#Senior CLASS Award

[itspileofgoodthings]

also it’s interesting because. my family is deeply unsentimental (in a very powerful way) and society is divided into the pretty heartless or the pretty sentimental (generally speaking) and I’m sort of this walking heart wound of emotion trying to straddle these lines (and having a hard time of it!) but one of the things that does guard me from being more sentimental than I am is the secret cruelty and unfairness that lurks at the bottom of all sentimentality.

[transsexual-dandelions]

How to not tie your self worth to your grades

[pumpkinrootbeer]

on the subject of voyager being absurd I need to talk about how insane of character Harry is like he's actually not just overacheiver career boy, he's overacheiver in Life because he felt like his parents loved him too much for what he was so he had to earn their love. he was literally in juliard youth symphony right. music was a very real viable career for him. more than that like yes he was also an absurdly skilled engineer. in a timeline where he never left earth he gets promoted to lieutenant in like 6 months, wins several awards, and designs a revolutionary engine. and still in the Canon Real World he graduated summa cum laude of his Starfleet class. Literally top of his class. he also has an award in piloting proficiency. and also ends up being a senior office on his first day.

but more than any of that, the most absurd thing to me is he was a star athlete. I think about this daily like he was captain of the Velocity team and also a fucking. three times champion in the stupid space racketball game. like that's so insane to me. just star athlete on the starship. it's like— okay what's an athlete gay people are likely to know. okay before Caitlin Clark was in the wnba she was really big in college basketball right. so it's like if you worked at NASA and one day Caitlin Clark just strolled into the office, and then due to a series of increasingly unfortunate events you ended up on Mars and Caitlin Clark was also there. on Mars. the whole time with you. am i getting this across does anyone else feel how insane this is.

[sutorus]

BUY ONE GET ONE FREE

DESCRIPTION: gojo satoru and geto suguru are the jewels of your university. glued at the hip, you have your eyes set on one of the best friends, but you should already know to expect double the trouble with this packaged deal.

PAIRING: gojo satoru x reader

WC: 3.8k

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DNI. fem reader, afab reader, pet names (baby, honey, sweetheart, some derogatory terms like s!ut :c), university!au, frat!au, characters are in their 20s, oral (fem receiving), gojo is a douche (sorry!) with a soft spot for you, gojo and geto are both taller than reader, gojo wants you sooo bad you don’t even know, dubcon if you squint, annoyances to… something else!, implied 3sum but that’s for part 2 ig bc i got tired. enjoy!

A/N: first fic here yayyyy pls support (kiss kiss

they were those boys in your campus. every university had them, or so you’re told. the ones to be proud of, but also weary of. the ones who could show you a good time you’d probably regret the next morning. the ones you’d tell stories about and never really forget.

at your school, that was geto suguru and gojo satoru. you heard they knew each other since high school, best friends back then and best friends now. they were part of the most infamous party house, the most awarded college teams, the most scandalous groupchats, the most torrid bathroom stalls conversations. everybody knew them, every guy wanted to be them, every girl wanted to be with them. you know the drill.

and although this was only your second year, you’d had enough run-ins with them to know exactly what they wanted — and what you wanted, too.

the two were truly inseparable despite not being all that similar, just like brothers. considering the stories you’ve heard, that proximity would be almost weird if they weren’t so hot. but that’s a can of worms you don’t want to open and, most importantly, don’t need to open in order to sit on geto suguru’s dick.

because of course it’s geto. 

sure, gojo is hot — in a really fucking annoying way. in a way that makes you want to slap that stupid grin off his face every time he ogles you and your friends at a party. you’d go for it, really, if you didn’t have to live to see the next day. you knew gojo would never let you act like it never happened, and not in a romantic way, but in a disgusting braggy way. 

gojo satoru is hot as fuck but you’re not built to handle him, if you’re being honest. not innocent enough, not devoted enough, not googly-eyed and pink-glossy-lips-drooly enough. gojo satoru was complicated like that. he came with a warning label as big as a cvs receipt in which big bold red letters warned DO NOT TRUST. and you knew better, anyway. 

but geto? geto was pretty much perfect. his looks were sweet, dark and kind of edgy, like a black kitty with really sharp teeth. he had really cute fuck me eyes and really big veiny hands and a really cool manbun and you wanted to sit your ass on his fat sick. it was simple math. 

the only thing that preoccupied you, though, was his reputation. and not his manwhore reputation or his party animal reputation or his fucks-hard-and-doesn’t-cuddle-after reputation — no, who cares about that. what worried you was his reputation with his best friend gojo satoru. 

ever since you enrolled at your university you’ve been hearing rumors. apparently, the two of them were so close that they shared everything. everything. 

would never let a brother go hungry and all. 

so yes, there was the slight possibility (only corroborated by, i don’t know, the hundreds of girls you’ve heard the same story from) that geto would want a threeway. 

you, having sex with gojo satoru? you can’t say you’ve never thought about it. you did have that one class together, your freshman year. in retrospect, the fact that he was your senior and taking the same elective as you should’ve been enough of a red flag. 

by the end of the first lesson he came up to you and told you to text him if you ever needed any materials for the class, almost sounding sincere before shrugging and saying, “i’m just on top of things. by the way, would you like to be one of them?”

and scene. 

that was your first impression of gojo satoru. 

if you two fucked a year after that initial offer of his, would it be comical or tragic? he’d never look at you the same way — that is, he’d stop looking at you like he can see your tits through your shirt with x-ray vision and start looking at you like he has seen your tits because he will have. and that sounds annoying. 

but whatever. you’ve heard the stories of how gojo fucks, after all. it’s not like it would be a bad time. 

and tonight seems like the perfect night to make a stupid decision like that because geto looks so fucking delicious in a hawaiian shirt (how is that even possible?) leaning against his yucky frat’s wall and sipping a beer. 

god, you want to bite him. is that weird?

“is that weird?” you turn to shoko, who so kindly accompanied you to another house party with the promise of free, gojo-sponsored liquor. “i want to bite geto.”

shoko looks disgusted, all too acquainted with your ramblings about the guy. her eyes scan around the room before settling towards the kitchen. “i’ll leave you to it, then, and go get a drink. do not abandon me until i’m drunk enough to be by myself in this shithole.”

you nod to her before she’s off to get her fix. and you’re gearing up to get yours, adjusting your skirt and correcting your posture until a too familiar, grating voice yells out from behind you:

“yo!” 

you sigh, rolling your eyes before turning around. 

“gojo.”

he throws one of his long arms over your shoulders, pressing your sides together. your fingers absentmindedly go back to your skirt, pulling it down. 

gojo has to lean down to talk to you, his face hovering over yours. you can feel how hot his torso is against you, his white shirt already completely unbuttoned. it sends a shiver down your spine. 

“long time no see, cutie,” gojo’s breath is warm against your ear, his voice high to be heard over the music. he gestures with his solo cup, “how are you finding the facility?”

you look up and give him a tight smile. “gross as always! is there something you want, or…”

he laughs heartily, and you feel his whole body rattle against yours. you huff in annoyance, antsy to get a word in with geto before he’s occupied. 

“so mean to me!” he looks down at you and if it weren’t for his sunglasses, that he wears indoors at nighttime like a dick, you’d be able to see his eyes looking right down your cleavage. “just when i was coming here to do you a favor.”

you can’t help but laugh at that. 

“what in the world could you possibly do for me?” he lifts an eyebrow and your finger flies up in between your faces. “don’t answer that, actually.”

