Please enter...but only if you have my cake!" Jungkook says in his morning voice. He's so cute.

The simplicity of Jungkook's abode takes you by surprise. His bedroom is very well lit, a capital display of the flowered valley through his bay windows washed the room in gold, painting his porcelain white carpets and his cotton sheets a warm creme color. His drawers and vanity were etched in gold, with breathtaking detailing.

The Monarch himself was splayed across the bed, laying on his side casually. He held a glass in his hand, holding a white wine. He puts down his glass and sits up as your presence.

"We both know that you didn't come here as my servant." You lock the door behind you. "And I have no such commission to give you, darling." The innocence which undertones his usual speech is missing as he coaxes you towards him.

"This much I know, Your Majesty," You say, taking a bit of frosting on your index finger and smudging it on the Princes lips. His black eyes, as cunning as a viper, watch you dangerously as you push two fingers past his plush lips. He wraps his hands around your wrist and draws your hand away, his gaze fixating on you.

"Set the cake down." At his command, you carefully place the confection down on a nearby chest, feeling Jungkook's eyes on you, drawing you back towards his grip.

"Let me pull your laces apart," with your waist held by his Herculean hand, he hums "and then let me pull you apart. I want to memorize your pleasures and gratify your desires, I need it, y/n..." Your back flush against his chest and your thighs split, his hands knead into you as he litters your collar with his mark.

You gasp softly against the crook of his neck, giving into his hold of you. His hot tongue spreads under your jaw, closing into a hard kiss as his hands travel back up to undo your corset and free your tits.

One by one, his fingers pop open the buttons left on your gown until the collar hangs off-shoulder to expose your collarbone. At the sight of new skin, Jungkook's tongue darts to stain it.

His hands stagger above your breasts. "Is it okay if I touch you here?"

"Oh, Kookie, touch me everywhere~" Your hands form fists around Jungkook's shirt, beckoning him impossibly closer.

Grasping one ever so carefully, his thumb grazes your bud as he playfully bites under your ear. "ah-- ahh,"

Jungkook groans in response, he can't believe how cute you sound. Curious, he wants to hear more, so he traces your thighs and experimentally pushes up the outside your cunt.

You squirm, tensing up immediately in response. You bring your hands down to find the latch on his trousers and dip your hands below to rub him through his undergarments. He heatedly bucks up to meet your touch, a panting mess.

You face him now as he watches you ride his fingers while you grip his girth through his clothes. He takes you by the ass and places you on his prominent bulge, hips rolling into you as he hungrily kisses you, his firm hands grinding your core on his cock.

His face is a sinful red, panting under you desperately.

"I've been wanting to do this," His voice warbles through your touch, running your thumb along his underside. It's his turn to gasp. He sits up and collapses his lips into yours, softer than rose petals and his taste faintly like wine.

You place your hand on his chest, and his heart is pounding, a thin layer of sweat already forming on his honeylike complexion.

Hastily, you pull your dress over your head and lean back to allow him to familiarize himself with your stark form, a dainty chain hanging between your bosom. Jungkook bites his lips as he wriggles out of his clothing, desposing of it beside the bed.

He's giddy behind those sultry eyes, you know him well enough that he's overexcited to get inside of you. It goes straight to his cock, your playfulness as you feel up his bare shoulders and discover his abdominals, your fingers tracing his ridges with a sense of innocent wonder.

He takes your hands and looks at you in this way-- Butterflies fill your stomach instantly. Jungkook's thumbing at your pout with his intrepid fingers.

His eyes flutter when grip his base and submerge your upper body below his hips. You lick a long, thick stripe up his underside, causing his breath to hitch and his head to fall back on to the bed.

Those goddamn cupid's bow lips of his would whisper the dirtiest things under his breath, lewd thoughts that sounded completely alien coming from His Majesty's mouth, he said for you.

"Oh, such a pretty mouth~ It's so good, y/n, you swallow me so good--" he moaned like a mantra, trying to keep his hips from snapping up into you. Your hot, wet tongue wrapped around his throbbing cock was only a fantasy to him for years.

He fills your throat with his girth, his taste tantalizingly smooth. It leaves your mouth with a 'pop.' You struggle to keep your legs apart as you crawl up to kiss him.

He takes those fingers of his and slides his index and middle into you and languidly thrusts them, smirking against your lips. "Shit, you liked that, hmm..."

