#and we all know Andrew pays more attention than he lets on

[exy-shmexy]

Some more wholesome Twinyards for you

Aaron is alone at the library in the (very) late evening studying for an upcoming biochemistry exam. It's a random Tuesday. Aaron is startled by Andrew quietly dropping down on the chair in front of him. He blinks, wondering what the hell his chronically-allergic-to-libraries twin is doing here.

Andrew silently reaches into his backpack—an old discolored black thing Nicky got him when they started high school—and gets his own books out of it as if it were the most normal thing. He pushes Aaron's laptop slightly to the side with a corner of his textbook.

Aaron is too stunned to say anything.

He just watches Andrew splay an array of annotated papers in front of him, settling into his own homework session.

"What are you doing?" Aaron finally manages to ask after a long stretch of silence.

Andrew lifts his head, usual boredom plastered on his face. "Studying."

"You never come here."

Andrew shrugs. Aaron knows it's the end of the conversation because Andrew lowers his head and begins scribbling more notes down as he goes through his set of mandatory readings. Aaron stares, frowning. He tries to get back to his own biochemistry notes, but his brain has decided to stop working.

Andrew should be with Kevin and Neil for their usual evening practice session.

But then it hits him.

"You were listening?" he asks. Andrew looks up again, one eyebrow raised. "The other night, when I was talking with Matt," Aaron continues. "I told him Katelyn would be away for the week with the other cheerleaders. You heard us?"

Andrew sighs in what Aaron is now certain is feigned annoyance. "You don't like studying on your own, you can't focus if there isn't someone else with you."

Aaron blinks. "So you came here to... keep me company?"

"Neil and Kevin are being intolerable Exy junkies together. Nicky is out with Matt and Dan. Renee is... busy with Allison. Unless you made some friends on the football team no one knows about, which is highly unlikely considering you punched one of them—"

"He deserved it."

"—then I don't think there was any other option. Don't overthink it. I just couldn't stand the stickball fanatics a minute longer." And with that Andrew dives back into his coursework.

Aaron is smiling so big it's actually embarrassing. He clears his throat, knowing perfectly well Andrew didn't mean the last part of his statement because he never does anything he doesn't want to do. Andrew is with him because he knows Aaron can't stay focused ifhe doesn't have someone to study with. Usually it's Katelyn, but Katelyn isn't there.

Andrew is.

Aaron goes back to his intercellular communication notes. He loses track of time, and quickly forgets how long they stay in the library together. Once Aaron declares he's done for the night (having noticed Andrew had been done for a whole half hour and was busy getting ahead of his notes), he asks him if he wants to go to the sandwich place close by. His gift. Andrew accepts. They go together, and spend another hour together. They don't talk a lot, but the shared companionship is enough.

When the next Tuesday arrives and Andrew shows up again instead of Katelyn, Aaron is more than happy to clear up some space for his brother at the desk.

When he learns about this, Neil secretly tells Katelyn to give them one evening together away from everyone every week and she graciously accepts

#oh no I'm back with more twinyards because they haunt all my thoughts #I just love them so much I can't help it #which I'm okay with but I also believe they have to really start somewhere #and we all know Andrew pays more attention than he lets on #so yeah anyway I hope y'all have a great Sunday #andrew minyard #aaron minyard #twinyards #aftg #aftg headcanon

[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - Part 06

PREVIOUS

Andrew is dragging FF across campus towards where he parked his car and he is kinda of concerned that FF is just like fully letting himself be dragged across campus. I’m talking full on Andrew has a grip on the back of his hoodie, FF is just staring up at the sky, FF’s feet don’t even attempt to stop Andrew from pulling him where he wants to go, and when Andrew looks back FF’s face is just :I

Which even Andrew can admit is kind of weird.

Meanwhile FF is just like ‘The ground hasn’t really gotten cold yet so I’m sure Captain Neil and Andrew could really go to town on the hole they’re going to bury me in. I wonder what gave me away? It was probably the fucking Russian Literature book. I didn’t even like the plot twist in that one anyways. Can’t BELIEVE I’m gonna die due to my love of trashy literature. Thanks Grandma. Wait I’m sorry grandma, I didn’t mean to be rude-“

“Hey Granny Smith! I’ve been looking for you!” A most loathed nickname coming from a most loathed voice. Andrew doesn’t stop towing FF because why the hell would he? FF has never been so grateful to be dragged to his death! Now if only Andrew would break his long standing and well-known absolute refusal to do anything more than walk at a brisk pace.

He sees his step-brother jogging up to him and FF almost turns to Andrew to ask if he could just kill him HERE so he doesn’t have to deal with his step-brother and THEN get stabbed to death in the forest? He can accept that he should have told Andrew and Captain Neil that he knows Russian and the death sentence that rightfully comes with that but like C’MON having to deal with his Step-brother is just cruel and unusual punishment!

His step brother catches up and in a way maybe all the mental torture he’s gone through since coming to Palmetto is a good thing! He really was a novice at the poker face before and now he’s a grand master champion of staring at something that’s gonna SUCK and pretending like he has no idea that it is.

“Whoa there Granny.” His Step brother grabs his arm and tugs him out of Andrew’s grasp. Andrew really had not been paying attention to whatever jack off had been yelling something about apples. So FF getting yanked out of his hand was actually his first indication since FF didn’t say or react at all before. “You’ve been dodging all of Dad’s calls y’know. You still haven’t sent anything that we asked you for, got any excuse for that?!” His step brother demands.

FF looks heavenward because this is, like, so embarrassing. He can feel people stopping and staring at them.

(They were staring before his Step-brother showed up because he was getting visibly dragged through campus by ANDREW MINYARD. Some of his friends who had seen it were already planning a memorial service and candle vigil)

“Nope.” Because he has nothing to say about whatever the hell his step brother is talking about.

“Mom’s heartbroken you know! You haven’t reached out to her once!” he says. 

“I’ll get on that.”

“Are you going to get the stuff we asked you for?! We are family aren’t we? We’re not asking for a lot. Just for you to get tickets to your games for Dad’s colleagues, some autographs from your teammates, and a good word to that bleeding heart coach that we all should get the free ride you’re getting. That’s not too much right?!”

Andrew hasn’t intervened yet but now Andrew is under the impression that FF stopped hanging out because the kid’s family has been harassing him with calls and maybe this isn’t the first time they’ve come in person to campus. That’s why FF has been fading into the background. Andrew’s now under the impression that FF’s family has wanted him to use the Foxes (tickets, autographs, scholarships for his step brothers) and FF had just been pulling away so his asshole family wouldn’t bother the rest of them. That FF may not have been able to cut off contact completely because of a grandparent he was close to.

These are, in fact, the WRONG impressions of the situation at hand. The truth of the matter is that Wymack helped him get a new phone and phone number within 24 hours of getting to Palmetto, it was the one extra that he asked for in his contract and Palmetto is paying his phone bill now. The phone with the number his ‘family’ had just sits charging in a drawer on silent in Wymack’s desk because Wymack is INFINITELY petty when it comes to the things his Foxes are running from.

The other truth of the situation at hand is that Fluent Freshman’s grandma is the only member of his family he talks to regularly and he talks to her almost every single day of his life, she is the only person he can be completely honest with because she knows what a wimp he is and loves him regardless. 

His Grandma is just an EXCELLENT actress. So when his ‘family’ comes over for answers she’ll sigh, stare longingly at a framed photo of FF, and look out the window with a single pre-staged tear in her eye. She wouldn’t give them his new number no matter what.

He loves his grandma even if it was her teaching him Polish, her native tongue, that lead to him getting interested in the other slavic languages that lead him down the deadly path to Russian.

ANYWAYS.

Andrew is under some very wrong impressions but he is also under one very correct impression and it’s the impression that’s the most important anyways.

Fluent Freshman’s family is what made him a Fox and Fluent Freshman’s family are therefore the enemy.

Except FF doesn’t give Andrew the time to pull out his knife, “No, I don’t wanna do that. Bye Greg.” He says, pulls out his student ID, slaps it on a nearby scanner for a STUDENT ONLY building and power walks inside leaving Andrew and his Step Brother alone.

The door shuts behind FF with a distinctive lock and Greg looks at Andrew his face purpling from anger, “You’re going to let me in there and-“

Andrew now has plenty of time to pull out his knife. “You’re going to what?”

Greg swallows and in a show of excellent survival instincts runs the fuck away.

Andrew watches him run before he turns back to the STUDENT ONLY building and heads in himself. He finds FF just inside the doors and he looks tired sitting there against the wall. FF doesn’t say anything to Andrew, doesn’t even acknowledge that he’s there. Andrew takes a spot on the wall across from him. People give them weird looks but Andrew is fine with waiting.

He doesn’t mind just sitting in silence with FF again even if the circumstances aren’t what they usually are. So they sit.

FF has blue-screened. The stress of his impending death, of his step brother showing up and saying crazy shit, he blacked out a bit from the stress of being between Andrew and Greg and has no memory of what he said before he walked into this building and then there’s the fact that he just WALKED INTO SOME RANDOM CAMPUS BUILDING (oh god he’s probably not supposed to be in here but Greg is definitely still loitering outside maybe security will be gentle if he just sits right by the exit so they don’t have to go far to kick him out? Maybe he should move near a Different exit so Greg doesn’t see him get tossed like yesterday’s trash? Well he already sat down so now it’s embarrassing if he gets up to just go SIT AT SOME OTHER EXIT.)

So he’s taking a moment to reboot.

Unfortunately his ability to have internal conversations and recognize that someone is there with him is one of the last things that loads.

“It’s fine. I’ve always been the leftover kid. I don’t care that they don’t care. I don’t care either.” He says and it’s a mantra he’s repeated for almost a decade now.

It is definitely not something he thought he was saying out loud in the presence of Andrew Minyard and it is also definitely not something he was SAYING to Andrew Minyard but how the hell would ANDREW MINYARD KNOW THAT WHEN FF IS STARING STRAIGHT AT HIM WHEN HE SAYS IT.

So Andrew thinks it’s the explanation FF is offering about his step brother / family. If there’s one thing Andrew knows the feeling of it is being the ‘leftover’ kid.

The one-sided kinship grows while FF is working on rebooting his vision and getting his heart rate down to a BPM that wouldn’t have medical doctors concerned.

Finally, FF blinks his vision has returned back to him, sees Andrew Minyard across the hall from him, and, by the grace of GOD considering his fried nerves, FF does not flinch.

Andrew doesn’t make any move to grab him and FF decides to take this momentary reprieve that his executor is granting him to shoot off a text to his grandma. “I am so grateful for all the love you have given me throughout my life. I think I’m going to see Dad in the next few hours so please let me know if there’s anything you want me to say to him.” Is what he sends.

(This grandma has gotten almost this exact same text when he had an oral presentation last week. Her grandson is a wimp but she loves him.)

“Are we still going on that drive?” He asks his affairs settled. It’s nice that Andrew let him have a breakdown here and even let him text his grandma his final thoughts. He was willing to use his blood to write out the message but where would he get the paper?

“Yeah, we can go on that drive.” Andrew gets up and offers his hand to FF who looks at it for a long moment KNIVES. THOSE ARE KNIVES. HE USUALLY CONCEALS THEM BETTER? IS THIS HIS WAY OF SAYING HE’S GOING TO BE REALLY MESSY WITH MY DEATH? OH GOD HE’S NOT READY.

(Andrew didn’t really take the time to put his knives back in his arm bands properly because he figured he needed to catch FF before the kid disappeared again. He didn’t think he’d find him just inside the door.)

FF pushes himself up onto his feet.

They get to the Maserati and FF was AWARE that Andrew had a nice car but he hadn’t pieced it together that he’d be doing his last ride in such a nice car. He briefly pauses by the trunk wondering if he should just save Andrew the trouble and climb in himself?

Andrew sees FF pause at the car and figures he’s just being polite not touching Andrew’s stuff without Andrew’s permission. FF is just that kind of guy.

“The passenger seat is available.” Andrew says and alright cool Andrew wants to threaten him first that makes sense.

Except Andrew doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t drive them to a remote location. He’s just driving around Palmetto and FF does not think that Andrew is planning on crashing the car to kill him (He has unfortunately heard Aaron and Andrew have a fight in German when he was waiting for his own appointment with Betsy so he also Is aware what happened to their mom no matter HOW HARD he tries to forget that he knows.)

It’s just actually kind of a nice drive?

“He called you Granny Smith.” Andrew states. (Wondering if THAT is the elusive first name)

“I’m close with my Grandma. My last name is Smith. They’re not that creative.”

“Hm.” (Dammit)

Andrew watches as FF’s shoulders eventually relax until he’s almost falling asleep in the Mas and decides that the drive has done it’s job.

Eventually Andrew parks in front of the tower, tells him to respond to his texts from at least him and Neil, and he is released feeling very much like one of those animals that were released back into the wild after being tagged.

He texts his grandma later “NVM it wasn’t that bad.”

NEXT

Per your requests:

@i-have-three-feelings @blep-23 @dreamerking27

#Fluent Freshman AU #Andrew to Neil later: His Family was the issue. #Neil: So it's not something we did? #Andrew: No. He wanted to take a ride with me #Neil: Oh that's great. #Nicky sitting back watching this unfold: It's like a Daytime Soap Opera except I get to be one of the characters. #AFTG #AFTG AU #Andreil #AFTG OC #AFTG fic #My Fics #FF - Pt. 06

[amathslutsguidetofandom]

Infinite Solutions - 1

PAIRINGS: Law!Professor!Andy Barber x Math!Professor!Reader

SUMMARY: MIT is famously known for its high level of education. What happens if it's not only filled with knowledge? What if it is also filled with confusion? Confusion of a new, hard-working Mathematics professor? A professor who might be falling in love with her fellow co-worker? What if that co-worker was in the Law faculty? What if that Law professor is Andrew "Andy" Barber?

WARNINGS: Swearing (if you squint).

WORD COUNT: 1,905

ENJOY!

"Shit!" You feel the puddle soak your new, expensive black slacks. Swearing at your recklessness, you ignore the mishap and continue to walk on the cobblestone. The Massachusetts chill is cooler than usual, and that’s why you have your coffee in hand. The sip you take instantly warms and floods your entire being with comfort.

You see students sitting on the lawn with textbooks and papers surrounding them like an iron fence; you lightly smile at the reminder of how you were in their exact position and place when you were in your undergrad.

MIT is filled to the brim with students as they walk to their respective classes. You see the building of your destination, and you trek towards it. The feeling of your wet pant leg sticking to your skin is something that you were not really into, but at this point, you really don’t care. You were going to be late if you pay any more attention to that mistake.

You push open the doors and walk in and make your way to an office you used to frequent back in your young adulthood.

-------

"I must say, that when I got your application, I was quite shocked," Schmidt says from his seat with a light smile on his face. You give him one of your downwards smiles, “I can assure you, Mr. Schmidt, sending my application in was something I thought I never had to do. I mean, it was an arbitrary decision; I wasn’t really thinking about it when I sent it in.”

He laughs at your response before taking a sip from his coffee. "And please, call me Tobias," the German mathematician replies kindly before gathering some papers on his desk and standing, and you follow suit. "Let me show you to your office; I heard it has one of the greatest views," he opens the door and lets you go ahead first.

The halls of the building were old and gave you some sort of idea of how much mathematical knowledge has soaked into its walls over the years. You used to walk these halls all the time, use some of their empty classrooms all alone, and solve the most complex problems on their blackboards.

Now, you’re here walking beside your boss, the Dean. But in a previous life, that was your bachelor's, he was your first-year Multivariable Calculus professor.

The little journey to your new workspace isn’t long, but it consisted of you and Tobias chatting in the first half. “If I may, may I ask what happened over there,” he points at the wet splotch on your pant leg. You shake your head and wave him off, “a long story you do not want to listen to, I assure you.” The rest of the walk is just the two of you recollecting about your time back when you were an undergrad.

“You used to send emails at 3 am,” he says with a throaty chuckle. You widen your eyes as you remember what type of student you were. “Oh dear, I did, didn’t I?” You both share a laugh until he stops in front of a dark oak door.

"Well, here we are," he smiles warmly and unlocks the door with a key before handing it to you. You nod your thanks and follow him inside when he opens the door.

When he mentioned that the view was going to be gorgeous, you thought he was overstating it. But now that you are here, and you are looking out of the window with your eyes. You are stunned.

“And I know how much you love the blackboards, so I recommended them to book this office, specifically, for you,” he states before setting the papers he’s carrying on the, your, desk.

You look at him confused, then see the blackboard attached to the wall opposite your window. God, you think you could die at ease now. Your desk sits in the space between the window and the blackboard.

There are metal drawers at two corners of the room, and lamps situated on top of them illuminating the room in a decent glow. “This—” you scoff shockingly, “this is amazing, it’s literally more than I could ask for.” The 50-something man chuckles and smiles at your reaction. “Welcome to the School of Mathematics, Professor.”

-------

You type furiously at your keyboard, the monitor taking in your input as you type the last of the lecture notes for week 5. Finally, you click on the period.

Sighing, you lean back and stretch your arms. Your back tenses as you finally straighten your posture from the hunched position you were in.

The clock above your door shows that it's half to midnight. You do a few finishing touches to your notes before posting it on the website so the keener few of the students can get their studying done.

At the end of it all, you shut down your desktop and get your stuff packed. Your phone pings as you receive messages from friends and family congratulating you and liking your post on Instagram.

The picture you posted was of the view you had from your desk, and it really was Pinterest-worthy, so you decided why not and post it on social media.

You leave your office and lock it before exiting the building and returning to the Cambridge chilling weather.

-------

You're nervous.

Really, really nervous.

It’s the first day of classes, and students are already starting to file in. You thought there would only be a handful at your 8 AM class, but here you are, seeing that the whole class is full.

The hand on your watch strikes 8 AM, and you look up and see all the different types of students waiting for you to start the class.

Taking in a deep breath, you adjust the microphone that’s clipped on your navy silk blouse and switch it on. Then you rub your hands together before walking to stand in front of the blackboard.

“Morning everyone!” You start with a bright smile on your face. “I’ll be your professor for this unit, for this semester.” You tell the class your name and what title you prefer to be called. “You really don’t have to call me Professor; you can call me by my first name. I’m not that much of a pain in the ass,” the majority of the class chuckles at your swearing.

“Welcome to Multivariable Calculus (ADVANCED),” your grin widens, and you rub your hands down your thighs. “It really isn’t for the faint-hearted,” you state with a slightly serious expression.

“But you can push through if you put in the hard work. Mathematics is a beautiful subject; it’s one of the few technical subjects where you can actually express your creativity and think in so many different ways to come to one answer,” you talk with your hands as you talk about the subject you're most passionate about.

“So, really do not be scared. Just put in the hard work, and if you do feel like you're falling behind, please, please, please contact me or the TAs that are assigned to this unit. We are here to help you with any mathematical problems you have,” you smile reassuringly, and you smile even wider when you see some of the students nod at your words.

“Alright, before we get started, do any of you have any questions about the unit or in general?” you ask before crossing your arms and adjusting the microphone a bit.

A lanky, you assume, first-year student raises his arm immediately after you asked that question. You look at him with a smile. “Yes?”

“Um, you are—” he says your full name in a questioning tone, as though waiting for you to correct him. You furrow your brows a bit but maintain a small smile. “Uh, yeah, that would be me.”

His eyes brighten a bit, and he asks a follow-up question. “You worked for NASA for three years, right? You were the main mathematician that calculated the landing trajectory and coordinates of the latest Mars rover.”

You are speechless; you thought that you’d be able to leave that life of yours behind you. “Uh, yeah, th-that’s true,” you answer with a pursed smile.

“Alright, any other questions?” you pointedly try not to look at the same student, and no one raises their hand. You clap your hands. “Alright, let's get started.”

