#Gonna be real with you all. If I get more free time this semester. I am barraging you all with Harvey doodles.

[lattskull]

I like BTAS Harvey a lot :]

[hero-israel]

Looks like the Pro Palestine movement shat the bed completely. There's definitely been a vibe shift ever since they turned on Black people. The DNC protests were a bust. And Palestinians tried to raise a big stink over not getting a speaking spot at the DNC and the vast majority of people were like, "Lol you called the nominee 'Killer Kamala' and her boss 'Genocide Joe', what did you expect?" Now "Muslim Women for Harris" gave her their endorsement because they've finally realized they have no leveraging power over the Democrats and decided maybe they should do something to prevent Trump from returning to office.

Free Palestine isn't attracting the same large crowds anymore. The college protests are a few dozen people. Not to say these lingering ones aren't dangerous (they're probably even more dangerous than the bigger crowds at the encampments last semester) but they're just not attracting the same energy they used to.

It's going to be very interesting to see how the leftists who went full Jew-hater and jumped on the Free Palestine bandwagon react to the engine running out of gas. Do they think they can just go back to trying to cancel each other over microaggressions after spewing Nazi shit for the past 10 months? Do they think they can quietly delete their 10/7 tweets and people are just going to forget? I want to know if it's sunk in for them that they have completely destroyed credibility in mainstream leftism. Because I know I'm never trusting any activist movement again unless they can prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that they're normal about Jews.

I know there will be no apologies, no self-reflection, no accountability from these people. I expect nothing but a bunch of gaslighting. People who pretended they didn't pass around lists of "Zionists", pretending they didn't romanticize self-immolation, pretending they weren't regurgitating slurs from David Duke. No, they'll all pretend they were totally calling out the antisemitism this whole time, for real. They totally weren't an active member in an Arab/white supremacist death cult.

Going forward, it's like how whenever you meet someone with a certain vibe, you ask them who they voted for in 2016/2020? Whenever I meet someone who's a self-proclaimed "activist", it's gonna like, "What were you posting about on 10/7?"

Oh I loovvvveee it. They came crawling right back. This should only be a lesson to the campus crowd about how politics works past the rhyming chant stage, maybe a few will even learn it.

[hoshologies]

ALL GREEK LOVE, LEE H.

synopsis — you spent the entire summer telling your family that you weren't going to join a sorority. now not only are you an initiated member of delta eta sigma, but you've been elected to the social chair position for you chapter. that's all well and good until heeseung lee, the newly elected social chairman for lambda rho and well-known in the greek community, reaches out to you to start planning runouts between your respective chapters. and now you're spending a lot more time with the cutest boy you've ever met.

genres &&. warnings — romance, fluff, meet-cute, smut, strangers to friends to lovers!au, college!au, greek life!au &&. underage drinking, afab!reader, tipsy sex, dry humping, oral (f!receiving), fingering, overstimulation.

word count — 15.7k.

from the author — not to be totally sorority girl, but the way i see greek life depicted in college au fics is CRAZY. now that i'm back hardcore into my kpop stan era, i rewatched the drunk-dazed mv and was like hmm... so the ultimate plan here was to write heeseung filth but also portray greek life a little more accurately because even if i'm not a huge fan, one thing about me is i'm gonna make sure y'all KNOW that greek life isn't just parties every weekend.

jokes aside, i really hope you enjoy this fic and my first real return to writing. likes, reblogs, and feedback are always welcome. and honestly, if you have any questions about greek life that you just have to know the answer to, i'm an open book.

if you enjoyed it, feel free to buy me a ko-fi!

the entire summer before starting your freshman year of college, you had told your family that you weren’t going to join a sorority. in your mind, there was a specific mold that one needed to fit into to join a sorority and quite frankly, you checked none of the boxes of those stereotypes. 

yet here you sit, months later, in your sorority’s chapter meeting. and you’ve just been elected to the social chair position of the chi nu chapter of delta eta sigma. 

truthfully, you’re not quite sure how you ended up here. you hadn’t formally rushed the week before school, but a couple of drunk girls at a frat party at the beginning of the semester had told you that you should rush their sorority. maybe you’d been a little desperate to branch out or maybe you were just a little curious of what rushing looked like, but a few days later at the student organization fair, you’d found the booth for the sorority the girls had told you they belonged to, delta eta sigma, and signed up for their informal rush.

by the end of october, you had been extended a bid, assigned a big, and promptly initiated into the chapter in what you jokingly referred to as a cult ritual (how could you describe it any other way? all white outfit? candles? promises to not divulge secrets about rituals that happen behind closed doors?).

and now, just three weeks after officially joining the chapter, you’ve ended up on the programming board somehow. you’d gotten a call from the selection board while sitting in the drive-thru of mcdonalds, waiting impatiently for your order of fries and a sprite as a treat for doing well on your gen psych quiz. the girl who’d called you said you’d made “quite the impression” on the sorority since accepting the bid and that they (including the chapter advisor) thought you’d be the perfect fit for the social chair.

“it’s a solo position, so you won’t have a co-chair like community service does, but given your grades so far this semester and the impact you’ve made on the chapter already, we would really love to see what you can do in this position! would you be interested?”

so really, how could you say anything but yes? you still don’t think you fit all that perfectly into the chapter, but they were giving you an opportunity to get involved and to make yourself fit. your name is announced for the social chair, one of your senior pictures pasted up on the powerpoint, and the girls around you smile and snap their fingers. from the executive board seats up front, your big smiles at you, eyes sparkling with something akin to pride.

a few days later, as you’re getting lunch at the student union, your phone screen lights up with a notification from groupme. a name you vaguely recognize is paired with a message that gets cut off after a few words.

heeseung lee: hey! this is heeseung from lambda rho and…

as you sit down with your salad and dr. pepper, you click the notification and read it in full. at the very top of the new message thread is heeseung’s picture and it clicks where you recognize him from. he’s friends with your big and he’s involved in a few of the bigger student organizations on campus, namely the activities board, so you’ve seen him in the student union fairly often.

[1:36 pm] heeseung lee: hey! this is heeseung from lambda rho! i’m friends with liv and she told me that you just got elected as the new social chair for your sorority. i just got slated into the same position for my frat.

[1:36 pm] heeseung lee: i know we won’t start running things until next semester, but i just wanted to reach out and touch base with you. i’m really looking forward to planning runouts with you next year :]

[1:37 pm] heeseung lee: sorry. i hope that wasn’t too weird. i guess i’m just a little too excited and want to get a bit of a headstart on things. have a good day!

you laugh to yourself, shaking your head as you set the phone down to take a bite of salad. before getting involved in greek life, you always assumed sorority girls and frat guys were airheaded and mean, people who peaked in high school, trying desperately to drag those glory days out. obviously since then, you’ve come to realize that while it is true in some occasions, most times, greek life members are the opposite.

heeseung, who you’ve never spoken to before, is proving that.

[1:42 pm] hi heeseung! not weird at all, i promise. and i’m really excited to plan events with you next semester too :]

by the beginning of february, you haven’t done much with your position. granted, the semester has only really been in full swing for about a week and a half and you have two full semesters to do plenty of things, but you’re itching to start planning. the binder you were given after the officer transition ritual has so many good ideas, everything from runouts with frats and sororities to both formal and semiformal.

while you’re brainstorming ideas for potential social events late on a tuesday night, your phone lights up from its spot on your nightstand, the short bell sound ringing out. you reach for it absentmindedly as you finish writing down the idea you had (rent out skating rink??? check budget). since the beginning of the school year, you’ve become desensitized to the groupme icon when it appears in your notifications, so much so that you barely register heeseung’s name upon first glance. it takes a second look for you to realize who’s texted you.

[9:12 pm] heeseung lee: sorry for texting so late. i just wanted to see if you wanted to meet up some time and start on some ideas for a runout?

[9:12 pm] heeseung lee: obviously not now!! but if you’re free some time this week, we could meet somewhere and talk. i spent all of winter break brainstorming stuff, so i’d really like to run it by you if that’s ok.

[9:14 pm] hi again heeseung. i was actually planning on getting lunch tomorrow at the student union after i’m done with class at 11 if you’re free then?

the second you press send, you immediately start second guessing yourself. does it come off like you’re asking him to have lunch with you? because that wasn’t your intention. really, you just meant that you’re going to be on campus proper for a little bit and wanted to offer to meet before you got lunch. not that it would be a bad thing if he asked if you could get lunch together; liv likes heeseung well enough and you’ve seen him around, and he really does seem nothing but nice, so lunch really couldn’t hurt— okay, take a breath. it is not that serious.

you take a deep breath and then let your muscles go lax as you exhale. better. 

it feels like ages pass before he texts back. you’re worried you’ve scared him off, but it really shouldn’t be that stressful. it’s just a text and he’s the one who wanted to meet up in the first place anyways; you just offered a time and location. but finally, your phone dings again and his name lights up your screen.

[9:21 pm] heeseung lee: actually that works perfect!! i get out of class at the same time and usually grab lunch at the u before heading to the activities board office. wanna meet by the dining area next to the office?

[9:21 pm] sounds like a plan!! i’ll see you then!

heeseung, you realize as you set your phone down and put away your binder for the night, is the only social chair of any of the greek organizations who has reached out to you to start getting the ball rolling. he seems to be just as anxious as you are about doing this job well, which makes you feel at least a little validated. nervous and jittery though you may be about meeting him for the first time tomorrow after only having chatted with him over text twice, the idea of him feeling the same as you brings a strange form of comfort. with enough of it, you actually start looking forward to seeing him tomorrow as you lay down to sleep, mind running a mile a minute with what it’ll be like to meet him after all of the things you’ve heard about him from liv. by the time you slip into the embrace of sleep, anxiety has boiled down into anticipation.

at 11:02 the next morning, heeseung nearly scares the hell out of you when he shows up at the designated meeting spot. you’re so invested in your twitter scroll that you don’t notice when he walks up. it’s not until he says a soft “hi” that you jump and almost drop your phone in the process. when you look up, there’s a worried look on his face.

“sorry! i didn’t mean to scare you!” 

after a moment to catch your breath, you shake your head and wave his worry off, though the gesture doesn’t do much to make that worried look on his (undeniably pretty) face. “it’s okay, heeseung. really.”

to really seal the deal, you shoot him a gentle smile, trying to prove that your heart isn’t about ready to give out anymore. you feel blessed when he returns it, all quirked up at the corners and smile lines and soft, plush cheeks. silence falls, the two of you smiling and staring at each other like idiots until heeseung shakes himself out of his stupor.

“anyways…” he clears his throat and moves his gaze towards the food court. “what did you want to get to eat? my treat.”

you look up at him, at the way he’s pointedly not looking at you and instead examining the restaurants just beyond the dining areas. you know, the restaurants that have been the same for the last five years probably and will be here for another five, the ones he’s grabbed food from at least a couple of times since the semester started and even more since the beginning of the school year. 

“you don’t have to buy me lunch, heeseung. it’s-”

he finally turns to look at you again, that same easy smile still pulling his features into a soft form of happiness. “it’s no problem, really. just an act of good faith. all greek love and whatnot, you know?”

you laugh a little at that, conceding but allowing him to choose where he wants to get lunch from since he’s the one paying and you don’t really have a preference. by the time you’re sat opposite each other at a table with meals from the burger stall, your stomach is rumbling. you’re about half of the way through your burger when heeseung looks up from his fries, clearing his throat to get your attention.

“so…” he starts. it’s clear he hadn’t planned what he wanted to say before catching your focus, so an awkward silence settles over him, eyes on you but focused somewhere off behind you like he’s looking through you instead. you tilt your head, lean in close, which snaps him out of the trance and he restarts. “right, ideas for events. i have a binder from the last social chair of my frat with a bunch of things he did during his time.”

“oh! i do, too!” you interject. “there’s a bunch of stuff that the last girl did and then things some of the girls before her did too.”

heeseung’s grin breaks back across his face, bright and warm; you swear, a smile from this boy alone could break up the threatening winter storm currently hanging over campus. “there’s a bunch of good ideas in mine. but i’m not quite sure how well they’d work right now because of the weather.”

“are most of the ideas outside?” you inquire, taking a sip of your soda while he confirms your suspicions. when you put the cup back down, you wave off his concern. “no worries then. almost all of mine are ones that can be inside, so we could go through those if you want!”

heeseung nods and smiles that morning sunlight smile of his, and you can’t move quick enough to pull the thin pink binder out of your tote bag. he clears away some of the trash from the table so you can lay out the binder, intro page on full display. for the next five minutes, the pair of you pore over the pages upon pages of ideas, sleek white cut through with black ink that lists the idea, the locations, how much it costs. 

you’re so invested in going over everything with him that you hardly acknowledge when heeseung stands and moves into the open seat beside you so neither one of you is craning your neck. you simply adjust the binder so you can read through the pages comfortably. it isn’t until heeseung points one out excitedly and you look up in startle that you finally notice that he isn’t a foot away but inches, noses just centimeters apart.

right now, this is the most compromising position you could possibly be in with a boy you hardly know and you find yourself praying that nobody from either of your chapters decides to walk by. of course, neither of you have anything to hide – this is a simple brainstorming session, of course, absolutely nothing more – but liv and your small group of friends would never let you live this down if they saw it.

heeseung clears his throat after seconds that stretch into years and you break your gaze from his painfully (how can you be blamed for staring? he’s that soft kind of pretty that hypnotizes). “um… so i think rollerskating could be fun…”

it is a good event that your sorority has done with the other frats and sororities in the past, one that you were playing around with as a potential plan to pitch to him. the fact that he picked it out on his own accord makes you bristle with something akin to pride, a feeling so warm and comforting it has you leaning just a little closer to him.

let the girls see me, you think as your sweater-clad shoulder brushes against his own. there are worse things they could catch me doing.

“actually… this was one of the ones i was going to suggest if you didn’t find any that you were really interested in…” you say quietly, voice nearly lost in the din of the dining area of the student union.

heeseung looks at you, blinking slow and round and soft, as if each flutter of his eyelids is a moment of his brain processing your words. “really… maybe it’s a sign…?”

his voice is just as soft, matching your energy in one swift go. you wonder if he’s thinking the same thing as you, if he’s feeling that it seems like you’ve known one another forever despite only knowing each other for fifteen minutes max; it seems like your souls themselves are in complete synergy, so why would it be so farfetched to wonder if maybe you knew each other in a different life to have caused that synchrony?

you laugh a little and shrug, shoulder brushing against his softly; the movement is short and sweet, but your heart rises in you like the high tide, washing through your veins with foam and salt and the kind of breeze only the ocean can bring, chill and warm all at once. “maybe so.”

silence settles over the table like sand stirred on the ocean floor, the both of you lost in your own worlds. heeseung has dragged his soda to this side of the table and sips absentmindedly, gaze focused miles beyond the horizon of the hallway. he’s completely checked out when your consciousness wanders back into your body and you take the moment to study him a little: the even slope of his nose, high cheekbones paired with plush skin, long eyelashes that brush the apex of his cheeks when he blinks, a flutter of dark against light. 

there are worse boys you could be caught staring at.

you’re still thinking about your lunch with heeseung hours later, even when you’re out getting your weekly tuesday night ice cream with your big. liv is going on about how her professor for her linguistics class pissed her off during lecture today, but you’re not absorbing a single word of any of it. you remember vaguely that he openly disagreed with her during the lecture and they got into a debate in front of the whole class, but beyond that, you don’t know much else.

“god, he’s just the worst. i can’t believe– alright, you’re in the stratosphere right now. what’s going on?”

you snap back to reality, eyes wide and goosebumps prickling up under the sleeves of your sweater. you shake your head, trying to brush away the conversation she’s trying to prompt, even though it’ll be futile because liv can’t let things go for the life of her. “nothing! everything’s fine, i swear.”

liv’s eyes narrow and a single dark eyebrow quirks up. “yeah, i’m not buying it.”

you glare playfully at her, eating a spoonful of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. when you swallow, you answer with a pointed, “when do you buy anything i say? really, liv. it’s nothing.”

“did someone say something to you? i’m part of panhellenic and on the all-greek council. if someone did something, i can handle it.”

you shake your head earnestly and wave a hand for extra emphasis. “olivia. seriously. nothing happened.”

your big is silent for a few moments, studying you intently. her shady blue eyes, usually wistful and giving the impression of being miles away herself, cut right down to your very bone, as if she’ll find the answer she’s looking for written into your skin or soul, carved into your heart. eventually, she sighs and slumps back against the booth.

“alright, fine. i’ll believe you this time,” she says in a voice that hints at disappointment. “but you’d tell me if someone did say something to you, right? i’m serious about getting things taken care of if someone does something like that to you.”

you smile, reach across the table, rest your hand over her. “yes, liv. i would tell you if somebody treated me badly. you’re the only friend i have who would be willing to go to jail if needed. but i promise the situation doesn’t call for that right now.”

she perks up a little at your words and takes a deep breath, nodding. she’s back to her bubbly self, resuming her rant about her asshole linguistics professor who definitely shouldn’t have tenure. the whiplash her behavior gives you definitely just secured her an award for “most melodramatic” at formal in april (which, fuck you have to start planning that soon too).

you remain checked into liv’s rant, assenting when she asks you for your opinions on this professor who you’ve never met and never plan on meeting, and offering advice when she wants it. but you still find yourself wandering off at times, mind focused on heeseung.

you’re not sure why you don’t want to tell her about meeting with the boy earlier; she’s one of his friends and she’s always spoken so highly about him, so you shouldn’t feel embarrassed. in fact, she’s mentioned in passing a couple of times (mostly when she’s undeniably hammered) that she thinks you and heeseung would make a cute couple, even though she’s never seen the two of you interact, let alone exist in the same room.

but there’s something special about the thirty minutes you shared with heeseung. you met in a public place, sure, but something about it felt and still feels so sacred to you. it’s something you want to keep a secret for at least a little while. that soft sunshine smile and the low tide brushes of shoulders are things that, for now, belong solely to you and heeseung. it won’t kill liv to be left out of the loop for a while.

“do you think we should have it closer to midterms?” heeseung’s voice is pure static, like he’s going through a tunnel, even though there’s only half a campus worth of distance between you.

the two of you have graduated from groupme dms to phone calls over the course of three days. heeseung is saved affectionately in your phone as sseung with the deer emoji, one that you picked out as he sat across from you after you’d exchanged numbers; he doesn’t know about it, but he reminds you often of a deer caught in headlights with the way he stares at you all wide-eyed when you try to catch his attention.

“maybe? but people have to study. i’m not sure how often your guys are in the library, but i see at least thirty girls at the library every single night, so i’m not sure how willing they’d be to give up a night of studying, even if it is only for an hour, that close to midterms.”

heeseung’s small, thoughtful hmm is audible over the speaker and you smile to yourself over a basket of clean laundry. you’ve spent maybe three hours max with him over the last couple of days and already you have a pretty decent grasp on his personality and habits. right now, you can picture the way he likely looks up from his phone or planner and stares off past the beige cinderblock wall of his dorm room, turning possibilities over in his head.

“no, you’re right about that. i didn’t even consider it.”

you shrug as though he can see you, folding a pair of sweats and setting them to the side. “i’d definitely like for it to be soonish though. it doesn’t have to be planned super far in advance, you know what i mean? we’ve still got… what? a month until midterms?”

“i think so, yeah.”

you nod to yourself, hanging up one of your shirts. “okay, so what about two weeks from now? that lands us right in between now and midterms, so it’d be a happy medium.”

he’s silent on the other end of the line and you pause in your hanging of another shirt, worried that he’s thinking you’re stupid. of course, heeseung would never think anything like that about anyone because he’s the sweetheart to end all sweethearts. still, you worry because what this boy thinks of you is ridiculously imperative to your day to day functions.

three days, you remind yourself. you’ve known him for three days. there’s no reason for his opinions to hold this much weight.

you wonder if heeseung knows just how easy it is to like him, to be around him; if he knows just how much you want to see him all the time because he’s completely taken over your every waking thought. liv’s comments about him made in passing never could have truly captured just how amazing he is, nice and caring and so so pretty. you’re almost embarrassed to be this head over heels for him, but when he laughs over the phone or focuses all of his attention on you over a table in the food court, that mortification burns away into something soft and sweet and slow.

“i think that’s a great idea. not too soon, so we can make sure our chapters know it’s happening, but not too late that it disrupts any midterm studying.”

you breathe a sigh of relief and smile to yourself, resting your hands against the lip of the laundry basket. the rational part of your brain knew he was going to agree, but the part of you that so desperately craves his approval was disgustingly terrified that you wouldn’t receive it. now that you have, though, a heat rushes through you, pride warm and bright because you offered a good solution to the minuscule obstacle.

“yeah, exactly!”

you can just imagine the grin on heeseung’s face right now, delicate like freshly fallen snow. the image fills you with the giddiness of a high school girl, glad to be the one to have caused such a beautiful sight. “okay, cool. i’ll talk about it with the executive board, get it approved and whatnot, but i think we should be set, besides who’s paying for what.”

“what do you mean?” you question, brows furrowing as you finish up the last of your laundry.

“what do you mean?” there’s a playful, teasing edge in his voice. “someone has to pay to book the rink and the shoes, and don’t you think there should be snacks?”

“oh… yeah, i guess so.”