"Kookie...please," you whine as he squeezes your ass hard before smacking it. You yelp, the sting of his fingers radiating from your skin.

"I like it when you beg, y/n, it's so cute..." He pulls your ass up to his thighs. He's flush hard against your abdomen, already sticky with his precum and your spit. You marvel at the self control he has.

You don't finish your thought before he has his head inside of you, impaling you on his cock and stretching your entrance, hissing at how incredible it felt to have you around him.

His shaft reached pleasure points within you had yet to discover. You clench, feeling his tip brush against your cervix. "Wh... hngh," he groans, "how did you do that, do it again--" You wrap your legs around his thighs and clench around him, biting your lip. You watch as he shivers from pleasure, feeling his skin horripilate under your touch.

His thumb is softly circling above your clit as he pulls out of you carefully. He swirls back in, nestling himself inside your heat, hissing. "Ahh~ Jungkook~!" At the sound of his first name moaned out of your mouth, he groans and rolls his hips up to create messy friction. That familiar knot in your stomach tingles as he plays with the bundle of nerves buried within you.

He glances up at your ruined lips, clashing with them again as he lifts your knees up with his hands and thrusts nice and rough, making you yell with every jolt of his cock. The smell and sound of sex fills the room as he experiments with positions, laying you on all fours.

"Get your ass up for me." You obey, ever servile. You're reminded-- you're his servant. He owns your work, he owns your services, and now he wants you in the most lucrative way, he wants your soaked cunt around his imperial cock. He gets what he wants.

Jungkook's palms smack against your ass one more time, just to watch the way it jiggles for him. He smirks a little before he shoves himself into your pretty little cunt. You bury your face into the pillows in pelasure as he chases your orgasm with vigor, fingering your clitoris while you move your hips back to meet his hard thrusts.

You whine like a harlot, his cock allowing you every satisfaction as he works a head-spinning orgasm out of that cunt. "I'm gonna cum, Kookie~!" you warn as you spasm against his length, moans ripping from your throat as you coat him with your thick juices.

His hips stutter up and he just barely pulls himself completely from you as he paints your back white, a guttural groan escaping his mouth.

After a while of loud panting and scattered giggling, Jungkook reaches over for a wet cloth and cleans the both of you gingerly. You trail your hands up to caress his jaw and kiss his lips softly.

"You need to tell everyone that I had a long and extensive request for the Harvest party, that I wanted a lot of fall fruits and vegetables featured in the baked goods, make it as specific as possible and make sure that you mention that I want to meet with you again, over dinner." His labored breathing punctuate his words, as youd kisses consume him. "And..."

"And?" You cock an eyebrow, simpering.

"Doyouthinkmaybeyoucouldbringmesomemilktogowithmycake?" He mumbles, eyes glued on the bed.

"What?" (If you give a Kookie a Cookie...)

Disgruntled, he sighs and repeats: "Milk! Milk for my cake. I know it's moist cause you made it but I'm really thirsty, especially after..." His cheeks flush a cute pink. You wait for him to continue just to fluster him a little more. "Y/N, just please!" You can't ever refuse his pouty face.

Next week, Jungkook's got you pinned against the hallway wall, making out with you hungrily as his hands ride up your dress. Just across the hall, his Dad is negotiating war with Portugal over land in the West.

The next month, you have his cock buried in your throat underneath the table at an important conference about how to create jobs.

All this while the pressure for Jungkook to find a bride continues to rise as he reaches seniority, and as his father's grey hairs pronounce themselves.

Warm touches are always hidden away to the public eye, but often shared between two kindred spirits underneath the man in the moon's watchful eye. Jungkook, as he reaches his maturity, grows strong. His jaw sharpens, and his eyes darken. His hair grows long, and he gains weight. Now at the proud age of 20, Jungkook had become a man before everyone's eyes, including the eyes of foreign monarchs and their eligible bachelorettes.

One day, you're serving the Royal family at a private dinner, when the topic of marriage comes up for the first time since his birthday.

"Your mother has made friends with the mother of the Austrian Princess, and she's invited you to the cordial ball to introduce yourself to the Princess. An allyship with Austria would prove advantageous for our relations with France, so you are to make your best impression." The King wipes his mouth. Setting his fork down, he continues: "It is in the family's best interest for you to marry her, if the French Princess, Anastasie, does not present this season or the next." The Queen holds the King's hand firmly, reassuring him from his shoulder. She wears a slight frown on her face, her eyes worrisome, somber. The King hides his anxiety, as he's been accustomed to from decades of responsibility. Would this be the face of Jungkook soon?