-------

You look at your watch and see that two hours have gone by quickly. “Alright, I think I must wrap up in a minute. So, just a few late things,” you pause and look back at everyone and face your back to the used blackboard.

“Please do the practice questions; they really are helpful. And if you do have any questions, please either email me or any of the TAs, and we will reply. Just give us at least twenty-four hours to reply,” you smile and cross your arms.

“Ok, I think that’ll be it for today. Have a good one, y’all,” you nod and smile as you see your students start to flood out of the lecture theatre.

A few students line up to ask you a few questions about today's content, and you happily answer them and make sure that your explanations are detailed and clear for them to understand.

Soon, you are packing your stuff and wiping your writings off the blackboard. You switch off all the electronics, then finally the lights, before walking out of the classroom.

-------

It’s the end of the workday; you taught a total of three classes. And for each of them, you were equally enthusiastic about enlightening the minds of everyone present in the room with you.

You do your final routine of closing your office. You are quite happy with how today turned out; a few students took advantage of your office hours and asked you a lot of advanced questions, which tickled your brain in a really fun way.

You finally lock the door of your office and adjust the strap of your messenger bag over your shoulder.

You exit the building and head down the stairs. As you do, you hear someone call out your name.

You stop in your tracks as you sort of recognize the voice. You turn and see a 6’3 man jogging to catch up to you. His hair is the same since you first met him, his beard is much fuller, and his eyes. His eyes have always been the bluest you’ve ever seen.

But he's broader, stronger, and much taller.

“Oh gosh, it really is you, Hey! I thought my mind was playing tricks on me, you look different, but the same,” he chuckles as he pulls you into a hug. You hug him back, but you’re still in shock.

It’s been years since you both have seen the other.

“God, the last time I saw you, you were on TV,” he scoffs and laughs at the same time. “You were wearing the NASA uniform and giving that speech about your work,” he smiles at you so brightly; you think it’s the most gorgeous thing you’ve ever seen.

When did he get so handsome?

You just nod to whatever he’s saying; you seriously don’t think you can speak right now.

“How are you?” he smiles, gripping harder onto his briefcase as he waits for you to answer. And you smile.

“I’m well, Andy.”

🎀🎀🎀

TAGLIST <3: @sarahdonald87 , @yiiiikesmish , @jamneuromain

Here we are babes, with the first chapter of Infinite Solutions.

Took a while, but we made it. 😌😌😌

Again, if you want to be tagged, please comment so I can keep a list my loves.🤗🤗🤗

Till' then

Stay Coquette-y,

Anya 🫶🏽🕊️🎀

#andy barber x you #andy barber x reader #andy barber smut #andy barber fluff #andy barber #andy barber x female reader #andy barber x y/n #andy barber fanfiction #chris evans characters #andy barber angst #andy barber au #andy barber fic #andy barber x f!reader

[parkermunson]

Picture Me

Summary: Peter Parker's shy in most things, until he's behind the camera. [1.6k words]

T/W: smut [18+ only, minors away!!], exhibitionism, f+m masturbation

A/N: My first Peter fic/smut! Tbh this can be any Peter you want, but I had Andrew's in mind while writing. As a photographer myself, I fell in love with Spider-Man's camera savviness, and clung to it since Tobey. Kinda upset we never saw that part of the character with Tom. Divider by @silkholland.

Tagging @corrodedcorpses for supporting this <3

Peter was different than any person you've ever dated. He was shy, timid, and extra sweet. He second-guessed himself often, even when you assured him he was perfect. The only time he never questioned himself was when he was behind his camera, snapping shot after shot of whatever caught his eye through the little lens. His confidence soared when you complimented the finished photos, boosting his self-esteem beyond comprehension. But when the camera was away, those self-esteem issues crept back in, clouding his brain in self-deprecating thoughts.

The two of you had only been dating a few short months, but your friendship had spanned years. All it took was one drunken night for feelings to be shared, and bodies to be explored, to change everything. Peter was by no means shy in the bedroom, but it was obvious he was holding back. The little things gave him away– the clenched fists during a particularly messy blowjob, or the lip bite when you slowed your bouncing on his cock. You tried everything to push him past that line, but it proved much more difficult than anticipated. He was simply afraid to let that side of him out. That's what caused the genius idea to hit you so hard it had your thighs clenching under the table over dinner.

Peter sat across from you, talking about his woes as a journalism photographer, trying to make ends meet on the bullshit excuse of pay. You're half-listening, half-drowning in the idea of Peter taking you over the table right now, throwing the dishes to the floor or letting them fall off the table with every hard thrust of his hips.

"I want you to photograph me," you interrupt. Peter glances up at you from his plate, pausing his movements.

"I've taken photos of you before," he replied, placing his fork down. He's confused, a bit worried even. You seem serious, and haven't been able to give your full attention to him since you sat down.

"I want you to photograph me... naked." The last word leaves your mouth in almost in a question. You're not sure that's what you even had in mind. But it's the first thing that came out.

Peter's mouth hangs open while you wait for an answer. He's not sure he heard you correctly. This can't be real. You can't be real. This was one of his biggest fantasies, to have your gorgeous body photographed by him, to have you captured on camera in your most intimate way. Of course, this fantasy always ended with a photo of your fucked out face covered in his cum hiding in his wallet. He'd print photos of your pussy swallowing his cock and keep them hidden by his bed for a lonely day. He'll even print a photo of your tits covered in deep purple hickies.

But how could he do that to you? You were delicate, unassuming. You weren't aware of his crime-fighting alter ego and you've never even gotten kinky in the bedroom. He didn't want to lose himself and accidentally reveal he was Spider-Man. You'd be at risk with that knowledge.

"Y/N... I don't know." He folded his hands in his lap and stared down at them, doing everything to avert from looking at you. You were silent, hurt from his answer. Why wouldn't he want this? Wouldn't anyone want the image of their partner naked? Did he not like that part of your relationship? Of you?

You stood from the table, and walked to the bedroom, making a point of grabbing his camera off the living room table on your way. Peter sat there frozen, his brain telling him not to follow, his cock twitching at the thought of you sitting naked next to his camera. His internal battle was halted when your sultry voice called his name from your room. "Peteeeerrrrr." It was almost like a moan and a demand at the same time. Your own personal mating call, just for him.

His legs were carrying him to your room before he even processed the action in his brain. You controlled him now. You sat cross-legged on the edge of your bed, smirking at his frame in the doorway. His camera perched next to you, waiting. He approached slowly, already looking wrecked without anything even happening. The idea was enough to send the man in a fit. You placed the camera in his hand gently, and sat up on your knees. "Direct me, Mr. Photographer." He looked dumbfounded, lost in his thoughts. "Peter... where do you want me?"

"Uh.. o-over here," he pointed half-heartedly to the corner with a chair and a light above. You smiled and reached out a hand to him, which he took to help you off the bed. Sauntering over to the chair, you made a show of wiggling your hips with each step. Peter was practically drooling already.

You sat down and looked up at him with wide eyes. It took a moment, but eventually he understood to start taking pictures. You began unbuttoning your jeans, making sure he got to see the pretty lace of your panties hiding beneath your pants. Sliding the jeans off your legs, you bent over, giving the camera a nice view of your cleavage over your low-cut top. You then moved onto removing your shirt, sliding it over your head so your hair bounced behind you.

Peter fell to his knees, wanting to be on the same level as you. He was snapping away on his camera, not missing a beat. In just your panties and bra, you turned on the chair, sitting on your knees with your back to him, glancing over your shoulder with mischievous eyes. You smiled as your reached around and unclipped your bra, holding the cups to your chest. The strap slipped from your shoulders. Snap. You slid the garment off your arms, covering your chest in one arm, and holding up the discarded bra in your other. Snap. Dropping the bra to the floor, you turn back to face him, still covering your chest. Snap. You drop your arm and lay it on the armrest of the chair, relishing in the confidence you possess. Snap.

A tent is starting to form in Peter's jeans, but he doesn't even notice. Not when a supermodel is stripping right in front of him, for him. You stand up, turning to face the wall so your back is to him. Your fingers play with the lace on your hips. Snap. You spread your legs slightly, bending over. Snap. The lace glides over your ass swiftly, revealing the soft skin beneath. Snap, snap, snap. Peter can smell your arousal with your ass directly in front him, inches from the lens of his camera. Your underwear pools at your feet and you kick it off toward your bra. You sit back on the chair and spread your legs. Snap. Peter's starting to notice the uncomfortable bulge in his jeans, pulling at the fabric for a better placement and immediately focusing his attention back on you.

You lick a long stripe up your palm and slide it between your legs, rubbing slow circles on your clit. Snap. Your other hand pinches your nipple, pulling at it with a hiss. Peter moans behind the camera, losing control over his composure. You place a leg over the armrest and pull your other knee up so your heel rests directly on the edge, spreading yourself out so he has the best view in the house. Your fingers dance lower on your clit, playing with your entrance. Sliding a finger in to the first knuckle, then back out. One glance up to Peter and you instantly melt. He's palming himself over his jeans, his bottom lip pulled tightly under his teeth, and his camera held lazily at his side.

You stop your ministrations, "nah-uh. Keep shooting." He breaks from his trance, putting the camera back to his eye and snapping away. You insert one finger fully, your head falling back from the new sensation. Your other hand leaves your nipple and slides down to your clit, rubbing circles the same speed. The pleasure was good, but it wasn't enough. Inserting another finger, a loud moan leaves you, causing Peter's hand to reach back onto the tent in his jeans. He's still taking pictures one-handed, while palming himself. The visual causes your hands to speed up, throwing you closer to the edge. Peter unbottons his jeans and slides a hand in, his hips bucking at the touch of his fingers. The coil in your belly tightens when you realize how desperately he's watching you. Then you hear it, snap. You're sent over, your body convulsing against the chair, your breathing turned ragged as your eyes hit the back of your skull.

You're floating in that heavenly feeling until Peter's pulling your hands away. Snap. He zooms in on your fluids leaking from you, moaning at the sight. Snap. Then he's looking up at you with a devilish smile. "My turn."

#peter parker #spiderman #peter parker smut #peter parker imagine #peter parker fanfiction #spiderman imagine #spiderman fic #spiderman smut #tasm smut #marvel #marvel fic #marvel fanfiction #spiderman x you #spiderman x reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #parkermunson #mandi writes

[nanatsuyu]

I feel like it’s not talked about enough that early in the books Kevin is the only person we see Andrew initiating any type of physical closeness/touch with at all … also thinking about how they’re described physically with each other in Son of Nefes like. so much tenderness (@ your tags about how Andrew carries himself around Kevin and Neil)

I definitely think their closeness in the beginning gets overshadowed a lot by how close Andrew and Neil get later in the series. And that's not a diss on andreil! I think it's important to Andrew's character to see that while Neil played a very large part in letting Andrew explore his boundaries and grow comfortable with physical affections, there were others that helped in that healing along the way too.

One of my favourite scenes is the one where Kevin takes his glove off for Andrew to inspect his hand for any damages. It's written in such a way that implies they weren't paying any attention to the rest of the world around them. Matt had been carded, the play was over and a fight had broken out, and during that sliver of time, either Andrew had hailed Kevin over or he'd gone of his own volition to the goal for Andrew to give his injuries a one over. Kevin knew he was going to get swapped out, and they both turned somewhat surprised when Dan called out to Kevin, as if the game being in play was an afterthought. (Which, considering it's Kevin, seems somewhat ooc since he always knows what's going on on court).

And, although we don't have the exact words regarding Andrew's deal with Kevin, it was implied in the most basic terms that Andrew would protect Kevin from Riko. (There's obviously nuance here given Andrew's bodyguard tendencies when Kevin gets into later spats with people, but for the sake of how vague most of Andrew's deals are spoken aloud, I think it's safe to assume he promised to protect Kevin from his big bad not sibling in the same way he promised to have Neil's back). All that just to say... It wasn't really in their deal for Andrew to protect or look after Kevin outside of his affiliations with the Ravens. And yet, even after threatening to break his own hand before all this, because Kevin annoyed the piss out of him so much, here he was, inspecting Kevin's hand and putting the game on hold to do so.

This injury has nothing to do with Riko or the Ravens. So, in terms of their deal, he didn't really need to dote on Kevin like that. And yet.

And yet.

And this is really only one instance of them being glued at the hip. Andrew does a lot of redirecting of Kevin's person in the same way we see him do later with Neil. Like you said as well, Kevin's the only one for some pages that we see Andrew physical with that isn't necessarily reactionary or defensive. I know Andrew was still on his meds at the time, but this line came across to me as him literally shoving Andrew down court who didn't seem to take much issue with the it:

He doesn't make much mention of it, but if I had to wager a guess, these moments of familiar contact are not a new thing upon Neil's arrival.

(Also it's been a hot minute since I skimmed through son nefes (the ec and I are on cherry picking terms most days) but I know Renee saw it too.)

Like it makes me insane to think about how their deal didn't have to incorporate all that closeness. It didn't require Andrew to become intertwined with the rest of Kevin's life and daily going on's. He could have agreed to keep him on a leash from getting dragged out of the fox den by the Ravens and called it a day, but we can see clear as day that Andrew treats his relationship with Kevin far more delicately than that. In terms of canon, the best friend (platonic soul bond or whatever title floats your fancy) behaviour jumped out of Andrew so fast, I'm shocked how anyone could overlook it.

And I haven't even touched on how Wymack views their relationship, or Kathy's show, or the role Andrew plays as Kevin's other half post Evermore, or the first genuine smiles are the ones they give each other, or the pseudo threat of the butter knife scene, or whatever they had going on here:

Like, there are certainly motions that can be considered varying levels of tender, but I do think it's important to remember that Andrew's gestures should not be measured with the same scale as say someone like Renee. We can obviously see in later chapters that Andrew can be incredibly gentle (ie the hip kiss that ruined my life), but I think it's a disservice to Andrew's character to understate how close he and Kevin are through the series, both physically and emotionally.

#and i say emotionally with an asterisk because i dont think anyone in that series made it out without some codependency issues #but thats another topic #also thos got really long and rambly im so sorry #i just feel very desperately about Them #aftg #kevin day #andrew minyard #kandrew #nana asks

[otdiaftg]

The Raven King - Chapter Seven

Day: Thursday, October 5th Time: 11:30 PM EST

"I mean literally soft. Too many curves, see? I feel like my hands would slide right off. It's totally not my thing. I like..." He drew a box with his fingers as he searched for words. "Erik. Erik's perfect. He's a total outdoors junkie, rock climbing and hiking and mountain biking, all that awful bug-infested fresh-air stuff. He's stronger than I am, and I like that. I feel like I could lean on him all day and he wouldn't break a sweat." "Funny," Nicky said. "That didn't used to be my type. None of the others I crushed on growing up were anything like that. Maybe that's why none of them could help me." Nicky turned his hands palm-up on the table and considered them. "My parents are kind of crazy, you know? There's religious and there's super psychotic religious. Me and Renee, we're the decent sort, I think. We go to different churches and have some different ideas, but we respect each other anyway. We understand that religion is just an interpretation of faith. But my parents are the black-and-white crazy kind. It's only right and wrong with them: hellfire and damnation and judgment from on high. "For some reason I tried coming out to them anyway," Nicky said. "Mom was pretty upset. She locked herself in the bedroom and cried and prayed for days. Dad took a more direct route and shipped me off to Christian gay camp. I spent a year learning that I was infected by a disgusting idea from the devil, that I was a living test for every other good Christian on the planet. They tried using God to shame me into being straight. "It didn't work," Nicky said. "For a while I wished it did. I went home feeling like an abomination and a failure. I couldn't face my parents like that, so I lied. I pretended to be straight for the rest of high school. I even dated a couple girls. I kissed a couple of them, but I used my faith as an excuse never to get further than first base. I knew I just had to keep it together until graduation. "I hated my life so much," Nicky said. "I couldn't do that, you know? I couldn't live a lie like that day after day. I felt trapped. Some days I thought God abandoned me; sometimes I thought I failed Him. Halfway through my junior year I started thinking about suicide. Then my German teacher took me aside and told me about a study abroad program. She would set it all up for me, she said, if my parents would sign off on it. She'd handle admissions and get a host family and everything. It'd be expensive, but she thought I needed a change in scenery. Guess she knew I was that close to the edge. "I didn't think Mom and Dad would go for it, but they were so proud of me for my so-called recovery they agreed to let me go my senior year. I just had to last another semester and then I could go. I was so desperate to get out of there I didn't even really pay attention when Aaron and Aunt Tilda moved to Columbia that spring. All I cared about was keeping it together until May. I know now I should have tried harder, but I would've been no good to him how I was. "When the plane took off from Columbia, I was scared to death," Nicky said. "I was so relieved to leave my parents and everyone I knew, but I didn't know if being in Germany would change anything. When I landed, my new host brother was waiting for me in Arrivals. Erik Klose," Nicky said, sounding it out like he was saying it for the first time. "He taught me to believe in myself. He showed me how to balance my faith and my sexuality, and he made me okay again. I know it sounds dramatic, but he saved my life." Nicky flipped his hands over and laced his fingers together. The look he turned on Neil was as reassuring as it was worried and made Neil want to edge away. "That's what love is about, see? That's why Exy isn't ever going to be enough, not for you or Andrew or anyone. It can't hold you up, and it won't make you a stronger or better person."

Art used with permission by Kurra. Thank you @kurra !

#aftg #all for the game #neil josten #trk #the raven king #the foxhole court #andrew minyard #palmetto state university #psu foxes #andreil #on this day in aftg #otdiaftg #palmetto state foxes #otdi all for the game #nora sakavic #the foxes #on this day in all for the game #kevin day #nicky hemmick #aaron minyard #coach wymack #betsy dobson #abby winfield #matt boyd #dan wilds #renee walker #allison reynolds #artists #kurra

[royalwriteroftheuniverse]

Holiday party with Andy

Mostly fluff tiny bit of angst some anxiety Andy Barber slightly older than his girlfriend and fluffyness but 18+ just incase

Comments & reblogs welcome no reposting or publishing

Special thanks to @cevansbrat0007

"Hey sweetheart you don’t have to be nervous look-"

"It’s not that I just I want to make a good impression on them"

"I don’t give a shit what they think from a 2 hr party with an introduction that lasts 3 minutes. I’m not going to break up with you just because someone goes 'I don’t like her.' Because  I love her and that’s all that matters beautiful" he kisses my head. 

He said he loved me he never said that before I wonder if he realizes he just said that 

“Hun you hear me.”

“Yea,"

 "If you don’t want to go you don’t have to go.”

“You kidding let all those women and men around you with alcohol in their systems and their work guard down. Hell no. I gotta steak my claim.”

"You steamed your claim"

"Um not to them. Now either I go or I give you a giant hicky"

"Either, or can't be both?" 

"Andy"

"What? It’s a valid question."

I roll my eyes.  

"Ok pants or dress"I swear I can see his eyes darker. "That’s not why I asked  I meant and that’s not happening."

"Spoilsport"

"You need to stop watching "The Good Fight." 

"Pants I know you feel more comfortable than the dress even though I like it better." 

I get a kiss on my hair. 

"Yea but it's cold"

"He smiles you can wear your velvet one."

He hasn't seen me in the velvet one it barely covers my butt, but then again slightly tispy jealousy Andy is fun to play with, "Hey we're taking a Lyfy tonight, right."

Yea why?

 "Just wondering"

Why plan on getting drunk on eggnog? 

I roll my eyes 

"One time it was one time and didn't it didn't taste like alcohol how was I supposed to know-"

"Mhm This is not a trial Missy." He grabs my hips bringing me close to him. 

"Don't missy me," I pout "I don't like being made fun of."

"I'm sorry babe you know I love you," he says wrapping his arms around my neck giving my temple a soft kiss. That's the second time he said he loved me in an hour. 

"Ok red velvet dress it is. Only cause you asked so nicely. " But if I get sick-" I point at his. 