“so i was thinking we’d cover the booking and you could cover the food… but only if you’re cool with that! obviously, it’s not a big deal or anything, but i figured we should get that in order too so we can a specific date set and everything.”

“no, no! that works fine for me! i honestly hadn’t thought that far ahead, so it’s a good thing you did.” the line falls silent for a few moments, static crackling softly between you. there’s just something about the idea that you’re so close yet so far from each other, physically distant but holding each other close like this over a quiet cellphone line. it’s comforting to have him like this, you find.

“but yeah…” you break the stillness with your voice soft so as to not completely shatter the tranquility you’ve cultivated here. “that’s… that’s good thinking, heeseung.”

“hanks…” his own words mimic the same volume, nearly lost in the haze of the phone. “so… i’ll run it by the exec board and let you know?”

you hum a quick mhmm and tell him that you’ll do the same. there should be no reason that you’ll be denied, but the fact that liv, seeing as she’s vice president of programming, is part of the exec board and will find out that you’ve been, at the very least, talking to heeseung on a semi-regular basis (see: every day this week since tuesday afternoon) is a little nerve wracking, mostly because you’re ninety-nine percent sure she’s been hinting at trying to set the two of you up.

and when you say hinting, you mean pointing him out on campus or at parties and saying something like “really, i think you two would get along so well! you should go and talk to him.”

she was right about that, but the last thing you need right now is her finding out that you are catching feelings, all without her meddling. but you’ll make peace with the fact because you have to.

liv sidles up to you two weeks later on a thursday night, knit-clad arms crossed over her chest. you don’t even have to look at her to know she’s wearing a smug expression right now. “so…”

you don’t even physically react to her presence, instead choosing to gaze out over the rollerskating rink in your little college town. “so… what, liv?”

she nudges you with her shoulder and leans with her back against the wall separating the rink floor from the carpet of the sitting area. “you and heeseung, huh? i’ve been telling you for ages that the two of you would get along!”

you scoff playfully and roll your eyes, finally turning your head to look at her. “can you not start sentences like that?”

“like what?” she asks innocently.

“like heeseung and i have something going on. all we did was plan one runout together. we’ve only met, like, one time in person.”

you regret the words almost as soon as they leave the tip of your tongue because the second she hears the phrase “in person,” she’s already causing a scene. even though her voice is somewhat drowned out by the music blasting over the speakers, the absolute tenacity with which she gestures with her entire body draws more attention than it should. melodramatic as per usual.

“in person? when was this? and why was i not informed?” the questions liv asks a million times come out more like exclamations than anything else, too caught up in melodramatic distress to adjust the tone of her voice correctly.

you shrug absently, turning your head back towards the rink. heeseung is standing on the opposite side, talking to a few of the guys from his frat. he looks nice in his blue and green sweater and loose jeans, brown hair tousled from the winter breeze outside. “a couple weeks ago. and i didn’t tell you because it just wasn’t that important. we literally only had lunch just to talk about ideas for this.”

liv whines your name and stomps a foot like a child throwing a tantrum. “yeah, but i’m your big. i wanna know these things! and i’ve also been trying to set you two up forever! you didn’t think i’d want to know that you’d finally met him, even if it wasn’t because of anything i’d plan? my feelings are hurt.”

“first, this is exactly why one of the awards for formal this semester is going to be most over dramatic and exactly why you’re going to win,” you start, shaking your head and rolling your eyes. “second, i knew you would want to know, but i also knew this is how you’d react. i didn’t think you’d want to know about us setting up an event together, like… there’s no tea to spill or whatever. it’s just boring stuff. i don’t even know him that well.”

a bold-faced lie if you’ve ever told one; you know heeseung down to the cologne he puts on every morning. and maybe there was a little more to the event planning sessions. at least five times over the past two weeks, heeseung has approached you either in the food court or at the library, and taken the seat opposite of you to chat and study a bit. not to mention, you’ve texted every single day since the two of you officially met for the first time.

but again: nothing liv needs to know. heeseung, for now, is just your little secret. the conversations you’ve shared, the little details you know about him, the sweater he’d given you a few days ago when you’d gotten cold at the library and your own sweater had gotten soaking wet due to rain and your lack of an umbrella, those are your things, special and personal and entirely yours.

“ugh. the two of you are so boring,” liv moans dramatically, tipping her head back. “i hope you hang out more after this, but only if you tell me about it.”

you shrug and glance back across the rink. heeseung has shifted positions, his arms crossed over the railing and by some stroke of luck, he’s looking at you, looking otherworldly under the shifting blue and purple lights. he smiles softly, just a quick phantom of a grin, and the only think you can do is return it with that same gentleness and warmth.

“maybe,” you say, glancing over at liv and then back at heeseung. “i guess we’ll just have to see.”

a week later, you’re sitting in your dorm room on a friday night, finalizing edits for a midterm paper, when there’s a banging at your door fifteen minutes before ten.

“heyyy! let me innn!” liv’s voice is airy and slurred through the door, so you can already guess what she’s here for.

with a heavy sigh, you stand and make your way to the door, opening it and finding your big leaning against the wall on the opposite side of the hallway. she’s dressed in her usual party attire: ripped jeans, black tank top, dirty shoes reserved specifically for the sticky basement floors of frat houses. she’s holding a metal water bottle in her hands; you can only guess what she’s mixed in it tonight.

“what’s up, liv?” you ask, leaning your shoulder against the doorframe, even though you don’t need an answer. you hadn’t anticipated her being here, so you’re already decked out in your comfy night clothes, prepared for a night in only. 

“lambda is throwing a party and you’re going with me,” she says peppily, practically jumping up and throwing herself into your room.

“liv-“

she whips around on her heels to face you, eyes glowing in the soft gold of your fairy lights. “no fighting me on this. you’ve been working hard and you need a break. so you’re going to dress like the hot bitch you are and then we’re going to lambda.”

liv is rooted to the spot, though she sways a little on her feet, and makes it known without words that she is not moving until you get ready for this dumb frat party. eager to get her drunken glare off of you, you sigh and nod, closing the door behind you, shutting off your desk light, and moving towards your wardrobe, rifling through the hangers to find a proper outfit.

you’ve been to lambda rho’s house before and it is nothing to write home about… unless, of course, you’re talking about how absolutely filthy the basement is; they have the best sized basement out of all of the frats on campus, but you swear they have never done anything to clean the floor. the first time you went, you’d been having a great time drinking well-mixed jungle juice and dancing to the best songs of the 2010s when you noticed that every step you took sounded like velcro. the floor was so sticky that you were literally having to put pressure behind pulling your shoes from the concrete. it totally killed the vibe.

but the jungle juice and occasional jello shots are great, so you persevere. besides, lambda throws the best parties on campus and you’re clearly the person to trust on party hot takes since you only go back to frats you have a good time at (sorry, sigma pi).

plus, heeseung is in lambda rho and he has to be there since he’s the social chair and all, so… you note that out of the maybe five parties you’ve been to there since the beginning of the school year, you’ve never once seen him. granted, he’s only required to be at any parties hosted while he’s the social chairman, so maybe he just didn’t go to any last semester. or maybe he’s a wallflower like you, choosing to stand on the outskirts instead of in the center of attention.

lost in your haze of heeseung thoughts, you don’t really register that you’ve finished dressing and that liv has sat you down at your desk to fix your hair. somehow, while very much drunk, your big has an easy time styling it. she’s focused intensely on the task at hand, but also manages to carry on a one-sided conversation, not realizing that you’re not responding to her. but when she moves her hands from your head and sets them on the back of your chair, you’re amazed; she’s always been good at styling and fashion (hence why she’s been in charge of the homecoming student org dance and cheer competition every fall for the last two years), but you weren’t expecting her skills to be up to par while buzzed to hell and back.

“there we go, ready to wow heeseung,” liv says matter-of-factly, a proud look on her face. when you glare at her through the mirror, she smiles and shrugs lazily, reaching to grab her water bottle and phone from your desk. “what? he’ll be there tonight and i’ve heard through the grape vine that he might have a little crush on you, so…”

you whip around at her words, hands braced against the back of your chair. something like liquid anxiety prickles under your skin, sending goosebumps across your arms. liv is friends with just about everyone in greek life, so “the grape vine” could quite literally mean anybody, but who did she find that out from anyways? when did heeseung say anything like that? did he even actually say that or is she just deadset on shipping the two of you together until it either happens or falls through?

“what?”

she looks back at you over her shoulder, one hand resting on the doorknob and your dorm keys in the other. there’s a mischievous glint in her dark eyes and your heart drops; how did you get such a schemer as a big? “oh, yeah. i was hanging out at the lambda house the other night with yeonjun. you know? heeseung’s big? and he maybe mentioned something about it. why do you wanna know?”

she sidles back up to you, pulling you out of the chair by your shoulders. “do you maybe… i don’t know… like him back? why are you so nervous?”

you shake your head, trying to will the goosebumps on your arms and lightning in your veins away. you’ve claimed a million times over the last few weeks that there is nothing more going on between you and that boy, no matter how pretty or sweet you might think he is. heeseung is just a friend, someone you just so happened to click really well with and just so happened to plan a really fun event with. there’s nothing else to say about it or the way you get excited when his name shows up on your phone or how your day immediately gets better when he walks up to you at the library without texting you first, your favorite snack and coffee in hand and a smile on his face.

there’s nothing there to unpack. you think.

“i’m not nervous. and i bet yeonjun just misheard heeseung. the two of us are just friends. i’ve told you that a million times and i’m sure he’s said the same thing.”

liv just laughs and ushers you towards the door. “okay, okay… sure, sweetheart. let’s get over there before they run out of alcohol.”

jay, the self-appointed dj for every lambda rho party, is blasting year 3000 by the jonas brothers when you and liv arrive in the basement. there’s already a large group of bodies on the dance floor, but the bar area is still pretty crowded and getting worse. liv links her arm with yours so that you won’t get separated, even though there’s no chance of you getting lost or anything.

the two of you make your way towards the bar where yeonjun is “bartending,” a term he insists on using despite the fact that all he does is pour cups of vibrant red jungle juice. blonde hair hangs over his forehead and his skin is glistening with sweat already, looking weirdly ethereal under the colorful lights that fill the room. when he sets eyes on you and liv, he smiles brightly and leans against the bartop.

“hey, you two! glad you finally showed up!” he shouts over the music. “jungle juice?”

liv nods enthusiastically, mimicking his posture and crossing her arms on top of the counter. “yes please! any chances you have jello shots tonight too?”

the boy looks around before he leans in closer to answer. “don’t tell anyone else, but i made some just for you two since you’re my favorite customers.”

liv rolls her eyes and swats at his bicep, but she’s smiling anyways. “we’re not customers, jun. you’re not even getting paid to do this. when are you gonna stop acting like you’re a real bartender, huh?”

he clenches his hand over his heart and stumbles backwards, feigning pain. “you wound me so, liv. i did something nice for you and this is how you repay me. i can’t believe this!”

but in the midst of his monologue, he bends over to open a mini fridge behind the bar and returns with a couple of jello shots. he tells you to take them here while he gets your drinks and hide them the best you can so nobody gets up in arms that he’s providing something outside of the night’s menu. he’s always been especially nice to you, mostly because of liv and his undying love for her (though platonic or romantic, you’ve never been exactly sure about), so it’s all you can do to thank him and listen to his pleads for secrecy regarding the contraband jello shots. when he’s back above bar, you switch off, him discreetly tossing the small cups in the trash.

liv, finally armed with her precious red solo cup, turns to talk to some other friends, leaving you and yeonjun alone. the music is so loud you can hardly keep your thoughts straight, which is great for keeping your mind off of what liv said earlier, but doesn’t last long when yeonjun leans in ever closer, his cologne enveloping you entirely.

“you should thank heeseung for the jello shots, by the way. i honestly hadn’t even thought to make some for you and liv because i was busy with other stuff, but he asked about making some since he knows they’re your favorite.”

your heart clenches a little at the idea that heeseung wanted to make sure that you had things you liked at his frat’s party. it’s nice to have someone looking out for small things like that, even if it means breaking a rule or two. yeonjun rests his hand on top of your head and pats gently, a knowing look in his eyes.

“listen, i know that you swear up and down the wall that you and him are just friends, but for what it’s worth, he likes you a lot. he just won’t say it. you know him. he’s kinda bad with words. it’s not really my place to make his confession for him, but just… you know. give him a chance.”

you nod dumbly and give him a half-baked smile when he pulls his hand off your head. a few girls walk up, vying for their own drinks, so you take that as your cue to walk away, red solo cup cradled in your hands. any hope of not thinking about heeseung lee has been completely undone by both liv and yeonjun. 

suddenly, you are far too sober.

two hours later, you’re five drinks in, only kept track of by the cups you have in your hand, and you’re feeling pleasantly buzzed. the lights are a little brighter, the music a little louder, liv’s arm hot and grounding around your shoulders. she’s completely gone, despite the fact that she’s only had three cups of jungle juice. she’s serenading you with dancing queen by abba, somehow getting every single word wrong. 

“fuck, i’m way too drunk for this,” she says, breaking off a line in the middle of the second verse. “i’ll sing for you next time. promise.”

you laugh and lean against her, shaking your head. “okay, livvie. sounds good.” you’re content to end your sentence there, but you have an increasing awareness of how hot it’s gotten. the amount of people packed into the basement, especially in the center of the dancefloor like this, has contributed greatly to the heat and you need some time to cool down before it makes you sick. “listen, ‘m gonna get some air. ‘t’s getting really hot.”

liv nods and hugs you to her, voice chipper but slurred heavily. “‘kay! i’ll see you in a few.” she lets you go and breaks out into the next song, somehow worse than dancing queen.

you slip out of the crowd, already feeling a little cooler now that you’ve escaped from the hot press of bodies. standing on the outskirts of the dancefloor, you consider your options. there’s the open window that a cool breeze passes through or the door by yeonjun’s bar, which you know leads directly outside with a staircase up to the back deck. while you initially planned to be within arm’s reach for liv’s sake, your ears are starting to ring from the loud music and the choice is made for you.

you wave to yeonjun as you make your way towards the door. he pauses and leans over to ask you if you’re leaving, looking a little concerned, but you shake your head and tell him what you told liv. and then you tack on the information that she’s incredibly drunk, so he should watch out for her because knowing her, she’ll be tapping out sooner rather than later. he nods in understanding and lets you go, turning back to the two frat guys, jake and chan, that are standing at the bar.

the temperature difference between the basement and outside right now is jarring, but welcomed nonetheless. you carefully traverse the stairs, not quite confident in yourself to take them confidently, seeing as your sight is currently swimming a little and your head is light. getting to the top is a feat and you feel immediately better once you’re on the back deck.

you’re so out of it that you don’t realize you aren’t alone as you lean against the railing, reveling in the way the wood digs into your forearms and the chill bites at you through the sheer long sleeves of your black shirt. you’re still very much buzzed, but you feel a little more clear-headed now that you can hear yourself think.

the sound of your name startles you and you swear you jump ten feet in the air before you whip around, hand against your heart. heeseung is halfway out the back door, a cup in his hand and that deer caught in the headlights expression you’ve come to know well over the last month or so. 

“jesus, heeseung. you scared the shit out of me!” you say, catching your breath and leaning back against the railing.

“i’m sorry! i didn’t mean to!” he finishes stepping out of the house and onto the deck with you, the door swinging shut behind him. he’s so earnest in his apology that you can’t help but smile, dropping your hand and instead taking a sip from your drink that you carried out here with you.

“you have a habit of sneaking up on me, huh?”

he joins you at the railing, leaning against it the way you are, and raises his own cup to his lips (perfect and plush and pink… enough of that). he shrugs as he drinks, wincing when it goes down rougher than he expected. the liquid that sloshes against the side is not the same color as yours, so you can only assume that one of the guys gave him something a little stronger than whatever they threw together for the jungle juice.

“i guess so,” he says through a small cough. “i don’t mean to, if that makes it any better.”

you laugh a little, nudging him with your shoulder. “it’s not a big deal, if that makes you feel better. i think it’s kinda funny.”

heeseung smiles at that and nods, keeping his eyes trained on the drink in his cup. it’s only when you’re committing his side profile to drunken memory that you realize the blush that’s crept up the back of his neck onto his cheeks and the tip of his ears. except, that sober voice inside your head argues it could just be from the cold. 

but neither of you have been out long enough for that to be the case. it’s not even that cold out here, just a little bit chilly. drunk you is having sneaking suspicions, ones that sober you would never entertain, and this is the first time you’re seeing heeseung at one of his frat’s parties, so you might as well take advantage of it all as much as you can.

“yeonjun told me what you did… the jello shots for me and liv, i mean,” you clarify the second you realize how the first sentence sounds without context. “thanks. i didn’t think you were really paying attention to that kind of stuff.”

heeseung turns his head to look at you, eyes a little wide but that soft, perfect smile offsets it nicely. he looks a little surprised that you found out about it, but not upset that yeonjun mentioned it.

“well… i mean, of course i do. that’s kinda… what i do, you know?”

he’s beating around the bush. yeonjun was right; heeseung never talks about his feelings and he sure as hell won’t offer you the words you’re waiting to hear right now. so, drunk you reasons, why is the only way to confess through words? he’s shown you how much he cares, he’s been doing it for weeks now. maybe you were suppressing your own feelings to keep liv off your back about it all, but in doing so, you’ve been diminishing heeseung’s own attempts at telling you. 

this whole thing with him has never been simply friends. love at first sight feels a little much, but you certainly have something between you and you have for weeks on end at this point. maybe it’s time to reward this beautiful boy for being so patient with you.

just as he’s beginning to turn his head away to look back towards the house, you set your cup on the railing and capture his face in your hands. there’s no moment for either of you to process what’s happening, just that one minute there’s a platonic amount of distance between you and the next, your lips are on his and it is warm and unpracticed and still unbelievably perfect. heeseung goes pliant and soft under your touch, his free hand resting gently on the small of your back. his fingers curl gently into your shirt, tethering himself to you. his other hand is still grasping his solo cup and you find yourself wishing he’d just drop the damn thing, even if it means the both of your shoes get soaked in whatever he’d been served (whiskey, you’d guess, from the smokey taste on his tongue).

he’s the first to pull away, eyes still closed for moments after. his breaths come shallow and his cheeks have gone impossibly red, his hand still against your back. you study him from this angle, closer than you’ve ever been, and somehow, you’re finding him prettier than ever before. maybe it’s the alcohol talking or the sudden lovesickness for him, but you don’t care because you finally kissed heeseung lee and left him breathless.

“what- um… what was that for?” he asks quietly, eyes fluttering open. his pupils are blown wide and awestruck (you think that’s the right word in your jungle juice induced haze).

you shrug, inching yourself a little closer towards him. he turns to meet you so your bodies run parallel to each other and finally sets his offending cup on the railing next to yours. “got tired waiting for you t’make a move.”

he makes a sound in the back of his throat and turns his head to look elsewhere, as if looking at you might make him drop dead. any doubt you had from earlier in the night that he’d told yeonjun that he liked you is swept away in a single moment; he can deny it all he wants now, but you already know the truth, so what’s the point?

“liv told me that she heard through the grape vine that you liked me…” you say softly, voice trailing off into the muffled sounds of a kesha song blasting in the basement. “is that… true?”

you watch as he draws a deep breath, squeezes his eyes closed, steels himself for whatever answer he’s about to give. with all your liquid courage now, confessing might not have been a big deal, but you know that if you’d been sober, it would be just as hard as this. but you swear you saw him drinking jungle juice down in the basement an hour and a half ago, and now he’s drinking something stronger, so he must be so naturally shy that not even alcohol can wipe it out.

finally, he lets his breath out and focuses his attention on you again, his eyes soft and pleading. don’t break my heart. please.

“yeah… yeah, i got a little drunk last weekend and told yeonjun that i thought i had feelings for you when he got me back to my dorm. i’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable or if it ruins our friendship. i j–”

you kiss him again, hot and heavy and full of longing and words you don’t dare voice because you’ve liked him for a long time too; you were just too afraid to admit it to yourself. but now he’s spilling his heart out and you’d rather walk barefoot through broken glass before you let him go on thinking for a second longer that his feelings aren’t reciprocated tenfold.

you step impossibly closer, your bodies pressed tight and heavy, the seam unbreakable. heeseung’s hands (both thank god) rest on your waist, holding you close. he bristles under your touch as you leave one hand on his shoulder and the other sneaks around to the nape of his neck, fingers curling into the fine, soft hair there. your nails scratch lightly against his scalp and his chest shudders against yours, some small, refined gasp of approval passing from his mouth to yours as he takes his turn to kiss the breath out of you.

it’s a tiny noise, barely noticeable, barely passing as a soft breathy moan. but you hear it and it’s embarrassingly enough to have your knees going a little weak. well, it’s not just that minuscule noise; it’s everything, it’s the way heeseung’s lips move against your own with an uncharacteristic amount of surety, the way his fingers have slipped under your shimmery black top (a “donation” from liv’s closet last homecoming), the way you can feel his body coming alive under your attention. if this is going where you think it’s going, the dreams you’ve been having about him at least once a week since you first met are about to come true.

heeseung is the first to break away again, but he looks less nervous than the first time. no, this time he looks flushed and tousled and so attractive it should be illegal. when he shifts his weight from his left to right foot, his body brushes against you and the heat of him is unmistakable. even if you couldn’t feel it, you can see the way his eyelids flutter and feel the way his chest shudders against yours. you can’t help yourself; you need him.