“i came here to tell you a very interesting secret,” he sing songs right into the shell of your ear, earning another shiver from you. you take the cup from his hand and sip, too distracted to know what it tastes like. nibbling on the plastic rim, you gesture for him to go on. 

gojo’s smile grows that much darker, that much more sinister, a dimple appearing on the side of his cheek. 

“a little birdie told me suguru’s dying to screw you tonight.”

your demeanor must visibly brighten at that information because gojo lets out another lurching laugh. your eyes instinctively zero in on geto, across from you, who’s either doing a really good job of pretending he doesn’t hear the two you talking in the doorway or is genuinely clueless as to what his best friend is saying about him. 

you force yourself to regain your composure, shoving gojo’s solo cup into his bare chest and wiggling out of his hold. “and you care because?”

but you suspect you already know the answer to that. he puts his hands up in mock surrender, and god, your height difference is kind of reeling. 

“like i said, ‘s just a favor,” you eye him suspiciously. he continues, “he wants to fuck you, you want to fuck him. i’m just being a nice guy.”

right. nice guy. 

“and who says i want to fuck him?” you try to play it cool, even though you probably know as much as satoru knows as much as suguru knows that you’d crawl on your knees towards geto right now if that meant you could put his cock in your mouth. 

and who could blame you? 

“playing dumb?” gojo pokes your cheek. his voice grows thicker, “cute. look at you,” and he does, hungrily, eyes scanning your entire form and making you feel oddly self conscious. 

he snakes a hand around your waist and leans in close again, whispering into your ear, “all dolled up just for him. in class with me you show up in other dudes’ hoodies but for darling suguru you dress slutty. everyone knows.”

you inhale sharply. what is he playing at? is he trying to get into your head or what? people dress up at parties, people want to fuck people, it’s a thing. god, gojo is so unbearable. 

you scowl up at him. 

“first of all,” you rip his hand from your waist and he lets it fall limply by his side. “second of all, again, how is that any of your business? salty you can’t get laid without the hotter best friend’s help?”

gojo just smirks, huffing out a chuckle through his nostrils. “you don’t have to worry about me, sweetheart. although i have to say, i do worry about you…”

“what? why?” you can’t help sounding sincere at his words. he twirls a piece of your hair with his index finger. 

“‘m just saying, what kind of best friend would i be if i handed you off to suguru without taking you for a test drive first?” gojo’s disgusting, he’s audacious and cocky and it’s doing something to you. you find yourself uncharacteristically quiet as he continues, “i mean, for all i know, you just might break once he gets inside.” 

“you’re ridiculous,” you manage to utter, feeling too small and too warm. geto is no longer in your line of sight and neither is shoko and you rapidly start to feel like you’ve fallen into the lion’s den without realizing. 

“you know i’m right,” and you don’t, really, you don’t think he’s right at all but why do you want to prove him wrong so badly? “c’mon, baby, lemme break ya in a little.”

that seems to snap you out of it. “ew. you’re disgusting, where is—“

“ugh, i love it when you degrade me,” he groans sardonically, hand leaving your waist and grabbing your hand instead. “come on. i’ll take you to him.”

whatever that feeling was just then, you shake it off and relunctantly let gojo guide you through the sea of bodies in his living room, the two of you earning some whistles from his friends. eyes too busy scanning for geto, you’re surprised when you suddenly end up in front of the bathroom. 

“quick pit stop!” gojo tries. you roll your eyes. 

“you won’t even try to take me to your bed? like, you live here,” you say. 

gojo is grinning. “nah, nah. room’s for the main attraction,” he winks and turns the doorknob, letting you go inside first. what a gentleman. “this shouldn’t take long.”

the bathroom door muffles the loud music outside, leaving your ears ringing in the silence. gojo looks like a douchebag, sunglasses pushed up into his hair, shirt unbuttoned and wet with some sort of liquor, and your eyes do not dare scan any lower than that. 

you suppose he is a douchebag.

but he sounds so painfully sincere when he whines low in his throat, “wanna kiss you so bad.” 

you laugh at his face, pushing yourself up to sit on the counter. 

“i’m serious,” he says, taking a step forward. you instinctively open your legs a little to make more room. 

“you want to what, ‘break me in’, you said?”

gojo laughs and that doesn’t sound sincere at all. he takes another step towards you, slotting his hips in between your thighs. 

“suguru’ll like it sloppy,” and that’s all the explanation he gives you before he’s closing the distance between you two, crashing your lips together. 

you should be feeling ill at his words. you should be pushing him away. if you had any self respect, you would. 

but his hands on you feel so good, he’s kissing you like, yeah, he wanted to so bad. his grip on your hips is almost bruising, pulling your body closer to his so he can grind against you. 

you moan into his mouth and he’s quick to return it, tongue pushing up against yours hungrily. you feel like you’re being devoured, the kiss all encompassing, but it’s not bad, it feels so so good and gojo is so good and—

he breaks your kiss to command, “wrap your legs around me,” and you do so immediately. 

his hands push your skirt up, grabbing your ass and pulling you that much closer to him. you tug on his hair, grinding down hard against him, and he lets out the sweetest, most pitiful moan that sends your head reeling. 

“gojo…” you say his name but you don’t know what for, don’t know what you want or what to ask or what to say, all you know is yes and good and more. “satoru—“

gojo whines and presses his lips to yours desperately, grinding his hard on against your clothed pussy. he’s big, you can feel him all over your cunt, and you suddenly need all these layers between you gone. 

“fuck, let me see,” he swallows hard, pushing your shirt up fully. “lemme see those tits baby, that’s it—”

you puff your chest out when gojo pulls your bra down. you expect him to go for your boobs but instead he goes back in for a kiss, panting into your mouth. 

god, it’s too much. for how collected he acts one hundred percent of the time, seeing gojo satoru disheveled is a power trip. 

“touch me,” you mumble against his lips. 

he gives you a few pecks, nibbling your bottom lip before pulling away. 

“fuck, you’re so fucking perfect,” gojo says, one hand grabbing your tit and another pulling your panties to the side. the cool air on your dripping core makes you shudder, and you feel yourself gush at the slightest brush of his fingers against you. 

he bends down to pop a nipple into his mouth and you arch your back, gripping his hair hard, ‘cause apparently he likes that. you both let out a unison moan as he sucks, saliva audibly swishing inside his mouth. 

you know it’s gonna leave a mark, he’s gonna leave a lot of bruises as he bites and sucks and keeps you distracted while he slips a finger into your wet core. 

you suddenly regain conscience and remember the man working your body with nothing more than his hands and mouth probably has a pretty painful big hard cock inside his pants, so you reach out to help him. 

“wait,” he says, mouth popping against your breast, “wait, you can suck it, i just wanna—i gotta do this first, lemme—“

that’s all he says before giving you another kiss and dropping to his knees. 

you’re obviously not going to complain, you can neglect his dick just fine, nevermind the fact that you want it inside you immediately. but in the meantime, gojo’s got two fingers pumping in and out of you and he’s about to put his face between your legs. 

it’s beautiful, it’s a lot, you want it so fucking bad and it shows. 

“so fucking wet, all f’me” he lays his tongue flat against your clit and licks a fat stripe up your pussy, making you groan in anticipation for what’s to come. “been thinking of this pretty pussy for so long.”

“yeah?,” you whine, brushing some hair away from his face before coaxing his head closer to where you want it. gojo moans in response and starts working his tongue in tight circles over your clit. 

fuck, is gojo satoru in a frat bathroom the best head you’ve ever had? he might be, with the way he expertly rubs his fingers against your walls, instantly finding that spongy patch that makes you jut your hips out. 