He throws his hands up in surrender 

"I will take days off and nurse you back to health."

"Good boy" 

"You trained me well."

We get to the restaurant and I am suddenly regretting my choice of outfits and why does everyone here look so old i mean I know late 40s and 50s but they look like… God I can hear the jokes now about me looking young i feel bad about the jokes they might make to Andy about him and me being a good digger there's only a few years That's not fair its not his fault I look young he shouldn't have to-"

"Hey what's got you so worried Princess? Your coat."

"Oh yeah," I shrugg it off. "Are you sure I can uber home I mean they everyone is and I'm and you don't deserve."

"Hey relax no one is going to make a joke  and if anyone teases you you come get me and ill fire them." 

"K." I can't help but smile "But then who wouldn't want to make up an excuse to try to get you to dump me and date them?"

"Well it wouldn't work." He kisses me.

I give him a smile and then another piece of anxiety hits my brain. 

"I dont know any people he works with what if I seam so stupid and they just think I'm clingy and  I-

"Hey no one is going to think you're stupid. And I like having my arms around you as long as you do"

"Wha- did I say that outloud?"

"No you have different faces for different anxieties."

I groan as he wraps his arms around me. 

"I only noticed cause I pay attention sweetie  and- did that- was that dress always that short?"

"Yes I was wondering why you wanted me to wear it."

"You are not picking up anything this whole night."

"Andy if something falls-"

"I'll pick it up"

"Andrew you started this" 

He pulls me in front of him in a tight hug and then leans in and whispers "and I'm going to finish it." I can hear the smirk. All I want to do is crawl onto bed and sleep. 

"Well if it isn't the love birds."

I relax seeing Duffy.

"Hey nice to see a familiar face."

"I was hoping you two were going to make it. That's a short dress. I don't want to be arresting anyone tonight."

"It was Andy's idea."

"I didn't know the dress was that short." He says with an honest tone his voice raising up at the end defending himself. "But as long as no one touches her there won't be a problem." He says very matter of factly.

"I get a bit of a shiver  and move my shoulders forward at that mention

"Sorry sweetheart i didn't mean to-"

"No its my fault Andy I'm sorry. I "

"It's fine, I'm just glad I have Andy here and you if he gets out of line. " I wink. " plus I don't know anyone besides you two. You should come over soon for dinner."

"I'd love to."

"Do you like steak? Andy bought some for some cookout this fall that we never did and we need to use them or their worthless. I meanz God. didn't mean it like that. Sorry."

"No its fine and I absolutely do love steak."

"Next week?"

"What day?"

"Friday? 7?"

Still in his embrace I look up at Andy who nodded.

"Friday sounds great."

We part ways and we go to get a drink. 

"Oo eggnog."

"No." He laughs

"Why what's in there?"

"Vodka probably."

"I like vodka."

"I know but your migraine meds-"

I took them early afternoon so I don't take them tonight so its not an issue. And its just a cup. 1 cup Andy.  I know you mean well sweetie but trust me I got this." 

"Ok I trust you."

He gets me a cup and he holds my hand or my waist as we talk to people and by we I mean him because I am really really nervous and know no one. I end up playing with his hand a lot.

"Be right back sweetheart I have to go to the bathroom" I not as he says it into my ear and then kisses my temple. 

I intended to go straight to the bar to sit but I get intercepted but 

"Hi I'm Niel"

Andy's fried turned arch nemesis. He's ikier looking in person.   I introduce myself with the kindest I hate you smile I can muster. 

"I haven't seen you around  the office.Are you new?" 

This is his best lines ugh. 

"Uh no I'm here with my boyfriend."

"And he left you alone thats not very boyfriendly."

Neither is hitting on someone like this And I'm getting major creep vibes. 

"Well he-" 

Someone knocks into Neil and the drink accidentally spills on me a bit 

"I am soo sorry" a genuinely-genuine reaction forms on his face and  like a kick almost he changes attitudes to appologize 

"It's fine I'm fine " I back away before he can get napkins and I back into Andy. I know thst body anywhere.  I sigh and close my eyes for a moment of relief knowing he's there. I'm ok and he'd kick ass if I needed.  

"Babe what happened? You ok?" He looks up 

"Niel" he girts out 

"This is your boyfriend-"

"Yes I'm her boyfriend. What happened here? Neil."

"It was an accident." 

"It really was Andy."

"Niel." He growls out.

"Okay. Now that introductions are done. Andy, sweetie" and nope can't break their eye contact so I step in front of him. Bringing his eyes back to me "Why don't you come with me to the bathroom and help me get this out ok." 

"Yes lets." He takes my hand and then I see him give one last menacing look at Neil. 

I go into the women's bath. 

"Hello, anyone here my boy friends helping me with a stain."

No responses so I lock the door."  With a sigh as I lean back on it.

"Hey hey what happened what did Neil say ?"  his voice is soft but his eye furrow and its slits but I can still see his hands being forced out of fists by his own mind. At least he's trying. 

"He was just being a creep and someone bumped into him and thats why it spilt but-"

"How creep did he get?"

"The normal I'm used to. nothing I can't handle but I just, I missed you. The minute I bumped into you I knew everything would be ok "

"You knew that was me?"

"Honey I know your chest anywhere."

"What a coincidence I know yours anywhere too." I smile and laugh as my head drops down but when I look back up 

He is still looking at me with sad eyes he knows I'm not telling him everything but he's not pushing. 

"Honey any level of creep is not something you should be used to." His finger brushes my cheek softly.

"He was just hitting on me claiming you weren't being very boyfriendly enough." 

I think I said too much. 

"I'm fine." 

He sighs and wraps his arm around me.

"Are you sure. We can leave."

"And miss out on all that good food?" 

"Anytime you want to go I'll nick Neil out."

"Oka-wait what?"  I laughed. He kissed me and brought me in for a hug. I snacked my hands around his waist. 

"I love you sweetheart" 4th time today makes me smile "I love you too Andy."

He didn't even blink…."You calm enough?"

"Me. Yes?  You. What about that stain?"

"Oh it'll wash out."

I somehow get in a conversation with some wives and he makes sure I'm ok before he goes off to a different conversation himself.  We are ever so in tune and overprotective of each other, probably him more than me knowing I'm nervous we give each other little nods to signal the other is ok.  

When my group breaks up I find Andy immediately even though his group moved a bit.  its like this weird spidy-sense  we have for eachother. I wrap my arms around his waist and he puts his hand over mine. Its the little things that mean the most with us. The little touches the little glasses the little sift kisses.

"Sorry doll this is a private conversation don't think you'd under-."

"Excuse you but my girlfriend is welcome."

"And I just so happen to well  practiced  and versed in constitution law  and since it is a free country with the right to congregate you  can't discrimination against me being a woman as I was invited to the party."

It takes everyone in me not to roll my eyes at Andy who I know is beaming that  A) I remembered my constitutional law class from forever ago and b) the talented way I spin my words i said I was well practiced and verses. Not that it was my job.

A few minutes later I feel a hand slide down my hip I look at Andy and then I follow gaze and to the side of us Neil is in a conversation but obviously staring at my ass. 

"Doesn't he know I'm with you. "

"You ok with my hand there?"

"I didn't move it did i?"

"I love you. I really do. Love you. I don't know if you heard me the last 5 times."

"Actually this was the 5th time."

"So you did hear me," he teases."

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[topguncortez]

The Mighty Have Fallen | Prologue

Masterlist | next part

synopsis: Sports & Boys had been the only thing on your mind until everything changed in an instant.

word count: 900

warnings: cursing, description of gruesome injuries, car crash

The rain seemed to be coming down in sheets, which was a rarity for Los Angeles. Y/N was hardly paying attention, sitting in the back seat of her parents SUV, texting rapidly on her cell phone. She was half pissed that the softball game got canceled because of the rain, but she was more mad that her parents wouldn’t let her ride home with her boyfriend, Jesse. 

“Bun, I know you’re-” 

“Don’t call me that,” Y/N huffed, cutting her father off. He was going to try and play the good guy, give some justified reason for not letting her go home with Jesse. He would probably even use the rainfall in his favor, since ‘california teens don’t know how to drive in the rain’. But he was wrong, her mother was wrong, they were both wrong. Jesse grew up in Oregon, and certainly knew how to drive in the rain. Y/N had turned 18 two months ago, and was set to graduate high school in less than six weeks. She had already signed to go play division one softball at the University of Texas in the fall.  To Y/N, her parents seemed to be struggling with the fact that she was no longer their little girl. She was an adult, and hell she wanted to be treated like one. 

“Leave her be, Frank,” Y/N’s mother, Miranda spoke up, “She wants to act like a brat about not leaving with that delinquent.” 

“Jesse is a good guy!” Y/N argued. 

“Then why have you been skipping practice!?” Miranda turned in her seat to look at her daughter. Y/N narrowed her eyes at her mother, and crossed her arms over her chest, sitting back in her seat. She knew the next words out of Miranda’s mouth was going to be about how hard they both worked to put her through St. Andrew’s, pay for all the softball necessities, and take time off of work to go watch her play. It was the same spiel every time they fought. 

Miranda and Frank did work hard to be able to provide the best for their daughter. They came from next to nothing, growing up in a small, desolate town in the midwest. They had met when they were both at CalPoly, Miranda studying nursing and Frank studying journalism. Frank currently worked for the Union Tribune as a sports writer, and Miranda at the local hospital. Frank took Y/N to as many baseball and softball games as he could, making her fall in love with the sport even more. 

Their family wasn’t extremely wealthy by any means, but they lived comfortably. Y/N had been lucky to get a scholarship to St. Andrew’s Preparatory School, which had one of the best softball teams in San Diego county. It put her one step closer to achieving her dream of playing D1 softball. 

“Miranda, I think she’s allowed to be upset about the game,” Frank spoke and his wife  huffed, sitting back in her seat and crossing her arms over her chest. Poor Frank, he had gotten lucky to get a daughter who was almost exactly like her mother, from the looks to the attitude. He sighed, “This dang rain! It just will not let up!” 

“Do you think we need to pull over?” Miranda asked. It seemed as though they were the only car on the road at this point in time. 

“No! I just want to get home!” Y/N yelled. 

“You are not the one driving, young lady, so can it!” Miranda scolded her daughter. 

“Ugh! Does anyone ever listen to me!” Y/N threw her hands up. 

“Alright, I have about had it-” Miranda turned in her seat again, as Frank shouted. 

“Miranda, turn around, please- Shit!” 

Miranda had barely turned in her seat as Frank swerved from hitting something, no, someone, in the middle of the road. Y/N put her hand on the seat in front of her to brace herself from hitting it. The breaks squealed as the car spun out from the rain, and into the lane of oncoming traffic. Miranda let out a scream, as Frank tried to correct the spin and stop the car. Something that sounded like a cry for Jesus Christ filled the car, as Y/N’s eyes locked on the headlights coming towards them. 

— — — 

Y/N couldn’t remember much as the car finally came to halt after what seemed like forever. Glass covered her body as she blinked her eyes open. Her cheek felt cold and wet, and her hands reached out, feeling hard metal beneath her. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust, but she realized the car was upside down, and she was laying in the spot where the sunroof was once at. Her breath started to pick up, as the sound of a blaring horn filled her ears, and the coppery scent of blood filled her nostrils. It made her nauseous. 

“Mom? D-Dad?” She called out to them, seeing two bodies in front of her, neither one moving, “Mom! Dad!” Y/N cried louder, and tried her best to reach for them, but something had her body pinned, “Mom!” Her voice cracked, “Oh my god. . . Oh my god!” Y/N looked around the car, trying to pull herself free from whatever had the left side of her body pinned. She couldn’t feel her left hand, she wasn’t even sure if it was still there, “Help! Help me! Someone!” 

The crunch of footsteps on the glass caught her attention. She looked up the best she could as black boots stood in her line of sight. Y/N jumped a bit as the person put his hands on the ground, and then laid himself down on the ground. 

“H-help?” Y/N said softly. There was a chuckle, and the last thing Y/N could remember seeing was a pair of red eyes looking right through her.

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[horsetailcurlers2]

YET ANOTHER long and obnoxious stream of my thoughts while watching grey’s anatomy for the first time (season 14 because i’m still hanging on by a thread)

-why did megan hunt have a fresh coat of mascara and some lip gloss on when she got flown in with her gaping abdominal wound LMAO

-teddy!!!!!

-i absolutely think they should tell megan about meredith and riggs and let her make an informed decision on whether she wants meredith to be her surgeon. this is greys anatomy, of course there’s gonna be a conflict of interest. they’re making this more complicated than it needs to be.

-somebody tell me when the show stops being worth watching. so far i’m hanging on bc i’m mildly interested in how jo and alex turn out, i want teddy and amelia to interact, and i’ve warmed up to arizona since she broke up with callie. obvi i love meredith i just don’t know how much more they can do with her before i just want her to take a warm bath and retire to somewhere far far away with her children.

-did amelia relapse offscreen???? wtf is going on???

-okay she has a tumor i guess. sure, okay, whatever. !!!!

-she put a gun in her !!!!!!!!! for a man???

-i don’t love the way they’ve introduced the new intern class. they set it up as if we already know them, whereas i feel like with every other class of interns we’ve gotten eased into it a bit more before we’re just tossed into this unfamiliar dynamic

-okay but wait i do like that in this ep w the roller coaster (and the people who are supposed to be baby cristina, george and izzie) they referenced the old intro. i think the writers knew they needed a little nostalgia to hook people back in at this point. jury is still out whether or not it’s working on me.

-maybe i’m stupid but why in the fuck would they have so many important things dependent on one networked computer system. why on earth would cardiac monitors be hackable?????

-idk about maggie/jackson…. seems too incest adjacent

-the casual gaslighting and manipulation with paul stadler is so well written

-“jackson avery, you are such a disappointment, i thought you were woke!!!”

-genuine question: do they just not do chemistry reads on this show when they cast romantic interests???

-*choked up*”right before she died, she told me i should be more slutty. and i just wish i could call her and tell her how slutty i’m being” i really do love maggie

-maybe i missed it but why does carina have an italian accent but andrew doesn’t?

-i like the development of jo and meredith’s relationship

-i think meredith and this firefighter woman should kiss on the mouth

-i like april better now that she’s kind of a mess

-OOH wait does helm have a little crush on meredith bc i’m kind of obsessed with that

-if there’s one thing greys usually kills it with its casting younger versions of characters for flashbacks

-i miss joe the bartender :(

-oh my god he gives them fake cancer so he can charge them for fake chemo?????? what the fuck

-too much of an emphasis on these lesbian cookies…. suspicious

-okay yeah that makes sense. i love this

-nurse olivia!!

-olivia of course has a right to still be upset but it’s a little weird to assume alex didn’t change at all in the past ten years. not to mention it’s weird to act morally superior about it now when she cheated on george with alex

-“if you wanna rebuild you have to tear it down first” bingo

-did i miss amelia getting her own place or is she taking this girl to meredith’s house??

-okay i guess she’s just moved in with owen again. i need to pay better attention lol but so much keeps happening and it’s a lot of mush to sift through

-“meredith grey is straight” “ever hear her talk about cristina yang?” LMAO

-PREGNANT?

#if you are ever curious why i have enough time on my hands to move through the seasons so fast #don’t worry about it. next question #greys anatomy #these are all tagged under #greys reactions #meredith grey #teddy altman #jo wilson #amelia shepherd #maggie pierce

[natalynsie]

Boyfriend (Noco Oneshot)

Read full on ao3: Boyfriend - natalynsie - Total Drama (Cartoon) [Archive of Our Own]

Preview:

“How could you think she's not hot?” Cody asked.

Cody, Noah, Izzy, Eva, and Owen were walking back from their English class and headed to homeroom. Noah was getting quite sick of Cody's blabbering, but put up with it.

“I mean, Cody's right, she is pretty hot,” Izzy stated, putting a hand on Noah's shoulder.

“What about me?” Owen asked.

“You're not hot, you're cute!”

“And me?” Eva asked.

“Oh, you're hot as fuck.”

Eva smirked and Owen rolled his eyes.

“Back to the topic,” Owen began. “I don't think Gwen is hot.”

“You're too gay to be a part of this conversation,” Noah joked. “But I agree.”

“I shouldn't have to keep repeating myself! I'm not gay!”

“Noah, you're gay too,” Izzy said. “Don't think I don't see you staring at Cody's ass.”

Noah had to take a moment to process that. Noah had never stared at Cody's ass. Except for that one time but that was once. “What?”

“I'm kidding,” Izzy reassured. “Sort of. You aren't in the ass-staring phase. Yet.”

“Izzy, I'm not into Cody.” Noah usually enjoyed Izzy's observations, he found them quite entertaining, but he found this one strange. Noah didn't like Cody. He thought he was cute, but not much more than that.

“I think Gwen is not hot, Cody is insane, and he's been quiet ever since Izzy started calling Noah gay,” Eva stated.

“Something bothering you, Cody?” Izzy asked, turning back to Cody.

“Oh no, nothing, I don't care. I just didn't know what to say,” Cody informed.

“Okay, we keep on getting off topic,” Izzy noted. “Cody, what are your sexual fantasies about Gwen?”

Cody's face erupted into flames. “WHAT?”

“Good lord, let's keep this PG,” Noah sighed.

“Okay… Cody, what are your non-sexual fantasies about Gwen?”

“I'm not sharing that information with you,” Cody said. “All you guys get to know is that I'm crazy about her.”

“Yeah. We already know. Let's move on,” Noah complained. “Personally, I think Gwen is a bitch and you should stop obsessing over her.”

“What makes Gwen a bitch?” Cody asked. “She's super nice.”

“Yeah, what gives Noah?" Izzy questioned.

Noah took a breath in. “Well for starters, the way she broke up with Trent was terrible. Then she went and kissed Duncan. You don't just do that.”

“Courtney and Duncan weren't even dating!” Cody exclaimed. “Everyone keeps treating her terribly for that as if it were her fault Courtney was crazy!”

“Yeah, but Courtney's her friend. You don't kiss your friend's ex.”

“That's true,” Eva responded.

“Well yeah, but everyone's entitled to a few mistakes,” Cody said.

“She made more than a few.” Noah folded his arms.

“You're just mad he's not into you,” Izzy accused.

“I'm not into him!”

The group walked into Ms. Andrew-O’Halloran's homeroom and sat down at their table just as the bell rang.

“Well, unlike Noah, I think Sierra's in her ass-staring phase,” Izzy stated, glancing over to Sierra’s table

“Please don't tell me these things,” Cody replied.

“Okay. Question. Are you in your ass-staring phase with Gwen?”

“No. I don't stare at girls' asses.”

“Respectful. Reasonable.” Eva nodded.

“Yeah, real respectful of me not to be as low as Sierra,” Cody said sarcastically.

After that, the group decided to talk and rather do their English homework. Noah was writing an essay about themes in the last play they’d read, Macbeth, he was getting distracted by his thoughts.

Why does Cody like Gwen so much? Noah wondered. I just don’t get it.

Noah truly believed Cody could do better. He was cute, but Noah believed not everybody saw Cody the way he did. Noah tended to only pay attention to appearances once he’d met a person. If he didn’t know someone, he wasn’t able to really tell his opinion on their appearance. Along with that, personality always seemed to taint his opinion just a little. He thought Heather was a little prettier when he’d first met her.

But what Cody also had to offer was his personality- he was clever, and loyal, and dedicated. He truly tried to make people happy, no matter who they were to him. He was open-minded that way.

Cody even treated Sierra nicely. If Noah was in Cody's shoes, he would've told Sierra to screw off first thing. But Cody was still nice to her.

Noah may not have finished his math homework, but he got to do some thinking.

Noah headed to his Spanish class and sat down in his regular spot next to Gwen. Believe him- it was not his decision. If it were up to him, Noah would be sitting alone or with Cody. But, unfortunately for him, his Spanish teacher was insane and gave them a seating chart in high school.