“come back to my dorm,” you whisper breathlessly, words manifesting physically in a cloud of fog. “please.”

the boy squeezes his eyes shut again, looks up towards the sky, draws that deep breath he’s so fond of right now. you almost back out, almost say it was a joke; he just confessed his feelings and you kissed twice, so maybe it’s all a little much for him. you really like him and you don’t want to scare him off; besides, what you’re feeling right now is nothing you can’t take care of on your own back in your dorm room. just as you’re about to tell him that he can say no, he’s seemingly talked himself up enough because he looks down at you, smiles, kisses you on his own accord, and then takes your hand.

“lead the way,” he says.

you and heeseung stop at least five times on the way back to your dorm room to makeout, giggling into each other’s mouths as he presses you against a tree on the greens or as you pull him into the pools of darkness between streetlamps. every moment has him growing more confident, more certain that this isn’t just a hookup or a dream.

somewhere along the way, you text liv and tell her that you’re heading home because you’re not feeling well. it’s not farfetched, seeing as you’d broken away from her in the first place because you were feeling too hot. what happened between your departure and when the text is sent is entirely irrelevant right now. what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her and she’ll hear about it sooner rather than later anyways. 

it takes you maybe a full twenty minutes to reach your building, a feat considering how drunk you are and how obsessed you’ve been with heeseung for the last half hour. you fully expected it to take longer, but now, you stand under the golden glow of the entry to your dorm building, heeseung unlocking the door for you because you’re a little too gone right now and unwilling to take your hands off him,standing next to him, your arms hugging his free one while you lean your cheek against his shoulder. he fumbles with the key, muttering about how they should change to a keycard system instead, but he gets it eventually and you’re in.

after that, it’s practically a mad dash up to your dorm room on the third floor. your hand is twined tight around heeseung’s as you lead him up the stairs, too impatient to take the elevator right now. somewhere in the back of your mind, you’re glad that you took the time to clean your room today after class; heeseung will see a polished side of you, one that puts laundry away as soon as they’re out of the dryer, one that has glowing golden fairy lights above the window that gild your room in warmth, one that leaves books and binders stacked neatly in the shelf on your desk. not that he’ll be paying attention to any of it anyways, what with the way you can feel his cock pressing incessantly against you as you unlock your bedroom door, hot and straining.

agonizing seconds stretch into what feels like even more agonizing hours, but eventually, you get the door unlocked and guide him inside, stepping into the glow of your string lights that you’d left on before you left. you don’t even have to turn yourself around to look at him because he does it for you, turning you by your waist, pressing you fast against the back of the now-closed door.

his mouth is on yours in an instant, tongue swiping over your bottom lip, no doubt tasting the fruit punch yeonjun had added to tonight’s jungle juice recipe concoction. his hands are on your waist, curling hot into your skin, black mesh of your shirt scratching against you. it’s nice, how respectful he’s being right now, still ever the gentleman he’s been for the last month, but you don’t want nice and respectful right now. you’ve had literal dreams about this since you met him, driving your attraction to him higher with every one; you want mean and messy and rough, and that’s what you’ll get if it’s the last thing you do.

so in a bid to urge him towards where you’re really hoping this night goes, you grab at one of his wrists and drag his hand up to your chest, pressing his palm against your breast. you can feel his breath hitch against you and you smile into the kiss because how can he still be so shy when he’s kissed the breath out of you at least five times in the last forty-five minutes? either way, he gives a tentative squeeze and it feels mind blowingly good; you’ve never been one to really care much about attention focused on your tits, but heeseung makes it feel like maybe you should.

you get lost in the feeling of his lips on yours, one of his hands kneading at your chest, the other slowly slipping under your top, rough fingertips drawing up and down the skin of your stomach, so far gone that you don’t notice the thigh he’s slotted between your legs until he grinds it up against you. it’s sudden and so well-earned, some much needed friction that you’ve been craving since that second kiss on the deck in lambda rho’s backyard. he does it a second time, the hard plane of his thigh coming up hard against your clit, and your knees buckle a little, dropping you further onto him. you moan sweetly into his mouth, tilting your head back against the door as the hand on your waist works your hips against him with a scary but uncharacteristic practiced certainty. he takes the absence of your mouth against his to trail kisses on your neck, his teeth dragging along the sensitive skin, nipping and leaving love bites in his wake.

a well aimed grind of your hips, guided singularly by the boy in front of you, has you falling forward against his chest, your forehead pressed into the junction between his shoulder and neck. you keen against him in frustration, the crest rising but not breaking, no matter how hard to try to get it to.

“seung,” you cry against his skin, fingers curling tight into his sweater. “need more please.”

you almost sob in relief when you feel him nod against your neck, more so when you notice his own hips are stuttering against your leg that is bracketed by his. it’s enough to make you moan, the idea of him needing it just as much as you that he’s trying to hold himself back from getting off on your thigh too.

pressing your palms flat against his chest, you guide heeseung backwards in the direction of your bed (which you’re very suddenly glad you haven’t lofted). when the back of his knees hit the edge of the mattress, he makes quick work of kicking his shoes off and then scrambling up so that his back rests against the wall. you follow suit, toeing off your party shoes and crawling onto his lap where he’s waiting patiently, his eyes wide and the browns of his eyes drowned out by his pupils. he’s breathing hard, chest heaving.

he looks up at you as you situate yourself, his hands coming to rest on your waist again. the expression on his face is nothing short of worshipful, like you’re a deity here to wrench your well-earned respect from his hands. and he is clearly ready to hand it over without a single fight. he guides you down onto him and you follow his hands willingly, your thighs straddling his and your clothed cunt just barely grazing against his hard-on until you settle down completely in his lap, not a centimeter of distance between you. the friction and pressure have both of you gasping wordlessly and heeseung tugs desperately at your hips. you fall into him, arms around his neck and pulling him to meet you halfway, lips locked once more. you give a tentative roll of your hips and heeseung moans into your mouth, just the reaction you were anticipating.

“fuck,” he moans the second time you do it. “you’re so good.”

you’re already hot, seared through to the bone, but you feel yourself go even warmer under heeseung’s praise. you’ve imagined this a million times over the last few weeks, but nothing could ever compare to the real thing. you kiss him harder, breathe him in deep to prove to yourself that this is real, that heeseung lee is under you right now, bucking his hips up into you and matching your movements, about to make you come just from a little bit of dry humping. it would be embarrassing if you weren’t both half-gone and ridiculously desperate.

you continue to rut against him, panting hot and heavy into his mouth as he swallows every single moan and whimper you let out just to return them tenfold, his hands working you over him with a rushed ease. every roll of your hips is met with his own presses upwards. he’s working you higher and higher with each move, closer to the precipice, and while you’ve never before thought you’d find yourself in a position like this, if heeseung makes you come without taking a single item of clothing off either of you, then so be it.

as if he’s read your thoughts, he presses you back and away from him. you open your eyes for the first time in minutes and take him in: messy hair, flushed cheeks, bruised lips. no wet dream could have ever prepared you for how beautiful he looks right now.

but no matter how pretty you think he is in this moment, the sudden absence of friction has you whining loudly, pitched high and tight. when you speak, your voice trembles out of frustration. “heeseung, why’d you stop?”

he sucks in a breath and moves to push at your shoulders some more. “don’t- fuck- don’t wanna come yet, not like this.”

if you weren’t already so fucked out, you would have giggled, but right now, you just feel exasperated. he’s right; you don’t want to come like this either, but you’d also come to terms with it because it would mean that you would at least be getting the release you’re so desperately craving. and that’s been ripped away from you, at least for the moment. but when he looks up at you again, his eyebrows furrowed and eyes still wide with need, you fold immediately.

“tell me what you want.” he’s practically begging you and it sends a thrill through you, liquid lightning straight to your heart. “please.”

and how can you deny him when he’s asked you so sweetly or when you’re just as needy as he is? at this point, whatever he’d offer, you would take gladly. he’s gazing at you now, waiting anxiously for an answer, not that you have a set one; you want him in any way he wants you, nothing else matters more than that. but you take in his swollen lips and lithe fingers and your mind is off to the races.

“i-” you start, but stumble over your words. you’d been incredibly forward when you’d kissed him first, but you’ve lost all of that fire now. you can’t bring yourself to ask for what you want, even though you’re certain he’d do anything you’d ask of him.

“c’mon,” he coaxes, fingers kneading into your shoulders to ground you. “whatever you want.”

the sound of his voice is earnest, nothing short of honest, and it makes you want to trust him more than anything. so you do. you draw in a steadying breath and curl your hands into his sweater as you work yourself up to it.

“will you-” another breath. “would you eat me ou-”

“yes,” he immediately answers. you don’t even get a chance to finish the question. “fuck. i thought you’d never ask.”

he moves his hands to cup your face and pulls you into him, kissing you sweetly, his nose bumping against yours. the minuscule break in sexual tension, while in most situations would be a mood killer, is nice because it just further cements that this isn’t some random one night stand; you want to see him every day for the rest of your life after this, if he’ll let you.

somewhere between the kiss and when he breaks away from you, he’s maneuvered you so that you’re laying back against your pillows. you’ve also managed to discard your shirt (thank god, the glitter and mesh combo was starting to irritate your skin something fierce) and he’s working to get your pants off, fingers fumbling with the button; it’s as frustrating as it is adorable and he swats your hands out of the way when you reach down to help him, deadset on doing it himself, which he does manage (eventually, after a few incredibly long moments). you help him shimmy down your jeans and panties by lifting your hips a little and then you are inarguably bare in front of him, a position you’d never imagined you would be in.

and maybe heeseung is a little wonderstruck too because for a few long seconds, he sits there and stares at you in all your naked glory (or nearly naked glory, seeing as you haven’t taken your bra off yet, but he doesn’t seem to mind). you’re starting to get a little bashful and have to nudge him with a bent knee to pull him out of his stupor. he’s impossibly red at the tips of his ears as he murmurs a sweet apology that comes accompanied by a “you’re just so pretty.”

before you can muster a reply, he’s situating himself between your legs, hands pressing softly against your inner thighs to draw them apart, set eyes on his real destination. you lift your head just a little bit, watching as his eyes widen as he takes all of you in, his breath hot against your folds. his fingers curl tight into the soft skin of your thighs and you whimper at the sting, equally painful as it is exhilarating. he makes an indistinguishable groan in the back of his throat before he’s completely devouring you.

plenty of your wet dreams about the boy between your legs right now have included this very scenario: his nose bumping carelessly against your clit, a suddenly confident tongue making a show of licking up all of your arousal, your thighs already trembling. but they never could have prepared you for the actual thing because he’s giving you what is quite possibly the best head you’ve ever had.

heeseung is eating you out like a man starved, it’s absolutely obscene. his tongue works you up fast, every little moan he lets out only contributing. somewhere in the midst, he says something that sounds like “you taste s’good,” but his words are drowned out by your own moans and the sound of his mouth working you over. every pass of his tongue over your folds is as close as you’ve ever gotten to heaven, but you’re lacking something to really shove you over that precipice; and now you know heeseung is so whipped he’ll do anything you ask him to.

“seung,” you gasp out breathlessly, untangling one hand from your comforter so you can wind your fingers into his hair. he looks up at you, doe eyes big and wide and glimmering with his eyebrows drawn together, a questioning look without pulling away to speak. you’re about to ask him when his nose bumps hard against your terribly sensitive clit and your word breaks off before the first syllable can even leave your lips. “fuck— seung, can you— can you add your fingers?”

you’re not quite used to asking for what you want, at least verbally; maybe it’s because any previous partners weren’t keen on getting you to verbalize, maybe it’s because they never particularly cared and just did what they thought was good. but heeseung is pliant and willing to please in any way he can, so you feel less embarrassed this time around because he’s made it entirely clear that your pleasure is his main priority.

he doesn’t nod, doesn’t say anything, just closes his eyes again and goes back to work. you almost think he either didn’t hear you or is straight up ignoring you before you feel it. he pulls his hand from your right thigh slowly, letting his fingertips drag lightly against your skin; the menace is teasing you, where did that come from? but you don’t even have much time to internally complain about him holding out on you because he’s suddenly slipping two fingers into you, long, deft limbs that expertly seek out that spot inside you. he presses against it once, twice, three times, each one drawing out a whine from you.

it’s just what you need, the extra friction pushing you up that incline, closer and closer to the dropoff. when your back arches off the bed and your thighs close around his head, boxing him in against your pussy, heeseung knows he’s got you right where you want to be and then he doesn’t let up. it’s an onslaught of pressure, four different points of sensation, and you’re on the verge of tears. he’s making a complete mess of you, utilizing all he can to get you over that edge. you’re whining his name like it’s the only word you know, “yes” and “fuck” and “oh my god” getting lost in your slurred speech; he’d be evil incarnate if he denied you what you’re so beautifully begging for.

he presses incessantly at that spongy place inside you, nose bumping against your little bundle of nerves, moans growing more frequent, all while his tongue tries to catch every single drop of arousal. and then there you go, ecstasy taking over like liquid heat in your veins. his name sounds like pure euphoria on your tongue, mixed with your moans and whines. he thinks he could come just from this alone, your cum in his mouth and your thighs pressed tight around him, but he holds off because there’s only one place he wants to leave his release (if you’ll let him, that is).

“shit.” 

you sound fucked out, completely gone and heeseung swears he’s never heard anything sexier. you tug at his hair a little bit, feeling completely overstimulated but still so good, a shock to your system as he pulls his fingers out of you and lets his tongue work over you just a little bit longer (to make sure you’re clean, he reasons to himself). 

eventually, he does pull away and you have to fight the urge to whine again. his eyes are unfocused and glossed over, his chin practically dripping in your arousal. hell, his tongue darts out to get the last little bit of your cum at the corner of his lips and you nearly orgasm all over again.

“was it good?” he asks softly and you barely hold yourself back from laughing. he just made you come harder than any previous partner ever has, given you the best head in the world, and he’s asking you if it was good? he’s insane for thinking it was anything short of perfect.

but you don’t say that. you reach for his sweater, fingers curling tight into the cotton and tugging him down towards you. he catches himself by his hands, his arms bracketing you easily, before he completely crashes into you. there’s a long moment where he just stares down at you, lovestruck and pretty, before he lowers himself to kiss you. you can taste yourself on his lips, on his tongue, and you moan a little bit, feeling a little embarrassed, but one of his hands moves from its place on the mattress to cradle your cheek and that alone drives it away. 

one of your arms sneaks over his shoulder, your fingers tangling into the damp hair at the nape of his neck, while the other sneaks under his sweater, the shirt he wears underneath until the tips of your fingers brush the soft, pliant skin of his stomach. you can feel the gentle ridges of abs and a small piece of you shivers with giddiness. regardless, you enjoy a few seconds of running your fingers over his stomach before you push a little more incessantly at the offending pieces of material. he takes it for what it is: a plea to get rid of the clothes. after all, it’s not fair that you’re almost entirely undressed and he hasn’t taken a single article off.

you watch dazedly as heeseung sits back onto his heels, your eyes following his arms as he crosses them over himself, grasps at the hems, pulling them over his torso, his arms, his head before they land haphazardly on the floor next to your bed. every inch revealed to you makes your mouth water, his skin taut and soft and glowing in your fairy lights. you can’t help but remind yourself that dreams and an overactive imagination could never live up to the real thing because he’s very much the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen.

you’re entirely prepared to continue your makeout session, but heeseung seems to have other ideas because once his tops are discarded, he begins making work of his jeans. you make a soft noise in the back of your throat when you realize what he’s doing and he looks up at you, fingers stilling at his belt, his eyes wide.

“is something wrong?”

he sounds so sincere, it kind of makes you want to cry. but you shake your head earnestly, propping yourself up on your elbows so you can look at him better. “no, no! everything is fine. i guess i just wasn’t expecting you to take your pants off so soon.”

he quirks an eyebrow at you and dons that pretty little smile of his, teasing but not really. “well, you’re almost completely undressed. figured it was only right that i do the same, y’know?”

and you laugh a little because it’s true and because he’s just so cute, he laughs too, soft and quiet. you generally think sleeping with someone is fun, but you’ve never had as much fun as you are right now. maybe it’s because it’s with heeseung and you like him so much already, so the playfulness comes easy; it doesn’t feel tense the way it has with others.

so you watch him handle his belt, the button on his jeans, the zipper. you watch, mouth watering once more, as he slips out of them, leaving his boxers, which have a dark wet patch on them. the sight alone would make you groan, but you can see the outline of his cock and you almost lose it completely. so you decide to resume the impatient act because you are still very much so; as cute as the playful routine is, you haven’t forgotten the exhilarating rush of trying to get to your dorm as fast as possible and the unpracticed fumbling that’s followed since then.

you reach for him and he doesn’t hesitate, letting you pull him on top of you by his shoulders, fitting your mouths together in a messy kiss, all teeth and tongues. your hands are in his hair again, his own slide underneath you to make work of your bra, unclasping it and then pulling the straps away from your shoulders, down your arms, making you let go of him for a quick few seconds so that he can pull it off completely and toss it god knows where in your room.

you’re distantly aware that you’re entirely bare to him now, but his mouth is working at your throat, dragging his teeth along the sensitive skin of your neck (he is strangely good at distracting you, you’re learning), so you don’t feel as shy as you did just a handful of minutes ago. either way, he’s sucking hickies into your shoulders, your collarbones, any skin that has a little bit of give to it that lets him leave love bites in his wake. so lost in the haze, you realize a little too late that he’s working his way towards your chest, but it doesn’t even matter, not when he has one hand kneading at one and his mouth at the other, tracing lines over your skin to quell the sting of each pinch, each little nip of teeth. your nipples pebble under his attention and while this never usually does much for you, you still find yourself getting antsy because it’s heeseung. everything he’s done for weeks has gotten you worked up, why would that stop now?

it doesn’t help that he’s grinding against you, his hips canting against your own for any semblance of friction. your arousal is no doubt contributing to the wet patch on his boxers and the idea of it almost has your eyes rolling into the back of your head. his cock feels hot and heavy against your folds, the head bumping against your clit, and all of it feels so delicious that you let out a crisp, high whine, twining your fingers into heeseung’s soft hair and tugging gently.

he pulls himself away from your chest and when you look at him, you almost moan. his lips are swollen, slick with spit, and his gaze has gone misty. he looks at you expectantly, blinking slow and lips pouted as he waits. you’re not even sure what you want from him right now, at least nothing specific because you want everything from him. you’re about to tell him to go back to doing what he was originally because it did feel good, but then he lands a particularly well-timed grind against you and you’re gasping.

“fuck,” you whimper, tossing your head back a little. your fingers tighten in his hair and from somewhere south of you, he laughs a little, light and easy and airy.

“that what you want from me?” he questions, pulling himself up over you, catching your chin between his thumb and pointer finger. in any other situation, it might come off as intimidating and teasing, but heeseung is all doe-eyed and halfway to heaven right now, so it comes off more desperate to please than anything. either way, you nod. “all you had to do was ask. you know that.”

you nod and pull him down to kiss you by the fingers you have twisted in his hair. he groans against you, moving his hand from your chin to your jaw, angling you just so. somewhere in the kiss, you murmur a soft, “seung, i want you,” and he groans a little, nodding against you. he pulls away and you chase after him, but he’s sitting up, moving lightning quick to get his boxers off, abandoned somewhere on the linoleum floor with everything else.

and then it hits you that you’re both completely bare. you lean back on your elbows, looking him over once more, though your focus lingers mostly on the skin newly revealed to you. his thighs are toned and sturdy, the skin plush, and while you’d love to stare at them a little bit more, your attention is quickly drawn to his dick. it’s big, the head an agitated red and leaking precum, and your mouth is watering at the thought of getting him in your position and giving him the best head of his life.

you actually start to move to do so, but heeseung anticipates it and moves quick, pressing you back into your mattress. his dark doe eyes are drowning in desire and you shudder under his gaze. he’s on you again instead, hips melded to yours in your nth kiss tonight. he’s got his weight rested on one elbow beside your head while his other arm is free to move around, his hand tracing from your shoulder, your chest, smoothing across your stomach. 

his fingers eventually land on your thigh, curling into the soft inner flesh, and he hikes it up around his waist before dropping his hand to his cock. his lips trail from your lips to your neck and shoulders, nipping at the skin as he jerks himself off. you toss your head back against your pillows, whimpering at every little graze of his teeth against your skin. 

but what’s really driving you crazy is the heat of him against you. the head of his cock bumps against your clit, this time with no fabric barrier separating them, and you’re not sure if heeseung is even meaning for the touch, but it has you feeling hot all over again, slick leaking out of you again. you’re getting impatient, heel pressing hard into his lower back and your fingernails biting into the flesh of his biceps.

“heeseung,” you whine out, canting your hips up against his; you hear him suck in a breath through clenched teeth, a hiss of air. “need you.”

he shivers against you, a teary whimper of “need you too” granted in return as he pulls his face from your neck so that he can watch you as he finally gets to what you’ve wanted since this whole thing started. on a short teasing streak, he taps the head of his cock against your clit and you whine, turning your head into your pillow and curling your fingers into his arms, which earns a laugh.