“fuck, right there,” you grind against his face, delighting yourself in the debauched moans he makes against your cunt. not only does it feel good, it looks so fucking hot and you can’t tear your eyes away. “stay right there, you’re so good.”

the way he eats it like he needs to, like it’ll save your life, like this alone is enough to make the both of you cum, you can’t help the too-honest praise tumbling from your lips. 

“yeah? tastes so fucking good” he mumbles, rubbing a thumb over your clit. you nod, bottom lip held tightly between your teeth. “play with your tits, baby, those juicy fucking tits, do it for me.”

you obey, head hanging back in pleasure. you keep one hand anchored firmly in his hair, your fingers gripping so hard they start to tingle. 

you shove his face closer, earning a deep groan from him. he noses at your pussy, replacing his fingers in your entrance with his tongue, fucking in and out of you. your breathing has lost all rhythm, your chest feels tight and on fire and a bead of sweat rolls down your back. 

you can faintly make out gojo asking do you like this? just like this baby? and all you can say in response is a string of “yeahs” and breathy little moans. they almost sound surprised, and they might be, because every twist of his tongue and every brush of his fingers knocks the breath right out your lungs. 

it’s so much pleasure that it doesn’t make sense. you think, suddenly, this is why people do drugs, this is why people develop addictions because you have no fucking clue how you’re supposed to live without gojo satoru between your legs from now on. 

“satoru. i wanna cum,” you whine, mind to mouth filter completely obliterated because all you want to do is fucking cum for gojo satoru. message relayed. 

“fuck yeah, baby, you wanna cum? i’m gonna make you cum?” he’d sound pathetic if you didn’t know how much of a whore he was. his fingers go back inside you and speed up ever so slightly, his lips wrapping around your clit. gojo’s tongue works you over and over and over and all you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears and the sound of gojo swallowing every few seconds. 

he doesn’t stop, mumbles his dirty talk right into your pussy, like fucking cum for me baby cum all over my face yeah do it i’m gonna make you cum so hard god you look so fucking sexy wanna fuck you so bad, and you don’t want to know why but it makes you all the more intent in coming the hardest you ever have. 

you grip gojo’s hair and grind into his face mercilessly, revelling in the gurgling sounds coming from between your legs. 

“ohhh fuck, fuck, satoru i’m so close, just keep doing that, yeah just like that—“ gojo groans, using his free hand to play with your nipple. 

it’s too much, it’s too good, the coil in your belly that’s been building up since you started entertaining the idea of maybe getting laid tonight finally snapping. 

you’re sure you’ve never been this loud as you cum, hard, you can feel it gushing out of you and right into gojo’s awaiting mouth. with ringing ears and trembling legs, you find purchase in his hair as you keep cumming for him. 

the muscles on your thighs seize up as you ride out your orgasm against gojo’s face, your feet trying to find any sort of balance or solid ground. but you wiggle desperately in his hold, the man below you fulfilling his promise of drinking every last drop of you until the two of you are satisfied. 

you’re catching your breath when gojo finally pulls away from you, his face and neck flushed as you’re sure yours are. your back falls against the foggy bathroom mirror, chest rising and falling dramatically as you catch your breath. 

he finally stands up, sneaking a very obvious hand down his pants to readjust his erection. once he catches your gaze, he smirks at you. 

you try to roll your eyes, you really do, but what comes out is a slow, languid blink. you’re completely fucked out and he loves it, leans in to kiss you so fucking deep you taste yourself all over his mouth.  

before you can do anything else, anything more or less than kiss him back, you hear three knocks on the door. 

they’re gentle, nothing like the sound of a pissed off college student, murderous because you’re hogging the bathroom. 

gojo pushes himself away from you, grinning. “right on time.”

he grabs both your tits in his hands and plants a wet kiss on one, then the other, before pulling your shirt back down. 

you’re still dumbfounded, your overworked body slumped against the bathroom counter. 

before you have time to react, gojo’s opening the door to let geto suguru in. 

your body jolts, legs closing shut in what’s almost abject horror. you nearly forgot he’s what you came to this party for. 

it feels like you got caught red handed, and it must show on your face because geto shakes his head and laughs that pretty, sexy laugh, waving a hand around to tell you it’s okay. 

“please, don’t stop on my account,” are his first words to you tonight. 

you would say something if you weren’t sure your voice would fail you. but like usual, gojo satoru can’t stay quiet for too long.

“all done. she’s too easy” he announces cheerily, but the funny thing is, he doesn’t leave. instead, geto lets the bathroom door close behind him as he crowds in. 

you realize this space is far too small for two very tall men, most definitely far too small for whatever is about to go down between the three of you, and your calming heart starts to race again. 

“hey, pretty,” geto reaches out and wipes the side of your lip. “having fun?”

you can only nod, looking at gojo satoru of all people for answers.

he looks at you like he hasn’t just eaten your pussy with the intensity of a starving man, like he wants to do it again, right now. 

geto is sporting a similar look of hunger, looking between you and gojo and quickly assessing the situation that just happened here. 

this is weird. this is so fucking weird and so stupidly hot. 

“wanna take her for a ride next?” gojo asks geto like he’s not talking about a person, like you don’t have a say in it, like you belong to the both of them to play with, and it turns your brain to mush. 

geto smiles, handsome and dangerous. 

“what do you say, honey?” this time he addresses you. you swallow hard, looking between the two men in front of you. gojo grabs the outline of his hard cock through his pants, a reminder that whatever this is, it isn’t over just yet. “down to have double the fun?”

[pawsitivevibe]

A Quick Guide to Dog Shows

I tend to see a certain amount of confusion about how dog shows work. So I'm going to break it down here. Note that this is based on the Canadian Kennel Club and might differ based on organization. It is basically the same as the American Kennel Club. If you watched Crufts, some of the classes and awards have different names, but operate in a very similar progression.

There are multiple "stages" in conformation. This is where I see the confusion.

CLASS:

So, you sign up your dog for a dog show. They are going to be entered under their BREED. Within their breed, they will be entered in a CLASS. A class is basically just a category under which they are judged. The main classes are usually:

6-9 month old dog (often called Junior Puppy)

6-9 month old bitch

9-12 month old dog (often called Senior Puppy)

9-12 month old bitch

12-18 month old dog

12-18 month old bitch

Open dog

Open bitch

Canadian bred dog (the dog was born in Canada)

Canadian bred bitch

Bred by exhibitor dog (the dog's breeder is also the dog's handler)

Bred by exhibitor bitch

These additional classes are also common:

Veteran dog (7+ years old)

Veteran bitch

3-6 month old dog ("Baby Puppy" does not compete for points, but may compete for "Best Baby Puppy")

3-6 month old bitch

Dogs within the classes will be judged based on the breed standard, but in the age based classes the judge will be keeping in mind that they are still puppies. Your dog may be eligible for multiple classes, so you choose the one you think your dog has the best chance of winning. For example, I have a 20 month old English Cocker Spaniel dog. He is eligible to compete in Open dog, because dogs of any age can compete in Open. He was bred in Canada, but I did not breed him, so I could enter him in Canadian bred, but not bred by exhibitor. I choose ONE class to enter.

Alright we're in our CLASS. Each class is then judged based on the breed standard. Each class will be judged for 1st through 4th place. The 1st place dog or bitch in each class will then move on to the WINNERS ring.

WINNERS:

The winners of the dog classes will compete for WINNERS DOG. The winners of the bitch classes will compete for WINNERS BITCH. There will also be a Reserve Winners Dog (2nd place) and a Reserve Winners Bitch. Note that the winners dog and bitch may be puppies.