So, he just had to put up with Ezekiel behind him, Courtney at his table, Bridgette and Geoff making out in the back row, and Trent and Gwen always passing notes to each other behind the desks. All he got to do all class was give Cody, who sat next to Trent a row back, bored glances.

The last class had been dedicated to speaking assessments, which would be continuing all week. Noah had finished his packet yesterday right before his own assessment. Figuring there was nothing better to do, he simply watched Gwen over her shoulder while Cody's table was out for assessments.

After a minute or so, Gwen turned to face Noah. “What do you want?”

“Nothing,” Noah responded blandly.

“You clearly want something.”

“I'm just thinking.”

“About?” Gwen asked. Courtney had moved tables, sitting with her friends in another section of the classroom working on science.

“The fact that Cody likes you is crazy.”

Gwen gave Noah a confused look. “Huh?”

“Well, you know he likes you.”

“Yeah no duh. Why do you think it's crazy.”

“I think it's crazy because he could do better.”

Gwen seemed to be holding back a laugh. “Look, Noah, as much as I love Cody, not in that way by the way, I don't think he could score very high. I'm not hot stuff, but Cody is probably worse.”

“Yeah but his personality is definitely better.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“You know.”

“Are you talking about the thing with Duncan? Because it's not my fault Courtney's so insanely overprotective.”

“Courtney is your friend. Or at least she was. You could have treated her better.”

“Courtney sees me more like a statistic than a friend. That's how she treats all her friends, if you haven't noticed.”

Noah shrugged. “Either way, Cody is better than you. At least he's loyal.”

“I don't know if you're trying to make me mad, but it's not gonna work.”

“I'm not.”

“Then what are you doing?”

“Just saying.”

Gwen smirked. “You just wanted an excuse to talk about Cody, didn't you?”

Noah felt heat rise to his cheeks in embarrassment. “No. I just wanted to call you out.”

“Oh come on Noah, you aren't fooling anyone. You just went on a rant about how he could 'do better'. That's basically code for telling others you have a crush on someone.”

“Is not!”

Gwen giggled. “You're so oblivious to your own crush, it's hilarious.”

“I’m not oblivious, I don't even like him!”

“You trying to prove you don't like him is just making it worse.”

“Whatever,” Noah turned to the window. It was a bland view of the brick building over, but currently anything was better than looking at Gwen.

Noah figured Gwen was just being crazy today. Like Izzy that morning. Noah was no way in the world into Cody.

“Are you jealous that he likes me and not you?” Gwen asked.

“This conversation is over.”

“I'm gonna take that as a yes.”

Cody's group returned from assessments, and Cody once again returned to his table as the teacher called out Bridgette and Geoff.

“Hey, Noah, do you by chance have the answers to the packet?” Cody asked, and Noah turned to face him. He was doing his typical pleading eyes, which Noah usually gave into for non-gay reasons. But today was not one of those days. Noah couldn't risk Gwen thinking he was into Cody.

“Uh, no,” Noah responded, and Gwen snorted.

“What's going on?” Cody questioned. “By the way, Noah, I saw you finish that packet.”

“Um…”

“You two are so funny to me,” Gwen stated.

This statement just seemed to confuse Cody more.

“You should shoot your shot, man,” Gwen said. Who she was saying that to, Noah was unsure, but it definitely didn't help the red in his cheeks.

“Oh, fine,” Noah handed Cody his binder. “It's in the first pocket on the inside.”

“Thanks?” Cody responded.

“No problem.”

Noah returned to staring out of the window and not talking to anyone. He thought about what Gwen had said, and officially decided that she was crazy. There was no way he liked Cody. Absolutely no way.

#fanfic #fanfiction #oneshot #noco #total drama #td #td noah #td cody #td izzy #td eva #td owen #td gwen #td sierra #fluff #high school #high school au #noahxcody #noah x cody #codyxnoah #cody x noah #natie fics #natie wawanakwa high school fics

[brunchable]

Chapter 5 (PT 1): Turning Page || Royalty!S.S. x Royalty!Reader x Royalty!T.H.

Words: 12.2K (HEHE) Genre: Period Drama, Love Triangle, Royalty AU, Jealousy. Pairings: Stephen Strange x Reader, Tom Hiddleston x Reader. Warning: Sugguestive scenes A/N: Story has no set/final plot, just going with the flow. Thank you to all the read my stories. I love reading your thoughts so let me know what you want to see next. This is Part 1 of Chapter Five :D I just hit 1K followers a day ago but I was travelling! vhbjlkdfb Thank you guys so for reading the fanfics on here! I would just like to say that I value each and everyone of you eventhough I forget to reply to all of the comments. I love you guys. Thank You!

Darkness, dense and oppressive—that was the captivity in which the Daevas had been imprisoned for such a long time. Nothing but darkness, which should be enough to lull them into an everlasting slumber, should be their fate. Nothing should ever wake them, and their Dark God, Chthon, who was placed to sleep along with them and is bound in a single location, which is Mount Wundagore.

While Baron swept his palm around in a circular motion, he flashed a sly grin that just reached the corner of his mouth. Foolish people. He thought by himself with a chuckle escaping from his mouth.  In the pitch blackness, crimson eyes that were only dimly lit watched Baron's every move. They served as the Daevas' eyes and senses. Hisses of an eerie intensity reverberated, and then another. They appeared from everywhere and out of nowhere at the same time. When Baron heard the hissing coming from the shadowy beings who dwelt in the darkness, he pounded his staff on the ground to get their attention.

Baron spoke in a calm voice, "Great things, take time—do not be impatient," and the red eyes moved all at once to gaze at him, even though they couldn't actually see anything and depended on the vibrations of movements, “Do you agree that we should begin this path to salvation slowly?”

He inspected his surroundings as he made his way towards the throne that had been vacant for thousands of years. These demons of the night are more than capable of tearing him to pieces if they so choose—however, he was the chosen one. The time for exacting vengeance on those who were responsible for what had been done to his God would arrive at the appropriate moment in due time. Never would he forget the pain and dishonour of driving away magic. As for those who came against him, he would make certain that each and every one of them pay at his mercy.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

After being introduced to you and Stephen, Tom and Andrew returned to their barracks before being taken for a quick orientation around the palace. Andrew made sure no one was within earshot before addressing his older brother.

"Would you be so kind as to tell me about what that was?" Andrew blocked his brother’s path and narrowed his eyes. He was referring to the way Tom looked at you the moment his eyes landed on you.

"What are you talking about?" Tom scrunched his brows and stepped aside to keep moving forward towards their allocated barracks. Andrew pivoted and blocked his path again. Tom halted again, his lips thinning.

"Oh I don't know—I can start with the starry-eyed looking glazed zombie you were when you laid eyes on the Princess?" Andrew tapped his chin while sarcastically reminding his brother about it, "I don't know if you noticed—probably not—but the Prince looked like he wanted to devour you ALIVE." Andrew whisper-shouted.

Tom sighed in defeat and looked around before making his reply, "It was her—" Andrew gave him a confused look and Tom clicked his tongue, "you know? The beautiful woman I came across in the forest that one time."

Andrew closed his eyes and groaned. Great, just great. He thought. Tom hasn't shut up about that beautiful woman he met at the forest, the only time he probably stopped mentioning it was probably during his sleep or when he's too focused on his tasks—heck, Andrew wouldn't even be surprised if Tom even spoke about you in his dreams. You've got him hooked like a fish out of water. 

"I told you she was beautiful," Tom shrugged. 

"Yes. She very much is—I could feel my eyes dilated when I saw her as well. . . but she isn’t the reason why we're here." Andrew was so passionate about reminding his brother to get his head back in the game that he placed his balled fist in front of his own lips, "You're going to be spending a lot of time with her so please, brother, please, keep it professional. She's betrothed, she's off limits."

Tom studied the desperate look on Andrew's face. Ah, that's right, you were betrothed—he forgot about that though it was the first thing that they mentioned. However, Tom couldn't just shrug off what you said to him in the forest.

'They treat me as well as they're able.'

He remembers the solemn look on your face and in the way your voice spoke when you said those words. You didn't specifically mention who you referred to but he could guess that you referred to Stephen. The indifference between you as you both sat in front of the King was something that was so obvious. Stephen seems like a man who doesn’t know what he wants and the problem is Tom now wants what he has.

“You’re jumping into conclusions, brother—I’m nothing but an admirer, is it wrong to admire the Princess?” Tom asked in his defence. 

“I’ve seen that look of yours before, Tom. You might be a tough warrior, a great leader—but I know one thing for sure. When it comes to love, you’re easy to fall and easy to break.” 

Tom squinted as he peered over Andrew’s shoulder’s, “Hey look over there.” he pointed.

Andrew furrowed his brow and looked over his shoulder and that’s when Tom made a run for it to go to his barracks without his brother. Andrew turns back around and finds Tom missing. He sighed and looked up into the sky, “Hecate help us.”

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Stephen sat in the infirmary while the scratches and wounds he received from the hands of your brother were treated by you.  The frown that he'd been wearing ever since the Lieutenants had been introduced didn't disappear from his face at any point. When you delicately wiped on his lower lip with a white towel, he hissed, the skin that was around it felt tender.

"Oh, don’t be such a baby. You wouldn't be sitting in front of me right now if you hadn't gotten into a fight with my brother." After he wrenched his head back away from you, you responded harshly and sighed at him. You could see that he was thinking about something else, almost as if he was drowning in something that he couldn't easily put to rest. "What are you thinking about?"

Stephen assumed an upright posture and shrugged,"Nothing," he said after an extended pause before continuing, "You appear to be familiar with your Lieutenant."

Stephen looked at you intently, as if waiting for you to make a mistake; nevertheless, you kept your composure and shook your head while saying, "I'm not familiar with him." Whichever way the truth, the fact remains that he was a stranger to you.

Stephen's eyes remained narrowed as he continued to stare at you, and he eventually said, "Well, if he's going to be stuck with you the majority of the time. Now you will. He was smiling at you like you were something special.” He scoffed.

"Was he? I didn't notice," You aren't sure what he's trying to prove, but the way he was behaving got you a little bit irritated, and you accidently pressed the towel down rather firmly on his lips. If he was trying to make you feel less offended by his behaviour towards you by using some kind of reverse psychology tactic, it wasn't working.

“Ow!” 

“Sorry,” You removed the towel from the wound and cleansed it in a basin filled with warm water while saying, "Never pick a fight with my brother again unless you want to be a cripple for the rest of your life." You circled back around to the topic of him and your brother.

“I did not start that fight.” He spoke out in his own defence.

"No, but you made a contribution," you say, removing the water from the cloth by squeezing it and then folding it twice before going back to Stephen and moving his hair away from his forehead in order to wipe the dried blood from that area.

He maintained his silence and gave you permission to carry on attending to his wounds. The void that had been in his heart was slowly being filled. However, he was unaware of it, or his subconscious refuses to acknowledge that it is true. He couldn't help but fixate his gaze on the young beauty standing in front of him. His first thought—what felt like his first thought about you in a while, formed so slowly in his brain—was that you looked like a goddess. Your eyes were big and piercing and feline; your hair was jet black, combed to a glossy sheen, parted sharply, and flowing all the way down to your thighs; your lips were cupid's-bow charming; and your head was leaned to one side. You had skin that had gently seen sunlight, and wore no expression at all. You had no boundaries, all you knew was to shine, and live without any walls around you on every page.

You noticed the deceiving lustre in his eyes that you had to look away, and when you looked back at him, his gaze hadn’t moved and was still focused on your face, as if to say: So you looked away and you’ve come back, will you be looking away again soon?—which was why you had to look away once more.

Everytime he looked at you, you felt brighter inside, and you yearned to keep his attention, to hold his gaze. You sensed his gaze falling upon you time and time again. Though your heart still breaks at the knowledge that he can’t reciprocate your love for him, your heart pounded more than it should and your cheeks picked up a seemingly perennial red tint. You wondered whether he thought of you as a mere wife to produce his heirs or there was something special to that look he shackled you with.

“Don’t you know it’s rude to stare, Prince Stephen?” You finally called him out before your nervousness began to eat you up.

“I was not staring at you,” Stephen denied in a hard tone and averted his gaze elsewhere, “Where else am I supposed to look?”

“I’m almost done, just hold still,” You held his shoulders and brought him closer to you, your pregnant stomach brushing the side of his arm. You felt his hand press against the lower part of your abdomen that stuck out. The gentle touch of his palm on your stomach caught you off guard and you lightly jumped back.

Stephen took his hands away and lowered his head, “I’m sorry.”

“Please don’t think that all is well between us just because I am tending to your wounds, Your Highness. I’m only doing this as a gesture of penitence on behalf of my brother.” You informed Stephen who only clenched his jaw.

“Is it not enough?” Stephen asked, “I sent you the finest flowers, presents, gave you the space you needed to get away from me, everything and everyone—including my father seems to be against me—It is for certain that me and Christine aren’t meant to be. And now you won’t allow me to feel my child who sleeps in the comfort of you? What more could you possibly take away from me?! What do you want?!”

“I want it to stop hurting!” You snapped, “No amount of flowers or objects will ever take away the sorrow you’ve given me. You told me no more secrets, no more lies! You said you wanted this to work but you came running back to her? You want to know where it hurts? Right here,” You seethed, harshly pointing towards your heart.

“Right there is where it hurts. All the time, day in, day out, every night. Even in my dreams. There’s no escaping it. It hurts because I gave my heart to you and you successfully deceived me into thinking I finally had yours, but no, you’ve left me hollow.”

"If you really think I had no ounce of love for you then that child wouldn't exist." 

"Please—as much as I love this child, it wasn't conceived out of love. It's because their father can't live another day without fucking." You threw the towel on the table beside you and shot him a furious glare before storming out of the healer’s room, slamming the door behind you. Your fingernails dug into your palms but didn’t notice as you marched through the empty halls to go to the courtyard from some fresh air. You felt glad that your anxiousness wore off now that you’re out of his sight.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ 

Engagement Ball – 1 year ago

You took a look around, searching for a stealthy way to enter the hall. You and your Fiance were being honoured at a ball, but you had no clue how you could possibly maintain your discretion, particularly in a Xarean style dress as outrageously revealing as the one you were wearing. You silently muttered an expletive as you saw that every eye was focused on you as you passed. Your sinful figure didn’t help matters. The antechamber was just as dark and gloomy as the façade of the building, and it was filled with opulently dressed aristocracy milling around. Like a prison.  A jail that has wreaths of evergreen and holly hanging over the entrances and candles burning in gold candelabras throughout the institution. You are quite sure that you saw some mistletoe as well.

Peter craned his neck to find the herald. “There he is.” He pointed to a short, squat man with a wig and scroll who stood beside a large archway. Music and laughter poured from the room beyond. Another servant appeared to take your cloaks. Though you held on to yours for a second too long, the servant succeeded in tugging it from your hands. Feeling naked, you watched it disappear with a sense of helplessness.

When Peter pulled you toward the herald, however, you dug in your heels. “I’m not being announced.” 

“But the footman said—” 

You jerked out of his grasp. “I don’t care what the footman said!” 

“Princess, the King insisted—” 

“Darlings.”  Lady  Lazarescu spotted you and smiled wide, looping her arms through yours and Peter’s, “Let’s not make a scene, hmm?” Taking a deep breath, you forced yourself to smile and nod at the eavesdropping aristocrats. 

You tried to get away but the herald had already spotted you as well and urged you, along with Lady Lazarescu, to come forward and be announced. The trumpets played and the herald stomped his staff twice on the marbled flooring, “Ladies and Lords, with great privilege, I announce the arrival of Princess (Y/N) of the Xarean Empire, future Queen to our Crown Prince Stephen of Eltham.” 

Before the curtains were drawn, Lady Lazarescu stepped aside and gestured for you to put on a smile. You sighed out of frustration and pulled a small smile as they drew the curtains open, revealing you beside Peter who assisted you in going down the stairs. The sea of people bowed before you, your eyes searching for Stephen.

The white marbled floor shone brightly in the candlelight, and iron chandeliers were suspended from the ceiling that had beams in it. A merry melody was being performed by musicians in the corner of the room close to a very tall pine tree. There was already dancing going on, but the majority of the visitors chose to socialise with the royal family while sipping champagne and milling around the room's periphery. You can tell that the aristocrats who are standing next to you have been drinking for quite some time since their speech is slurred and quite loud.

Scoffing, you marched past them through the room. You scanned the sea of black coats and sparkling gowns for Stephen, spotting his black hair at the far end of the ballroom. A group of admirers surrounded him, though the young woman clinging to his arm drew your particular attention. Your heart plummeted. Anxiously awaiting my ass. Even from a distance, you could tell the woman was beautiful: delicate and feminine; her porcelain skin and brown hair shone in the candlelight. She shook with genuine laughter at something Stpehen had just said. Uneasiness flitted through you.

This could only be one person. One boring, docile, wretchedly inconvenient pipe dream. Peter followed your gaze, wrinkling his nose in distaste when he too spotted Stpehen and the chestnut-haired beauty.

“Please tell me that’s not who I think it is.”

“I’ll come find you later.” Your eyes never left Stephen’s face. Peter knew better than to follow this time. You’d just descended into the ballroom when another man stepped in your path. Though you’d never encountered him this close, you recognized his flawless complexion and hooded eyes at once. White silver hair styled to perfection, he wore more diamonds on his crown than were in looked like your entire vault. King Pietro Maximoff. Damn it. You didn’t have time for this shit. 

Even now, that stupid cow was probably sinking her claws deeper into your fiance—reminding him of her beautiful lips, and smile, and eyes, and laugh— 

“That is quite the dress.” His gaze swept up your body lazily, and he smirked, arching a brow. His thick accent surprisingly adding to his appeal.

“Your Highness.” You dropped into a curtsy, clamping down on a slew of more appropriate honorifics. He eyed your breasts appreciatively as you leaned down, and you straightened at once. Bloody pervert. 

“Your name.” It wasn’t a question. Was he not paying attention?

“Princess (Y/N) of the Xarean Empire, Your Highness.” 

His grin widened in delight. “You're The Xarean Princess? My apologies, I didn’t expect our barbaric King to have such a stunning daughter.” He actually threw his head back and laughed. The aristocrats nearest you paused, eyeing you with renewed interest. 

“Oh, I’ve heard all about you.” His golden eyes sparkled with glee. “Tell me, how exactly did you trick our little Eltham Prince into marrying you? I’ve heard the rumours, of course, but everyone has their own theories.” 

You would’ve gladly broken a finger to break one of his other appendages. “No tricks, Your Highness,” You said sweetly. “We’re in love.” 

His grin faded, and his lip curled slightly. “How wretched.” At that moment, the crowd shifted, revealing Stephen and his many admirers. The chestnut-haired cow reached up to brush something from Stephen’s hair. Your blood boiled.

The King’s brows rose as he followed your gaze. “Love, huh?” He leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. “Should we make him jealous?” 

“No, thank you,” you snapped. “Your Highness.” 

“Call me Pietro.” As he moved aside, his smile changed into a vicious one. You raced right past him, but at the very last second, he grabbed your wrist and planted a quick kiss on the back of your hand. You were fighting off the impulse to crack his fingers, “Come find me if you change your mind. We would have fun together, you and I.” 

With one last, lingering look, he sauntered off, winking at one of the women who hovered nearby. You scowled after him for a moment before turning back to Stephen. But he and Christine were gone.

Because Stephen was so much taller than everyone else in the crowd, it didn't take you long to find them at all. Christine, being the Leetch that she was, continued to grip tightly onto his arm as they approached a door that was partly obscured by two evergreens. You followed in their footsteps as best you could. To your dismay, and maybe to your trepidation, they continued to be entirely absorbed in one other as they walked out the door without looking back. You made to slip through after them, but a hand caught your arm. You whirled around to face the Duke, Christine’s father.