For now, Jungkook's face is scrunching at the thought of marrying Anastasie. She's not the most delightful young woman, her imprudence ruined her enjoyment of any event. She couldn't keep an intuitive conversation about regional politics and domestic policy for the life of her. Her people were on the brink of overthrowing the aristocracy, he was sure of it.

"Yes, father," is what you hear from him before you disappear down the stairs to fetch desserts.

Jiyoo interrupts your quest for sweets with a letter, signed by His Grace. She has a naturally innocent demeanor, her cheeks rosy and her frame as delicate as a feather. "Y/N, you have another special request from His Majesty...can I ask you why you get so many of these?" She looks genuinely curious, not a single menacing thought behind those eyes.

"It's because the Prince really really loves his cake." I mean, technically it was true. Jungkook never passed up an opportunity to squeeze, smack, or dig his fingernails into your ass during your sessions.

"Oh." Jiyoo pouts. "So it's not because you're like, in love or anything?" Her eyes are glued to the floor. You were expecting this question eventually, as the other girls in the kitchen were already suspecting it. It was only a matter of time before word slipped into the girl's ears.

"As much as I enjoy the Prince's interest in my baking, it isn't my place to confess any sort of feeling for him." Your answer is straightforward enough, so Jiyoo nods and hands you the letter. Another request.

Outside the Palace, Winter came like the wind. Lakes froze over, and couples tied up their skates and danced on the ice. The trees were bare and brown, not a single leaf persisting through the chilling breath of Jack Frost.

Jungkook had left for the Winter Palace, to volunteer and raise spirits up in the North. As heir to the throne, he was to be Commander in Chief of the Royal Armed Forces, and therefore needed to undergo intensive training in order to boost morale.

You're back home, and in your wake is your father, who has now grown tangibly tired. He's been on a strict diet of warm vegetable soup for about three months, now. His eyes are sunken, but he still wears a subtle smile even during his most trying days.

Match girls make their rounds at night, you watch as the lamplighters illuminate the streets with their tall ladders and their taller peacoats. Shop windows glow warm shades of yellow and creme; inscriptions on the glass create shadows on the white snow.

"Wow. It's almost as cold as the King's heart out here." You step outside one day with a cup of tea, sneaking in a cheeky smirk. Yeah, good one.

"I heard that!" You turn towards the little voice. A child, maybe about 9 or 10 years old is pointing at you. You squint at it.

"Well, it's true..." You mumble. You have a bit of change in your pocket, so you walk towards a stand to buy a hot bun and a paper.

"Chilly today, hon...Best you take this on the house." The tenant hands you a steaming cake wrapped in a simple cloth and your paper. You stick the paper in your dress pocket and take back your change. You nod a 'thank you.'

You spill the contents of your pockets on the dining table and snatch the paper, snapping it open. Your eyes eagerly skim the headline: "Prince Jungkook Fires Up Royal Army." Below is an article detailing the happenings of His Majesty. All of it sounded very intense, the running, strategizing, first aid training...Was there anything Prince Jeon couldn't nail on the first try?

You set the paper down and pick up your now lukewarm tea. In the back of your mind you're coping with the fact that the Spring Solstice is next week, and that marks the beginning of Jungkook's last season as a Prince.

The King is ill with tuberculosis, and recovery is unlikely. If Jungkook is to marry, it is next season and that was final.

Sitting at the window of his Winter Castle study, Jungkook plays with a ring nestled between his fingers. He looks out onto the lake, as if he's trying to reach you with his gaze. His heart is tight knowing that it would be the season he chooses his bride. Actually, he'd already made up his mind long ago. If his duty was to marry, there was no way to evade such a responsibility. He had to fulfill it, despite his anxieties.

He straightens up and walks out of the hollow room with a firm step.

You awaken with the sound of horse's hooves thudding against the Earth. It is yet to be dawn, and in the distance, thunder roars mightily.

A figure wearing a long, black hood hoists itself off of the animal, tying it to a nearby post. It walks towards an obscure entrance, unknown to many staff.

Intrigued, you wrap a blanket around yourself and peek out at the stranger. His fingers are shorter than his palms, and that's when he tosses of his hood, his eyes set on you. "Y/N..."