BEST OF BREED:

The Winners Dog and Winners Bitch will then go on to the BEST OF BREED ring. They will be joined by dogs and bitches of their breed who are already show champions. Champions have already won enough "points" in previous shows to receive the title of champion, and do not have to compete in the CLASS or WINNERS stages. The judge will now look at the winners dog and bitch and all the champions, and choose 1 to be awarded BEST OF BREED, meaning they are the best dog or bitch overall. The judge will then choose a BEST OF OPPOSITE SEX, meaning the best dog of the opposite sex to the best of breed winner. If the BOB is a bitch, then all the male dogs will be judged for BOS. The judge will also look at the Winners Bitch and the Winners Dog to choose a BEST OF WINNERS between the two. The judge will also choose a SELECT DOG and SELECT BITCH, for the best champion dogs after BOB and BOS. Sometimes the judge will also choose dogs to be given an AWARD OF MERIT, to recognize exceptional quality in dogs who did not receive BOB, BOS, or Select.

BEST PUPPY IN BREED:

The judge will then call in all the puppies, dog or bitch, that were not defeated by another puppy. These puppies may have been entered in any CLASS, not just the puppy classes, because you can also enter puppies in Open, Canadian bred, or any other non-age-restricted class. The judge will choose an overall BEST PUPPY. However, if the BEST OF BREED dog was already a puppy, that dog will automatically be awarded Best Puppy as well.

GROUP:

Now there are many many dog breeds, and the breeds are divided into "groups", which is usually indicative of their function. Groups have different names and divisions in different organizations, but the CKC has 7 groups: Sporting, Hound, Working, Terrier, Toy, Non-Sporting, and Herding. Spaniels, setters, pointers, and retrievers are in the Sporting Group. Sighthounds and scent hounds are in the Hound group. Herding dogs are in Herding, and so on. Every breed within a group will have the BEST OF BREED sent to the BEST OF GROUP ring. Each of the BOBs of the different breeds will be judged against their own breed standard to determine which of them is the best. There will be a top 4 dogs awarded in each group.

There will also be a separate competition for BEST PUPPY IN GROUP. All of the BEST PUPPY IN BREED winners will compete for this. If a puppy was also the BEST OF BREED winner in a particular breed, they will compete in the group and puppy group.

BEST IN SHOW:

The 7 BEST OF GROUP winners will go on to compete in the Best in Show competition. Remember, they are being judged based on their own breed standard, and if they fit their own standard better than the other dogs fit theirs. So the best in show judge is looking to see if this Cocker Spaniel is a better Cocker Spaniel than this Shetland Sheepdog is a good Shetland Sheepdog. It's not a "this breed is better than this breed" competition. This is why you will sometimes unfortunately see an unsound dog win BIS, like a German Shepherd with bad hips or a Pekingese. The judge doesn't think they're actually the prettiest dog ever and what a pretty dog should look like, just that they best fit their breed standard. Unfortunately some breed standards emphasize traits that are unhealthy. A RESERVE BEST IN SHOW winner is also awarded for the "2nd place" dog.

There's also a separate BEST PUPPY IN SHOW competition for the BEST PUPPY IN GROUP winners to compete in. A puppy who already competed in the BIS ring might also compete in BPIS. However, if a puppy won Best in Show already, they will be automatically awarded Best Puppy in Show as well.

There may also be a Best Baby Puppy in Show competition, for the 3-6 month old puppies. They would have also had a group competition. The Baby Puppy category is meant to prepare future show dogs for the ring, so it is focused more on fun and providing a good experience for the babies.

A RECAP:

A dog will compete under their breed in a CLASS

Class winners will compete for WINNERS DOG and WINNERS BITCH

The 2 Winners will compete against the Champions for BEST OF BREED and BEST OF OPPOSITE SEX. The Winners will also be judged against each other for BEST OF WINNERS.

The Best of Breed for each breed in a group will compete for BEST OF GROUP. There are placings for 1st through 4th place.

The Best of Group of each of the 7 groups compete for BEST IN SHOW and RESERVE BEST IN SHOW.

[lukesvangelista]

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐀𝐘 𝐖𝐄'𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍ᵃᶠ¹⁹

in which adam’s deepest regret is loving you too deeply.

warnings; argument between a couple, angry adam, allusion to the events that happened about a month ago

Adam Fantilli had been in love with you for as long as he could remember. The two of you had met in New Hampshire, when Adam had decided to follow Luca to boarding school to play hockey. The two of you had hit it off immediately, meeting in history class his first year there. Within a few months, Adam had asked you to be his girlfriend.

Over sophomore year, he had decide to take some advanced classes, graduating a year early before heading off to Chicago with Luca. You stayed behind in New Hampshire, finishing out your junior and senior year at the academy. Adam ended up playing with the Steel for two seasons, and despite the distance, the two of you remained strong. You'd come visit him over long weekends and holiday breaks, even visiting his family in Nobleton a few times.

Everything was perfect, and continued to be when he signed at Michigan.

You didn't follow him to Michigan, choosing to go to college in Chicago after falling in love with the city. And as much as it sucked, the two of you were used to the distance by then, so it didn't affect much. FaceTimes and phone calls were constant, and some of the boys would even tease Adam about how whipped he was. As much as he tried to ignore it, he couldn't deny it.

He finished the year out at Michigan, declaring for the NHL draft after just one season. You were extremely proud of him - winning the Hobey Baker award as a freshman was no easy feat and he deserved nothing more than to play in the NHL. When he was drafted to Columbus, he finally asked you to follow and move in with him.

So you did. As much as you loved Chicago, you would drop everything for him. Instead of transferring, you talked to your advisor and decided to go virtual for the remainder of your time at college. And as you settled into Adam's apartment in Columbus, everything was perfect.

But now, the apartment was suffocating with tension, the air thick with words unspoken and emotions bubbling too close to the surface. You stood near the kitchen counter, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself, trying to shield yourself from the storm that was building between you and Adam. You'd been through a lot together - much more than most couples your age - but tonight, things felt different. It wasn't about the little things you guys usually bantered about, like leaving clothes on the floor or who was supposed to take out the trash. Tonight's argument ran deeper.

You knew he was having a hard time with the start of the season, especially with what had transpired over the past few weeks. The air inside and outside of the locker room was different, and not in a good way. It was understandably taking its toll on Adam. You tried to be there for him, you really did. But he had shut you out, the distance between the two of you increasing even though you were standing right there in front of him. You guys weren't 15 hours away from each other anymore. Hell, you weren't even four hours away from each other anymore. But right now, it sure felt like you were.

"Why do you always have to make things so difficult?" Adam muttered, his back turned to you as he stared out of the window, watching the rain patter against the glass.

You stared at him in utter disbelief, "I make things difficult?" you echoed, your voice a little higher than you intended, "You're the one who's been avoiding me for days! I just want to know what's going on with you, Adam. Why won't you talk to me?"

Adam turned around, his face a mix of frustration and exhaustion, "Because I'm tired, Y/N! I'm tired of always being the one holding everything together. I can't do this all the time!"

Your heart sank at his words, "You think I don't feel the same way? You think it's easy for me?" your voice cracked, and you bit your lip to keep the tears from falling. "I get it, Adam, I do. You're under a lot of pressure with hockey, and I know you're grieving. But that doesn't mean you get to shut me out! All I want is to help you."

His jaw clenched, and his hands balled into fists at his sides, "I'm not shutting you out."

"Yes, you are!" you snapped back. "You haven't said more than ten words to me all week unless it's about something trivial!"

"Maybe I don't have the energy to talk about the heavy stuff right now!" Adam's voice rose, echoing through the apartment. His eyes, usually soft when they looked at you, were now filled with a fire that matched your own. "Maybe I just need some space without you always breathing down my neck, waiting for me to fall apart.