You stood motionless, rooted to the spot like the evergreens beside you, as he began to pace. “Where do you think you’re going? Let our Prince enjoy this small pleasure away from your corruption.” 

At the words, your confusion morphed into something sparkling and icy, and became more intense. As though you were the one who was responsible for setting up this premarital arrangement. As if you were the one who ought to feel embarrassed about yourself. You protruded your chin and moved forwards until you were in an inappropriately close proximity to his gaunt face. "I have no idea what the hell you're talking about, but you need to take a good look at yourself in the mirror. When you go to Hell, Lord Palmer, you'll find that liars and hypocrites have their own designated area. Perhaps I’ll see you there.”

He stared at you with wide eyes, but as you moved away from him, he didn't make any attempt to follow you. As soon as you entered what could only be a kitchen, the savage delight that had been pulsing through your veins abruptly disappeared. It was empty. However, you soon found that a cold air was biting at your flesh, and you realised that the door on the other side had been left ajar. The thin space allowed the wind to whistle through it. You inched it open a little farther, seeing Stephen and Christine standing in a barren herb garden. The dark fragments of sage and rosemary were covered with snow. You moved in closer, but the wind was so loud that it was difficult to make out their words.

“I’m sorry, Christine.” Stephen cradled the woman’s hands on his own. She held her shoulders stiff—angry. 

You shouldn’t be here, the small, disapproving voice at the back of your head warned. This is wrong. Private. You’re breaking trust. He’s the one breaking trust. 

“There has to be something we can do,” Christine said bitterly. “It isn’t right. Maybe we can make a petition,ask your father for an annulment after. Surely the King wouldn’t keep you trapped in a loveless marriage.”

Your stomach dropped to somewhere below your ankles. 

Stpehen stroked her fingers with his thumb. “Once my father’s decision is set it’s hard to change it.” 

“No. . .I’m sure I could arrange a meeting—” 

“Christine,” he said softly. 

She sniffled, and you knew instinctively it wasn’t because of the cold. “I hate her.” 

“Christine, you . . . you didn’t want me.” Your chest constricted to the emotion in his voice. At the pain. 

“I always wanted you,” she said fiercely. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. I was angry, heartbroken, and I just—I needed time.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, and you saw her face clearly for the first time. She had gorgeous high cheekbones, big eyes that resembled doe's eyes, and luscious lips, “But I don’t care anymore, Stephen. I don’t care if it’s selfish. I want to be with you.” 

You watched her press those lips to Stephen’s cheek and felt sick. Suddenly, you didn’t find their love letters funny anymore. He pulled away before she could move to his mouth. 

“Christine, don’t. Please. Don’t make this any harder.” She paused, lower lip trembling. Her next words were a direct blow to your chest. 

“I love you, Stephen.” She clung to him, pleading. “I’m so sorry I pushed you away, but we can still be together. We can fix this. You’re just engaged. Speak to your father again. He’ll send that whore to her Kingdom where she belongs, and—” 

“She isn’t a whore.” 

You leaned forward as Christine pulled back, frowning at something she saw in his face. “She’s a delinquent of a Princess, Stephen, she framed you. She—she doesn’t deserve you.” 

Stephen gently disentangled himself from her arms. “Christine, this can’t continue.” His voice was low, resigned. “Whether or not you like her, you told me that my duty was for this Kingdom. I will honour it.” 

“Do you like her?” Christine changed the subject, eyes narrowing. 

“It doesn’t matter.” 

“It matters to me!” 

“What do you want me to say, Christine? She’s my future bride. Of course I like her.” Christine rocked back as if he’d slapped her. 

“What’s happened to you, Stephen?” 

“Nothing—” 

“The Stephen I know would abhor that woman. She embodies everything you oppose—” 

“You don’t know her.” 

“I obviously don’t know you either!” 

“Christine, please—” 

“Do you love her?” You held your breath, fingers biting into the doorjamb. There was a heavy pause. Then—

“No, I don’t love her.” He exhaled heavily, looking down. “But I think—I think maybe I could—” 

“But you said you loved me.” She withdrew her distance from him gently, her eyes widened in shock and pain. Tears streamed down her cheeks, “You asked to marry me! Me—not her!” 

“I— Christine, I do love you. But (Y/N) . . .” He sighed and shook his head. “I don’t want to hurt her.” 

“You won’t hurt her?” At this point, her sobs were more heartfelt, and streaks of colour began to appear on her formerly white cheeks, “What about me, Stephen? We’ve known each other since we were children!” Her tears soaked her bodice, ruining the black silk. 

Stephen’s hands hung limp at his sides. “I’m sorry. I never meant for this to happen.” 

“I’m sorry too, Stephen,” she sobbed. “I’m sorry I ever met you.” 

You slowly backed away from the door as numbness spread over your body. You have no right to be in this place. This moment hadn’t been meant for your eyes. Back in the ballroom, you stood apart from the crowd, your mind still reeling. Stephen loves her. Disgusted with your own behaviour, you shook your head. Of course he had. He’d said as much in his stupid journal—which you never should’ve read—and even if he hadn’t, he was a young, attractive man. He would’ve had his choice amongst any number of women. The thought rankled more than it should’ve. The image of Christine's lips, or any lips, pushed to his face, performed the same thing.

Christine reappeared a few seconds later, cleaning her face in the most stealthy manner imaginable. Before anybody could question her, she quickly bowed her head and made her way to the antechamber of the hall. When Stephen emerged again, you forced the knot in your throat back down and swallowed. As you watched him look everywhere for you, you considered going after Christine. 

After hearing what you had, how could you possibly face him? After discovering what it was that he'd given up? Do you love her? No, I don’t love her. But I think—I think maybe I could— Could what? Love me? As soon as you heard the phrase, panic began to grip your throat. Stephen was able to pick you out of the crowd just as you were raising your skirts in an effort to depart the ballroom and go towards the exit.

As his blue eyes met yours and expanded, you fumbled through an uncomfortable wave while regretting your newfound insecurity. He began moving on while simultaneously avoiding the numerous nobles who sought to stop him and congratulate him along the route. He did this by gently excusing himself from the situation. When he finally got close enough to you, you adjusted your feet while being vividly and cruelly aware of your heart's pounding rhythm, your tingling limbs, and your heated skin. His hands clamped securely around your wrist.

“You look beautiful.” Your blush deepened as he looked at you. Stephen's admiration was almost, in contrast to King Pietro's haughty appreciation. . . respectful. A person has never looked at you like that before.

“Thank you.” you breath caught, and he tilted his head, eyes searching yours in silent question. You looked away, embarrassed, but then Princess Wanda, King Pietro’s twin, chose that moment to swoop down on both of you. She didn’t bother with pleasantries. You’d met her a couple of times during special events, she was a bit reserved at first, but after she warmed up to you, she was a bit more chatty and open. She knows you and Stephen’s brief history since that’s usually the subject during your high-teas.

“Tell me, who was that lovely woman you were with earlier? Your sister, perhaps?” You glared at her pointedly, but she ignored you. Subtlety had never been Wanda’s forte. 

“Oh—er, no,” Stephen said. “That was the Duke’s daughter, Lady Palmer.” 

“Close personal friend?” Wanda pressed, narrowing her eyes. 

“You could say that,” Stephen answered woodenly. But Wanda didn’t bat an eye. 

“Hm.” 

“Wanda.” you forced a smile and reached for her hand, squeezing it mercilessly. “I think I’d like a little time alone with the Prince. Have you seen Lieutenant Isaac?” 

She waved her other hand behind you dispassionately. “Probably beating his chest and challenging that other soldier to a duel.”

You looked back to where she waved. “What other soldier?” 

“The pompous one.” She pursed her lips in concentration, but she needn’t have bothered. You knew exactly to whom she referred. 

“What happened?” 

“Oh, the usual male condition. Lieutenant didn’t want the other playing with his new toy.” She rolled her eyes. “I swear, my female lovers never get into such a jam.” 

Your grin was genuine now, “Perhaps you should go referee.” 

Wanda studied your hand clasped around Stephen’s, and the feverish complexion of your cheeks. The way he stood close. Much too close. Her eyes narrowed. “Perhaps I should.” 

She stepped forward to embrace you, but Stephen wouldn’t let go of your hand. Shooting him a glare, she hugged you regardless—awkward, but fierce. “I’ll see you later,” she murmured in your ear, “Let me know if I need to castrate him.” 

Stephen watched her leave with an inscrutable expression. “We need to talk,” he said finally, “Somewhere private.” 

You followed him silently and fearfully to the same herb garden where Christine had her heart broken. You made certain to lock the kitchen door behind you this time. You didn't need an audience for whatever it was that he wanted to say, even if you had a sneaking suspicion that it would hurt like a bitch. He dragged a hand through his raven hair in agitation. “(Y/N), the woman you and Princess Wanda saw me with, that was—” 

“Don’t.” As a precaution against shivers, you coiled your arms about your waist. Your tolerance has reached an all-time low. You would never have to go through that horrible conversation again. Only once hearing it was sufficient, “You don’t have to explain anything. I understand.” 

“I do need to explain,” he disagreed. “Look, I know we were engaged under less than ideal circumstances. But, (Y/N), I—I want this to work. I want to be your husband. I know I can’t force you to want the same, but—” 

“I do want the same,” you whispered. 

His eyes widened, and he took a tentative step closer. “You do?” 

“Yes.” He smiled at your answer, then—truly smiled—before faltering slightly. 

“Then there can’t be any secrets between us.” He hesitated, as if searching for the right words. “The woman you saw was Christine. You read my letters, so you know I love her. But—but nothing happened. I promise. When I came with my father, she immediately found me and. . . She insisted on being right by my side the whole time. Just now, I took her out here to discuss the shift in our relationship's limits. I told her I didn’t—” 

“I know.” You inhaled deeply as you braced yourself for the coming conflict. 

He frowned. “How can you know that?” Because I’m a shit person. Because I didn’t trust you. Because she is everything you deserve, and I am your enemy. 

“I followed the two of you out here,” you admitted quietly. “I . . . I heard everything.” 

“You spied on us?” Disbelief colored this voice. Feelings of fear ran through you. Whether you were shaking from the cold or your own shame, you had no idea.

“Old habits die hard.” 

His brows pinched together, and he drew back slightly. “That’s not how I would’ve chosen for you to find out.” 

You shrugged, attempting a bit of your old swagger, but it fell flat, “Easier this way though.” 

He looked at you for what seemed like an eternity; you began to wonder whether he would ever break his silence. You shrank back from his scrutiny, “No more secrets, (Y/N),” he said finally, “No more lies.” 

“I . . . I’ll try,” You whispered. It was the best you could give him. 

He nodded, slow and understanding. “Let’s go back inside. You’re shivering.” 

“Wait.” You grabbed his hand before he could turn, your heart lodged firmly in your throat. “I—I want to—” Make a complete and total fool of myself, “I want to say sorry—for everything.” You squeezed his fingers, your own stiff and aching from the cold. 

“Christine was right. I don’t deserve you. I made a real mess of your life when I came into it.” His other hand came down on top of yours. Warm and steady. You were probably taken aback when he cracked a grin.

“I’m glad you did.” Your blood warmed your freezing cheeks and you found it difficult to look at him.

“Right," you cleared your throat, "well, then . . . let’s go back inside before I pass out from hypothermia.” 

When you went back into the ballroom, the party was in full swing. You snatched a champagne glass from a passing servant and chugged it down in one go.

Stephen eyed you incredulously. “You drink like a man.” 

“Maybe men can learn a thing or two from women.” you waved the servant back and grabbed two more flutes, passing one to Stephen. He didn’t take it. “Relax, Prince. Enjoy yourself. This is the best champagne money can buy. It’s an insult to your father not to drink it.” you scanned the crowd with feigned boredom.

After a few periods of time, a scrumptious warmth crept over your whole body. The music, which had been a dull and uninteresting waltz before, was sounding much better now. Livelier. You just drank the third glass in one go.

“Dance with me,” Stephen said abruptly. 

You looked at him in bewilderment, “What?” 

“Dance with me.” He stood on his feet and threw your arms around his neck. You tensed, glancing around, but he tugged you down determinedly. You complied. Stephen stooped slightly, and wrapped his arms around your waist. You laughed. You both looked foolish as you bent and strained to fit together, but he would not let either of you go even though it was obvious you were uncomfortable.

“This—this isn’t the proper way to dance.” You said and lifted your chin to look him directly in the eyes. 

“Of course it is. This is our party. We can dance anyway we want.” Stephen shrugs. You chuckle inwardly.

“I—I don’t usually do this—” 

“(Y/N), if you don’t dance with me, I’ll go and find someone who will.” His grip tightened on your hips. 

“No, you won’t.” 

“Then the way forward is clear. We dance.” 

You blew out a breath and closed your eyes. “Fine.” 

As nervous as you’d been to dance, you proved yourself capable within moments, moving with unnatural grace for someone who hasn’t gotten much dancing lessons her entire life. Stephen had a few missteps of his own. He would have said it was because of your dress, but it was just him being clumsy. Focusing was impossible for him. His hands were strong on your waist, and he couldn’t help but imagine them . . . elsewhere. His blood heated at the thought.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ 

That night, the tension in our room was so intense that it was physically painful. In preparation for your upcoming wedding, which would take place in one year, the King had ordered the two of you to spend more time alone together at Autumn shore. You were lying in his bed, and Stephen could hear you shifting about in the darkness. Your breathing was first loud, but gradually it became more quiet. You made another change. Effortlessly rolled over onto your side then your back. Then to the other side, then your back, and finally your side again. Attempting to maintain silence at the moment. But you were none of those things, and Stephen was listening to you. In a never-ending loop of repetitions. You were starting to send him over the edge. You had finally made up your mind to bend over the edge of the bed, your blue-green eyes finding him in the shadows. Your tresses are now scraping all over the floor.

When Stephen tried to sit up on his elbows too soon, your eyes immediately went to the spot on his chest where his nightshirt was hanging open. The fire erupted in his gut as he questioned, “What is it?”

“This is stupid.” You scowled, but Stephen was at a loss for why you were so irritated, “You know you don’t have to sleep on the floor?”

Stephen eyed you suspiciously, “Are you sure?” 

“First things first, I need you to quit staring at me like that. Yes I am sure, its not a huge thing, really.” You rolled your eyes before scooting to make room for him, “Besides, it’s freezing in here. I need your big-ass body heat to keep warm.” 

When Stephen was still unwilling to move, you coaxed him by patting the place next you, “Oh, c’mon, Stephen. I don’t bite . . . much.” 

Stephen swallowed hard, violently blocking out the image of your mouth on his skin. He got onto the bed in a careful and unhurried manner, giving you plenty of opportunities to change your mind along the way. There was an unpleasant pause of quiet that lasted for many seconds.

“Relax,” you finally whispered, though you too, laid stiff as a board, “Quit being so awkward.” 

Stephen almost laughed. Almost. As if he could’ve possibly relaxed with you so . . . so close to him. The bed, which usually was King sized, has been replaced to a smaller one. Half of Stephen’s body jutted out into empty space. The other half pressed into you but he didn’t complain. After suffering through yet another agonising minute of silence, you eventually turned towards Stephen with your breasts brushing against his arm. His heart rate soared, and he clenched his teeth in an effort to bring his intrusive thoughts under control.

“Tell me about your parents.” You asked, and just like that, all his thoughts of intimacy fled.

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“There’s always something to tell.” Stephen maintained his firm fixation on the ceiling. Even though there was once again complete silence, you never stopped watching him. He couldn't help but cast a glance in your direction—at the enthusiastic, wide-eyed look you have on your eyes. Stephen groaned and shook his head in frustration.

“My Father and I don’t get along well, ever since I was a child. He’s always been too hard on me, probably because that’s how his father was to him. Mother wanted to have more children but Father said one son to inherit the throne is enough—if I had been a daughter, then my father would keep trying for a son but that wasn’t the case.”

You stared at him, horrified. “Marshall Wong was more of a father to me, he taught me plenty of things, first magic—as you already found out—but then I hit a growth spurt.” The side of his mouth quirked up of its own volition. “He began training me as a Sorcerer knight not long after. I claimed my spot when I was fifteen. It’s all I’ve ever known.” 

You rested your head on Stephen’s shoulder, “Claimed your spot?” 

Closing his eyes, he rested his chin on top of your head and inhaled. Deeply. “There are only two hundred mythical Eltham rings. It limits the positions available. Most serve for life. When a Sorcerer Knight retires or dies, an underground tournament is held. Only the winner may join our secret ranks.” 

“Wait.” When you stood up, Stephen's eyes immediately blinked awake. You looked down at him with a smile, your hair playing lightly across his torso, “Are you telling me Peter beat out all the other contenders?” 

“Peter isn’t a Sorcerer Knight.” Your grin faltered at Stephen’s reply.

“He’s not?” 

“No. He’s training to be, though. He’ll compete in the next tournament, along with the other initiates.” 

“Oh.” You frowned now, twirling a lock of hair around your finger. “Well, that explains a lot.” 

“It does?” You nestled back into him with a sigh. 

“Peter is different from everyone else here. He’s . . . easy-going. Open-minded.” 

Stephen bristled at the insinuation, “It’s not a crime to have principles.” 

You ignored him. You made a path down the collar of his shirt with your fingertips. Stephen coughed and cleared his throat, doing his best to ignore the little movement. However, your fingertips had a really warm feeling to them. In addition to this, his shirt was paper thin.

You didn’t speak again for several moments. When you finally did, he wished you hadn’t. 

“And . . . and Christine? Do you continue seeing her up until now?” All remnants of humour withered and died on his tongue. Stephen continued to fix his attention on the ceiling. In spite of the fact that you said nothing, your fingers continued to trace his collar. Coaxing. Waiting. He let out another sigh.

“You saw the letters. We . . . tried maintaining our courtship.” 

“Why?” You asked and felt Stephen stiffened, immediately wary. 

“What do you mean why?” 

“Nothing. . .” You murmured. Stephen would’ve given up his Sorcerer’s ring to end this conversation.

You sat up, fixing Stephen with those unnerving eyes. “You were going to marry Christine.” 

“Yes.” Stephen tore his gaze away from you and back toward the ceiling. A snowflake drifted in from the window, “Growing up . . . Christine and I were sweethearts. Her kindness appealed to me. I was an angry child. She tempered me. Begged me not to throw rocks at the constabulary. Forced me to confess when I stole the communion wine.” A grin tugged at his lips at the memory. Your eyes narrowed at his words, but you wisely said nothing. You sank down until you were pressing against his chest, and as you did, you lightly touched his exposed collarbone with your finger. In its aftermath, heat exploded all over his flesh in addition to everywhere else. Stephen repositioned his hips such that he was facing away from you while muttering a profanity.

You burrowed deeper in the blankets as the wind picked up outside.

“Are you cold?” Stephen asked.

“A little.” You reply and Stephen inched closer, lifting his arm. 

“Will you accept an olive branch?” He asked and you swallowed hard, nodding. He pressed you up against his chest and clamped his hands around the small of your back. You were transformed back into a piece of wood in an instant. Small. Tense. Unyielding. Stripped of your prying questions, it was almost as if you were . . . nervous.

“Relax,” Stephen murmured in his low baritone voice against your hair, “I don’t bite . . . much.” 

Quiet laughter rumbled through his chest. You hardened your body as much as was humanly feasible. You have no reason to be concerned. You undoubtedly heard the tumultuous beating of his heart, and you quickly realised your advantage.

“Was that a joke?” You teased and Stephen’s arms tightened around you. 

“Maybe.” When you said nothing in return, Stephen pulled back to look at you. Another smile tugged at his lips. And, suddenly, he recalled your first night together. 

“You don’t have to be nervous, (Y/N),” Stephen stroked your back, forcing yourself to remain still as you wriggled against him, “I’m not going to try anything.” 