You're bewildered by his guise, questions filling your head.

"I was horny, so I left camp" He sits down at the counter, catapulting a cookie into his mouth.

You roll your eyes. "And the guards let you?! Jungkook!" You whisper-yelled at him, readjusting your makeshift blanket-dress.

"Obviously not!" He puffed out his chest with pride. "I bribed them," he smirks.

"You're insufferable," you scoff, your eyes wandering down to observe his physique. His shirt is anything but conservative, highlighting the muscle he'd earned through laborious, sweat-inducing drills. You can feel his eyes on your face as you observe him.

"You can't hide it either," he crosses his arms. "You're standing in the kitchen with a blanket around your naked body." He flicks his tongue. He steps forward, putting a finger under your jaw so you're looking him in the eye.

Your eyes fill with lust as he speaks over your lips. "Look at yourself..." A crash is heard in the other room.

Jungkook's head darts up and in a flash, he disappears into the night.

'Fuck.' You gather your dress from the floor and shuffle back to your chamber.

The first event of the season commences with the most exaltant of spirits as friends of old greet each other with youthful smiles. Juicy exposés, enticing tales, and thoughtful greetings are exchanged in the most formal manner, and the conversation is lively; the most controversial topic of conversation, however, is the rumor that Jungkook is to marry this season.

So far, he's been to four different private residences within his own Kingdom and has been invited, by the secretary of King Louis XVII to meet their daughter. It would be an understatement to say that stakes were high for the pending King.

You were kneading your dough a little too hard thinking about it. "Not so rough, y/n!" Ms.Kang snatches the mixture from your hands. "What is up with you lately, you're so tense! It's really disrupting the kitchen's dynamic."

You shrug it off. "It's going to be hard sedating Anastasie's sweet tooth, I suppose."

"Well, you seem to be doing just fine dealing with Jungkook's addiction to cakes...She's perfect for him, really." Ms.Kang throws more flour on your kneading table and steps off. You give up on the dough, covering it with a cloth and letting it rise.

Jungkook is tapping his feet, munching on finger sandwiches as he waits on you to make an appearance.

"Dearest Prince, look, I am wearing Mediterranean violet!" A duchess shouts as she passes by him, to which he raises his eyebrows at. Another, with dark green eyes approaches and begins speaking rapidly in French at him. Frightened and undereducated, his canned response was: "Excusez-moi, Pouvez-vous répéter plus lentement s'il vous plaît," to which the duchess furrows her eyebrows before something else catches her attention, elsewhere.

Truth is, Jungkook is incredibly shaken at the thought of announcing his engagement tonight. Well, that and the fact that you had yet to pop out of the kitchen. Man, those finger sandwiches were good.

As the night progresses, Jungkook realizes that if he doesn't get up on that platform and say what he needed to say, he'd have to say it in London. Setting his fears aside, he plants himself on top of the orchestral stage and taps a champagne glass with a cheese fork. The music comes to a stop.

With conviction, he begins: "The time has come that I announce my engagement. To all of my beloved friends, who have introduced me to the most beautiful, talented, diverse, and benevolent ladies I've come to get to know over the years, I thank you from the depths of my soul." He swallows and continues, his confident voice masking his trembling. "The life of a Prince is defined by the virtues presented to him at birth. Those virtues are: duty, responsibility, grace, kindness, mercy and integrity." Here comes the part, oh shit.

"I am abdicating my throne to my Cousin, the Duke of Namseong."

Silence sweeps the room. You poke your head out to see what was going on.

"...to marry the love of my life, y/n." He points at you. Your face is cherry red, and you find yourself dropping those same Danish fucking pastries all over the carpet.

"Shit," you fall on your knees, plucking them from the ground one by one. You don't know whether to run as fast as you can or to present yourself, but your body seems to be currently doing the latter. You go along with it.

Jungkook takes your hand tenderly on the stage. "I am unable to perform my duties as King, and therefore am ineligible for the throne." His touch gives you the will to continue beside him. You feel the pure fear rushing through your love's veins, and he knows that this is the hardest thing he'll ever have to do, yet he stands by his announcement.

So, if Jungkook doesn't get to be King of this World, he at least will forever be the King of Your Heart.

But all this, of course...is all in Your, dear reader, Head.

~

a/n:

hope you enjoyed.

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