You felt like you had been slapped. The weight of his words hit you square in the chest, making it hard to breathe, "So that's what you think of me? That I'm just... waiting for you to mess up?"

Adam groaned, running a hand through his messy hair in frustration, "That's not what I meant."

"Then what do you mean?" your voice was softer now, trembling slightly. You were tired of this, tired of the fight, tired of feeling like the two of you were on the verge of breaking.

Adam looked at you, his expression torn between anger and regret. His chest heaved as he tried to find the right words, but in the heat of the moment, he couldn't stop himself.

"I wish I loved you less!"

The words hung in the air like a weight neither of you could lift. Time seemed to stop, and the silence that followed was deafening. You stared at him, your heart shattering into a million pieces as his words echoed in your mind on repeat.

"You... what?" your voice was barely a whisper, but the hurt in it was unmistakable.

Adam's eyes widened, as if he hadn't fully realized what he's said until it was too late, "Y/N/N, I-"

"Don't Y/N/N me," you whispered, your voice dripping with pain as you shook your head, taking a step back from him. "No. Don't you dare. You don't get to take that back."

He tried to reach for you, but you pulled away from him, "I didn't mean it like that."

"Then what did you mean, Adam?" your voice broke, the tears finally spilling over. "Because it sure sounded like you meant every word."

Adam's heart sank as he watched you crumble in front of him. He wished he could take it back, but the damage was done. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of your crying, "I'm so sorry."

You wiped at your face with the sleeve of your sweater, but the tears wouldn't stop. "Do you even hear yourself? You just said that you wish you didn't love me as much as you do. What am I supposed to do with that?"

He stepped closer, desperation lacing his voice. "I didn't mean it that way. I just... God, Y/N, I love you so much it hurts sometimes! And when things get hard like this... I don't know how to handle it. I feel like I'm failing you."

Your breath hitched at his words, but you still couldn't look at him. "You don't have to be perfect all the time, Adam. I don't need you to have all the answers. I just need you to be honest with me."

He nodded, his heart aching as he reached out and gently touched your arm. You winced, pulling away slowly. The hurt in his eyes mirrored your own, and he continued, "I am being honest. That's the problem. Loving you is everything to me, but it scares me too. I don't know what I'd do if I lost you. That's why I said what I said. I wish it didn't feel so... all-consuming."

You finally looked at him, your eyes red and filled with pain. "You don't get to say you wished you loved me less, Adam. If this is too much for you, then maybe-"

"No," Adam interrupted, panic flashing in his eyes, "Don't say that. Please. I don't want that."

You sighed, shaking your head at his words. "I don't want that either, Adam. That's the last thing I want. But I can't be here right now."

His face twisted in heartbreak, but he let you continue. "I'm going to call Odette and see if I can stay with her and Zach for a bit. Call me when you figure it out."

With that, you left to go to your guys' shared bedroom. Adam whispered your name over and over again in protest, but you ignored him. As much as you wanted to turn around and hug him, you couldn't be around him with that he just said.

You slipped into the shared bedroom, quietly closing the door behind you, your back resting against the cool wood as you took a shaky breath. The silence in the room felt suffocating, and stark contrast to the muffled sounds of Adam moving around in the living room. Everything between the two of you felt frayed, like a thread pulled too tightly, on the verge of snapping. You can’t bear to look at the room you’ve shared for so long — every inch of it filled with memories, good ones, but also the ones that now haunted you.

Your hands trembled as you unlocked your phone and scrolled through your contacts, hovering over Odette's name. You hesitated, the weight of the decision pressing down on your chest. Should you really leave? Could you even explain what happened to someone else when you barely understood it yourself?

But you needed space - space to think, to breath, to not have Adam's face constantly reminding you of everything you guys were struggling through. So, with a deep, unsteady breath, you tapped Odette's name and listened as the phone rang.

"Hey!" Odette's cheerful voice came through the line after a few rings. The brightness in her tone felt like a stark contrast to the dark cloud hanging over you.

For a second, you almost lost your nerve. How could you drag someone else into this mess? But you forced yourself to speak, your voice barely more than a whisper, "Hey, Odette. I, um... I need to ask you something."

Immediately, her tone shifted. "What's going on?" her voice was gentle now, concerned. "Are you okay?"

You swallowed hard, trying to push down the lump in your throat. "I... I was wondering if I could stay with you and Zach for a few days. Just until I figure things out."

There's a pause, a heavy silence that filled the space between the two of you, and you worried for a moment that you've overstepped, that you asked for too much. But Odette finally spoke, her voice soft but firm. "Of course you can, love. But what's going on? Why do you need to leave?"

You squeezed your eyes shut, a tear slipping down your cheek as you wrapped your arms around yourself, curling in on the bed like you could hold yourself together. "It's Adam," you admitted, your voice breaking. "We had this fight... I don't even know how it started, but it just kept spiraling. It feels like everything's been spiraling, and I just... I can't stay here right now. I need space, and I don't know how to get it when he's here, constantly reminding me of what's wrong between us."

Odette's sigh was audible through the phone, and when she spoke again, her voice was laced with empathy, "Oh, Y/N, I am so sorry. I know how much you care about him."

You bit your lip, trying to hold back the sob that was clawing at your throat. "It's so hard, Odette. It feels like I'm drowning, and I don't even know how to make it stop. I love him so much, it hurts. But I don't know who I am when we're constantly fighting."

"You don't have to explain it all right now," Odette assured you, "Just pack a bag and come over. You're welcome here for as long as you need. I'll be here, and we can talk whenever you're ready, okay?"

You nodded, even though Odette couldn't see you, a fresh wave of tears filling your eyes. "Thank you," you whispered, your voice shaking, "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You don't have to do this alone, Y/N," Odette said softly. "We'll figure it out together, okay? Zach and I will be here. Just come over whenever you're ready."

The call ended, and you stared at the phone in your hand, the silence in the room feeling even heavier now. Your eyes drifted to the framed photo on the nightstand - you and Adam, arms wrapped around each other, smiling like you didn't have a care in the world. It felt like a lifetime ago, like you were different people back then. Maybe you were.

With a shaky breath, you rose from the bed and started packing a bag, each item a reminder of the life you're stepping away from, even if just for a little while. Every drawer you opened, every glance at the room you shared, made your heart ache. But you couldn't stay. Not like this.

As you zipped up the bag, you paused for a moment, glancing toward the door. You know Adam is just outside, probably sitting on the couch as he pretended that everything was fine, that the two of you hadn't been drifting apart for weeks. Part of you wanted to go to him, to tell him everything you're feeling, to fix it. But the other part - the part that'd been breaking under the weight of the unresolved tension, the part that Adam said he wishes he loved less, knew that you needed to leave. You needed to find yourself again before you lost everything, including your own sense of who you were.

With one last glance at the room, you grabbed your bag and quietly opened the door, slipping out before the weight of it all pulled you back in. "I'm going, Adam. Call me when you're ready to have a civil conversation."

Adam just stared at you as you left. There seemed to be no reconciling what he had said.

He sat on the couch, his leg bouncing restlessly as the reality of what just happened hit him. He could still hear the hurt in your voice echoing in his head. He'd said things he didn't mean, and the look in your eyes before you walked away... that's something he would never forget.

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm the knot of panic tightening in his chest. His first instinct was to call Luca, but as he thought more about it, he realized he couldn't do that. Luca was too much like him - impulsive, emotional. He'd tell his younger brother to stand his ground, but Adam knew that this wasn't the time for that. He needed someone who'd be calmer, more rational. Someone who could actually help.

There was only one person he could think of.