“stop playing,” you tell him, rolling your hips upwards and into him.

he hisses again and bites at his bottom lip, nodding. he slips from your clit to your entrance and even just the little shred of pressure you get has you wanting to moan out for him. but then he starts pressing in all the way, slipping into your cunt with ease and you are not prepared for just how full you feel. your back arches and he lets off a tempered moan, stifled through a lip bite. when he bottoms out, his hips flush with your own, you release a breath as you adjust to the size of him, which doesn’t take long.

“seung,” you drawl, grabbing his attention. “move please.”

and he does as you bid, pulling out before he thrusts back in. it takes a few moments for him to find a pace that works, but when he does, it’s perfect. his hips roll against yours delectably, the sounds of skin meeting skin and your shared moans filling the small dorm room. he’s shored up over you, one elbow pressed deep into the thin mattress holding him up, and when your eyes aren’t squeezed tight in ecstasy, you watch the way he bites his lip, furrows his eyebrows, shudders as you clench around him.

“god, you’re s’tight. feels so good,” he whimpers at one point, his head hanging over your own as he tries to keep a steady pace. his words are shattered, breaking off in the middle or slurred together, a verbal manifestation of how you physically feel.

one thrust hits that just right spot inside you and you can’t hold but moan loudly, back arching off the mattress and your head pressing into your pillows. heeseung inhales sharply above you as you clench tight around him and then, with you still keening, you feel him sit up, taking his warmth with him. his hands are on your hips seconds later and he’s angling you, doing everything in his power to replicate it again and again.

“fuck, i’ve wanted this for so long,” he says, one hand on your thigh and the other working deft fingers on your clit. he’s a quick learner it seems because all of it is coming together to whisk your orgasm closer, a wave of white heat washing over you. “saw you at my frat’s halloween party ‘nd thought you were so pretty. woulda come up t’you that night if i knew you felt this good.”

your breath hitches more than it has all night and you cant your hips upwards in an attempt to meet his thrusts. somewhere in the midst of your pleasure, you tell him you’re going to come and he nods fast, fingers going into overtime to get you there. that knot inside you winds up tight and then snaps like a rubber band stretched too thin, hot and fast. your pussy locks around his cock and then he’s there above you, bracing himself with his hand, to swallow the particularly sharp whine of his name you let out and any stray too-loud moans that might slip away and wake the neighbors (as if you haven’t already).

when your vision finally clears and your thighs stop trembling, his hips are still snapping into yours to seek his own release, pushing you into the territory of overstimulation, but any pain you have bleeds into pleasure until you can’t tell which is which; the only thoughts you can manage are that heeseung feels heavenly inside you that it’s almost blinding and you don’t know if you even really want him to stop. 

but his hips begin to stutter, his cock twitching against your fluttering walls, and you faintly register that he’s about to pull out of you. blindly, your hand searches for any part of him to pull him back over you, legs locking around his waist. he protests, some flurry of words about how he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable (not a single one intelligible), while you whine and pull him towards you by his shoulder.

“wanna feel you, seung,” you say, a limp arm winding around him and inching him closer until your noses are brushing and you can feel his breath fanning across you, still smelling faintly of his alcohol from earlier. “don’t worry about it, ‘kay? y’said you’d do anything, so please. i wanna feel you s’bad.”

that seems to be enough to egg him on because he nods and you catch him in a messy kiss before he groans against your lips as he finally comes. he lands a few more sharp thrusts that have you whining, fucking his cum into you, before he finally falls still. his breath is hot on your shoulder as he recovers.

usually, once you’re done, your select partner of the night pulls out, maybe cleans you up, and then leaves. it’s been a while since you’ve had someone who wants to stay (at least, you hope heeseung wants to stay) and you’re not quite sure where to go from here. there hadn’t really been much discussion about where your relationship was going to lead after this, even with all of the lingering glances on campus and your impromptu study sessions at the library, so you’re worrying a little about what comes after.

stuck in your own head, you don’t even notice that heeseung has pulled his head from your shoulder and is looking at you until his thumb works your bottom lip out from beneath your teeth and then wipes away some of the sweat at your hairline. the furrow of his eyebrows carve deep lines into the space between them as he studies you, looking like an angel with the way the fairy lights strung up above him give him a faint golden halo.

“what’re you thinking about?” he asks softly, brushing his fingers across your cheek. it’s a wholly different energy than just a few minutes ago, but the change isn’t unwelcome.

you shrug, blinking up at him and reaching to push some of his hair out of his eyes, the strands matted to his forehead with sweat. “just wondering what we do now, i guess.”

heeseung’s eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles a little, his shoulders shaking with a breathy little laugh. you almost punch at his shoulder for laughing at you when he cranes his head down to kiss you gently, the first that isn’t rushed in some way. he nudges your nose with his when he pulls back just a little bit.

“can we worry about all the big stuff later?” he questions; you feel the words as much as you hear them, his lips barely brushing your own as he says them. “for now, how about we clean up first and then… i’m hungry. are you?”

it’s your turn to laugh, but you nod. you’re still a little drunk, your however many cups of jungle juice compared to his measly one whiskey.

“so we clean up and then go get taco bell? it’s, like, the only fast food place still open at this hour.”

“you do know that the line is gonna be insane, right? like, half of campus goes there after getting drunk.”

heeseung lets another quiet laugh loose and sits up, pulling you up with him and then into his lap, his dick still snug inside you. the feel of it doesn’t wind you up again like you thought it might, but it’s a nice reminder that he’s here, that this all actually happened. he rests a hand on your thigh and lets his thumb trace lines into the skin there absently.

“then i guess we’ll have time to talk about what you wanna do now,” he says sincerely, the smile on his face soft.

you have so many words you want to say, a million sentences tornadoing in your head right now, all jumbled up and lacking any sense of coherency. so instead, you cup his cheeks in your hands and return the kiss from just a few moments ago. he meets you halfway, all soft and pliant and giving, everything you could have dreamed up.

“wanna shower?” you ask when you pull away, giggling when he chases after you for another kiss. “feel like it might be a little more effective than a rag.”

the boy raises an eyebrow and eyes you suspiciously. “you tryin’ to go for a round two? because that’s what it sounds like right now.”

you push at his shoulders and laugh when he catches your wrists in his hands, pulling you into a third kiss. “wasn’t my intention, but i won’t turn down the idea.”

“i’ll think about it,” he responds as he taps at your hips and lifts you off of him. his seed starts to leak out with his cock no longer there to hold it in and you feel incomplete without him, but when he stands and offers you a hand to help you out of bed, suddenly the feeling of emptiness isn’t as oppressive.

you teeter across your room, opening the wardrobe to pull out the two towels you have and your shower caddy. heeseung accepts the towel you extend to him graciously, wrapping it around his waist. when you’re done securing your own towel, he’s already waiting for you by the door, one hand on the knob and the other reaching out towards you once you get close enough to him. and then you’re two people walking down the hall hand in hand, wrapped in matching pink towels towards the unisex bathroom. it’s a little unconventional, maybe, but you don’t think you’d have it any other way.

liv probably would though, but what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. heeseung’s your little secret after all.

© hoshologies 2023. do not translate, copy, or repost my work on any site.

[lvverleavr]

Mutually Exclusive | Entry One

Entry One: Memories Relived

༘ Jake x f oc (Annalise)

༘2.7k words

༘warnings: language, illusions to sex

A/N: This is a first chapter to test the waters on if I should carry out a full fic of this so I'd love any feedback 🤍

Summary: In an ongoing letter to Annalise, Jake tells the perspective of his early adult life— living out his dream with his brothers and her seemingly always by his side. But when the band gets signed to a record label based out of Nashville, Anna struggles with the ability to pack up and leave. With a complicated dynamic by the day his flight leaves, Jake outlines his struggles and worries from the day he left Anna. All things that flood back the moment she shows up out of nowhere three years later.

Entry One:

I vividly remember the first time I met you, you’re barely your own person at fourteen but you were already so– you. Josh had joined the theater club and he couldn’t shut up about you. He went on and on for hours about how you jumped on stage, singing when you were told to sing and even crying with real tears on command. It didn’t take long for me to be captivated by you as well– usually I found the best reason to be out of the house when Josh had the theater group over for practices but once you began to tag along, my social life seemed to free up.

These run ins seemed to be more frequent– you quit the theater club after your first year but you never stopped coming around. Your mother rarely left her bed much past getting a glass of water and your father worked himself to death by the time you were sixteen. Our house quickly became yours too and I never minded, you stayed up even later than me and you spoke in your sleep– I could hear it through the walls when the guest bedroom slowly became entirely yours to decorate, filling it with posters of Jeff Buckley and Stevie Nicks until nearly every inch of the wallpaper had disappeared. My younger brother began to tease me for how much time I spent with you– claiming it was some hopeless crush I had, chasing after a girl who had no idea I was infatuated with her, it made me wonder at times if he saw something that even I didn’t see. Even with the comments they never seemed to phase me, never seemed to shutter the bond that you and I had created. I was really locked in on the band once we hit our senior year, convincing Josh to dedicate a few days a week to the garage and even picking Sam and his best friend Danny up early from school some Fridays for gigs without our mom knowing. You always took our pictures, claiming if we were gonna be a good band we needed some half decent shots. My father lent you his old camera and you became our very own band photographer. Still to this day we’ll all agree that you were just finding a way to feel included on nights we had gigs. By the time we graduated I couldn’t imagine having anyone else behind the stage with us.

We even went to the same school after graduation, you stayed on campus to live out some 2000’s college girl movie dream but I stayed back home and drove to campus each morning. College bars paid us $200 a night for playing from eleven until three am and we took as many as we could get. I promised my parents I’d stay in school while we played, giving me some form of plan b I never intended on using but it was either that or she’d stop letting us take Sam into bars for our shows. Small dive bars at two am quickly turned into real gigs all around town, soon we felt like a real band with a direction being paved for us. Those memories have always been accompanied by the last semester I ever enrolled in.

•••

We moved you back into your dorm, the ice still covered the walkway as we carried the rest of your boxes inside the old building– smelling of damp carpeting and old heat units. You always needed more than you packed and it drove Josh insane every year.

“You have a kitchen, why do you need a second fridge for your bedroom–” He mumbles, trudging up towards the flight of stairs.

“I don’t know my roommate, I don’t want her stealing my drinks while I’m sleeping,” You shrug, swiftly cutting past him and down a small hallway, Josh turning to look at me as I meet him with a matching shrug.

He glances down, watching you tap an elevator button with your elbow which causes him to shake his head, “could’ve told me there was a fucking elevator for our first four trips up to your room,” He mumbles under his breath, looking over his shoulder as I pass, offering a gently pat on his arm before sliding past.

“I thought you knew!” You say defensively as I watch a small smirk spread on your lips. “There’s a big sign when you first walk in that even says it.”

Josh opened his mouth for a rebuttal, quickly clamping it shut with another shake of his head and tapping the third floor button. I couldn’t help but let out a small giggle, Josh’s gaze shooting to me immediately “What are you laughing at Jake?” He snaps, “All you’re carrying is a comforter, you wanna switch?”

I shrug, dropping the comforter by his feet before holding out my arms, grabbing the small fridge from his arms. “You’re a real complainer nowadays,” I say out to him as the elevator doors open, making my way down the hall first to see your apartment door open, “I thought you said you closed this,” I call back to Josh, the two of you trailing behind me.

“I did!” He calls out, “Maybe it's the wind.”

“No wind!” A voice called from inside the door, I took the first few steps in, noticing a set of boxes sat on the couch right inside the door. A short girl rounded from the small kitchenette, she held a grocery bag in her hand and her tight brown curls were pulled back by an old faded bandana. “Are you… my roommate?” She asks skeptically, smiling as I meet her with a quick denial.

“No sorry I’m– um– just helping with the move–” I explain, watching you round the corner.

“I’m your roommate,” You smile, extending your hand out from underneath the box. “I’m Annalise but you can call me Anna.”

The girl smiles, shaking your hand before shaking mine and Josh’s, “Juliet–” She replies, “and you are?” She asks, her gaze lingering on me a beat longer than anyone else.

The eye contact caused my cheeks to heat up slightly as if on their own, “Right. I’m Jake-” I introduce myself, her fingers slowly grazing my palm as she pulls away from the shake.

“Lovely to meet you…” She smiles, turning her attention back to you, “Especially you, Anna– I took the liberty of loading my stuff into the smaller room, had a feeling you already set up in the bigger one.”

I could feel your eyes on me as her touches seemed to linger on my skin, you rolled your eyes at me slightly before finally turning your attention back to what she was saying. “I’ll just be setting up all my stuff just let me know if you need me,” You smiled to her, Josh and I following closely behind you. “Do not even think about it.” You said to me the moment the door closed. I could barely put down the things in my hand before feeling your scowl on me.

“What are you talking about-” I ask, Josh giggling as he sat up on your bed, taking the liberty to rip open a few boxes while you stayed focused on me.

“I saw her looking at you. Do not under any circumstances try to fuck my new roommate.” Your gaze narrowed, pulling a box from my hands and taking it into your own.

“Who said I wanted to!” I ask defensively. You weren't wrong, she intrigued me to say the least but was it really that bad of a thing?

“Because I know you. Don’t do it” You warn, “I have to live with her for the rest of the year. I do not need to put up with hearing about you like that for the next five months.”

“She kind of looks like you a little” Josh chimes in as he picks through the box of snacks he very thoughtfully chose to open first.

“Ew no c’mon don’t say that” I groan, shaking my head. He was right, her hair was the exact same color, her eyes shone the same shade of green and even her smile had a slight crook to it like yours did.

“No Josh you’re absolutely right and you know what Jacob I hope it ruins it for you” You bite, tossing your comforter from the floor and onto the bed beside Josh.

“Whatever okay” I roll my eyes, watching as you open up another box “I'm not that terrible to hear about, don't act like i'm horrible.”

•

Those next few weeks I crashed on your couch between classes, even spending nights there after late Sunday gigs. It was better than driving back and forth to the house and Juliet never seemed to mind. One club had a standing gig with us on the first Sunday of the month, we played the last set of the night and we even started getting a regular crowd to show up and see us. It was small but had a real backstage, it felt like the real deal to us. “I’m not even here stop looking at me,” You giggled, waving Josh off as he kept glancing into the camera lens. “Jake you're next-”

Your voice was faint, my focus on the conversation I was having with Juliet as she tagged along for the night. Her hair was down, draped over her shoulders and it framed the heart shaped neckline of her top. I wish I could say I barely noticed how low cut it was but that would be a lie and she knew it. “No, I never really get the chance to go out to shows. I'm really excited to see you out there.” She smiles, leaning against the beam running floor to ceiling beside one of the curtains.

“The real show is from the front, you should make your way out to the floor to see.” I smile, feeling her fingers brushing my arm. She didn’t even hide that she was flirting with me and at one point I stopped caring and started flirting back.

“Jake-” You repeat, pulling me from my conversation as I look over.

“My turn?” I ask, still feeling Juliet’s eyes wandering across the features of my face as you nod. “Don’t move, hm?” I smile at her, offering a small wink before walking over to you. “Alright where do you want me?”

“Just go fix your hair in the mirror, I need more candid stuff” You say, your tone flattening from what I heard you using with Josh.

“You don't have to get all weird,” I mumble, taking my fingers to gently rake them through my hair. “It's harmless flirting,” You don't reply, the click of your camera is all I can hear, so I keep talking, “Even if something happens you don't have to know about it-”

“Stop talking your messing up the shot,” You finally say, and all I can do is sigh in response. “You can do whatever you want, I just don't need to hear about you two if it happens.” You continue after a few moments of silence, “it's gross.”

I can't help but chuckle, rolling my eyes “You're so dramatic.” Finally turning to look at you, “Like I didn’t have to hear about that god awful sociology TA you had ‘sexual tension’ with all last year.”

You grab a pillow from the small chair in the room, throwing it at me as I start to laugh. “We did, he wanted me and that's why I passed with a 97 on my exam. You're just gonna take the only friend I made here and fuck her.”

I roll my eyes, “You can be friends with her and I can fuck her, they’re not mutually exclusive.”

•

I spent that night on the couch, Juliet leaving for her own bedroom not long before you went to bed as well. I shifted on the couch, finally settling in before needing to shift again. It must've been near two am by the time I felt sleep crowding my vision, jolting back awake to the quiet sound of a door knob twisting open. The soft light from Juliet’s bedroom filled the space just inside the living room, enough for my eyes to adjust to her outline, she glanced at me, offering me a small smile as she noticed I was awake. “Did I wake you up?” She whispers softly, I shake my head in response, “Oh good-” Her eyes linger on me for a moment before making her way past me to the kitchen. I couldn't help but watch as she passed, the warm light outlined her silhouette, her shorts barely covered to her thighs and her shirt lifted up her stomach slightly as she reached into the cabinet for a glass.

“It’s very rude to stare,” I hear her whisper, my cheeks warming slightly as I realize she noticed my lingering stares.

“Oh um I’m-” I start, noticing a smile on her lips as she looks at me.

“I don't mind,” She replies, filling the glass halfway with water before leaning against the counter. Her fingers gripped the edge of it as she brought the glass to her lips. I sat up further, seeing her rested against the counter as she looked at me from over the back of the couch. “Anna didn't seem too happy that you were flirting with me tonight.” She says after a few moments of silence. “You two have something going on?”

I can't help but laugh, quickly clearing my throat to cover it up “Sorry no… no nothing,” I correct her, shaking my head, “She just doesn't wanna hear if something happens… The girls she’s friends with and the girls I date aren't allowed to mix apparently.”

She nods, setting her glass on the counter before stepping towards me. “It doesn't matter though if she doesn't know they mix,” she smiles, “right?” She was standing at the arm of the couch by now and I couldn't seem to pull my eyes away from her, all I could muster up was a small nod. “I’m just saying I’m not one to kiss and tell…”

I sat up the rest of the way, allowing her to sit in front of me on the couch. “You're not one to be subtle are you?” I finally ask, watching as she rests her elbow on the back of the couch, shaking her head as she rests it on her palm.

“I’m not… But then again you're not very subtle yourself” She smiles, watching my eyes trail to your bedroom door. “She's not gonna wake up… We both know that.” She says softly, my attention turning back to her as I feel her fingers graze my knee. Everything in those next moments felt like a blur, a sped up memory and before I could think her lips were on mine. My hand cupped her jaw as her lips pressed to mine, parting slightly as her tongue slid past my lips and dipped into my mouth. My thumb circled her jaw softly as my other hand dropped to her hip, my teeth gently tugging at her bottom lip which pulled a quiet moan from her. My mind swirled as I continued to kiss her, my lips were sore but I craved to taste her even more.

“We should stop” She whispers against my lips, I nod and kiss her harder and she gently tugs at my hair. “Or you can come in my bedroom-” Her words fell from her lips in nearly a whimper, I nodded eagerly, barely able to stand and follow her to her room before I kissed her again.

The night with her came in flashes, the sheer impulsivity of the decision stayed in my mind in bits and pieces but the most I could remember was waking up the next morning. She laid beside me, the blanket covering her bare chest as the sun just barely lit up parts of the room. I knew I wasn't supposed to be in there but I barely remembered even falling asleep beside her. I slid on my shorts quietly, slipping out of her room in an attempt to make my way back to the couch before you left your room, but stopping dead in my tracks as you stood in the kitchen.

“Anna-” I whisper. I don't know why the sight of you had me frozen in place, like I was caught in some terrible act. You glanced up at me, looking me over for only a moment before picking up your mug and walking into your bedroom without another word.

[xspeter]

TIME AFTER TIME

Chapter one ❣︎ Uh oh, i’m fallin’ in love

uh oh, i’m fallin’ in love

i thought the plane was goin’ down (how’d you turn it right around?)

❧ warnings: none!

❧ wc: 2.8k

❧ Note: first chapter is outtt! I hope you guys enjoy and are as excited for this story as I am! if things seem to be going a little fast i do apologize, but i am going straight off of the book! like all this happens in literally the first chapter

❧ masterlist

♥︎

The day started out completely terrible.

First, you’d woken up late and threw on the first thing you saw. And you only realized the massive coffee stain on it once you’d reached school.

Then you realized you’d completely forgotten about Mrs. Clicks homework and had barely managed to scribble down random answers on it before the bell, and even then the disappointed look she gave you as she collected it made you want the floor to swallow you whole.

The only good part of the day had to be the prom posters that had been thrown up around the school over the weekend. You couldn’t help the pride that filled your chest when you saw your own design looking right back at you.

The prom committee had let you have complete and total free range over them, and you liked to think they turned out pretty well.

You’d gone with a dark blue base with white sprinkles thrown across it, the words “A Night Under The Stars, Senior Prom, 8:00, April 5th, 1985” sprawled across it in baby blue letters.

“The posters came out super nice!” You don’t have to look behind you to know the voice belongs to your best friend, Robin Buckley.

You bit your lip, arms crossed over your chest, “Do you think so? I feel like I should’ve made the letters white or something.”

Robin shakes her head, “It looks fine to me.”

You gave her a grateful smile, “Shouldn't you be getting ready for the pep rally?” You asked. The school would be having a seniors only pep rally at the end of the day to celebrate your final semester of highschool, and you were honestly excited for it.

It was silly, but you couldn’t help the thought in the back of your mind that this could be it. Maybe you’d meet the guy you were meant to end up with there, even though you already knew practically everyone in your grade. You still couldn’t help but hope.