A noise of protest escaped you, “Why not?” 

“I seem to remember you threatening to cut me open if I touched you without permission.” When your eyelids began to close, Stephen cocked your head forwards, cursing inwardly while simultaneously praising himself. When he felt a little catch in your breath, Stephen leaned in closer, his lips coming dangerously close to yours. "If you don't ask me to touch you, I won't."

Your eyes flew open, and you pushed him away with a snarl, “You can’t be serious.” 

“Oh, I am.” Stephen smirked again and settled back against the pillow, “It’s late. We should sleep.” 

You looked at him with a fiery glare in your eyes. With understanding. With a degree of resentful adoration. Stephen, feeling victorious, watched you sort through your thoughts and saw how each feeling manifested itself on your beautiful face.

You scowled at Stephen and smiled sarcastically, “It appears I underestimated you.” 

Stephen raised his brows, “Just say the magic words. Ask me.” 

“You’re an ass.” 

Stephen shrugged and sat up, “Have it your way.” In one fluid motion, Stephen lifted the hem of his shirt up and over his head. 

Your eyes flew open incredulously, trying not to lower your gaze, “What are you doing?” You grabbed his shirt and threw it back at him—which he caught and tossed it all the way across the room. 

“I’m feeling hot, aren’t you?” 

“You—you— Get out of my bed! Get out!” You shoved Stephen, probably with all your strength, but he didn’t budge. He only grinned teasingly. 

“This is our bed.” 

“No, this is where I sleep. You sleep on the—” 

“Bed.” Stephen brought his hands up to his head and clasped them together. You stared at him in disbelief, your gaze darting between his arms and his chest. Stephen's smile became wider as he fought the impulse to flex his muscles. He also recalled the day he saw you watching him through your telescope and said, "I've got a knot in my back from training for the last two weeks. I've had enough of lying on the ground. This is our bed, and from now on I'm going to sleep in it. If you'd want to join me, you're more than welcome to do so; if not, the bathtub is still available.”

You opened your mouth angrily and closed it again. “I— This is— I am not sleeping in the—” 

Your eyes darted around the bed, clearly searching for something to impale him with but your eyes only landed on a pillow. Whack. You raised your hand for another one but Stephen caught it before you could hit him again, trapping it against his chest. Clamping his lips together to keep from laughing, “(Y/N)—lie down. Go to sleep. Nothing has changed. Unless you want to ask me something?” 

“You better sleep with one eye open.” You yanked the pillow from him. 

Stephen chuckled before turning away. “Good night, (Y/N).” 

“Shut up.” You fell asleep long before Stephen did.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

"There you are," Tom's smooth silky voice interrupted your thoughts, "May I? Princess?" He looked pointedly at the space beside you on the marbled bench.

"Mister Tom," you referred to what you called him when you first met him, "You may."

"I was expecting I'd see you again but I didn't expect to meet you again in this way," He chuckles softly and takes the seat beside you.

"So did I," you lightly nodded, "I thought you were being taught your father's trade? Why is it that you're now a soldier?" 

"Well," Tom clasps his hands together, "The Kingdom I lived in has been invaded and I've come here to seek refuge."

As you were informed of the devastating information, you let out a muffled gasp, and the emotions on your face became more serious. Since you haven't received any information of an invasion, you are now curious about the location of his previous home. If the Kings were aware, then they have done an excellent job of keeping the population in the dark about it.

"I-I'm so sorry to hear that," You paused, "May I ask which Kingdom?"

"Eivengard."

Your eyes widen. Eivengard? The mysterious land, a place where the trees come to life and magical animals lurk, is home to people who are said to use magic even today, despite the fact that no one has ever provided definitive evidence to support this claim.

"Eivengard? The mysterious Kingdom? You lived there?" You asked Tom fascinated, "Can you tell me more about your home? What was it like?" 

Tom smiles at the way your eyes sparkled with curiosity as you turned your body to face him, "I don't mean to brag but It’s going to take more than words to describe its beauty, I would have to take you there."

A small smile stayed on your face, "Really? Is it true that the trees there are alive? Can you describe the Enchanted forest to me?"

Tom nodded, "The age of the magical woodland is incalculable. It reeked of age.Its earthy scent was caused by the centuries-long process of branches breaking off in the forest, falling to the ground, and decaying in silence. The composting, organic smell rose up in waves like a mist. Every towering tree that I had walked underneath brought to mind a vigilant watchman or a stoic guardian watching over the groves.  If you decided to venture deeper into the tangled heart of this primaeval forest, you'd hoped that it would reveal its dark secrets.

The more you ventured into it, the more mysterious and bewitching it came out to be. Huge roots sprawled out over the ground and twisted in a manner reminiscent of the broad backs of aquatic monsters. The vegetation grew dense and lush, creating an arch of enchanted-looking greenery over your heads as it spread out. The arthritic and twisted branches of the tree were dropping its abundance of nuts onto the walkway below. Briars, brambles and berry trees flanked the trail, making it impenetrable on either side. 

There is a wide glade, where the trees fell away, revealing the bespeckled sky. During the evening the last of the morning’s stars glinted like silver pin pricks, luminous and bright. The ore gold moon would hang quietly in the distance, casting a honeyed sheen over the trees.When I was younger, I used to sit with my back against the trunk of a tree that had been struck by lightning and watched it fade away. And as if on cue, an avian aria would erupt from the knot of trees. The solitary songbird was soon joined by his beaked companions, creating a symphony of song.The song has a wistful quality to it, as if it were an elixir for the spirit. The woods' honeyed aroma would wash over me, and I'd let myself be lulled to sleep by the reassuring warmth of it."

You sat there with your mouth gaping as Tom's words painted vivid pictures in your mind of the amazing things he saw in the enchanted forest, "Wow. I, too, want to experience that.”

"Well you're going to have to come to Eivengard with me—when it's safe, of course." Tom's grin grew wider as he saw the expression of amazement on your face; it was unlike anything he'd seen before, "I forgot to say this when we met; You are breathtakingly beautiful, Princess."

You elicit a shy laugh and look away slightly, "How many girls have had the privilege to hear that come out of your mouth?"

"Only yours."

Stephen, who was in the corridor on the upper level, discovered you and Tom engaging in a conversation in the courtyard. The man's jaw clenched and his blood began to boil as he heard the sound of your gentle laughter rebounding from what Tom was saying to you,"Unfamiliar, my ass. Is this how one acts when you're unfamiliar with someone?"

"There you are Sire!" Luke, Stephen’s appointed stylist for the wedding, ran to him and bowed, "You are to be fitted with a uniform for your wedding next week, please come with me."

Stephen switched his attention back to the courtyard, which is where he had last seen you and Tom before you disappeared. His chest tightened up at the idea that the other man had whisked you away to a place where you would be alone yourselves. He couldn't shake the notion that he should go seek for you, but he knew that coming with Luke was his only option at this point.

"Your Highness?" Luke glanced at the direction Stephen was facing. 

"Yes, yes. Lead the way." 

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ 

Stephen stands at a platform with his arms stretched wide as the tailor measures his body. Andrew and Ben sat on the sofa in his room while Stephen complains about how it was stupid for you to have a male ward when, clearly, they now decided to also train women, “I know that look from a mile away, he’s definitely have feelings for her.” 

“I don’t understand why you’re getting upset, your highness. Isn’t she getting married to you?” Andrew asked politely, causing Ben to chuckle at his question.

“They’re engaged and that didn’t stop him from running back to his ex-girlfriend when he realised the weight of his responsibility,” Ben answered and received a death stare from his cousin, “What? I’m just stating the truth. You don’t know what you want—You should’ve just been honest with her and told her you were confused instead of telling her what you told her.”

“Wait. . . can we just rewind because I am confused. So he told her that he felt the same and then he changed his mind and chased after someone else?” Andrew furrowed his brows while trying to understand the whole ordeal between you and the Prince.

“Correct.” Ben replied.

“Wow, that's cold.” 

“Both of you do know that I am right in front of you?” 

“Yes, we do.” Ben smiled, “And we don’t care—Now I’m actually curious on how you’re going to write your vows for her.”

Andrew’s gaze flicked towards Stephen who was thinking rather deeply, he needed to make it sound convincing not only for you but to all the people who will be invited. Stephen sighed heavily and caught Andrew’s gaze.

“I honestly don’t know, I can give it a try after this, but I can’t guarantee how convincing it’ll be.”

“Just write something from the bottom of your heart,” Andrew shrugs.

“Why don’t you grab a servant nearby to scribe, let’s get this over and done with.” Stephen adjusted his posture, trying to stay still to not get pricked by the needle. Andrew went out to find a servant and called in the first one he saw. 

“Your highness,” The servant girl lowered herself to a curtsy.

“Yes, yes—grab a pen and paper and write down the things that I’m about to say.” 

“Yes, Your highness,” She immediately grabbed a pen and paper on one of the desks and anticipated for the Prince to open his mouth and say something.

A few minutes pass by and Stephen still hasn’t said a word, “That’s a real tear jerker, cousin.” Ben slowly clapped his hands and shook his head. Andrew on the other hand pressed his lips together to prevent a laugh from escaping his lips.

“I’m thinking alright?” Stephen snapped at Ben, “Okay. . . (Y/N), of all the people you've met and places you've visited you ended up here—with me. It is a very powerful and humbling fact.”

“Are you serious? That sounds like a eulogy,” Ben grimaced as he interrupted Stephen’s train of thought.

“You will be the clouds and I will be the sky. You will be the ocean and I will be the shore. You will be the trees and I will be the wind.” 

“For the love of God, I almost threw up—Are you writing her a song or what?”

“Why don’t you write it then!?”

“It is kind of hard to write a vow when your heart isn’t fully set on her.” Andrew shrugs.

“And is yours set on someone?” Stephen asked the younger man, who nodded without hesitation, “Good, write one for me then.”

“You can’t be serious right?” Andrew chuckles. His smile faded when Stephen only gave him an expectant look, “With all due respect, Your Highness, that is your vows to her, it has to mean something to you.”

“I’m sure whatever you write will be the exact same as how I feel.” 

“No it's not.” Ben opposed.

“Well it’s either write me something or both of you will have to listen to the pathetic lines I could think of.” 

Andrew and Ben looked at each other, “How long does it have to be?” Andrew asks.

“Make it straightforward and concise. I don’t want anything long.” 

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ 

The last time you saw Stephen was during your argument—both of you have been preoccupied with preparing for your wedding and the only time you’d see each other was during breakfast, but even then, you didn’t speak with one another. 

Today was the day that Alcina arranged for you to try on wedding dresses, shoes and jewellery—of course, Tom was there with you. Each time you came out from the dividers wearing a white dress, he always had this wide-eyed, slack jawed expression. Air whooshed from your lungs, and the entire Hall seemed to fade away, going silent as you stared at one another. Your heart thumped heavily as your hands spasmed open and then closed. He was staring at you, but so were the Ladies-in-waiting. Asha, particularly, noticed how Tom looked at you with heavy admiration.

As you turned around to face the mirror and admire the dress, Tom came closer after noticing the healing scar on your arm, his eyes lingering on the corner of your mouth, “You were hurt,” It wasn’t a question but a statement uttered in a hard-as-granite tone. “You can be assured that will never happen again.” 

You became rigid as Tom's gaze collided with yours through the mirror and remained fixed on you. Even though you knew that he couldn't see your eyes through your veil, it still seemed like he could since his gaze was penetrating, as if he could see not only through you but also into you.

You made an effort to shrug off the emotion, but the more he maintained your sight, the stronger the sensation became. You attempted to ignore it. It had to be his eyes, specifically the colour of them. Indigo has such an unusual and beautiful shade. While gazing into their eyes, one's mind may wander to many other places and times.

“Alright, Lieutenant, allow our bride to admire her beauty not her scars,” Alcina gently pushed between you and Tom and he broke eye contact and pivoted toward the entryway. Your breath left you in a ragged exhale, your heart hammering as if you were running across the hills. 

“That was…intense,” Asha murmured. 

You blinked, giving a shake of your head as you turned to her. “What?” 

“That.” Her brows were lifted, “You and Sir Thomas staring one another down. You two were engaged in a rather heated one on one just now.” 

You could feel warmth creep into your cheeks. “He’s just doing his job. . .”

Asha lifted her brow, “Oh really?” 

“Yeah, of course.” You smoothed your hands over the lap of your dress. 

“So, he was just making sure you’re still alive and—” 

“Breathing?” Both of you were surprised by Tom's suggestion. He had moved with the stealth of a trained guard and the silence of a ghost, and now he was standing a scant foot from from where you were standing, “Since I am responsible for keeping her alive, making sure she’s breathing would be a priority.” Your shoulders stiffened. How much had he overheard? 

Asha made a poor attempt to smother her giggle with the back of her hand. “I’m relieved to hear that.” 

“If not, I’d be remiss in my duty, would I not?” 

“Ah, yes, your duty.” Asha nodded in scepticism, “I’m sure you can accomplish your duty over at the couch there Lieutenant, let us help the Princess choose a wedding dress. . . you know, for her wedding?” 

Tom chuckled at the lady emphasising the word ‘wedding’ twice, “Of course.”

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ 

“I would like to spend the rest of my afternoon in the garden, call for my mother also, please.” You told Asha, “Prepare some tea for me at the gazebo—I’m craving scones and jam, so please give me a fair amount.” You kindly requested from Asha who nodded.

“Right away, Princess. I’ll tell the chef.” 

“Care to join me, Lieutenant Hiddleston?” you asked, even though he would be joining you regardless.

You left the room to head over the garden to have some tea. You glanced over at him as the marble staircase curved. He had one hand rested on the hilt of the sword at his waist. 

He looked over at you then—more like he looked down at you, even though you were a step higher than he was. He was still taller, which seemed unfair. One dark brow rose, his gaze questioning. 

“What?” You asked, heart seizing as you lifted your foot but not high enough. You tripped. Tom reacted fast, curving his hand above your elbow, steadying you. Embarrassment flooded your system as you muttered, “Thank you.” 

“No insincere thanks are required or needed. It is my duty to keep you safe.” He paused, “Even from treacherous staircases.” 

You took a deep, even breath. “My gratitude are never insincere.” 

“My apologies then.” It wasn't necessary to see his face to know he was grinning, and you could guarantee the world was better for his smile. Silence reigned after you reached the second-floor landing, and he had become silent. You went downstairs, through the hall, and out the stairs to the gardens by turning to the left. Tom walked all the way to the end of the hall and opened the large oak doors, touching your shoulder with his arm. Before proceeding up the tight spiral staircase, he waited for you to arrive. The space was drenched in natural light thanks to the ovular windows.

“Watch your step. You trip and fall here, you’re likely to take me out on your way down.” 

You huffed, “I won’t trip.” 

“But you just did.” 

“That was a rarity.” 

“Well, then, I feel honoured that I bore witness to it.” He retorted back and a giggle elicited from your lips. He was speaking to you in a way no other person did— besides Asha. Not even Stephen had been so…familiar. It was as if you had known each other for years instead of hours…or days. The comfortable way he was talking to you was disconcerting. 

You take your time admiring the newly watered plants under the sun that often shines warmly. You wander down the perfectly laid cobblestone paths that lead between the brightly colored plants with Tom patiently following behind you.

“What’s your favourite flower?” Tom asks, noticing how you’d stop from time to time to admire each time as you walk by. 

“Snowdrops.” You answered easily.

“Why’s that?” 

You slowed your pace so that you’d walk side by side with your Lieutenant, “Because it’s the first flower to bloom at the end of winter—it also symbolises hope.” 

“Do you want to know a story about the Snowdrop then?” Tom asks and you look up to him with the same curiosity, “Legends has it that the snowdrop flower was born out of an angel who fell in love with a human girl, seeing her heart broken and shedding tears—he wanted something to comfort her in her despair, the angel picked up a snowflake, throwing it up on the Earth to cheer her up. As the snowflake shattered, it became a symbol of new beginnings and of hope. And everywhere the snow landed, snowdrops grew.” 

“Wow, he must’ve loved her so much. That’s quite a short love story.”

“Thank you, I just made it up.” He said proudly.

“Well aren’t you quite a story teller? Have you ever thought about becoming a writer?” You tilted your head and he offered his hand for you to hold as you approached the small staircase of the gazebo.

“No but now that you’ve suggested it, I just might.” He chuckled while pulling the chair out for you, “Are you aware that you will be heading to Autumn shores tomorrow?”

“Yes, I am aware—I also heard that there won’t be any carriages?” 

“Unfortunately, no. The King doesn’t want to catch any unwanted attention, therefore you will be riding with me. But rest assured that I will be riding gently, so as to not hurt the child you're carrying.” Tom left a fleeting glance on the stomach you didn’t bother to hide. 

“Who else will be travelling with us?”

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ 

The fact that you were expecting meant that travelling would take at least one day longer than usual. You embarked on your journey surrounded by Stephen, Andrew, Ben, Oscar, James, and Asha, in addition to eight other Royal Knights.

After travelling for a few hours to Autumn shore, you no longer need to depend on your imagination to understand what Tom had meant when he stated that you would be riding with him. 

There wasn't much room to move between the two of you. Although you sat up straight and tried your best to ignore the sensation of Tom's arm being wrapped around your waist, the pace was challenging. Even though it wasn't a full gallop, the rigid stance rapidly became difficult and painful since you weren't accustomed to the way a horse moved this slow. With each passing hour, you inched closer to Tom until eventually, your back was plastered against his chest, and your hips were cradled by his thighs. At some point, the hood of your cloak had slipped off your head, and you chose to go about without it, in part because you were curious to feel the breeze on your face.

And in part due to the fact that each time Tom bent down to talk to you, you were able to feel the warmth of his breath on your cheek. You'd be correct. This was completely unsuitable for a woman who was engaged to be married. Or, at least the way it felt to be held by him felt inappropriate for you.

Stephen, in the meanwhile, was overcome with an overwhelming sense of wrath, which he characterised as a burning sensation in his gut and a sensation that he swore made him feel his temperature increasing. Despite the fact that it seemed like a living, breathing entity was attempting to claw its way out of him, he became entirely indifferent to the experience. He merely galloped out on his horse, glaring viciously at the man who was behind you while simultaneously observing how at ease you seemed to be in his arms.

Stephen squeezed so hard on the reins of his horse that his knuckles became white, yet he was oblivious to the fact that he was doing it. It disturbed him that you were so familiar, and he felt a wave of envy coming on that threatened to sweep him away. Growling possessively, he was already having a hard time restraining himself from acting on the notion of shoving the guy back and stealing you away from him.

Ben's eyes darted between you and Stephen, and he took the executive decision to block his cousin's vision in order to prevent himself from becoming more agitated. "Stare much harder and you could just wind up murdering someone," Ben warned his cousin.

Stephen overcame his reluctance to turn away and once again resisted the desire to declare out that you were his and to voice his ownership of you. He was well aware that Tom's clear sentiments for you would not be altered in the least by this fact.

An ugly, insidious feeling crept into him and he couldn’t stop himself from saying, “If I do, I order you not to stop me.” 

Tom should hear the conversation and discreetly chuckled to himself. It was not hard to notice the way Stephen looked at him, he'd been at it for hours—he was just acting as if he didn't see anything.

When Ben found a suitable spot to spend the night to rest, he made a gesture with his fist for everyone to stop “We camp here, the sun is setting.” The commander dismounted his horse and the rest followed. Before Tom could have the chance to carry you down, Stephen made his way towards you and pushed himself in front of the other without being discreet about it. 

Stephen assisted you off the horse with so much care before turning towards Tom who simply backed away, looking unbothered. You felt worn off and Asha came to your assistance, leading you to a tree stump to sit down on.

“She’s carrying my child, I hope you understand.” Stephen addressed Tom quite arrogantly. 

“I understand fully my Prince,” Tom replied but shakes his head, “I’m just a bit wary that you might hurt her, and I can’t allow that.” Tom uttered without thought and by hurt, he meant emotionally.