Without overthinking it, Adam scrolled through his contacts and tapped on Kent's name. It was late, and for a moment, he wondered if he should even be calling him right now. But the phone rang, and Kent picked up, his voice groggy on the other end.

"Adam? What's up, man? You okay?"

Adam swallowed hard, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. He felt like the air in the room was pressing in on him. "I screwed up, Kent. Big time."

Kent was quiet for a second, but Adam could almost hear him sitting up, fully awake now. "What happened?"

Adam took a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut like it might make the guilt a little easier to bear. "Y/N and I had this fight. I don't even know how it started, but it just... got worse and worse, and I... god, I said some things I shouldn't have. And now she's talking about leaving. Like, actually packing a bag and going."

He expected Kent to immediately start calming him down, to say something reassuring, but instead, there's just silence on the other end of the line. The longer Kent said nothing, the worse it made him feel.

"You're telling me she's leaving?" Kent finally said, his voice more serious than Adam was used to hearing. "Like, leaving for good?"

"I don't know," Adam admitted, his voice barely more than a whisper. "She called Odette to stay with her and Zach for a few days. I didn't mean for it to get this bad, Kent. I didn't think it would ever come to this."

"Well, what'd you say during the fight that could've made her leave?"

Adam paused, not wanting to repeat the words that caused so much damage.

"I said that I wish I loved her less."

Kent exhaled sharply, and when he spoke again, Adam could hear the disappointment and anger laced in his tone, "What made you think that that was ever okay? Adam, man, you fucked up. Big time."

Adam's heart dropped into his stomach, and he leaned against the couch, letting KJ's words hit him full force. He expected it, but hearing it out loud still stung.

"I know," he muttered, running a hand over his face. "But what do I do now? I don't want to lose her."

Kent paused again, clearly thinking through his words carefully before speaking. "If she's walking out like this, and understandably so, may I add, you can't just sit there. You need to do something. Sooner rather than later."

Adam's throat tightened as the weight of Kent's words settled in. He knew that Kent was right. You were not just upset. You were on the edge of something bigger, something that could end everything between you two. And if he didn't act now, he might lose you for good.

"But what if..." Adam trailed off, staring blankly at the floor, his voice barely audible. "What if it's already too late?"

Kent's voice softened, but it was still firm. "It's not too late if you don't let it be. You've got a window, but it's closing fast, dude. You need to talk to her - really talk to her. No more fights, no more letting things spiral, no more saying stupid fucking shit. If you love her as much as you truly do, you have to prove it, Adam. Right now."

Adam nodded, though he knew Kent couldn't see him. He knew what he had to do, but the thought of facing you right now, of admitting how badly he'd messed up, terrified him. The hurt in your eyes was burned into his memory, and the guilt felt like it was choking him. But if KJ's right—and he knew he was—then waiting isn’t an option.

“Thanks, Kent,” Adam said, his voice raw with emotion. “I’ll fix this. I have to.”

“Yeah, you do,” Kent replied, his voice softening again. “Just don’t wait too long, okay? You can’t afford to.”

With that, Adam hung up. His heart raced as he stood up, his feet feeling heavier than they've ever felt as he walked toward the bedroom door. His hand hovered over the doorknob, and for a split second, he wonders if he should give you more time. But Kent's voice echoed in his head - "you can't afford to wait."

His heart was pounding in his chest. He couldn't bring himself to walk inside your room. The weight of your fight, of everything he'd said in the heat of the moment, felt like it was too much to face right now. You had gone to Odette's anyway, and he knew that you needed time.

With a heavy sigh, Adam pulled out his phone and stared at the screen, the blank text message to you glaring up at him. His thumbs hovered over the keyboard, unsure of what to say. He wanted to fix it, but he'd never been great with words when it came to you. Maybe giving you the night, letting you breathe, was the only thing he could do right now.

i'm sorry. i know you need space, and i'm giving it to you. i don't want to make this worse. but when you're ready, i'm here. i'm ready to talk in the morning. i need to fix this. i love you.

He stared at the message, reading it over a dozen times, wondering if it was enough. He didn't want to sound desperate, but he also didn't want you to think he’s not willing to fight for you. With a shaky breath, he hit send.

As the message went through, Adam sat down on the edge of the bed, running a hand through his hair. The silence was deafening, and the absence of your presence was suffocating. He couldn't help but wonder if this is what it would feel like if you left for good.

All he could do now was wait for the morning, for you to text him back, for the two of you to finally talk civilly and try to fix the cracks that had been growing between you. He knew it wouldn't be easy, but the thought of losing you was more painful than any fight he'd ever had.

To his surprise, you texted back almost immediately.

i'll meet you at the apartment tomorrow night. don't screw this up, fantilli.

The next day, Adam waited impatiently for you to come back home. He knew you weren't going to be happy to see him, as Kent had repeatedly reminded him at morning practice. He could tell he fucked up badly when Zach glared at him through almost the entire practice, too.

But now, Adam's back was against the window as rain pattered against the glass, his eyes staring firmly at the door, waiting for you to walk through. It was as if you read his mind. Not even a minute later, you walked through the door, hair messy and dressed in a Blue Jackets hoodie.

He smiled softly at you, but you didn't return it. Instead, you took a seat at the kitchen counter, your eyes focusing on him as he slowly made his way over to sit down next to you.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I am so fucking sorry for everything," he started immediately, emotion lacing his voice, "I don't want to break up. I don't want you to go."

You sighed, crossing your arms over your chest. You didn't want to go either, but the truth of the matter was that he had hurt you. His words had cut through you like a knife, stabbing you right in the heart. It felt like five years had been flushed down the drain.

"Then what do you want? Because I can't keep doing this if you're going to push me away every time things get tough."

Adam took a deep breath, his shoulders slumping as he finally let down the walls he’d been holding up for so long. “I want you. I’ve always wanted you, Y/N. I just… I’m scared. I don’t know how to balance everything.”

Your face softened slightly, though the hurt was still there. “Then let me help you. We’ve been together for so long, Adam. Don’t shut me out now.”

He stepped forward, pulling you into his arms. You resisted at first, but eventually melted into his embrace, your face buried in his chest. “I’m sorry,” Adam whispered again, his voice cracking. “I’m so sorry.”

You nodded against him, your arms wrapping around his waist. “I’m scared too, you know,” you admitted quietly. “But I’m here, Adam. I’m not going anywhere. But you cannot do this again. I deserve to be treated better than that."

Adam nodded profusely, "It won't happen again, I promise. Kent drilled that into my head all of last night and today. I fucked up, and I realize that. I love you so, so, so much, Y/N. More than you will ever know."

You nodded, and he rubbed his hand along your back, trying to make sure you were really there in front of him.

"I love you too, Adamo."

For a while, the two of you just stood there, holding onto each other as the rain continued to fall outside. The fight wasn’t over - you still had plenty of things that needed to be talked about - but for now, you were okay. You had each other, and in the end, that was what mattered most.

[valleyof-goldenlilies]

The Winter Formal - Modern! Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary: Forced to be your annoying, arrogant academic rival’s date for your university’s Christmas Formal was already a nightmare in itself. Getting drunk? Now that was just a recipe for disaster.

Pairing: Modern! Aemond Targaryen x AFAB! Reader

Warnings: profanity, angst, some talks of drunk violence, academic dumb idiot rivals to lovers, lovesick Aemond, p in v sex, degradation, face sitting (f!receiving), tiddy play, use of 'atta girl' (pls let me know if i missed anything)

Word Count: 6.92k words

A/N: hoe hoe hoe! a very merry late Christmas and Happy New Year in advance from me to you :) MAY THE AEMOND NATION PLS ARISE, bcuz this is for you guys ;)

lovely dividers credited to @firefly-graphics !