Robin threw her head back with a groan, “Please don’t remind me.” She whined. You snorted.

You knew the real reason Robin didn’t want to go was because of her new crush. It was cute, honestly. And you understood why Robin is so hesitant to make any moves, but you’re positive Vickie is the right girl.

She looks disgusted every time she’s with her boyfriend and you swear you catch her gazing at Robin more often then what should be considered normal.

“If you never make a move you’ll never know, and then you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.” You tsk, lips thinning out into a sharp line.

Robin rolls her eyes, “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” She sighs, “Look, I don’t wanna be any later for band then I already am so i’m gonna run, but nice dress!” She yells out as she jogs away, and you grin and yell back a thank you.

You turn around to head to your next class but are met with something rock solid. You nearly tumble to the floor, but are caught by a hand around your waist.

“Shit,” The wall says, “Are you okay?”

You looked up, arms tight across your chest to hold your books in place. The sight you’re met with is one you hadn’t been prepared for at all.

Jonathon Byers stood before you in all his glory. He was still as handsome as you had remembered.

Jonathon had lived across the street from you practically your entire childhood, and you’d harbored a massive crush on him the entire time.

How could you not? He was kind and such a gentleman, and he had an amazing family. (Apart from his dad, but you liked to pretend he didn’t exist.)

He smelled so-so good, and you wanted to catalogue every part of this moment in your mind. It was the perfect meet-cute, even if this wasn’t your first time meeting.

“Jonathon?” You stuttered out, carefully finding your footing as he slipped his hand away from your waist and back to his side.

He gave a weak smile, “Hey, Y/N.”

You couldn’t help but throw an arm around him, the other holding your books in place. “Oh my god, I haven’t seen you in years! When-when did you get back from California? Why are you back?” You asked, thoughts going a mile a minute.

Jonathon had moved to California at the end of your eighth grade year. His mom, Joyce, had been offered a well paying job that she couldn’t turn down.

It had been a teary goodbye, but you chose not to dwell on the fact that Jonathon would never know how you really felt.

Now, you couldn’t help but think that maybe you’d be able to turn that around.

Jonathon shrugged, hand rubbing at the back of his neck. “Mom lost her job and she was offered a managing position at her old one back at the store, so we came back.” He explains.

You frown, Joyce losing her job must’ve sucked, but you can’t help but be the tiniest bit thankful that it brought Jonathon back to you again.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” You murmured, laying a gentle hand on his bicep. He just shrugs, hands shoved into his pockets, “It’s okay. At least we didn’t have to move somewhere completely new again, right?”

You nodded in agreement, and you both stood in silence for a moment. You held your breath, you had to do it. You were going to ask Jonathon to prom. Was it a little hasty? Sure, but chances are he doesn’t have a date to prom yet, and there was no harm in asking, right? You were friends, or at least you had been, so it only made sense.

You swallow, “Hey, do you think you’d want to-” But you were cut off by someone knocking into you from behind and shoving you away from Jonathon.

“Holy shit, man! I didn’t know you were back!”

Your eye nearly twitches at the voice. Steve Harrington. The very bane of your existence.

You’d grown up with Steve as well, he only lived two houses down from you, but it’d been nowhere near as romantic as it had with Jonathon.

Steve was obnoxious. He was what your parents considered “troubled.” He would tease you for the dresses you wore, refused to play any of the games you wanted to, and was just an overall punk.

You grit your teeth, “Um, maybe watch where you’re going?”

Steve blinked, once, then twice, before finally he turned to you. “Oh, so sorry. I didn’t even see you. Which is strange, because that dress is seriously an eye-catcher.”

The tone that he says it lets you know it’s anything but a compliment, and you cross your arms over your chest, subconsciously hiding the light brows stain on it. “Hm, it’s weird, Even with your hair being nearly half your height, I still didn’t see you coming.”

Steve goes to bark back a retort, but Jonathon’s chuckle stops him. “It’s nice to see you two haven’t changed a bit.”

You force a smile, “Yep. You know. Same ol’, same ol’.”

Steve glared at you, “More like she hasn’t stopped being annoying.”

Jonathon furrowed his brows, “She’s not annoying. She’s just spunky, it’s my favorite thing about her.”

Your jaw nearly drops at Jonathon’s words, and your cheeks begin to flush a pretty pink. You stutter out a thank you, and Steve leans in and whispers, “Careful, you’re drooling.”

You stomp on his foot with your heel, causing him to hiss and pull away from you. He swatted at you before he turned back to Jonathon, “You remember Tommy Hagan?” He asks.

Jonathon nods hesitantly, “I think so, yeah. First Baseman right?”

Steve snaps his fingers, “That’s the one. Look, he’s having a party this Saturday and you should totally come.”

You do your best to keep your expression neutral as you listen to Steve invite your Jonathon to a party. What right did he have? What if you were gonna invite Jonathon somewhere on saturday?

Jonathon glances at you, “Sure man,” He says. “Sounds fun.”

Steve grins and claps him on the back, “ Party starts at eight, i’ll see you there!” He turned and jogged to his next class with a shout of, “Later guys!”

You and Jonathon watched as Steve disappeared into the crowd of people. He turned to you, “Are you going?” He asks.

Your mouth dries a bit at the question, though you aren’t sure if it’s because Jonathon’s looking at you with those wide, chestnut brown eyes like you move the sun and the moon, or if it’s because you, in fact, weren’t invited.

“Oh, um, I don’t know. I think I have to work.” You stammer out the excuse, hoping he doesn’t catch the nervous way you pick at your chipped nail polish.

He doesn’t, instead he gives you a weak smile and lazily says, “Alright. Look, i’ve gotta run, but let’s catch up soon, yeah?”

You smile girlishly, “Okay.”

His arm brushes against your own as he leaves, and the touch nearly leaves you dizzy.

Finally, things were working out for you.

🝮

Once the pep rally ends you immediately shoot for Robin. You find her next to the bleachers, staring longingly at an unaware Vickie.

You can’t help but roll your eyes, “You look like a kicked puppy!” You yell at her.

She nearly jumps out of her skin at the sound of your voice, but she’s quick to collect herself and throw you a glare. “I do not.”

You shrug, “Fine, keep telling yourself that. But, anyway, you are not going to believe who’s here!” You nearly squeal, fingers playing with the hem of your dress.

Robin thinks for a moment, “Who?”

Your grin grows impossibly larger, “Jonathon Byers.”

“I know.”

Your smile immediately drops, “You do?”

Robin furrows her brows, “Uh, yeah? Was it a secret?”

You scoff, “I mean, no, but - look, this is really good for me.”

Robin squints at you, leg kicking up onto the wall she’s leaning against. “And why is that?”

Your grin returns as you shift back and forth on your feet, “Jonathon is gonna be my date to prom. We already had our meet-cute, now I just have to win him over.”

She nods, eyes lidded, “Right. And how do you plan to do that?” She asks, crossing her arms over her chest.

You shush her and roll your eyes, “Don’t question me. Just trust that I'll make it work.” You begin to walk away, gesturing for Robin to follow. She does so with a groan.

“Steve invited Jonathon to this party. Which, might I add, he did right in front of me and didn’t even ask me if I wanted to go!”

Robin snorts, “Don’t you guys not like each other? Why would he invite you?”

While what she said may be true, it was still just basic manners to not do something like that right in front of people. But, Steve was constantly tiptoeing the line between person and barbarian so you wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t know basic human decency.

“That’s besides the point,” You grumbled. “I just need to get into this party and then boom! Me and Jonathon will be married in no time.”

“Tommy’s parties are always just beer pong, fireball, and truth-or-dare immature bullshit. Honestly, I'm glad we didn’t get invited.“ Robin murmurs.

The both of you approach your car and you hop into the front seat with an annoyed dent in your brows.

“And…” Robin bites her lip, “I guess Jonathon moved a couple houses down from Nancy Wheeler and they’ve been talking for a while now.”

Your heart plummets. Nancy Wheeler? Is this a joke?

Sure, you didn’t know Nancy very well, but that didn’t stop you from despising her very being. She always played the image of the perfect girl. Smart, pretty. You could see right through her though.

It’d started in kindergarten, when you’d gotten a bloody nose and shrieked an Ewwww right in your toddler face, making the entire class join her.

In first grade she exposed your box of love letters you’d made for Bryce Waterson, and he’d called you gross. It was humiliating.

In fifth grade, not long after your mom died you’d been forced to sit next to her at lunch. And it wasn’t the perfect cookie cutter sandwiches that bothered you, no, it was the notes.

Everyday she’d pull out a handwritten note from her mom. It always said something different and had colorful hearts and doodles. You’d get so sad you couldn’t even eat.

While Nancy could play the part for everyone else, you saw right through her.

And besides, Nancy always got everything she could ever want. She couldn’t have him. You wouldn’t let her.

And Nancy didn’t have the history with Jonathon that you did. She didn’t grow up in love with him, always watching in admiration as he played around with your nemesis.

Your mom said it was the most adorable thing she’d ever seen, though your dad couldn’t help but disagree.

Robin looks at you like she knows exactly what you’re thinking, “Jonathon Byers is not your perfect oh-we’re-so-in-love guy, okay?”

He could be, you wanted to retort, but you held your tongue. Instead you just shrugged as you began to drive your car out of the parking lot, “In all actuality they aren’t even together yet, so I still have a chance..”

“Don’t be that girl!” Robin scolds, “Whatever happened with him was not your meet-cute.”

You couldn’t help but buzz a little at the thought of your interaction with him. The way his arm had ever so gently bridled your own.. that wasn’t coincidence.

“But maybe it was.”

She throws her head back against the seat, “Pull yourself together, woman! You barely even know him anymore.”

His eyes flash in your mind, those beautiful dark eyes. “I know everything I need to know.”

🝮

Jonathon was back.

You propped your feet up onto the kitchen table and dug into your container of ice cream.

After Jonathon had moved, you’d daydreamed about him for what honestly was probably years.

You came up with so many different scenarios in your head for him, but there was one that always seemed to stick.

It was December, Christmas Eve. You were sitting outside in your cutest winter outfit just staring at the snow, and you get the sudden urge to turn your head. When you do, you’re met with the sight of him. He runs to you, holds you in his warm embrace and tells you every thing you’d ever wanted to hear. Some would call it delusional, you just called it perfect.

It took you forever to get over him. And at some point you’d accepted that he was never coming back.

But now he’d returned.

The smile on your face grows wider at the thought.

You didn’t have any classes with him and you were no longer neighbors, which sucked so badly, but you were anything if not persistent, and the one thing in your corner was your expertise on love. Not to call yourself a love expert, but, well…

Love was practically in your genes. Your mom lived and burned for it, and she had luckily given the very same passion to you.

Thanks to this, you were more then certain you had to get to Tommy’s party.

Honestly, the party scene had never really been your thing. A house filled with the distasteful smell of sweaty jocks and booze along with people who didn’t even know you wasn’t your idea of a good time.

But, you were running on a tight schedule here, so party here you come.

Lightning shoots across the sky and illuminates Steve’s car, and you’re reminded of the days events.

There was a parking spot right outside your house, and it was sacred.

If you wanted to be able to comfortably get to your house without having to walk all the way up the street, you’d have to park in this spot, which should be no problem right?

Wrong.

Steve knows about this spot, and unfortunately he wants it just as bad as you. And he’d tailgated you as soon as you’d dropped Robin off at her house and he’d snagged it away from you, forcing you to park a block over and walk all the way to your house in the rain.

You licked off a spoonful of ice cream and daydreamed that Jonathon lived there instead of Steve.

And that’s when it hit you.

Steve was the key.

He was your in. Steve, who’d invited Jonathon in the first place, would be attending this party.

But, there was only one world where Steve Harrington would be willing to help you, and honestly, you were willing to live in it. Even if you had to be drenched in rain everyday.

♥︎

[amynchan]

I'm going to reblog this sometime in August, but I need American College Freshmen to know this:

*cups your face gently* Do Not Take 5-6 classes for your first college semester. This is Not high school. Classes are counted differently here.

Each class has a specified number of units. Most classes are 3 units, some electives are 1 unit, and some classes with a required lab component are 4-5 units, depending on the college and the class itself. If it helps, think of those units like intensity levels.

In college, a full load is 12 units. Twelve. Let me break it down a bit.

A full load means that college should be on-par, time and effort-wise, as a full-time job. That's probably why some of the higher tiers of financial aid require full load; these guys have very little time for extra income to help them get through. A full load can be tough, and you should only go above it if you are absolutely determined to make it through in as few semesters as possible and if you are willing to sacrifice the extra time, mental work, and emotional stamina to get there. A full load should allow students to also participate in extracurriculars, but it is still tough, and you should not go above full load if you are in a sport or a club. No, it's not extra padding "in case you fail a class." No, it's not a security blanket or something to lean on. It is a disaster waiting to happen. You will burn out.

12 units means that the number of units for all classes in one semester should add up to 12. Here are some examples:

Let's say I take a science with a lab like biology (4 units), a mathematics course (3 units), a choir course (1 unit), an intro to college course (1 unit), and a speech class (3 units). 4+3+1+1+3=12 That's 5 classes to get 12 units, but that's because I took two 1 unit courses.

Let's say I take an introduction to art class (3 units), a government class (3 units), an English class (3 units), and a mathematics class (3 units). 3+3+3+3=12 That's 4 classes for 12 units, and that's more common.

Summer course loads are smaller, I believe, so check with your college if you wanted to try taking a summer course to try and get used to the type of work college will be expecting of you. A warning, though: summer classes are really fast and can be hard. I dropped my first one, and there is No Shame in it. It helped me figure out the culture difference between high school and college Real Quick.

Why am I saying all of this? Because I am seeing this pattern in the freshmen that I have in my classes. The ones I have to drop are the ones with 5, 6, 7 classes all at once (a lot of times even while playing a sport! wtf????), and in spreading themselves thin across those classes AND a sport as well, they are failing at everything, including their own health. Guys, I am a teacher, not a torture dungeon master. I want you guys to get your degree and thrive, and you cannot do that if you are working yourself to death.

For my college freshmen just coming out of high school, not knowing any better, still used to having to take 6 classes every year of high school and thinking 6 is gonna be typical or 5 will be a load off, it is not what you think. Please, I am begging you. Look at your load and lighten it if necessary. As you get the hang of college, maybe you can add more on, and maybe you can rub it in my face of "nyeh-nyeh, you were wrong!" Sure, go for it afterwards! But I'm begging you to not burn yourself out.

First semester. 12 units only if you want a full load. Test yourself first with this type of load. Do your best, but don't burn out.

(also, if any first gen students want college tips, tricks, and hacks, I will straight up give them to you for free.)

[rist-ix]

I have a question for you what do you think of the quote unquote age gap between Bloom and Valtor?

I had to do alot of research to understand Bloom age when I started to like this ship better than Mr cheater. So here's a brief information dump:

Bloom is 16 in the first episode and its confirm her bday is December 10 (we don't know the the exact year when each girl was born only the fact Stella is the oldest by that logic Bloom is the second youngest out of the group) when we get to season 3 it is confirmed that the girls is in their 3rd semester so that makes Bloom 19 at point. Valtor's age we do not know however I'm going to say at most early 20s from what we know Valtor working with a younger Griffin before he got Popsicled.

Here comes the tricky part. In s4 the girls just finished their semester and graduated making them 20-21. Up until s5 where Nicklodeon had to reboot their age making them 16 again. Flashforward to s8 and that makes Bloom age 19 if you are following the reboot or 23 if you do not follow the reboot. Since we don't know how long Valtor been frozen his mental age is up for debate.

For me personally I don't see Sparxshipping as an Edward and Bella situation as Edward was aging naturally during his years while Valtor was frozen and couldn't age naturally but only mentally.

Okay okay first of all! Your Bloom math checks out and I just realized that I for some reason always thought Bloom is 18 in s3. Which is still possible, I think, I just dont know why I assumed that. Actually no, it works, if she is 16 in s1 she is 17 in s2 and 18 in s3, but we dont know a lot about how the school years work in Magix so I'm gonna jot her down as 18-19 for the remainder of this post.

Still dont know how I passed math btw.

Anyway. Valtor's age is where the real mystery is at. We've got two possibilities in my opinion.

1. He's pulling the ageless immortal card.

My personal go-to for fics and discussions. Love me some 300 year old mommy issues. He has too much practice being a messy bitch, there's no fixing this man folks.

Evidence: There's a flashback showing him with Griffin as a tween: she looks MUCH younger, he looks exactly the same. Unless he also stole the secret magic of the world's most potent anti aging cream, or Griffin's proximity to Faragonda just aged her by three more decades, he does not age.

2. He is the age he looks.

Which, in my humble opinion, would not put him anywhere near twenty. That is a grown man. He's not college age, unless you count college professors under that word. Even if I were good at guessing ages the very stylized art style would throw me for a loop, but im gonna say 40s, give or take. Look at Avalon, look at Codatorta, look at King Radius if u must. That is the age range we're looking at.

Evidence: I dont have any. We're ballin'. I guess it's never explicitly stated he's immortal, which you'd think would be big enough of a deal to mention. If u got something feel free to let me know.

That being said, the Winx Club Wiki page for the canon timeline (ha, good one) puts the time of Valtor's creation in a rough time frame from "Over 17 years before season 1" to "Under 100 years before season 6". So he could technically be anywhere from 17-97, though I'm not sure the upper limit is as reliable as the lower one, given the check-list format of the website. So make of that what you will.

Now that we've got the question of age out of the way, lets get to the age gap. I have no idea what the situation in twilight was to be honest, so I cant compare that.

Realistically, there's at least a decade between Bloom and Valtor. Possibly two decades and change. And that is just from visible age, we can add a few centuries on top of that if we're sticking with the immortal bit. I'm gonna be gonest, I dont think being frozen for 17 years will make a whole lot of difference here.

If you find that icky, which is fair, you can always change that for fics tho! Either turn him into a twenty year old or put Bloom in her milf-era, the options are endless. Personally, I think the age difference is half the fun though, and also the least of their issues. When you're off making out with the objectively worst person in history, wether he's too old for her isnt gonna rank very high on people's list of concerns.

[elvisabutler]

i've had no love like your love

summary: both you and professor presley would like to forget about the incident between you two and you do while still occasionally falling into each other's arms when spending time with one another. the two of you finally reach a breaking point. fandom: elvis presley | elvis ( 2022 ) rating: m pairing: professor! elvis presley ( big daddy flavor ) x student! female reader word count: 9487. i got a little carried away. warnings: big daddy elvis. elvis using a walking stick/cane. implied praise kink. student and professor relationship ( everyone are of legal age ). religious talk. elvis being ill enough to miss class. unrequited love that would be requited if people just opened up their mouths. oral ( f receiving ). use of psalms in inappropriate ways. bunch of tears. mention of physical abuse/hitting/being kicked out of houses. use of the nickname belle for the reader. use of the derogatory name jezebel. mentions and beginning of impersonal sex like in my hearts already sinned. thigh riding. author's note: so i'll warn you ahead of time you've got to get through a lot of words of sadness to get to their happiness in this but it's worth it. i'm honestly super glad this got the reception it did since when i posted the little teaser/trailer as my last kinktober piece i thought this was hella niche and didn't think anyone would like it since it's big daddy elvis and it's a professor au. but y'all have seemed to absolutely adore it and it makes me happy. this is not the end of them since i've got an epilogue ( purely happy, i promise ) and honestly, if anyone ever wants me to write more of them ( case in point, the ask i got about a movie night with him and belle ) or i have an urge to i probably will. and y'all know the drill, pick your elvis poison, this is written with real elvis in mind but you can imagine austin elvis. and previous parts are here to be read in order: 1 and 2.

There's one thought- or a series of thoughts- his mind keeps cycling back to, that keeps rolling over and over in his head as he looks at the door you just left out of. Gossip isn't something he normally cares about but when he heard your name, he couldn't help but listen in properly because when it came to you he couldn't help it, he never has been able to help it. 

"She's going for Presley? That religious- he won't give her the time of day like that. She's too impure for him."  

"I've heard that's why she wants him because come on man, you know he never has gone for a student. Why not have the Tour Guide show him what he's been missing? Besides she's already spending all that time in his office and wearing his jacket half the time. Bet she's gonna fuck him before Thanksgiving break. Then she'll be free."  

"Two in one semester-" The calculus professor whistles. "Next semester she'll be begging for an orgy at this rate." 

He's not dumb, contrary to what his teachers back in the day might have thought. No, he's not dumb but sometimes he prefers to see the best in people, sees the parts that other people might overlook. Maybe it's just from his upbringing or maybe it's from how he was treated in the music industry but he likes to think himself a good judge of the character people might otherwise keep hidden. And with you he had thought- he had thought there was something there. Something you had hidden away amongst your conquests as ill advised as they might have been. You were- you felt like the sort of person who could be taken care of while still taking care of him. You felt like coming home or like God himself had dropped an angel in his lap. The idea that he was just another man- another professor in your long line of them stung. He knows he's not a great catch any more, that he's not nearly as pretty as he was even two years ago, let alone when he used to perform on stage or was in the movie picture business but you didn't seem to mind. You seemed to enjoy him, unless he had read everything wrong, had read your lingering glances wrong. Unless he had read your reactions to his very presence wrong or how you would smile just so in a way he recognizes from some women.