“Hurt her? I'm not going to harm her. You, on the other hand, I'm going to destroy—if you don’t back off.” Stephen seethed closed in on Tom who stood his ground unfazed, both men sizing each other up, faces inches away from each other.

James who smirked at what was unfolding blocked your line of sight. You were already stressed enough, he thought that you didn’t need to see that.

“How are you feeling?” James asked, fixing away your stray hair that fell on the side of your face and removed his jacket, draping it over your shoulders.

“I’m just tired.” You weakly sighed and smiled at your brother. Your back was slightly hurting but you didn’t want him to worry. James glanced and noticed that Andrew and Ben had pulled Tom and Stephen away from each other. He then squatted down in front of you.

“Can I?” He asked to touch your stomach.

You nodded with a tired smile, “Of course.” 

“Have you decided on any names yet?” James asked and gently placed his palms on your lower abdomen.

“Stefan for a boy and Sersei for a girl.”

“Does it have to start with an S?” James creased his brows, “Stefan sounds awfully like Stephen—I like Sersei though, it’s a beautiful name.” 

“Stefan means victorious and that’s what I want him to be.” You told James as-a-matter-of-factly.

“And what about Sersei?” 

“Sersei means bird, I want her to have as much freedom and have high ambitions.” 

James casts you a proud gaze, “Well then, I can’t wait to meet my future niece or nephew,” James leaned closer to your stomach and whispered, “Make sure you take after your mother okay?” 

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ 

Deep in the night, Stephen struggled to sleep—mainly because of the little ordeal he had with Tom. During dinner, they didn’t stop glaring at each other, their negative energy and tension so strong that it became awkward every time someone made conversation. He tossed and turned in his make-shift tent. Unlike everyone else, you got to sleep in a proper tent with your brother keeoing an eye on you.

The fact that he could hear Ben and Asha, probably making out, thinking that everyone was asleep was beginning to drive him insane. Tom who was trying hard to ignore them as well, placed his satchel over his ears in an attempt to block out the noise.

Behind Ben and Asha, Stephen sighed softly in his pretend sleep.

“We can’t do this here.” Ben’s strained whisper echoed too loud in the silence. Despite his words, Asha grinned and pressed closer—everywhere—until his own hips rolled in response, grinding her against him. Slowly at first, then faster. Ben lay back on the icy ground, his head drooping as his eyes remained tightly closed and his breath came in short gasps. His throat started to groan, “Someone might see us.”

Asha responded by tugging at his belt. Ben's eyes widened in anticipation as he stretched into her touch and savoured it. “Let them,” she said, each breathing a pant. Stephen wanted to throw up having no choice but to listen to this so he sounded another loud cough. 

“Ashana—”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No.” Ben's fingers curled tighter around her hips as he sat quickly forwards, pressing her lips to his.

Stephen coughed again, much, much louder this time. Ben didn’t register it. With Asha’s hand slipping into his undone trousers—her tongue hot against his—he couldn’t have stopped if he tried.

With an aggrieved sigh, Stephen pitched upright and interrupted loudly, “Hello?! Yes, pardon! As it seems to have escaped your notice, there are other people here, trying to SLEEP!” In a low grumble, he added, “Though clearly those other people will soon shrivel up and die from abstinence.”

Tom, who had his back turned toward the other three, had to make himself laugh silently as his shoulders jerked up and down and his stomach ached, tears leaving his eyes; the fact that he had to keep himself quiet made the scenario much funnier than it already was.

TAGS: @elicheel @sherlux @stanny-uwu @soiopathicdetectivekid @gaitwae @shit-post-things @seasonofthenerd @patbrdac @evelynrosestuff @singhfae @severuined @lovecleastrange @samisubi @mochuchi @faithinhome @ohchoices @junkertown-princess @sigyncevans @dragonqueen89 @the-royal-petals @hiddlechive @peachypie97 @bobateadaydreams @lykaonimagines @strangeobsessed @calsjack @strangeions @crowleyspett @goldencherriess @jyessaminereads @fandom-lover-4 @tis-vereon @rbymoon @siredlust @allie131313 @jjssttnnxcoleyyy @fantasyfan4life @thegardenerofeden @glitterylokislut @naughtyry @withalittlehoney @mayotsukia @strangesweetheart @omgstarks @azenpal @cemak @huntress-artemiss @thefalconandthewinterwidowshield @iobsessoverfictionalmen @keistange @tong-hg6606

#stephen strange #stephen strange x reader #stephen strange x you #benedict cumberbatch x reader #benedict cumberbatch imagine #benedict cumberbatch x you #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston #doctor strange imagine #doctor strange #doctor strange x reader #doctor strange x you

[aiqingdemeimiao]

How long have Ben and kadiff been dating? Last I heard ben was going through a divorce with mark which seemed pretty sudden and strange. I've always thought they were cute together. I really wanna know what went wrong and at the same time I'm so happy for Ben rn cause he seems really comfortable happy and I'm dying to know about all the details in regards to his new relationship with kadiff

putting this under a read more to save the normal/non-nosey parts of the fandom from seeing this slightly stalkerish post

tbh with you, the break up wasn't strange or sudden, you're just normal so you weren't paying attention to the minutia of a celeb's life the way losers with hyperfixations were. i'm very happy for you, really.

anyway, the break up happened in three stage: The Separation (2019), The Split (2020), and The Divorce (2022ish).

ben and mark had already been living separately for 6 months when the pandemic came along and forced them back into the same household as a lockdown bubble. (idk how long you've been in this fandom, but at the time we were all soooo shocked they went into lockdown together because we thought The Separation™️ was a split lol). The Split™️ happened pretty shortly after that. by october that year ben was no longer hiding the break up in interviews, but didn't want to talk about it other than saying "i survived it".

idk what caused the initial separation, but during the separation period there were a few rumours circulating in the uk theatre scene about mark' cheating 's behaviour (whether or not things like rumours/blind items are legit is another convo i think lol). "i survived it" does deffo make it seem like it wasn't a happy break, as well as a later interview where ben's asked about his marriage and instead deviates to talk about james & kerri and how unselfish their marriage is (with the implication being his marriage was selfish).

but let's be real, unless ben has a personality transplant and starts doing personal life interviews we'll probably never know for certain haha. mark certainly isn't talking about it.

ben and kadiff were already industry acquaintances (they were both in queers [2017] and met at the table read) and move in the same social circles thanks to overlapping friends like andrew. i'm 99.999% certain they started off as just a fun no-strings fling, then got a little more serious in that little window of non-lockdown in summer 2020 💀💀💀 which is why they were so on-and-off and messy to begin with (we don't talk about the 2019 era, let my boy have his slutty rebound era in peace!!!). they had a few stops and starts like that before starting Dating Properly after they filmed TIGTH in 2021. they didn't go official (or as near to official as ben ever gets without his agent putting out wedding press releases) until after the daily mail broke The Divorce™️ news, at which point kadiff stopped hiding ben on his own social media. now we get the occasional exciting flash of elbow, or hair, or the back of ben's head. hooray!

for example:

but yeah, you're completely right that they seem really happy and ben's a lot more laid back these days. idk whether it's aging or the relationship or what, but he's clearly a lot more comfortable in his own skin compared to like 2017. i don't think people new to the fandom realise just how much of a big bag of neuroticism he used to be sjfhsjhfs. it's nice to see. i feel like a proud mother (ignore the fact i am a childless lesbian in my 30s).

#i got another ask a bit like this one asking about the kadiff-ben timeline because of how messy those early months were #but i accidentally deleted it while trying to answer so i hope this post answered your question too nonnie

[oceangirl24]

BW&VK: Accidental Discoveries

Leaving Audrey’s the next morning is more difficult than the trio anticipated. Brad reveals his true intentions while Shawn leads him to believe that he’s the one interested in Audrey not Jon. Topanga convinces Shawn to seek help about the rave and he agrees…to go to Harley. Meanwhile, Jon overhears a very interesting conversation.

"All I'm sayin' is if we dress in black and crouch behind the bike as we roll it out to the street, people will think it's movin' on its own and won't pay attention to us." Shawn's fingers and thumb were pinched together like he was holding something small in them. He jabbed them in Jon's face much to his teacher's annoyance.

Jon placed one hand on his waist and one over his mouth. He couldn't believe he was having this conversation right now. "Shawn, we're tryin' not to draw attention to ourselves. The Harley movin' down the street on its own is gonna have the opposite effect."

Shawn frowned and shook his hair out of his face. "So what're you sayin'?"

"I'm sayin' NO!"

"You're awfully critical for a guy who hasn't come with an idea."

Audrey sighed loudly.

"Look," Jon said glancing at her. "My concern isn't gettin' the bike to the street. It's makin' sure there isn't anyone around to see us. If no one's around I take the bike out like a normal person."

Shawn lifted his hand to Jon's face again with renewed determination in his eyes. "So again- all in black and I'll need walkie-talkies for this."

Jon let out a heavy breath and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. The moment he heard himself speak he regretted it. "Why?"

"Stealth."

"Stealth?"

"I do a sweep of our yard, the neighbors' yards and trees, and the stuff across the street."

"Trees?"

"They could be anywhere, man."

"Who heard about it from the popular seniors," Shawn finished pushing his hair off his face. "Then it trickled down to the rest of us."

"And now someone is blasting it all over school where Feeny is sure to see." Cory added.

"And another school, too," Topanga added dejectedly.

Shawn stared at the ceiling as all his plans for a normal birthday party and date for his teachers turned to dust. "Man, I'm gonna need a miracle to make it to Saturday without gettin' busted."

"You're gonna need a miracle to stop everyone from showing up if you don't," Trini said glibly.

Shawn groaned.

"Guys, we need help," Topanga said firmly. "We are going to get caught and, Shawn, your party will be ruined if we don't."

"You're right," Cory sighed.

"We don't have a choice," Trini added.

Shawn sat up and stared resolutely at his closet doors. "Yeah, you guys are right. I was hopin' it wouldn't come to this, but we're gonna have to do it."

"Good," Topanga said sounding relieved. "Shawn, I know this ruins your plans for Mr. Turner and Miss Andrews, but it's for the best."

"Ruin my plans?" He blinked several times at this odd statement. "Why would Harley ruin my plans? I doubt he cares about Jon and Audrey."

"Harley?" three voices shouted in alarm.

Shawn grimaced at the phone as he pulled the receiver away and rubbed his ear.

"As in Keiner?" Cory sputtered in disbelief.

"No, Harley as in Jon's bike," he shot back, annoyed with their reaction. 'Of course, Keiner!"

Read the Rest:

AO3 FFN Wattpad

#boy meets world #shawn hunter #boy meets world fanfiction #jonathan turner #boy meets world fic #audrey andrews #autumn in philadelphia #short stories #birthday wishes & valentine kisses #found family fanfiction #found family #ocappreciation

[rainbowriddler]

Dianakko Week 2022 - Day 3: Long Distance/Reuniting

@dianakko-week

When Can I See You Again?

“I’m really gonna miss this,” Akko said quietly over the books of runes she and Diana studied together.

Diana, used to such random thoughts from her friend (her crush), didn’t even look up from the text.  “What do you mean?”

Akko gestured widely about the library, knowing Diana was paying more attention to her than she appeared to be.  “This!” she told her.  “Us!”

Now, that was cause for concern.  “I don’t take your meaning…”

“Getting to hang out together like this every day!”

Diana blinked at her.  “Are you…going somewhere?”

“Diana…”  The look of concern on Akko’s face put Diana on edge.  Her heartbeat sped up as she awaited the worst.  “Break is coming up.  I’m going back to Japan…”

The words cut through her like a knife.  How had she not realized their extended break was coming up?

“Oh…” was all she could manage, casting her eyes to the tabletop.  “I…hadn’t realized…” she added lamely.

“Yeah…”  Akko leaned back in her chair, hands in her lap as she looked towards the windows with a sigh.  “And international mail is so slow… It really doesn’t make sense to write letters.  W’ll probably be back at school before any of them are delivered.”

Diana racked her brain trying to think of a solution.  “I believe the Owl messaging service on the WitchNet crystal balls offers immediate delivery…”

“Kuso!” Akko swore, dropping her head exaggeratedly.  “I wanted to see you and hear you!”

And honestly, Diana wasn’t particularly well-verse on the ins and outs of WitchNet to be able to offer an alternative to the Owl service.  She felt a bit like she was letting Akko down.  And more than that, she wanted to see and hear her too…

“It’s too bad most of you guys don’t have cell phones,” Akko told her sadly.  “We could have done some video chats if you did.  But, so far, Amanda and Constanze are the only ones…”

“It’s not exactly traditional…”

“Yeah.  That’s the trouble I’m running into.”

Together, they sat in silence, the book of runes sitting ignored on the table in front of them.  When Akko leaned into her side and hugged her, face buried in her hair, Diana sat quietly and let her.

--------

That was how she’d found herself at the cellphone store in Blytonbury, and she stared dubiously at the sign on the building and the marketing in the windows while she waited on the sidewalk for her expert assistance.

Before long, a black limo pulled up to the curb, and out stepped one Andrew Hanbridge, looking sharp as ever.

“Diana,” he greeted with a small smile.

“Andrew.”  She turned about primly as he stepped up to her.  “Shall we go inside?”

The interior of the store was immediately overwhelming to Diana.  The counters were lined with little, rectangular units with their screens aglow.  A few employees milled about helping other customers, but one of them made a point to welcome her and Andrew.

“We have some time before anyone will be free to help us,” Andrew informed her.  He drifted to the counter and poked at one of the units there.  “I was surprised to get your message.  Honestly, I never thought I’d see the day you got a cell phone.”

Diana declined to take the bait, instead opting to aimlessly look at the phones on display.  Really, though, she just couldn’t seem to tell the difference between the different models.  In truth, she wasn’t sure there was a difference.

“What are you looking for in a phone, anyway?” Andrew asked her curiously.  “Don’t witches usually use crystal balls?”

Diana flushed.  “I just…want something simple.  For communication.”

“Diana.  The entire purpose of a phone is communication.  I’m afraid you’ll need to be more specific.”

“…Something capable of video chat?”

“Oh, boy…” Andrew mumbled to himself.  This was going to be a long day.

----------

Akko flipped through a comic book on her bed while Sucy worked on bottling her latest potion.  Lotte sat in her seat at the desk scrolling through something on her crystal ball.  All in all, it was a pretty quiet night in the red team’s dorm.

That is, until the unmistakable anime sound effect of something shining cut through the silence.  Akko absently grabbed her phone from beside her and unlocked it.

Hello.

The text was from an unknown number, and Akko rolled her eyes.  Normally, she didn’t bother with scammers, but she was in a bit of a mood.  Diana hadn’t showed up to the library this afternoon for their study session, and even Hannah and Barbara seemed to have no idea where she had gone.  And so, with a roll of her eyes, Akko tapped out New phone who dis?

She placed the phone on the bed beside her hip again, reopening the comic she was reading.  Manga she corrected mentally with a shake of her head.  She’d been in England for too long.

Several minutes later, her phone went off again.  She was almost irritated, being interrupted again, but was glad to have somewhere to focus her ire.  She slammed her manga shut and threw it onto the bed beside her and made a grab for the phone.

“I keep telling you to turn that off,” Lotte reprimanded.  “We aren’t allowed to have them.”

“No way,” Akko told her dismissively as she unlocked the phone once again.  She was ready to mess with this scammer and let off some frustration.

It’s Diana.

Except for if they say that…  Was someone pranking her?  That jerk Amanda probably found a way to change her number!

You can’t honestly think I’m that dumb!

She threw her phone to the end of the bed, crossing her arms and glaring at it.

A moment later, her text tone went off again, and she snatched it off the blanket, ready to give Amanda a piece of her mind!

She blinked at the screen after unlocking the phone.  “Oh…  It’s Andrew this time.”  Fury forgotten for the moment, she opened his text—an image of…

“Uso deshou!” she shouted.  “It’s Daiana!”

Sucy glanced over as Lotte turned in her seat.  It was rare for Akko to have her little outbursts in Japanese, even around them.  “What about her?” Sucy asked.

“Is everything okay?”

Akko looked to her teammates, mouth hanging agape.  “It’s…Diana, she…”  She turned her phone around to show a picture of Diana looking crossly at a device in her hand.  “I think she got a phone!”

Lotte and Sucy marveled at the image for a moment, unsure what to make of it.  But when the phone buzzed in Akko’s hand, she pulled it back so see what was said.

Andrew again.  Surprise!  You owe me!

Then, a banner across the top from the same number as before.  I assure you I do not.

“It is Diana!”  ignoring Andrew’s text, Akko immediately called Diana’s new number.

-------------

“It’s singing at me,” Diana observed.  Akko’s name appeared on the screen, and she looked across the café table to Andrew.  “What do I do?”

He laughed at her a bit (a transgression he would soon pay for), and showed her how to answer the call.  “It’s just like a normal phone from here.”

Gingerly, Diana place it near her ear.  “Hello?”

“Diana!”Akko shouted from the other end of the line.  “I can’t believe you got a phone!”

“Yes, well…”  Diana cleared her throat and averted her eyes from Andrew, as though ignoring his presence would somehow make him unable to hear her conversation.  “I didn’t…like the idea of not talking to you over break any more than you did.”

“Nande?”

Diana’s face reddened.  “I…  Akko, I don’t understand.”

“Nothing,” she amended.  “I’m glad!  Really, really glad!”

And though she could see Andrew smirking at her in her peripheral vision, Diana allowed herself a small smile.  “Me too.”

--------------

Diana anxiously paced around her bedroom.  It was late and she was tired, but if she stopped moving she was done for.

And Akko had promised to call when she made it home.

She checked the clock on her wall again.  It had been well over sixteen hours.  Akko should have called…

Diana shook her head.  Patience, she reminded herself.  Maybe the flight got held up.  Maybe Akko’s home was further away than she thought.  Maybe—

The now-familiar jingle of an incoming call broke Diana from her worrying as she practically dove at her vanity to grab the device.  She swiped to answer the call, holding the phone up to be in frame for the camera.

And there on the screen, whole and hale, was Akko.  Diana’s heart still beat faster in her chest at the site of the girl smiling tiredly at her.

“Sorry!  Customs was a nightmare!”

Diana shook her head.  “Don’t apologize.  I’m just glad you made it back all right.  How was your flight?”

“Fine.  Just long.  We’re just leaving the airport now.”

“Konbanwa, Daiana!” called a woman somewhere in the background of Akko’s call.

“Okaasan! Watashi ga hanashite iru toki ni jama shinaide kudasai!”

Diana’s head spun at the rapid Japanese.

“Hai. Hai. Daijoubu desu,” singsonged the woman.

“Yareyare!” Akko grumbled.  “Sorry!”

“Your mother?”

“Yeah!”

Diana offered a warm smile, “I’ll bet she’s glad to have you home.”

“Don’t bet on it!  She probably turned my room into an art studio already!”  Diana heard the smack that earned Akko loud and clear.  “Gomen ne!”

“I take it your mother understands English just fine.”

“Yeah.  She and Otousan—er…my dad—helped me practice growing up.”

As Akko chattered on about learning English from a young age, Diana decided to make her way to her bed.  Even as she turned down the covers, she had to stifle a yawn.

“Diana!” Akko gasped on the phone.  “You didn’t wait up, did you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Diana reprimanded.  Of course she had, but Akko didn’t need to know that.  She’d been too worried about missing the call entirely if she slept.  She pointedly ignored the pouting glare on her phone screen.  “What time is it for you, anyway?”

“About one in the morning.  Which makes it about five for you!  Diana!”

Diana chuckled lightly as she climbed into bed.  “I’m getting comfortable now,” she promised.

“Good!”

“…Is it too much trouble to stay on the line until you get home?”