For as long as you could remember, you had always hated Aemond Targaryen’s guts. 

Maybe it was a hatred programmed in you since birth, but it made little sense, since your mother and Aemond’s mother, Alicent Targaryen, had been inseparable companions since high school. It was your mother who supported Alicent throughout her marriage, acting as a close, trusted confidant during her clashes with their old friend and Alicent’s new stepdaughter, Rhaenyra, and throughout her miserable marriage. They had even gotten pregnant at around the same time, your mother with you, and Alicent with Aemond, and they were sure that their children would share the same strong bond as they had. 

So, it had been quite unfortunate, and ironic, when you and Aemond ended up being each other’s number 1 enemies. 

You disliked plenty of things about him: how he always thought he was the best in the room, and actually had something to show for it - always coming in at the top of the classes you shared. History, geography, mathematics, english…bloody hell. It hurt worse when he always flaunted the results in your face. 

Got a 98 for English? Aemond would get a 99, shoot you a taunting sympathetic grin and said: “Better luck next time.” He knew you were always actively seeking a chance to beat him, and he found a certain sort of thrill in it, in taunting you. 

That little fuckhead. 

It was a nigging thorn in your side, since you always strove to be the best that you could at everything. And you were always so, so, close. 

Yet not close enough. As you were made to watch Aemond on stage every year at your school’s academic awards ceremony, a smirk on his face, looking like an overly self-righteous pufferfish as he lifted his first place trophy in the air. Like he had just won some fucking world championship. Meanwhile, you had to stand backstage, gritting your teeth and fisting the fabric of your uniform in your hands as you waited to be called on stage to receive your award as second place in your whole cohort. Not close enough as you were forced to be designated as salutatorian at the end of your senior year in high school, while Aemond shot you the most self-satisfied grin ever as he deliberately brushed past you to give his valedictorian speech. 

You swore, if your diploma was not at stake that day, you would’ve pummelled him right in his smug, grinning face. 

That year before you were due to start at King’s Landing University, however, Aemond had suffered a horrible accident in a brawl at a bar during Christmas along with his younger nephews, Jacaerys Velaryon and Lucerys Velaryon. He had come out of it with one eye permanently scarred from the glass shard of a broken beer bottle, and a colder, more sullen attitude. Despite the offer of a prosthetic eye by his step sister, Rhaenyra, Aemond had refused, instead putting on an eyepatch to hide his scarred right eye. 

When your mother had recounted to you the incident with much solemnity, you had felt a strange sense of turmoil in you. You didn’t want to feel sorry for Aemond Targaryen, of all people, but it was a tragic incident that no one deserves to have befallen on them. So you could only shift uncomfortably in your seat, as your mother made meaningful eyes at you, trying to elicit some sympathy and concern from you. 

Because of that incident, Aemond’s admission to university had to be put on hold, as the professors at the university were unsure if Aemond’s plans to double major in law and history would be impeded by the loss of his eye, and he had to take additional exams to prove that his studies would not be affected in any way. 

So you were surprised when on the first day of classes, during your first class of the day - Constitutional Law - you caught sight of a familiar figure seated at the front of the class. Dressed in an expensive black cashmere sweater and tailored trousers, his long white hair neatly bunched up at the top of his head in a bun, eyepatch slung over his right eye, Aemond Targaryen sat there with an impassive look on his face, browsing through his lecture notes. Like some dark shadow the Seven sought to inflict upon you. You wanted to groan in frustration when the only seats left at the front were both next to him - clearly no one had summed up enough courage to sit next to the imposing Targaryen. Gripping the strap of your backpack a little tighter, you stalked up to the front, taking a seat at the right of him. 

He barely looked up as you slid into your seat - a surprising change. Usually back when you were in high school, he would always greet you with that infuriating smirk on his face, one that screamed superiority at every turn. Gods, how much you had hated that. Yet, you felt a strange sense of emptiness at not being greeted. 

Ignoring that, you pulled out your own textbooks and self-made notes, tying your hair up into a neat ponytail as you began reviewing your notes. From the front, you could hear very clearly what the rest of the class were gossiping about, and the whisperings about Aemond were unpleasant. You paused as you listened to them, gripping your highlighter a little tighter as you shot side glances at Aemond - still studying, not letting anything give. Was he truly not bothered by them? When he was younger, he always had something to prove whenever someone gossiped about him, having been bullied in the past. Why was he so silent? Who was this phantom? 

“Are you going to keep staring?” Aemond’s cool voice broke through your thoughts, and you felt your cheeks heat up as you realise you’ve been caught. You sniffed haughtily, turning away. “Who said I was staring?” Aemond scoffed, not turning to look at you still, for whatever reason. “You were. Don’t try to deny it.” He paused for a while, eye fixed on a passage. 

“I don’t want your pity, you know.” You bristled, startled. “As if I ever would.” You waited for Aemond to retort with a snarky remark, but you were surprised when he kept silent, and responded coldly. “Good. keep it that way.” 

You shot him a discerning look, but before you could say anything else, the professor arrived, and all thoughts of Aemond Targaryen’s new unapproachability had vanished into thin air. 

You soon came to learn that while Aemond had ceased the taunting of your youthhood, it was like losing an eye had made him even more driven somehow. You found you and him falling into old patterns, restarting your fierce rivalry. Only this time, you managed to succeed in getting the best of him in certain modules, such as for Civil Law modules, much to your delight. It only served to make Aemond more steely, however, and the both of you often found yourself partaking in the same student committees, always competing for the top spots in planning school events. 

Like now, in the meeting called to discuss the planning of the school’s Winter Formal. 

“I think that that’s a shit idea,” Aemond’s blunt words took everyone aback, but few dared to oppose him, too intimidated by the tall man. 

And the few who dared were mostly you, anyway. 

You raised your eyebrow, tapping your pen on the planning document in front of you. “It’s a winter formal, Targaryen. And white and gold is the traditional theme used for most formals. Isn’t it nice to spruce things up a bit?” 

“You’re proposing to reinvent a winter formal that has been steeped in centuries of tradition,” Aemond remarked sarcastically, glaring at you. “Do you know how many distinguished alumni and guests are on the guest list? I doubt they would find your ‘Christmas Wonderland’ theme proposal charming in any way. Most likely, they’ll think it gaudy and it’ll reflect badly on the school.” 

You snorted, wanting to toss the pen in his fucking infuriating face. Him and his know-it-all voice. “Yes, but you forget, Targaryen, that I am the head of this project. Not you.” You turned to the other members of the planning committee, who all look like they would rather be anywhere other than here, in the midst of you and Aemond’s bickering. “All of those in favour of revamping the winter formal theme, please raise your hands.” 

Your reputation as a tenacious leader clearly had an effect, as most of the members tentatively raised their hands. Shooting a triumphant grin at Aemond, you smugly noted it down and began drafting up the students in charge of decorations. 

One for you, and zero for Aemond. At long last. 

Aemond had reluctantly gone along with the Christmas Wonderland theme, and even he had to admit, a little bit of colour certainly didn’t hurt. White and gold were such dreadfully boring colours, and many of the school’s faculty had expressed their praise for the changed theme this year, much to your delight. 

However, so busy were you with the planning of the winter formal, that you had neglected to do a few important things for yourself. 

Buying a dress and getting a date. 

You paced back and forth in your dorm in panic, two days before the night of the Winter Formal, as your roommate, Rosina, looked at you with increasing frustration. “How could I be so stupid to have forgotten about those things?” You groaned, slumping down on an armchair and putting your head in your hands. 