If he hadn't have read this situation wrong and you had actually enjoyed his company and cared about him at least in some small part the way he cared about you, why had you answered yes to his test. Why in God's green Earth had you told him that you just wanted him to be another professor you fucked? The answer should have been that you wanted to fuck him as a person and not just- him because he was your professor. You didn't need to charm him like this- to worm your way so comfortably into his heart in a way Priscilla had and how Linda had as short as their relationship was. It's- you didn't need to play with him like this- you didn't need to be cruel.

Maybe the best thing for both of you would be to pretend none of this happened. Pretend that everything was normal and that he hadn't seen how your pussy looked in underwear that was barely there. Pretend he hadn't seen you arch your back for him. Just pretend he hadn't had you against the desk in a way that was so far from how he planned. That's- that should be what he does. You were still perhaps that good girl, that wonderful woman he thought you were, you just needed to be reminded of it continuously. Maybe he just wants to be selfish and have you in his life in whatever way he can. God, he was getting to be stupid and silly as he got older, wasn't he?

Love makes you do stupid things, you've realized this more than anything with El- Professor Presley. With other men, with other professors your brain and your heart seemed to actually be in line with one another, seemed to remember that these were flings and while their outcomes led so much to be desired you could file them away as business transactions. Business transactions that allowed you to avoid worrying about your grades if you were sick or if you had too much going on at one time. You figure it's your own fault for taking the challenge Noelle had offered you. Figure that you brought this on yourself despite knowing that you had seen the man for years now from afar and thought that he was the most attractive man you've ever laid eyes on. Thought his waistline- much as it occasionally fluctuated was perfect at damn near any size but you had a special place in your heart for his size now. You should have known your heart would believe one thing- would feel one thing while your brain would try and remind you that this- this couldn't ever be more than whatever it was. You hadn't even needed to do it, hadn't needed to take the chance on sleeping with him because you were fine when it came to his class, never missing a class or a discussion or anything that had him lowering your grades. Yet, you had to be selfish, had to ruin the relationship- the friendship you and him had with each other. You had to ruin him as a person, didn't you?

The man who had sex with you against his desk that day wasn't Elvis Presley, Professor Presley, whatever you wanted to call him. He wasn't the person you had fallen so deeply in love with that your heart ached and twisted and threatened to fall right out of your chest at the mere idea of losing him for good. He was something- someone else entirely, someone who you didn't recognize in the slightest but maybe that's who he always had been, maybe that was the man you had fallen completely in love with over the semester. Your brain hadn't bothered to entertain the idea of a life beyond this semester but you think- no, you know- that your heart had other plans. Your heart dreamed of a life with you at his side at Graceland during the summer and on the breaks at night. It dreamed of a life with you in his lap and his head in yours. You just dreamed of a life with him come whatever may be.

That dream is still in your heart as much as your brain knows it's stupid and silly and a forgone conclusion at this point. Yet, you can't stop yourself from still wanting it from pining for the mere idea of it. You can't stop yourself from taking his jacket you still have and wrapping yourself in it after you come home from that day- that absolute mess of an emotional day because that mere idea of a life with him. A life where he comforts you and wraps his arms around you when you find that life is too much or when he finds that life is too much.

Maybe that's why you don't back away, maybe that's why you let yourself continue on debasing yourself in a way that you're practically mortified to realize. Or maybe it's because after that day things go back to normal. He acts like the man you fell for, acts like the man you could see some form of a future with and could dream of living the rest of his days with. Still, you choose to believe that it's worth it, that this is all you're ever going to have of Elvis. God you wish your brain could just call him Professor Presley or Mr. Presley but when you're in his office talking about what had happened in class or the lesson plans he had for the next one he always insists on you calling him Elvis and it feels so natural rolling off your tongue. It feels like it's meant to leave your mouth in sighs as he brings you pleasure and with fondness that you can only have with someone you love to the ends of the Earth.

You should have known better, you should have known better because you might be strong, you might be the sort of person who can hold herself up with or without praise that Elvis sprinkles into your life. You're the sort of person who shouldn't do this, who wouldn't do this for anyone else if it wasn't him. You should break it off, should give yourself a clean break but he's always there and he's right there saying the words you want to hear. He's there acting like he's supposed to and you find you can't even grieve for the loss of him because he's not gone, is he? No, he's right there in front of you, almost mocking you in his actions and how they conflict when you're up against his desk, his cock sliding in and out of you with such obscene squelching and squishing because he knows how to touch you in just the right way that has you groaning against the coolness of the desk. He knows how to touch you in just the right way that has you so aroused you make a mess of whatever you touch. The times you're just on his thigh because he can't get it up- not for lack of want, but because of his body betraying him like everything else seems to- those times always end in him with a suspicious wet spot that makes him glad he's got on black pants to hide the stain you've put there from riding him.

Things feel so impersonal, such a stark contrast to the actions of both of you around the times you do these things. You're adults and yet the concept of talking about what happens- talking about how you two fall into some natural rhythm of companionship only to have it stripped away the moment one of you climbs on top of the other or the moment he pats his thigh for you to straddle- is so alien to either one of you. When you've fooled around with the other professors even when it came to the worst exits you were still able to look at them, still have that element of attachment when you would be with them up until the point where you were kicked out and where you were slapped and yelled at and chased out windows that had you breaking your ankle. With Elvis it should be the same, you want it to be the same because maybe if it was you could- it would be easier for the two of you to talk. It would be easier to not feel like this is a business transaction and that as much as he'll be the man you started to love before and after it, he won't be that man during the act. You'd say you felt used but how can you be used if you're also using him. It's silly and embarrassing and it wears you down after each time even though you always crave it just a little bit because it's all you feel like you can get of him like that. You want more than his companionship, his praise and his subtle touches on your shoulder and his laughter. You want every single bit of him you can have. You're grasping at whatever you feel you can get and you don't realize he's doing much the same thing.

It has to be impersonal because if he looks at you he doesn't trust himself to not fall to your knees and worship you like the angel sent from on high he believes you to be. He calls you Jezebel because that reminds him how you wrenched his heart from his chest and twisted it in your hands. Staying away from you isn't an option because outside of when you two fall into each other's arms you feel like his- feel like third time is truly the charm on women he adores to the ends of the Earth and that you could be the one he spends the rest of his life with- however long that may be.

However long that may be is always on his mind the more his stomach gives him issues or his body feels like it's breaking down more and more. Should try and get everything in check, try and cut out some things maybe but he's never been the most disciplined in anything that isn't religion and even then he knows he falls off that wagon on occasion. He has to miss two more classes and on one of the nights he can't sleep, his stomach contorting in on itself and his bones feeling an ache he can't shake he wishes you were there. Your presence that one night, curled up against him after he had woken up and found you on the couch only to carry you to his bed had been some of the best sleep he'd had in such a long time. You might not have healed all his ills but you served to be a balm he couldn't help but crave on this night.

The thing about him missing is that he can't know- he doesn't know that you notice the second it's Joe up at the front of your class again and you swear you want to throw up. Your stomach drops so far out of your body that it might as well be in the core of the Earth. Elvis wasn't here again which meant something- some part of his body was acting up again. Maybe you shouldn't have been on his thigh after the last class, maybe you should have just let it be one of those times when you just talked and relaxed with one another and not let it turn sexual. No- No, it would have happened regardless, after all, the last time he had missed you and him hadn't even done anything other than talk. That was before- you wouldn't dwell on it, if this was anything like the last time he'd be back come next class a little more worn down and needing perhaps more company and a bit of help but he would be fine. He's always been so larger than life and so strong that there was nothing to worry about.

Except- he doesn't come back after that first class and he misses another one and you had been lulled into a false sense of security thinking he was alright when no one including Joe was there early. No, instead you had Jerry coming in almost five minutes late telling everyone that class was canceled since anyone who would take over for EP was a little occupied and as nice as he's heard everyone was- he's a business professor- an economics one- not a religious studies kind of guy. You don't expect people to be loitering outside of the class, figuring that much like any college students they'd be rushing to the library to study or to their dorms or apartments to sleep. You wish people had done that, wished the two people you come upon would have done that.

"He's gonna be dead in a year if that, man." The student- James you think- says, rolling his eyes. "My brother had him last year and he missed one class, we're on what, our third?"

"Third and the Tour Guide wearing his jacket. Maybe that's why- she's drained him." The other laughs quietly.

"She hasn't worn it since the middle of October, no, she's already moved on. Wouldn't be surprised if he passed her along to his little Mafia." James pauses. "Whatever the case- he's dead next year. If he even gets through the semester. Sucks, man, he wasn't the worst professor."

There's a part of you that wants to hear what they have to say, hear how they want to blame you for Professor- Elvis not being here but you can feel your heartbeat rushing in your ears and feel your eyes welling up with tears you can't- you refuse- to shed in front of people and find yourself pushing past them, your boots thumping on floor as both of them laugh just a little realizing you had been listening to them the whole time.

They had to be wrong, they had to be wrong because as sick as maybe Elvis was he wasn't- he couldn't be that sick. No, they were just- joking around, they had to have been. Maybe they knew you were there the whole time and just said it to mock you, after all, you know it's truly no secret that you are his favorite student and were even before- the incident. If they were right though, that meant-that meant after this semester he was gone. You'd never hear a story about how stupid some of your classmates were or about hear him sing like he had that one night again. You'd never share another set of snacks and a drink with him. He'd be gone and you'd be- He'd be gone and the world would feel a little bit dimmer.

The idea of a world without Professor Presley, a world without Elvis swirls in your mind that weekend as you force yourself to do your schoolwork. Ignoring it would be so easy and you could just curl up with his jacket and with your favorite book or in front of the little television and just pretend you hadn't heard any of that. Any time you think of doing that, though, you hear a voice that sounds suspiciously like his with a little backing of a voice that sounds like yours in your mind reminding you that you should do your work. So you do and you eat and you do everything you're supposed to that weekend as you try to avoid thinking of what the other students had said. It's hard but you manage well enough. Monday comes sooner than you'd like and you find yourself dreading entering Elvis's- Professor Presley's class. You sit down in your normal spot though, your eyes shut as you try to relax and burrow yourself into his jacket as you do.

His cane taps against the floor and a breath you hadn't realized that you were holding comes out of your mouth in a rush. He's here, he's alive and he's going to be teaching class today. You bite your lower lip as you hear the taps stop right behind you and feel Elvis's hand grasp your shoulder, just as warm as it always is. You hear his voice rumbling, even with so much exhaustion coloring the tone about how he's glad to see you where you’re supposed to be and you look up at him to see something in his eyes, something that feels like a spark of the man you've fallen for completely this semester. Maybe- no, you don't dare hope fully.

Class feels like a blur and while there is a debate as per his usual it's much more subdued with you barely offering input and him still feeling a little too rough to really force some excitement into it. A part of you wants to just head straight to your other class and not entertain the idea of going to Elvis's office but as you start to leave you hear the tap of his cane following you and hear his voice.

"Y/N." He starts, his eyes roaming your top half and settling on his jacket. "Gonna see ya in five minutes?"

The word no is on the tip of your tongue, you should say no but you've been so worried about him that you nod slowly, adjusting the straps on your bag and it earns a small smile from him as he walks off slower than normal but still seeming just as strong as normal with the tap of the cane. It takes you a little longer than five minutes to reach him, almost as if you're too nervous to really go to his office but when you get there the door is wide open and you see two drinks on the desk and you settle yourself onto the couch.

Talking- even with everything- comes so naturally to the two of you that you hardly realize how you both shift closer to the other as you talk. You hardly realize how you're close enough that you can feel his body heat against your side and that he feels the same thing. This is how it always seems to start since the Incident, with you two moving closer and closer until you're in his lap and today is no exception. Except, maybe it is because you're wearing his jacket and you saw a glimmer of something in his eyes that tell you maybe there's something there. That maybe the person you want to spend all your time with is still there underneath everything. You don't know when you decide to hook your leg over his thigh, thanking every god you know that he has a tendency to spread his legs even if there's no reason to and you hike up your skirt just a hair as you start to grind against his thigh, facing him as you do. Your hands move to try and cup his face, try and pull him closer to you before you feel his hands on your hips manhandling you to face that opposite way.

No. This- no, this isn't- you want him but not like this any more. God you can't- why was it so hard for him to let you just look at him when you do things like this. He was gone for two classes and you were so worried but he won't look at you. You're wearing his jacket and he noticed and he won't let you look at him. Your body can't help itself, still grinding a bit as you try and maneuver yourself back to facing him only to be stopped time and time again by his grip. It's not punishing and it's not going to bruise- you hope- but he won't let you turn. He won't let you turn and his mouth starts to spew words that make you want to curl up in on yourself.

His mouth hisses into your ear. "The Jezebel doesn't want it this way? Doesn't want my thigh today? Too good for me?"

You snarl, tears starting to form in your eyes out of sheer frustration and anguish rolled into one. "I never- I'm not saying that, I just- Elvis, please, let me look at you." Your body starts to contort in positions you didn't think were possible as you continue to try and face him only to be brushed aside.

Words are leaving his mouth, you hear them faintly but you finally just launch yourself off his thigh, chest heaving and eyes fiery as can be. Your legs shake at the sudden loss of his thigh that had supported you up until now but you stand your ground as best as you can. "No, I'm not- We're not doing this, not like this, I- What have I even done to deserve this? This- God, I don't even know what to call it. This joke? This playing with me like this?"

"Playing with ya like this?" He barks, heaving his body off of the couch and moving to stand in front of you, his blue eyes stormy as anything you've ever seen in your life. "That's goddamn rich comin' from ya. Lil Miss Jezebel. The Tour Guide. The Harlot who-"

"Don't!" You shout, not even caring if anyone outside in the hallways can hear you. "Stop calling me that! I'm not- You wouldn't call me a good girl if I was any of those things!"

"They're- They don't hafta be seperate, darlin'!" His emphasis on the nickname is punctuated by him inching even closer to you, his words getting lower as he starts to hiss them. "Because you're most certainly a Jezebel, climbin' on me every chance ya get. Actin' like your God's gift to men wit' the others. Tell me, that new professor, t'one in the math department-"

"What other- Is this about-" Your thoughts jumble as they try to catch up with what he's saying. He's calling you a complete Jezebel and asking about someone who doesn't even exist to you. Your chest heaves as you push yourself into the little bit of space between you, your pointer finger pointing at his chest. "The new professor? The one I had to ask for help for because he's the only math professor who hasn't tried to come onto me?"

"Do- Do I look stupid to you, Jezebel?" He asks, almost as if he's afraid to say your name. "I heard from the other professors-"

"You could have asked me!" The words are spit out of your mouth and you can even see a bit of spittle flying onto his face. It brings you a sick sense of satisfaction to see how his already angry face slides between pure shock and more anger. "I thought we were friendly enough to do that! I've been to your house, Elvis!"

The noise that comes out of him before he can even get words out is truly defined as a snarl and a growl in the truest sense of the words. If you hadn't known any better you'd have thought you were arguing with a wild animal. It startles you to the point where you back away just a bit, not because you're worried he'll hurt you- no he's never been that type even with everything- but just because it's your natural instinct in the face of something like that. Despite that, he follows you, moves closer again even as his voice roars leaving his mouth. "You've been in my bed, Y/N! My goddamn bed! Curled up next t'me like ya belonged there!"

You duck away from him, almost as if to escape feeling very much like a cornered animal. He's not going to hurt you- he won't because he's not like- he's not like the rest of them but you can't defend yourself if he pins you down with his body or his words. His eyes follow you like a predator stalking prey even if you both know you've never truly been prey to him or perhaps anyone else. "That's exactly my point! Why wouldn't you just ask me?"

"'Cuz ya'd have lied!" His answer is slurred, the anger truly getting the better of him as he moves to cage you against the wall, only to have you slide away again.

"Not to you, Elvis!" How could he even think you'd lie to him about something like that? That you'd truly lie to him in general? "I've never lied to you!" You hadn't told him things but you had never lied, not a true and honest lie.

"Haven't ya?" He doesn't move this time, instead choosing to stare you down. "Tell me, Jezebel. Did ya just wanna fuck me so ya could tell everyone ya did? How ya got me when I haven't fooled around with a student in all my years and I haven't fooled around with anyone going on at least a year? Or was this just ya bein' sweet on the fat ol' man?"

The flinch that comes from you is unexpected and you look down at your body wondering if he shot you or slapped you and you didn't realize. There isn't a mark on you, no blood showing, no handprint making a mark on you. There is just you wishing he would have slapped you or injured you in some way because maybe it would hurt less than the words he had just said. It would hurt less than the accusation he's just thrown your way. You do not cry in front of people, you refuse to, knowing tears never make things better when you're caged and yet you feel your lower lip starting to jut and your nose starting to run before you shake your head. It's- he's not- he is wrong and you need to prove that to him.

"Just being sweet on the fat old man." You can't help but laugh, the cacophony of emotions threatening to tear you apart at the seams. "Do you- Do you hear yourself? I- What is it, Elvis? Am I your Jezebel sent to what ruin your little God Fearing self? Or am I just some Jezebel who's sweet on you? Or are you going to tell me I'm both? That I'm not good enough for you? Too used?"

You see his jaw tighten and you worry if you've said the wrong thing. You worry that he's seen how you look like you're about to cry and something is going to go wrong but he just takes a step closer to you, his cane tapping on the floor just once. His head tilts just slightly to the side. "I know what I said, lil Jezebel. I know that you've been actin' all sweet, actin' like you're worthy of the nickname Belle. Worryin' 'bout me. Comin' to my house, gettin' me into bed but when I worry 'bout ya, put ya in my bed next to me, ya leave me alone. Then I hear t'boys. Hear what the lil professors you'll eventually fuck gotta say about ya. Ya just playin' a lil game wit' me, ain't ya?"

You bite your lower lip as an answer before you take a deep breath as you start to head to the door, trying to open it only to realize at some point he's locked it. You could unlock it but you feel the need to turn around and defend yourself. "That's- Elvis. No. No- I- I wouldn't- I honestly like you!" You don't dare say love because if he thinks this low of you he's not going to want to hear it. "I care about you! I- You haven't been here for almost a week in actual days counted and I've been worried. They're making jokes about you dying and that idea terrifies-"

He cuts you off as he takes another step and you hear another tap of that goddamn cane as you find yourself moving up against the wall, realizing you can't move. "Stop. Lyin'."

"I'm not- Elvis- I'm not! Why can't you- I'm I wouldn't lie to you about something like this. I wouldn't lie to anyone like this." You want to be strong, you want to fight more but it's as if he's saying everything exactly to hurt you in just the right way. He's saying everything that just cuts through any defense you have for it.

It finally starts to weigh on you, finally starts to drag you down into the depths you were trying so hard not to fall into. He- he won't understand either because of his own choices and stubbornness or because the idea is foreign to him. The idea that you were terrified- you the girl who is so strong that you've taken something that should be an insult and wear it with a bit of pride or at least wear it in a way that lessens its effect- is so foreign it truly refuses to penetrate his brain. At last that's the only thing that crosses your own mind as you feel cornered. You feel trapped and like- you feel like something is finally breaking within you. That this, out of everything you've had thrown at you is what's broken you. The wall behind you reminds you of his solid form except it's all wrong, it's so cold that it can't be him. He's standing in front of you, blue eyes raging like a hurricane and his body coiled like a tight spring, his cane holding up his leg as he moves forward to cage you in again and that's it. 

Your body sags against the wall, using it to remain somewhat upright as you slunk down to the floor, unshed tears congealing in a hard mass in your throat. You try and swallow only to have something again to a low groan or small whine escape your lips. This- he's broken you, you've been so strong only to let this stupid man who you shouldn't have even gone for in the first place break you. This stupid man who was- who felt so different and like he held every promise for happiness in the words he spoke. In the praise he gave you. In the way his body felt like it was made to hold you and touch you in ways you yearned for.

"Jesus-" His voice sounds crushed above you and for some reason there's a part of you that feels a victorious delight in the fact that you've made him sound like that. Made him sound as anguished as he's made you feel for weeks. As anguished as you feel thinking of him dead. “Y/N- Get up- Ya g-gotta stand up darlin’.” 

No you don’t, hell you don’t even trust that your legs would let you stand up at this point, as much as you feel them minutely shaking. No, you’re quite content to stay on the floor, feeling almost catatonic in the way your mind is focusing on everything about the past semester. You try to close your eyes as if that will make the tears that are threatening to fall go away when all it does is make them slide out the corner of your eyes. That's the final dam bursting as more follow even as you don't want them to. All that’s in your mind is every moment he’s touched you, every moment you’ve walked next to him, every moment when his eyes were like sapphires glittering as he looked at you laughing over a bottle of Pepsi while you waved your hands talking. You remember every hint of praise that had your mind going a little fuzzy and had you shiver for a want of more. 

"Anyone ever tell ya how insightful ya are?" No because even if you paid attention during class and did the readings and made the grades they didn't care. 

"Ya ever thought about teachin'? Though the debate was a goner till ya put it back on track." That was nothing, just you wanting to make sure no one lost the point Elvis was trying to teach.

"You've been makin' this semester a goddamn breeze."