Akko glanced to the side for a moment then said, “No, it’s no trouble.  And anyway, I think Okaasan will be happy for the noise.  It’s past her bedtime!”

Akko, of course, laughed at her own joke, ignoring her mother as she said, “Jikai wa mukae ni ikimasen.”

Apparently, Diana really needed to learn Japanese…  “What are your plans for your break?”

“I’ll have to do some shopping before I come back.  I could use some new clothes, you know?  Other than that, I think I’ll just relax and spend time with my parents.  It’s been a long time and I feel like I have to fit a year of love into such a short time!”

Without thinking (and really, curse sleep deprivation for that) Diana blurted out, “Maybe we can visit them over the winter holidays this year.”

Akko’s mouth dropped open into an “o” as she stared at Diana’s image, slack jawed.  As the silence stretched on, Diana realized her faux pas, but it was much too late to take it back.

“Akko!” chided Akko’s mother.  “Shitsureina koto o shinaide kudasai.”

“Watashi wa sore ni nani o iubekidesu ka?”

“Anata ga nozomu mononara, nan demo.”

“Anata wa Yakunitatanai.”

“Akko?”

“G-Gomen ne!  Sorry!”  Diana wasn’t sure if she was imagining the nervousness in her voice or not. 

“Kanojo mo anata ga sukidesuka?”

“Shiranai!” Akko hissed at her mother.  “Stop talking!  Stop talking!  I swear, this woman!  Just let us talk! Yamete!”

Diana couldn’t help laughing at their antics, glad to see Akko smile after she finished with her outburst.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to cause trouble.”

“Oh, it’s not you.  Trust me.”

“Well, that makes me feel better.”  Diana, already snuggled under the covers, arranged her pillows to able to lay on her side while hugging a pillow and still holding her phone.  “I mean it, though.  We could visit Japan over the winter.  Or we could fly your parents out here if you’d rather.”

“We can talk about it when you’re not falling asleep on me,” Akko teased.  “You didn’t actually sleep at all, did you, you liar!”

Diana didn’t really have it in her to fight her on that point.  Her eyes felt heavier and heavier with each passing minute and her bed was just so warm and comfortable.  Still, she at least had the decency to blush as she smiled at Akko.

“Get some sleep, you.  We’re almost home.  I’m just gonna grab a quick snack and go to sleep.  I’ll text you when I’m safe in bed, okay?”

Diana hummed a sleepy response at first, but then managed to force herself to say, “Okay.”

Akko laughed at her a bit.  “Goodnight, Diana.  Oyasumi.”

“Goodnight.”

When Akko’s face blinked off her screen, Diana clutched the phone to her chest with a happy sigh before falling almost immediately into sleep.

#dianakko #diakko #dianakkoweek #diana/akko #diana cavendish #akko kagari #atsuko kagari #diana cavendish/akko kagari #diana cavendish/atsuko kagari #lwa #lwa fanfiction #lwa fanfic #fic #fanfiction #my fanfiction #my posts #rainbowriddler #little witch academia #diana #akko

[totaldramamovies]

Episode 5- Fake It to Make It

*Mighty Wizards’ Boys’ Side*

Pietro: Hey Roman, I have a gift for the room!

Roman: What is it bro?

Pietro: I got… A WEIGHTLIFTING SET!

Roman: Nice bro! Now we can work out during our competition! I was worried I’d lose my precious muscles 😔😔

Boris: Yo, can I use these?

Pietro: Sure!

Andres: Yeahh.. where will you guys fit all these weights? Theres not enough room…

Pietro: Uh… we can keep them outside! Let’s just hope no other team uses them..

*Feriocious Monsters Boys’ Cabin, Eliza and Ines are invited*

Jamil: Alright team, if we ever lose, remember, we have one easy choice and that’s with Grace! Besides that, we can’t lose!

Ines: Right! Even if we lose Grace, that means our team will be 100% Cooperative! No William, no Grace, and no goddarn Bailey! We can do this! 

Eliza: Yeah! By the way, how was the date, you two?

Jamil: Oh, it was good! We kinda just hungout like we usually did so it wasn’t too awkward.

Ines: Yeah! I wouldn’t mind going on more dates after the show is over!

Maxim: Alright! Just remember that this is still a competiton! You don’t wanna end up like Geoff and Bridgette or Emma and Chase, do you?

Ines: Nope, we’ll still be focused! Now let’s crush them!

*The 4 walk outside*

Jamil: *Notices weightlifting gear* OO, YEAH! This’ll be a great place to workout!

Ines: Yeah! Lets go!

Pietro: NOOO!!!

Grace: *Walks out of girls’ cabin* I’m so preppy unlike you guys 😜😜😜 *Kicks over Maxim and starts stepping on him*

Maxim: WHAT IS THAT FOR? 😰

Jamil: YO GET OFF HIM!

Ines: *Pushes her off him*

Grace: Ugh.. it’s just that nobody is preppy here anymore… 😒

Jamil: Alright, that’s it!

*Ines & Jamil get Grace and lock her in the Girl’s cabin*

Eliza: nice, but WHERE AM I AND INES SLEEPING NOW?

Maxim: You can sleep with us! There’s 2 bunk beds, Jamil and I only use one!

*Boys’ side of Fearless Warriors*

Fredrick: *Laying in bed* I’m all alone now. 🍷🍷🗿🗿 Just like a true sigma. I could do anything whenever I want..🍷🗿🗿I could fart without anybody being disgusted… and I can say I’m an Andrew Tate supporter without being cancelled…. *Farts under covers* I HAVE FANTASIES ABOUT ANDREW TATE!

Francesca: *Muffled though wall* We can still hear you!

Charlotte: Dear lord, he’s something. I hope the viewers vote him if we are up for elimination again.

Taniyah: Totally. We’re the only normal ones left on our team.

Fangxiu: WHAT ABOUT ME 😔😔🌹

Taniyah: You’re not normal. You may have helped us, but your more of a joke character than Fredrick!

Cece: Shut. UP! You’re all incredibly annoying! I needa prepare for the next challenge?

Taniyah: Oh, really? How will you help? Throwing the challenge so you can sabotage one of us?

*4th Thing’s cabin, boys’ side*

Rajiv: Yo Kenny, how was your date with Sigita?

Kenny: What?

Rajiv: Your date with Sigita!

Kenny: Dude.. have you not been paying attention? It was Wyatt that went out with Sigita!

Eddy: *Mumbling* Yeah, thanks for rubbing it in our faces..

Kenny: In fact, I’d never go out with her! I’d only go with Dominique 😏😏

Rajiv: Oh, so you went on a date with Eliza?

Kenny: … How was your date Wyatt?

Wyatt: It was…

*Girls’ side of cabin*

Sigita: …terrible! I thought he was dreamy at first, but he asked the waiter if he knows da wae before jumping onto the table to floss! I don’t know what I saw in him!

Dominique: Told ya babez… Anyway now’s your shot with Eddy! 

Sigita: Hell No! I’ll just wait till the merge and get with Boris, he’s got muscles 😍😍

Chris: ALRIGHT LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! GATHER OUTSIDE THE CABINS! IT IS TIME FOR YOUR FIFTH CHALLENGE!

Tamia: Each challenge is getting worse and worse… What’ll next one be?

Chris: This challenge will be… MOCKUMENTARY THEMED!! The challenge is to make a short movie for something completely made-up! Whichever team has the least convincing and least insane presentation will lose!

Dennis: Oh. Okay. I’ll be the one talking. Just give me a script.

Pauline: Really? It’s just you don’t seem to convincing…

Dennis: NO. I want this movie to be falser than me being happy…

Pauline: Jeez, Okay.

*4TH THING*

Kenny: This will be easy! Eddy is always yapping about something nerdy, let’s use him and he’ll sound smart!

Everyone: Yeah!

Sigita: Yeah, but what should it be?

Eddy: I’ll just make something really obscure! We may not be first, but atleast we’re lying!

*FEROCIOUS MONSTERS*

Maxim: Alright, what should we do?

Eliza: Yall know the Office right?

Jamil: Uh.. yeah?

Eliza: Then let’s just copy that!

Ines: Alright, worth a shot.

*FEARLESS WARRIORS*

Fangxiu: LETS MAKE A MOVIE ON FLOPTROPICA 🥰

Taniyah: I don’t know what that is, but if it doesn’t exist, let’s do it, girl!

(Time passes, the four teams make their own presentations)

*4th Things Presentation, Eddy is standing in front of a whiteboard*

Eddy: Erm… Did you know Shreveport is the capital of Louisiana? Did you know Pineapples are orange when ripe? Did you know that squids give birth through their tentacles? (This list goes on for a while)

Chris: That was painful to watch, but it did give false information, so I guess it’s fine?

*Ferocious Monsters’ presentation, Fangxiu is on a beach*

Fangxiu: WELCOME TO THE ISLAND OF FLOPTROPICA 😍😍😍 WE SPEAK FLOP HERE!! CVMNGH- CUPCAKKEREMIXJIAFEI POOSAYNIAGARAFALLS!!! EVERYONE HERE IS SLAY AND THIS CVNTRY IS A REFUGE FROM DABOYZZZ AND NEWGENS!!🥰😍😍🥰🥰😍

Chris: Omg 😍 that presentation ate!! 😜

*Ferocious Warriors’ presentation, all of them besides Grace are in an office*

Eliza: Hi Maxim. What are you doing?

Maxim: Uhh… Insert lame joke.

Jamil: Okay.

Ines: Umm did we even think of a scrip-*Tape ends*

Chris: That was terrible! Not only your copying an aMAAAAzing show, but your delivery was awful!

*Mighty Wizards’ presentation, Dennis is standing in a dark room*

Dennis: Uhh…

*Silence*

*More Silence*

Dennis: Yea. (Tape ends)

Andres: DUDE THAT WAS TERRIBLE! WHY DID YOU DO THAT?!

Dennis: Uhh… Yeah.

Chris: THERE WAS NOTHING THERE! That was also terrible! Here are my final rankings!

1ST PLACE: Fangxiu’s floptropica presentation was so amazing I want to live there now! Fangxiu has converted me into an oldgen flop!!

2ND PLACE: Eddy’s presentation was pretty boring, but atleast it gave facts.

The 2 last places are the Monsters’ & Denis.

3rd place goes to…

The Monsters! At least they had something.

See you Wizards tonight…oh wait! The FANS are voting this time!!

Dennis: Gasp.

Chris: That’s right, the VIEWERS vote a member off the team tonight, and that’s how it will be (almost) every episode from now on! So… Viewers, VOTE FOR ONE OF THESE SEVEN!

Andres, the Bad Boy,

Boris, the Strongman,

Dennis, the Deep-Voiced Emo,

Pauline, the Gamer Girl,

Pietro OR

Roman, the Gym Bros or

Tamia, the Goth

——————————————————————————————————

That’s right, you can vote for who you want to be eliminated from the Mighty Wizards! Just type the name of ONE person from the team to vote off! The voting will end Wednesday, November 1st, and the next episode will be on Sunday, November 5th! See you then!

If for some reason you can’t vote in the comments for any reason:

#total drama #total drama island #total drama fan season #total drama au #td #tdi #total drama art #fanfiction #fanseason #art #writing #competition #reality tv #contest #chris mclean #writer #drama #fanfic #please vote #vote #voting

[the-chosen-fanfiction]

Judas | Your Final Stand | Platonic

Dialogue prompt: “You’ve been awfully quiet.”

Requested: Yes

Judas has not been very talkative in the week leading up to Pesach. Deciding you’ve had enough, you confront him about it, hoping to save what little friendship you’ve got left.

You tap your fingers against the wood of the table rhythmically, a thoughtful look over your face as you keep your gaze on Judas with narrowed eyes, observing him closely. 

In the week leading up to Pesach, you’ve found him quite silent and drawn back. Although he isn’t the most talkative person to begin with whenever he’s around the louder Disciples like Simon and Nathanael, it stands out to you. Being a close friend of his ever since he joined the group, you have grown to know him better than anyone.

You’ve walked in on a conversation regarding the Passover celebration coming up, where a few of Jesus’ followers happened to be bickering amongst each other to figure out how to get everything sorted out this year. You had simply taken an empty seat and sunken away in thought whilst trying to figure out Judas’ behaviour, the man from Kerioth keeping suspiciously silent. With your chin propped onto your hand and your elbow resting on the table, you watch him closely.

“–So I think (Y/n) should carry out that task.” 

Upon the mention of your name, you snap out of your thoughts and frown at Andrew, who is giving you an expectant look. 

“Sorry, what?” you mutter when feeling all eyes upon you, “I wasn’t paying attention. I’m not sure what to do now.”

Andrew sighs. “Were you daydreaming again? Simon just suggested that you’d go to market to get a few supplies so that we can make our trip to Jerusalem for Passover. Once we’ve got enough food on us, we can go to make sure that Jesus–”

“I’d like to bring Judas with me.” you state curtly, “Otherwise I won’t go.”

The man in question blinks in confusion and gives you a strange frown. “Is anything the matter?” 

You grit your teeth as you glare at him with narrowed eyes and shrug. “You tell me.”

Whistling through his teeth, Nathanael shifts away from Judas. “Ok-aay, something strange is going on here and I don’t want to have anything to do with it. You two go to market to fight it out, alright? Then the rest of us will do the rest, because this,” he points his index finger back and forth from you to Judas, “Needs to be figured out before we leave. We cannot have you be upset with Judas on top of our other duties.”

“That might be one of the wisest things you’ve ever said,” Big James remarks, and Nathanael grins whilst puffing out his chest proudly, before a frown furrows his brow together. 

“Was that… Supposed to be a compliment or an insult?”

Big James shrugs. “Yes.”

“Yes? What kind of answer is that?”

Simon clears his throat. “Right, so, what we ought to do is–”

“–Have you asked Jesus about this at all?” you query. “What does He want us to do in preparation for Passover?”

The men fall silent and look at one another, shrugging. “We haven’t, actually.” Andrew sighs.

“Well, perhaps you should ask Him before you start organising things that aren’t even necessary in the end. I’m certain that Jesus already has a plan on what to do for Passover this year, just ask Him, and then we can make our plans.” You sit back in your chair and fold your hands in your lap. 

“Of course,” Andrew huffs, “We hadn’t thought of that yet.”

“Sometimes it is better to think things through thoroughly before springing into action.” Judas says, which earns him an odd expression from you. “What?”

“Even though we will not be going to market, I need to speak to you. In private.”

Nathanael deems it necessary to let out another ominous sound, but quits at once when he sees the glare you’re sending his way. 

“Now?” Judas asks, eyes wide blown. 

“Yes.” you reply - might as well confront him right away, so that he cannot secretly slip away to avoid you for the rest of the week.

The two of you head to a more secluded area in the house where you are at. When you enter an empty room, you gesture to a seat before locking the door behind you. Judas shuffles over to sit down and gives you a concerned look.

“What is going on?” he asks, innocently enough. 

“You’ve been awfully quiet.” you drop at once. “Too quiet. Something is on your mind.”

Judas scoffs, but when you don’t elaborate, he is the first one to break eye-contact. “Forget it, (Y/n). You’re being delusional.”

Your worry shifts into anger. “Sorry? All I am asking you is to explain what is going on with you. There is no need to get all defensive about it.”

With a hand on his chest, Judas jumps up, coming face to face with you. “Oh, you think I’m the one being defensive?!” It is as if all kindness behind his blue eyes has faded in an instant, and his intense and sudden outburst of rage when asked a simple question has your gut coil in confusion.

“What has gotten into you?” you ask, softer this time, shaking your head, “Why are you responding the way you do, Judas?”

“What has gotten into me?! Why do you care? You corner me with your stupid questions and pretend that there is something wrong with me!” 

You scoff. “I have never said such a thing, now you’re just putting words in my mouth! All I am saying is that I am worried about you, Judas. You’ve been acting… Off, lately. You aren’t your usual self, have been more and more reserved, and now you act as if I’ve just forced you to do the most unimaginable thing possible. I am just troubled about your wellbeing, my friend.”

He stares at you with bewildered eyes and you wonder what is going on inside his head. 

“Who says that we are friends?” 

Your mouth falls agape at the words. “Are you serious right now?” you whisper with a tiny voice.

Judas’ jaw tenses. “You’re not acting very friendly towards me, (Y/n). Back there, in that room, you didn’t exactly seem worried about me, but rather upset. Even Nathanael said that he could sense the annoyance from your side!”

“Because you’re acting strange and because you’ve been avoiding me–”

“–I have not, and you’re just seeing things that aren’t there.” Judas interrupts you. “Why do you pretend that you want the best for me even though you act as if I’ve done a terrible thing to you!”

You have to resist the urge to hit him across the cheek in an attempt to knock some sense into him, and you manage to simply curl and uncurl your fist at your side, keeping it there. Still, rage coils within your gut whilst you shake your head. 

“The past weeks I’ve hardly recognised the friend I once had, Jude. You’ve not only been reserved, you’ve spoken with a hostile undertone when I tried to discuss things with you about Jesus. It’s like you don’t even trust Him anymore. Where is your mind at? Has your time with Him taught you nothing?”

Judas does not immediately reply and his face softens into sadness for a split second, until it hardens again. “Well, perhaps because I think that the Messiah isn’t exactly the kind of Man I’d always hoped He would be, hm? If He is the Messiah, then why are the Romans still here? Why hasn’t He done anything about that, about our people’s suffering, huh? Has that ever occurred to you? Can you explain that to me, (Y/n)? When are we going to overthrow the Romans and start a revolution?”

You swallow the sudden lump in your throat and slowly shake your head, tears burning behind your eyes, yet you refuse to let them fall in front of him. “Have you taken in anything Jesus has ever said to us?” you whisper with disbelief in your voice, “Have you retained a single word from what He taught us? I can barely comprehend what you are saying, Judas. We have been with Jesus for long enough to know that violence is not the way.”

“It is taking way too long.” Judas hisses, “And I’m just so close to being fed up. I’ve waited for long enough and seen Him waste his powers for long enough. He is healing Gentiles and eating with tax-collectors, and-and-and, helping out Romans, and who still spits at our feet whenever we pass by? Who taunts us for everything we Jews are? It’s them. The people whose kind He has assisted too. And then He claims that the Kingdom of God is not just for us, ha! Jesus would do better to start something serious soon, because I feel like the Kingdom of God does not even exist at this point!”

At a loss for words, you stare at Judas, who is out of breath from the yelling he’s done. 

“There it is.” you whisper, “Now it makes sense. Are you hearing what you’re even implying, Judas? Do you-Do you even realise the weight of your words? What has happened to your heart?” 

He grits his teeth and gives you a glare that makes you almost cower at how dark it is. You swallow thickly as he shakes his head slowly. “I stand by what I said.” he tells you coldly. 

“Talk to Jesus about it, I’m sure that—”

“I’m not very interested in that right now.”

“But you’d–”

“I don’t want to hear that Name right now. I need some time alone to sort out my thoughts.” He points a warning finger at you, “Don’t you dare follow me.”

You inhale sharply as he brushes past you, straightening your back as a wave of confidence washes over you. “Judas.” you mutter, “If you walk out that door right now instead of staying to speak to me about this, I cannot be your friend anymore. I will no longer defend you in front of the others and I will no longer be able to stand at your side. Do you understand that?”

“Loud and clear.” The words are so icy as they leave him that you feel shivers run down your spine, and he abandons you without another word.

In lonely silence, you allow your emotion to flood you, letting the tears that have been stinging for minutes now roll down your cheeks freely. With your face in your hands, your shoulders shake with grief, whilst the shell of a man you once called your friend departs from you. 

Your heart shatters inside your chest, sorrow settling deep within your bones, and you wonder what will become of him during this week of Passover.

#the chosen #the chosen x reader #platonic #x reader #reader insert #chosen fanfiction #chosen x reader #angel studios #judas x reader #judas iscariot x reader #judas iscariot #the chosen judas #fanfiction