Perhaps you had but for what? For him to be missing class and looking half strung out or exhausted when he came back? In all the time you had spent together he hadn't even hadn't even told you what the problem was- what took him away from you and from a job he loved. Maybe everyone was right, maybe this might be his last semester teaching and look what you’ve done- you’ve made it so his last hurrah is being known as your last fling or just another fling in your series. The thought makes your stomach roil at doing that to him- doing that to a man that God help you- you had fallen head over heels for to the point that you wanted him at any cost and in any way you could get him. 

"You're- darlin'- you shouldn't b-be-" He has to stop himself from talking, feeling an old stutter starting to rear its ugly head. His breath comes out shakily as he tries to focus on you, focus on how your shoulders are shaking with tears and how he did this to you. How he's done something that's irrevocably harmed you. He hadn't wanted this, not even at his most angry has he wanted this. "Don't- don't cry. Goddammit, calm down. God, why'd ya hafta get on the ground."

You look up and for a brief moment there’s a flash of fire in your eyes, a pang of pure annoyance at what he says. "I'm sorry to inconvenience you once again! Make the great Elvis Presley have to get down on the ground. Put him at the Jezebel's level. Leave me down here where I apparently deserve to be."

"Ya know I didn't mean it like that! Goddammit Belle, jus' meant my knees-" He has to take a deep breath, slow and steady and shut his eyes as he gets down to your level before he opens them and cups your cheek, trying to be gentle even as you flinch a little and shake your head. "This- you s-shouldn't be cryin' like this." Not over him and what he's done. Over everything that's been done from the very start. "Ain't worth it."

More accurately he ain't worth it.

"I don't know anything when it comes to you, Mr. Presley." You pull away as your tears start to fall even faster. "I am crying like this over a man who thinks I'm- Don't call me Belle, don't call me that like you did when I was leaving you in your bed. Don't act like you care." After all, he doesn't, he can't because who would care for you and feel the way he does about you. Believe the things he does about you without giving you a chance to explain. "I'm just a harlot. I'm the Tour Guide of the school who now even you get to say you've slept with. You've still got it."

"Darlin'." His voice is pitched lower, almost as if he's trying to talk to a skittish animal. As if he's scared if he talks any louder he'll spook you and that you'll run away for good. "I-I never said I didn't care. W-Wouldn't've put ya in my bed that night if I didn't. Ya looked- ya looked freezin' 'n i couldn't stand it." He pauses, his features darkening for a moment. "Then ya left in the mornin' 'fore I even woke up."

You had left in the morning. You had left that morning because every time you stay at someone's house, some professor's house it's always ended so poorly. The way his face darkens as he tells you that makes your body shiver even as his jacket- that for some ungodly reason you still have, that for some ungodly reason you couldn't get rid of- tries to keep you warm. The anger he has makes you think you were right to avoid him that morning- he- but if he cared, if he meant to put you in there- then you should have stayed. He wanted to wake up to you, wanted to have you burrowed into his side. It makes you freeze.

Elvis looks at you and sees how your body tenses up, sees how you're frozen in place and he frowns as you start to speak. "When I stay in the morning, it's not pretty, Elvis. I- I didn't want you to be the same."

His hand clenches into a fist as he shuts his eyes. His breaths are slow and measured for what feels like an eternity before you see him unclench his fist and look at you. "Ya mean how the Chemistry professor's wife would have beaten ya black and blue if she had gotten a real proper hand on ya? 'Stead of the shiner ya had for a week? Or how ya busted yer ankle hoppin' outta tha' one history professor's window. Ya want me to go on?"

Something blooms in your chest at him telling you about those times. You hadn't even met him when any of those times happened. Sure, you had seen him around campus but he didn't- couldn't have even known your name. You open your mouth, tears still falling but slower as your body tries to calm you down. "You- You shouldn't know about-"

"'ve got eyes don't I?" He responds, as if that explains everything. "Y/N- Belle- I noticed ya before ya ever stepped foot in my class. And they talk, darlin', oh do they talk."

It's then that you look away, almost ashamed at knowing that he's always known about you actions. It is absolutely no wonder that he called you what he did, why he believes you to be what he's called you. You have to pause before you speak, trying to gather your thoughts, rubbing at your eyes as you do. "And that's- that's why you've been- if you've heard all the stories and do know about me then I guess you're not wrong in calling me Jezebel. Just adding you to my long list. But- you- when that's what happens when I don't leave- why do you think-"

His voice takes on an edge of frustration you think, or maybe it's genuine hurt. "Ya really think I'd've done any of that to ya? Ya think I'd do any of that t' someone 've been callin' Belle in my mind 'cause I sometimes look at ya n' I can only think of that damn word in French?" He moves to stand up, his knees and other joints cracking just a bit. "Get up, darlin'. I- just trust me this once and get up."

A stubborn part of you wants to stay on the ground, just sit there and stew in your tears and feelings but when you look up at him with blurry eyes you can't help but heave yourself off the floor and plant yourself just close enough to him that you're looking into each other's eyes if you look up through your lashes. "I- Elvis-" You start to speak only to have him cup your face and the warmth of his hand juxtaposed with the calluses on his fingertips has your eyes fluttering shut against your will. He's not supposed to be this soft, not to someone- not to the person he doesn't care about, the person he's only roughly fucked while pretending it didn't happen afterward. "Don't."

When you say that word he pulls away his hand and you think he's listening to you, think that he's doing what you're asking him to do only to hear the next words that come out of his mouth. "Blow your nose, Belle." His hand that hand left your face, had left your cheeks came back with a handkerchief, monogrammed with a cursive EP. He doesn't necessarily shove it under your nose but it's a near miss even as he kisses your forehead. "I'm not moving it from under here till ya do, Belle."

"I'm not a-" You start before looking up at him and realizing despite his comforting air no part of him is doing this because he thinks you're a kid. No, he knows you're a grown woman- you're a grown woman he wants to be with until his dying breath. "I can hold my own handkerchief."

His lips stop in the middle of attempting to give you another peck on your cheek a slight chuckle escaping him. "Would ya quit bein' stubborn? Tryin' to comfort ya and you're tellin' me ya can hold your own handkerchief. 've been a goddamn asshole let me show ya 'm really a good southern gentleman at heart."

"Southern gentleman don't act the way you did." You shakily exhale, realizing that he's trying to comfort you, trying to place small kisses on your face as if that is solving anything. You shake your head. "Southern gentleman don't play with people like that."

"Darlin', trust me, the older we get, the more every single Southern gentleman does." He pauses to look down at you, his blue eyes narrowed. "I try t'be a gentleman but Lord knows 've got a temper wit' a wrath that rivals God himself. 'N I think I took that out on ya. I- I'm- Ya wounded my pride, alright? Sayin' what you said when I asked if ya wanted me t'fuck ya. I know- I know I can get a woman, but I don't- It's usually more of one night stand or somethin' that's lackin'-" He rubs at his neck. "Care. Doesn't have that tender lovin' care I need nowadays more than I did when I was younger."

Care. Oh, you had been so- you both had been so stupid. Your eyes flit up and you notice how vulnerable he looks just in this moment and you swear it takes your breath away. "Elvis. I didn't- I thought you were trying to make me beg." A pause. "I was trying to what I thought you liked. I didn't- You've never been- No one else has made me feel like you make me feel."

So loved, so proud of, so everything under the sun. There's a reason your heart and your brain had wanted to spend the rest of his life and your life together. Being with him felt right when you stripped away everything that's been happening.

Elvis is silent for a moment, almost as if he's debating his next words or actions even as he still places another kiss to the crown of your head and uses his thumb to wipe away tears that keep falling and holding the handkerchief by your nose. He finally puts the handkerchief away, freeing that hand and using it to cup your chin. He tilts your head up just a hair so that you can see his eyes shining with what you think might be unshed tears as his voice becomes so gentle it twists your heart. "What d'ya want from me?"

"Everything." You choke out your answer, your voice scratching and sounding so raw when you do that you almost want to hide. "I want to be with you after this semester. I want to dance with you like we did that night. I- God- I want to wake up with you every day until one of us dies. I just want to be yours."

At your last words the tears start falling in earnest again and it breaks something in Elvis a little, seeing you cry after that confession. He doesn't waste a second before pulling you into a soft kiss, using his grip on your chin to make it easier. You want more but he's pulling away and placing kisses on your forehead and your cheeks, chasing after the tears in a way that's so gentle you'd think it's fatherly but it's not- it's just him allowing you to be a human again. Allowing you to be more than just the harlot or the Jezebel. Seeing you as the person he's always thought you have been before the Incident and even after the Incident.

"Ya mean it?" There's a small part of him that curses how he sounds asking that but he needs to hear it from you. Hear that you're being honest and truthful with him about what you want. "If ya gonna change ya mind I need t'know right now."

You sniffle and shake your head. "I mean it! I want to be with you and only you. I've only been with you since that day. Haven't flirted or anything. I want to do my work on your desk, want to curl up on your couch with you just- I want you. I want you, my Elvis, my Big Daddy because you're- You're the only one who's ever treated me like more." You pause, taking a deep breath. "Like I'm worth getting to know beyond just my pussy. I can't- I don't want to go back to a world where I don't have you. Where I'm not able to kiss you and be with you in whatever way I can. Where I can't fill your house with-" You stop yourself, because that's too much, that's not something you're admitting to him right now. "I just I want you. I'm not changing my mind, if I was going to I would have the second you didn't give me back my panties, Elvis. When you were so mean and hurtful and-"

He cuts you off with another kiss, this time a little less gentle but still nothing compared to what he wants to do to you. His teeth nip at your lower lip just a bit and you can't help the whimper that escapes you as he pulls away your mouth trying to follow his. Looking in his eyes, you see something different, you see the overwhelming lust, the blown pupils threatening to overwhelm his blue eyes but more than that you see a man who looks so in love with you he might as well keel over with the sheer force of it.

"Feel like an idiot for missin' out on that. Gonna keep kissin you like that for as long as i can. Ya realize that." He pauses as his eyes rake over your form. "Get on the desk, Y/N. My sweet Belle." His emphasis on the nickname, Belle versus Jezebel is the only thing that reassures you he's not planning on doing anything rough. That he has a plan for you to look at him while he does- whatever it is. You take a minute to hop up, sniffling once again as you rub at your eyes. Your emotions are still a mess but you can- this helps, you think.

Elvis grunts, using the cane and a grip on your knee to help ease him onto the ground right in front of your legs, right in between your legs as his hands dance up your thighs. His gaze is on you, full of promise and want as his hands inch further up and up until he reaches between your legs, one hand moving to cup your pussy while the other grabs your hip and pulls you a little closer to the edge of the desk.

"You been payin' attention in class?" He asks as you can't help but whimper a little at the feel of his hand covering you like that. "Specifically this one? What we talked 'bout at the beginning?"

Your head nods slowly as you shiver, feeling the fabric of your underwear being pulled lower and lower down your legs. "You mean psalm 51? What about it, Elvis?"

"Think ya can recite it by memory?" The words of his question are punctuated by kisses up your legs, starting with your calves before moving to knees and then to your thighs. He bites softly causing you to clench them together around his head before he mumbles a no. "While I'm here between your legs."

It feels like a challenge and it causes a curl of arousal to shoot directly between your legs as your vagina clenches around nothing. His hand feels the movement and you can feel the smirk of his lips against your skin before you answer as he puts one singular finger inside of you. "I can." You sigh out your answer as he curls that one finger your arousal making it easy for him to.

Hard doesn't even begin to explain how it is to try and speak- to try and remember the psalm as you feel his tongue flick against your clit once, twice, before moving down to your folds. Another finger has joined the first and you can feel them inside of you, following where his tongue traces. His licks and strokes are leisurely done, almost as if he wants to drag this out, wants to go at the pace that you're speaking when all you want to do is have your orgasm that you can feel brewing but when you stop to take a breath, so does he. It's infuriating right until the midway point when you say "grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me" his mouth wraps around your clit, sucking and even giving you a small nip as his fingers curl against your g-spot. It shouldn't be enough to help you cum, it shouldn't and yet you feel your toes curling and your thighs tightening around his head as he hums in satisfaction. Your body shakes, grinding against his mouth even as his free hand tries to keep your hips from moving. Your thighs don't unclench until he taps at your leg and even then they still shake as he pulls away, mouth glistening with your release as you try and pull him up for a kiss only to have him continue his attack on your cunt.

You keep reciting, feeling as if that's what he wants you to do despite how your voice shakes and how you whimper the more sensitive everything becomes. You cum again by the end of your first full recitation, panting with your chest heaving. There is a thought in your mind to tell Elvis to stop, that you need a break but even though you are starting to feel over stimulated, the way he's looking up at you as his mouth does sinful things to you, as he teases your swollen clit with his fingers and his mouth more and more stops you. His free hand moves to lock fingers with the one of your hands that isn't winding through his hair, yanking and earning growls the more you speak. The intimacy of it all has you nearly sobbing tears of joy this time, not the tears of sadness you had been experiencing. You feel yourself cumming in a way that's unfamiliar as you stutter out the words "my tongue will sing of your righteousness" and Elvis has to pull away, a chuckle escaping him as you see his whole face might as well be covered in your release. It takes him a moment to recover but you swear you hear him talking about squirting when he kisses his way up your thigh and back to his task at hand. When you finally finish the psalm the second time your body is shaking and his tongue and fingers and everything are so overwhelming that when you attempt to start the psalm for a third time you say the first words five times.

"Daddy please, let me cum. Please, I've been good." The words are whimpers when they leave your mouth as you try and grind and get to that edge.

"I know, Belle, been so good, taste even better." He mutters against your clit.

That does it, that has your hand clenching his and your other pulling his hair as you grind on his face, practically smothering him as you cum. The sheer intensity of it has you thumping backward on the desk, trying to catch your breath as your legs shake and you hear him speaking against your thigh. You catch bits of the word holy and jezebel and God and you feel a warmth settle in your body that you can't quite explain. You use your hand to pull him away enough that you can understand him before you ask.

"Are- Are you talking to God- thanking God for me?" The concept boggles your mind but it's so touching at the same time that your heart threatens to burst at the idea.

"Think 've been thankin' God for ya since I first saw ya, but 'specially since I saw ya in my class. My holy- My sweet holy Belle." He winces at the crack his knees make when he gets up and leans both on the cane on the desk when he finally stands up. "None of 'em deserved ya 'n I'm not too sure I do but- 'll try to deserve ya."

Your hands move to cup his face, marveling in how he nuzzles up against your palm before you smile, pulling him in for a soft kiss. "Trust me, Elvis, I think you're the only one who ever has." You nuzzle at his nose before pulling away. "How about you let this pretty little sinner, this harlot, this Jezebel take care of you. I don't have a class and-"

Elvis cuts you off with another kiss before he nods. "Only if Big Daddy-" He looks at you, reminding you that yes, your nickname you have for him snuck out. "Gets to take care of his pretty lil sinner, his Belle, and help her wash away all those sins."

The light in the smile you give him could power the whole of the campus for months if you could bottle it up. You slide off the desk a little less gracefully than you mean to before nodding. "Lead the way, Elvis." A pause. "I love you."

"Ain't I the luckiest man for it too." He adjusts himself in his pants, hoping you don't notice that there's a bit of a wet spot on them where his cock should be. "Love ya too. Come on now, never did get to show ya Graceland's shower in my room."

taglist: @elvisgirl35, @butlersluvbott, @lokis-right-femur, @godlypresley, @steph-speaks, @lindszeppelin, @eliseinmemphiss, @thatbanditqueen, @venus-haze, @lrd98, @ab4eva, @blurredcolour, @butlersxbirdy, @notstefaniepresley, @holyastronauts, @vintageshanny, @powerofelvis and @ellie-24 and i think that's it? i don't know and apologies if you got tagged twice, i trusted a copy/paste.

[fortunesfavours]

time travel in ten - sequential narrative collage piece done for my class, Artifact.

ramblings below the cut for those interested in the process/life update for friends who have noticed i've been gone

right lmao. i had two weeks to do this project and had a completely different idea that i just could not get myself to be excited about. emailed my prof in desperation, but it being like 10 pm meant that she was not about to respond. within 30 minutes, as it goes, i got struck with divine inspiration by whatever force of nature governs procrastination-induced genius, and i promptly spent the next 12 waking hours non-stop working on this.

my class, artifact, is a requirement for the foundation year at the college i attend. it centers around time-based media, ranging from the sequential illustration here to video later in the semester, and a bunch of other projects designed to get us thinking in 4d. artifact is the theme of the class - my peers are doing the same projects under a variety of different themes (tragically, haunting filled up too quickly and i missed out on enrollment in that one).

our first project was designing an artifact and doing a write-up of the story behind it. the girl to my left made beaded spiders members of a fictional cult carried. the guy across from me made an amulet of a long-dead god. you get the vibes. mine, which I still need to take professional photos of, is a pocketwatch that lets you time travel. cause, yknow. i'm me. it was gonna be about time travel.

i had originally intended to do a bunch of drawings of the watch's owner, building out her backstory and the world she lives in, and explaining why the watch exists,,,, then i couldn't bring myself to pick up the stylus. I just can't seem to find the energy for my usual digital art (sorry friends i miss yall i'm still here i swear).

here's the bit about my life so feel free to stop reading if you just care about the art 👍

I haven't drawn fanart or my ocs in months now, since last semester, and I miss it a whole bunch but right now that creative energy just. is not happening. i don't plan on abandoning it forever by any means, but p much everything i have is going towards school right now. sad as that is, i'm having so much fun, and i'm so proud of the technical improvements i've made. I've got so many things i want to create, mostly for my ocs. i still love crit role, but i've fallen of campaign three. i don't have the time, and the story hasn't been engaging me for a bit.

i've been really into dr who lately, and am eagerly waiting for the spare time to sit and watch all of candela obscura. i'm in a new dnd game. i've got friends! real life friends! irl friends who called me the wizard friend within a few hours of knowing me before i even opened my mouth about dnd lmao. i've discovered a new love of collage, and i've just declared my major in something unique to my school, a program called Studio for Interrelated Media. i'll be learning about illustration still through the extra electives i'll have room for, but i also get to explore printmaking in more depth, as well as event planning, installation, curation, and theatre work as well.

i miss being on here a whole bunch and want to be more active when i get more time. don't plan on abandoning this blog by any means. boston has been kind to me, and though i have had some Real Low Points, i've also been living the life i've hoped for since i was a kid. i'm good, really really good.

to my friends, ily, i miss you, and i hope you're well. can't wait to catch up on all yalls art and fic. sending all my love. <3

[electrosweaters-arts]

Question!

Is Victor in the cryptid college universe? What’s he like, if he is?

Victor IS in CC! In fact, he's already appeared in two pages during the prologue

He's kinda a silly little guy but I'm going to PREFACE real quick by saying: Victor in CC is probably the MOST canon-divergent in terms of personality you're gonna get in CC, at least depending on your interpretations of the OG book characters, but he's pretty different from how either of us actually view him in the book.

CC Victor isn't an exactly an evil mad scientist trope or anything (being a mad scientist in CC is basically like being a mathletes nerd but a bunch of you keep dropping random children off at other peoples houses) but he's just a bit of a general asshole, SPECIFICALLY because placing him in a modern college where EVERYONE is a monster changes who the character is a Lot. A lot of his base traits come from the book, but amplified as a parody like we do with all the CC characters (so yes he does get tropey on purpose) + some changes based on how being in a monster college changes his and the creature's story.

While not uncommon for mad scientists in this universe, he's pretty self-centered, he believes himself to be the superior scientist of his class and can often be rude and dismissive of other students' work. (Though he IS actually incredibly good at what he does, he's top 3 in the class and would most likely be #1 if Griffin didn't have a grading bias towards experiments that can help him with world domination)

(going to be using some LOVELY sketches from @internetwerewolf now <3 theyre the person currently drawing episode 1 of CC <3)

Also, before I forget to mention! CC victor is gay and autistic and both he AND both of the creatures have chronic illnesses that leave them with a lot of joint pain. Their illnesses are based off my own so since *I* don't have a medical diagnosis for my joint issues I can't put an exact name to what they have but ???? maybe Fibromyalgia? again, can't put a name to it but their joints are stiff and HURTY. Adam and Victor's symptoms usually manifest in more invisible ways, from time to time they will need a mobility aid of some sort but most days they get by with painkillers and compression-wear. (Mary almost always uses a crutch or a cane and from time to time will use a wheelchair)

And oh right, the creatures! Let's talk about the creatures, I'd say they're pretty important to Victor's character, wouldn't you? (^another @internetwerewolf doodle of Adam and Mary at Victor's dissertation)

Starting with Adam, Victor made Adam in his first semester of Freshman year at CCU (if you don't know, the school Oracle acts as the head of admissions for the school and is particularly in charge of inviting new mad scientists to the school, which is why characters like Victor or Jekyll were accepted and allowed to know about monsters before having made their experiments themselves, the Oracle knew that they would make them eventually) his reasons for creating and then abandoning the creature are mostly the same as in the book, the death of his mother gave him a fascination with restoring life to the dead but once he actually gave life to the creature he was horrified an ran out on it. Adam was left in Victor's dorm room alone for about 3 weeks before being found by an RA and due to school policy on mad science experiments he was given free room and board for the course of his college degree, he was also taught english directly from classes at the school and found a copy of Paradise Lost among Victor's old things, which gave him the idea for the name Adam.

Adam never actually killed anyone in CC, but he DID ask Victor to make him a family member. He was incredibly lonely from being unable to connect with any of the other students and wanted someone like him, Victor obliged before he and Adam got into an argument which ended with him partially destroying the other creature and leaving Adam to do the rest of the reanimating work himself. (This is why Mary is not quite made right, the stitching on her limbs is very loose and she's missing an eye)

The creatures' and Victor's overall relationship is rocky at BEST, most days they can't STAND each other and squabble any time they pass each other in the halls. Though Victor's family is all still alive AND Adam got his second creature so from time to time they can get along, if a topic in interesting enough for both of them Adam and Victor can hold a conversation for a few hours, and they will sometimes help Victor out if provided a good enough reason to. Mary's less likely to talk to Victor but that's mostly because she just...doesn't like talking to people. They treat him like a shitty dad, and as seen in the prologue they DO like to rough him up a bit from time to time for fun but they wouldn't ever really want to KILL him. (Hyde would. Hyde wants to kill him. Adam has to hold him back from it.)

This was WAY longer than I expected, kinda incoherent, feel free to ask any follow up questions if you'd like! I LOVE talkin about these guys :3

[greetings-humans]

this has already been said a million times but ig some people never got the memo so here I am.

when a fic updates and it's been a while (be that a month, a semester, a year, multiple years, a fucking decade or maybe several of those) YOU DON'T SUDDENLY GET A FREE PASS TO BE AN ASSHOLE TO THE AUTHOR

some things for your consideration:

the fic author is not paid for this creative effort and also needs to spend time actually supporting themselves financial

the fic author is not a robot that cranks out creative material. breaks are needed, sometimes people leave fandoms and come back much later. it is human and it is natural. some people can't completely obsess over one single fic consistently and also write stuff for it, and thus cannot consistently give you chapters. sometimes, "consistently" also means not as soon as you'd like. please find your brain from the lost and found and realize that if someone is updating and has not abandoned their fic, that is an absolute win and definitely not a given

the fic author is a human being that just so might wanna engage in hobbies and relationships (platonic and/or romantic), which takes time

you should keep in mind that it takes a lot of fucking brainpower to have an idea, like the idea, decide to write the idea, find the time to write the idea, find the inspiration to continue said idea, ACTUALLY FUCKING WRITE THE IDEA, and find it in yourself to publish it

you are entitled to nothing. actually, since I'm a nice, empathetic person, I'll ammend that. the only thing you might be entitled to is an edit at the tags saying 'fyi next chapter is gonna take a while'. you deserve no explanation. I deserve no explanation. if the author comes back after years to update I will go to the comments and tell them how surprised and happy I am and then talk about the fic. be a bit more like that please

if you don't like the updating frequency, consider DOING IT YOUR FUCKING SELF (and talking about it with the fic author if you got inspired by said fic, and definitely giving credit).

if you don't like the updating frequency, consider NOT READING OR COMMENTING ON THE FIC or just maybe READING A DIFFERENT FIC (don't like don't read is always in effect babes, this is fanfiction, if i started saying shit under every fic with a premise that made me grimace I'd have made so many people and myself so upset)

this is not one of those cases where you can make it other people's problem. the author has every right to take as much time as they fucking want. I don't see you writing this exact fic in their exact circumstances, so kindly shut up

okay, for real, though. you can't know. the author could be going through anything, including but not limited to childbirth, divorce, grief, mental health issues, physical health issues, schoolwork (not everyone is an academic genius samantha, let people take their time), friendship/romance drama. they could also, fyi, just wanna take a break. nothing wrong with that. it's actually the recommended course of action to avoid burnout in case you hadn't heard. literally who do you think you are to take an issue with that? their fucking publisher? do you have a deadline to meet harold? is your pay based on this? what was that? no? okay cool then shut it.

how fucking dare you complain about how fast a literal human being with an entire life outside of fanfiction can write literally so many words about something new.

btw this is what inspired all of this

one of my favorite fics updated after... well three months maybe? and I spot this in the comment section as I go to drop my own comment. literally how dare you. do you understand how discouraging and infuriating it is to see some random person say this about your brainchild?? im glad you're liking the fic berryl but if you have an issue with the time between updates, keep it to yourself, read another fic, or write your own fic.

[oddcryptidwrites]

Hellooooo Athens! Happy Worldbuilding Wednesday m'monarch, I've got a question for you!

In that lovely bit about Commander Mateo, you mentioned something about the the Royal Guard Training Academy. As a fan of Worldbuilding my own military education, I'd love to know more about it! Where is it? What kind of people go there? What gets taught there, and is it just for the navy? How're graduates viewed by those they command, and are there alternative paths to officership?

I’m gonna answer this one first because I think it might be the most straightforward!

The Royal Guard Training Academy (or just the Academy) is pretty much the only way to officership, barring any extreme circumstances. It’s just as much of a way to train recruits as it is to weed out the weaker ones.

The Academy has two locations, the primary of which is located on the northern edge of the Southside/South District, with most of the dormitories and classrooms inside the Perimeter, and training facilities located outside. It can house roughly 7,000 recruits at a time, although numbers are usually closer to 5,000. The secondary location is on the coast near Savannah, and can hold roughly 3,000 recruits. It usually is at capacity. Anyone who wants to become an officer of any of the four divisions of the Royal Guard, or part of any auxiliary department, is required to attend the Academy. It serves as the primary public higher education for the state, and as long as you graduate and serve for two years, it is free. However, in times of war, any former graduate can be called back to serve, whether on the battlefield or in camp. The minimum age for enrollment used to be 18, but was changed to 16 in 2179. There is no maximum age technically, but usually no one older than 25 is a first time enrollee.

Semesters for the Academy start on January 2nd and July 2nd, with a weeklong break in the middle of each and two weeks in between. There's also several other smaller breaks within (1-2 days off). The first four months an enrollee attends the Academy consists of an accelerated review of maths, writing, civics, history, physical education, and various sciences. In truth, the enrollees aren't really learning anything; the Academy is just getting a feel for their individual skills. The next 2 months are spent in what is referred to as "rotations", where enrollees are able to pick and chose various classes to participate in and get a better feel for what they want to do.

At the end of their first semester, enrollees are given a report of their individual skillsets, as analyzed by the Academy. Enrollees are graded on 38 different skills, which then determines their future assignment. Different assignments require certain scores on certain skills. Of the Royal Guard divisions, Special Operations requires the highest overall scores, while Army requires the highest fitness scores and Navy requires the highest engineering and technical scores. However, Perimeter is the second easiest assignment to get into overall, beat only by culinary. From their available options based on their skillsets, enrollees are able to rank their assignment choices. Those who match the skillsets of their chosen assignments will be matched first, and some assignments (such as Special Operations) only take a few at a time, so it's not guaranteed a enrollee will get their first pick.

For those who chose a officer assignment in the Royal Guard, they are immediately considered "Enlisted V". All Perimeter assignments are moved to Atlanta, and all Navy assignments are moved to Savannah at this point. The year is broken into six week periods for Royal Guard enlistees, with a weeklong break between every two. Each period consists of intensive classes and physical training specialized to each division of the Royal Guard. At each break, enlistees are given the chance to "rank up" to the next level, eventually earning the "Graduate" rank. Upon reaching Graduate level, they receive their initial real officer assignment, although they will maintain the "Graduate" title along with their officer title until their proper graduation in the summer or winter. Most graduates become Private (Army), Ensign (Navy), 3rd Guard (Perimeter), or Agent (Special Operations).

(Grady was a massive exception to all of this, and was given the title "Lieutenant Commander" out of the Academy, as she was chosen to guard the Piers and become the next Commander of Special Operations by the Deputy Agents of SpOps (there's 16 of them).)

Auxiliary departments include (but are not limited to) medicine (doctor-level), nursing, mechanics, software, biological engineering, culinary, intel, etc. and actually make up a majority of the Academy's assignments. Some programs, such as the culinary program, only take six additional months to graduate from, while some (like the medicine assignment) can take five or six years. These assignments are a lot more rigid in their educational pathways, and it's rare to graduate early from these assignments. All of these graduates are assigned positions within the Royal Guard that match their assignments, and must serve there for a total of 2 years before being left to do their own thing. Many people do this, then go off to do their own things.

Anyway! There's the majority of your answer, and if you have any more questions, let me know!

[iantimony]

tuesdaypost evening

if i have to do any more homework i'm for real going to super mario throw myself into the sun

listening: more borodin...some breaking benjamin...FINALLY FINISHED FRIENDS AT THE TABLE PARTIZAN HOLIDAY EPISODES......what a fucking episode dude. i was doing dishes while i listened to that and fully stopped and stood there for like 10 minutes while The Scene with clem and gur sevraq played...the music in that scene.....just wow. incredible. i did not know that jack and keith played different characters for the rest of the season so i'm looking forward to meeting them, first arc after the holiday special is thisbe valence and si so i haven't seen either of them yet...very excited for that though.

reading: Why Don't We Just Kill the Kid In the Omelas Hole" by Isabel J. Kim - very neat short story. commentary on the way we live these days. ough.

watching: managed to tune into some of the fatt stream tonight haha...very fun...more dunmesh and kill la kill...

playing: i keep forgetting to put ttrpg stuff here. unfortunately it is all dnd at the moment. every other week i do dnd 3 days in a row which might kill me actually! two of them are online, one of which i run, and the one i do in person i'm just a player, so it's like ... not THAT bad ..... this past weekend one of the three got moved so it was just the one i run and the one in-person. the one i run is. well. first of all i'm stealing at least my initial story stuff from mdzs. second of all wow these are some guys of all time. tl;dr, we are talking some romance subplots that are frankly none of my business, god bless 'em, they can go do their love triangle (quadrangle??) in the out-of-game rp channel on the discord, and also there is the biggest tittied bird lady you could possibly imagine.

making: english paper piecing!!! gonna do a border in a solid teal fabric and then do the lining! this is going to be a dice bag probably? :)

oh! and pottery from last week! technically these came out of the kiln before the new year but i didn't get back to the studio til last wednesday.

first: what i'm affectionately calling my Mold Bowl because it looks like. this.

then eye bowl number one, which needs to go back in the kiln actually because a little bit of ? kiln medium ??? got flung into it and it's not smooth so i need to dremel it down and re-glaze the little spot

and finally, eye bowl number two, more of a cup really! i really really love how the inside glaze came out. i'm gonna make a little set of teacups like this but with all that glaze.

eating: roommate made a braised eggplant, pork, and mushroom thing that i've been eating for like three days. sooo good. i also got some chocolates from a local candy shop, including hot pepper dark chocolate stars (they are quite spicy!) and 'chocolate covered honeycomb candy' which i never had before but am now obsessed with. the texture...

misc: the amount of busy work i have to do this semester to finish the masters degree requirements? terrible. agony. i miss free time.

[tiredassmage]

falling asleep on the other’s shoulder for whatever pairing you’re feeling

Still sitting on a few of these, I promise! The end of the semester is just kickin' my butt. xD

Time to release some Dash x Leo content into the wild, methinks. 👀

[touch prompts]

x-x-x-x-x-x-

“Departures for Coruscant are currently operating on a three standard hours delay. We apologize for any inconvenience. Please see the nearest departures assistant for further details.”

Leo groaned as he shifted in the narrow, hard bench seat beside him, propping a shoulder into the unforgiving seatback. “I’m gonna have that engraved in my skull by the time we get out of here,” he grumbled.

Dash frowned, gaze drifting over the roving crowds of dock workers, merchants, and soldiers idling through the spaceport. “I’m going to shoot the next droid that tries to apologize,” he mumbled.

Leo craned his neck to eye his companion. “Don’ start that,” he said. “Your little security friends already loused me once for lookin’ at ‘em funny. We’ll be here even longer then.”

Dash rolled his eyes and sighed as he leaned back. “Suppose you’re right.” Sometimes it was a real shame they had to go through official Republic channels constantly for deployments. This all wouldn’t be a problem if they could just haul jets. “How’s your ship? I’m thinking we should’ve just taken it.”

“Better still be where I docked,” he said. “That Rodian bastard looked shiftier than a loanshark.”

“Why’d we take the shuttles again?”

“‘Cause you’re on leave and I am allergic to Republic Customs, remember?” Leo shrugged one shoulder. “Fuck, they prattle more than the bloody theater junkies back ‘ome, y’know?”

Dash rolled his eyes fondly with a puffed breath of amusement. “Alright, alright, I get it. Still, what’s the point of being friends with a starship captain if I can’t get a few free rides, huh?”

Leo stuck his tongue out. “My knight in shining armor gonna protect me when your fellow hounds start sniffin’ ‘round tryna steal my whiskey, then?” His eyes narrowed with the beginnings of a smirk, as if he was about to win whatever ‘argument’ he was playing at.

Dash shook his head, eyes making for the list of departures on a screen across the room - covered in far too much orange and red for delays for his taste. But it beat acknowledging the way a bit of warmth rose to his cheeks.

Leo knew he’d do a hell of a lot for him. But it was never a favor that went unpaid.

The smuggler puffed out a chuckle behind him. Smug bastard. Guess it took one to know one.

“You alright, man?” Dash asked rather than spin wheels any further, fixing him in a pointed stare. “You’re the one that looks like you’ve been steamed over by a Corellian tram.”

Leo waved a hand with another grunt. “‘M fine,” he muttered as he rubbed at his left eye - easier to not scrape the cybernetics that crossed the scarring on the right side of his face that way.

His eyes were a deeper blue than most horizons he’d seen.

“Take it easy, why don’t you?” he suggested. He tugged on the other’s shoulder. “C’mon,” he coaxed when he groaned stubbornly. “Look, it’s not like we’re goin’ anywhere fast and I’m not listening to you gripe later when you can’t sleep on the shuttle because it’s too crowded.”

Leo rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you would,” he muttered as he relented, scooting back to prop against Dash’s shoulder and kicking a leg out across the remaining seats.

They both ignored a few disgruntled looks from some passerby.

“Yeah,” Dash sighed as his arm settled around his shoulders, “I wouldn’t have much of a choice though, would I?”

A smile slipped across his lips even as his eyes closed. “Suppose so.” Dash’s shoulder was exponentially more comfortable without all of that stupid Republic armor on. Guess it kept him alive though.

And he was a helluva lot better alive than anything else.

Dash wasn’t waiting long before Leo was out cold. A smile flickered faintly across his lips as he shook his head. Idly, he tucked a stray lock of bangs back behind his ear. Idiot had a terrible semblance of a sleep schedule at the best of times, let alone when he decided to move gravity itself to put himself in the same sector when Dash got leave from service.

That was just the kind of shit you did for your best friends though, right?

[seoafin]

hey i hope this doesn’t come the wrong way or condescending or know it all but as someone who used to struggle a lot with making friends in the past and worried about having someone to talk to in class to an unmanageable degree the trick to it so so so simple it rlly is just talking to ppl😭 ik that sounds annoying but especially in uni everyone is so fucking lost and confused there and everyone rlly rlly wants to have someone to talk to like literally just ask people for their number know that whatever u try it doesn’t matter it’s gonna be awkward at first and it’s gonna suck until y’all reach a point that it doesn’t. and honestly it most likely will not work out you’re not gonna find a best friend of the cusp but someone to talk to for a while and then a new semester will come and you have to do the same thing again and not let it beat u down it sucks but the more u do it the more likely it’ll be that you’ll eventually find someone u vibe with rlly well and this is coming from a commuter😭😭 so u know if anyone struggled with making friendships it’s me. ik i’m being rlly like obtusely direct and what everyone wanted was probably just some words of comfort but like if it helps if it helps anyone at all what i do is sit down at a table or somewhere full of girls (i hate the idea of trying to be friends with guys) i do commute so i like dressing up so it helps to look presentable u know and if ur gonna pick out a table pick girls who styles match ur own or you feel like y’all would vibe well that you think you can talk with or make small talk with (it’s hell but it helps to broach into more interesting topics😭😭) also eye contact is massively important eye contact and one of those white people smiles where u nod at them that is honestly the best step!!! i’m in graphic design so i got the chance to just come up to someone and just be like ‘oh i like or oh that’s neat’ something else i used to do in more academically inclined classes would be to compliment something about them like nails helps jeans or their clothes ppl loveeee to talk about themselves rlly especially art kids ugh i sound insufferable i swear to god i’m not coming from a higher place it’s just a rlly good method especially if u do it over and over and over again u don’t get time to doubt yourself or question whatver the hell ur doing i sound so annoying but it also helps if u mirror the person ur talking to like their vibe and most important of all of u make plans like dinner coffee or study plans force yourself to go to them!! it’s hell i hate it but it’s necessary to make connections and friendships also it was smt rlly tough to realize but not everyone in your life is meant to be your closest most amazing friend some people are meant to just be there for a while and that’s okay!! pls feel free to ignore if i sound annoying or higher thou in any way it just genuinely is helpful to me i tend to fall rlly into myself when i feel lonely in a class or when i can’t talk to ppl it makes me overthink and kinda hate myself so if it does help anyone i just wanted to send this in ALSO if it’s a real real friend and it’s meant to happen you’ll rlly just need to be yourself my best friend i met after highschool i met online through a friend of a friend and i would do anything for her love her but if there’s anyone at all whokinda kicks themsleves over not being able to talk to ppl in class or grab coffee and this might help them i thought it would be nice to send😭😭 i also just rlly do like getting to know ppl and talking to ppl so this pushes me more to do that

no you don't sound condescending at all this is GREAT advice that i also stand behind. it's all about talking people DO love talking about themselves. and people are more inclined to remember you if you make eye contact and regularly make an effort to talk to them!!!!! make plans and GO to them. there's no shame in making life friendships even after your so-called prime years. i had like 1 real friend in high school. didn't even meet the bulk of my friends until this year!!! It's never too late!!!

[defountaine]

DEFOUNTAINE.

independent + private roleplay blog for FURINA DE FONTAINE, of mhy's GENSHIN IMPACT as judged by SINCLAIR ( 21 ). crossover + oc friendly. low activity due to college ( junior yr ) + old laptop.

INTEREST CHECKER. / GOOGLE DOC.

rules under cut.

NOTES. ( THIS MAY BE UPDATED AS TIME GOES ON. )

not spoiler or leak free

i tag triggers as “ trigger // “ 

for the main verse ( gi ), i'm almost entirely caught up on the main story.

hc heavy.

i use she/he/they for furina. she looks like both a woman and a twink and it's giving me gender envy, okay. genderfluid furina is so real to me.

generally novella because i love writing a lot!!

scarce activity bc my laptop is fucked up ( most of the keys are stiff lol ) + full time college student. i am literally doing a research proposal this semester.

aforementioned keyboard thing may lead to typos

i tag a lot of my ooc posts ( since a majority of the time they’re useless ) as “ irrelevant // ” as to not clog up peoples dash 

sometimes tumblr doesn’t send my asks so if you’ve liked for an inbox call and you don’t receive it, thats why 

mutuals can ask for discord<3 i encourage it actually since im active there more often but im very anxious and tend not to initiate conversation unless i feel like we’re very close 

if i ever bother you lmk<3 i’ve been told i can get a little spammy at times and i’ll admit i do get easily excited so if i need to tone it down just let me know!

if i’m following you i’ve read your rules !! i’ll assume you’ve done the same if you decide to follow back!

i only have access to the beta editor, sadly. i can try and pull some bullshit but i don't know if it'll work. my apologies.

NSFW.

those who are of age and have characters of age can smut with me. that said, furina is probably not gonna be very easy to fuck. trauma and all that. unless we have pre-established stuff. that's always fun. that said, don't follow just to fuck him, please. gore is also welcomed.

SHIPPING.

i love shipping, so lets do it! platonic, romantic, rivals, familial etc.. love ‘em all! planned or entirely natural, either is fine! if you wanna ship with me just ask! i have no preferences, not really, and i can say the same about furina. both she and i are down to clown with just about anyone. it doesn't even have to be healthy! ( to the tune of tmnt ) codependent toxic yuri/yaoi !

PLEASE DON’T RUSH ME.

full time college student with very limited time to do rp nowadays. i really enjoy writing and all but being rushed to reply makes me lose motivation. however, if i do miss a starter/don’t reply to a thread for a while you can tell me about that!

SELECTIVE + MUTUALS ONLY.

despite me saying this, all in all i probably follow almost everyone back as long as they have a rules + abt page i can find! i don’t follow personals but if you’re a hub or your rp blog is a sideblog, lmk so i can follow you there!  if you have a rules + abt page and i don’t follow back LET ME KNOW. sometimes tumblr doesn’t give me notifications and i don’t pay attention to follower count for the most part. i’m really not picky and im not trying to be mean or ignore you ! 

HATE WILL NOT BE TOLERATED.

any sort of hate will not be tolerated. if i see you picking on anyone or you pick on me , i will block you. that’s not the way i roll.

NO GODMODDING OR ANYTHING OF THE LIKE.

this is pretty standard , but please don’t control my muse or anything of the sort. 

I PRACTICE REBLOG KARMA. KINDA.

 i am not a meme archive blog , so if you do rt them please consider sending them!!

I’M FINE WITH ASKS BEING TURNED INTO THREADS!!

just please turn them into separate text posts, please!!

BE FUCKING NORMAL.

y'know. no racism, homophobia, transphobia or pedophilia, incest, and all that gross stuff. instant block. literally just be normal.