“The dress problem can be easily solved,” Rosina said bluntly, leaning back against her pillows. “I’ll just lend you one of mine. And who gives a flying fuck about not having a date? A lot of people don’t.” 

“Yes, but I’m the head of the planning committee for this event!” you griped, as Rosina rolled her eyes. “I still don’t see the problem, apart from your stupid fucking dignity getting in the way as usual.” Usually, you loved Rosina’s deadpan, take-no-bullshit nature, but it wasn’t really helpful now. 

“Anyway, from what I've heard, Targaryen doesn’t have a date either, so you don’t need to stress. He’s second-in-charge after you, anyway, so if he doesn’t have a date, you should be fine. It won't be that humiliating.” You slowly lifted your face up, looking at Rosina urgently. “Targaryen doesn’t have a date?” 

“Yeah,” Rosina wrinkled her nose. “He’s hot, sure. But literally everyone who had the courage to ask got rejec- where the fuck are you going?” You were putting on your bra, and brushing through the tangles of your hair. “This is so fucking stupid, but I’m going to ask him.” 

“Are you crazy?” Rosina came to stand next to you, hands on her hips as you roughly used a hairbrush to comb out a tangle. “You know you both hate each other right?” 

“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” you bit out. “Wish me luck!” You blew a kiss to Rosina as you left the dorm. “Good luck, you crazy bitch!” You could hear Rosina holler as the dorm room closed behind you. 

You took a deep breath, eyes resting on the dorm door before you. Right. You didn’t know what exactly had possessed you to come here. Maybe it was sheer panic, or stupidity, or both. You knocked lightly, but it seemed no one was in, which made you come to your senses a little bit. “This was a stupid idea,” you muttered, retracting your hand, wanting to just scurry back to your dorm. 

Turning around, however, you knocked into a hard chest. “Oof! I’m so sorry!” You gasped out, before your eyes met a familiar lilac one, an indifferent expression etched on his face. Fucking hell. 

“And what are you doing at my dorm this late, little bookworm?” His voice was raspy, and you couldn’t help but shift your weight from one leg to the other. Was it too late to run? 

You were never a quitter though. And like you said, desperate times called for desperate measures. 

“The winter formal,” you reluctantly gritted out. “I wanted…to ask you to be my date.” Aemond raised an eyebrow, and for a split second, you could see that self-satisfied boy from your youthood again. “You know, you’re supposed to say please, little bookworm.” 

You bit your tongue, wanting to snark him and be done with it. ‘Calm down, calm down, you really do need him. Play nice, Y/N.’ you told yourself sternly, sighing. “Please, will you go to the winter formal with me as my date?” Aemond smirked, looking down at you. Your head was bowed, and he could hear you grinding your teeth a little. You were just too cute sometimes. 

“You should look up at someone when making a request of them, you know,” Aemond said blandly, putting his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. Your mouth dropped open, was he serious right now? This dickhead- 

“You know what, fuck it,” you sniffed, beginning to walk away. “If you’re going to be a dick about it as usual, then there’s no point in continuing this conversation. Good fucking night, Targaryen.” 

Aemond watched you walk away, the smirk never leaving his face. You went back to your dorm, immediately burying your face in the pillow, ignoring Rosina’s exasperated sighs of ‘I told you so’. All night, you tossed and turned in frustration, but when morning broke, Rosina shook you awake, ignoring your grumbles. 

You got out of bed grumpily to see what the fuss was about, only to find a note sitting on the table, in a familiar scrawl. 

“Go to the address written below and pick out a dress for tomorrow. Knowing you, you definitely didn’t have time to find one. I’ve already made payment arrangements, so just find one that you like. See you tomorrow. 

Your date, 

Aemond Targaryen.” 

Rosina snorted, bumping your shoulder as you scanned the note for the third time, trying to make sure he wasn’t pulling your leg. “He so likes you.” You looked askance at her. “That’s bullshit.” Rosina chuckled, “Yeah. it’s not, and you know it too.” The conversation abruptly ended when you snatched up a stray cushion and began hitting her with it, ignoring her squeals as she tried to escape. It was impossible. 

And yet? 

A warm feeling burrowed into your stomach, and stayed there for the rest of the day. 

On the night of the Winter Formal, you were frantically scrabbling around your dorm, affixing the final pins to your hair, putting on your final touches of makeup. Rosina was still in classes, but as the winter formal started at 7:30, you, being your endlessly worrying, perfectionist self, had to go at 6 to make sure everything was in order before the guests poured in. 

A knock at the door sounded, and you yelled in response, putting on your lipstick. “Give me a second!” As you swung open the door, your breath momentarily stuttered in your throat. 

Oh dear. 

Aemond stood outside the door, looking like he had just stepped out of the fucking Met Gala or something. He was dressed in a three-piece suit, black with red lapels, with a few shimmers of silver scattered here and there, like he was coated in a layer of stardust. His suit jacket wasn’t really a normal jacket, but a sharply cut cape coat, which made him look a little imposing, but handsome all the same. It was embroidered with small dragon insignias, and you remembered Aemond’s family’s crest was a dragon or something. Of course he would find a way to incorporate that into his outfit. His family were one of the biggest donors of the university, after all. 

You gave him an appraising look, one hand on your hip as you surveyed him. “You…look nice.” Aemond smirked, tossing some of his white-blonde locks over his shoulder haughtily. “I can dress myself, you know. Don’t need to act surprised now.” You rolled your eyes, and Aemond took the chance to scan you from head to toe as well. Dressed in a gorgeous strapless gown of midnight blue, your bodice was streaked with silver as well, shining like starlight among the deep blue of your dress. The skirt flared into elaborate ruffles of tulle and black lace that were almost invisible against the backdrop of the dress, and small silver sparkles twinkled among the ruffles of your gown.

You narrowed your eyes as you realised the both of you were matching, did he do this on purpose? From the way Aemond’s eye was shining in mischief, you were most certain that he did. 

“You look…breathtaking,” his next words took you aback, and you regarded him with a look of unease, unsure of how to respond. Was this truly the Aemond Targaryen you knew? The one whose only language was taunting or disagreeing with you? You somehow managed to recover some semblance of sanity, nodding stiffly. “Thanks…I guess.” 

A self-satisfied smirk appeared on his lips again, as he offered you his arm. “Shall we get going, then? I’m sure you will want to inspect the venue and get your nose into every single little crook and cranny to make sure that it’s perfect.” 

You rolled your eyes, your arm, which were clad in silver silk gloves, slipping into his gingerly. “Spoken like someone who wouldn’t do the same.” 

The formal had been progressing smoothly so far, apart from the few drunken incidents here and there, which you discreetly handled and made a note to provide less alcohol at these events. Much to your delight, your professors had introduced you to some attorneys whom you deeply admired, commending you as one of their finest students in the year. You had taken the chance to network and mingle with them, eagerly seeking out internship and shadowing opportunities for your upcoming holidays, particularly in the field of civil litigation, and many of them had given you their contact details for you to contact them should you wish to work with them.

Aemond stood by you like a silent shadow, watching but not saying much, but your professors also praised him, introducing him to many esteemed alumnus. And once they had learnt that Aemond was from the prestigious Targaryen family, many of them immediately took to flocking Aemond, asking him many questions about his family, his plans for studies, and so on. A slight burning sensation of envy rose in your heart as you watched Aemond disinterestedly converse with them. Why wasn’t he taking it seriously? Had it been you, you would be seizing the opportunity to network with them. 

‘He's a Targaryen,’ you sighed internally. ‘Of course he wouldn’t. It’s been pretty much handed to him on a silver platter his own life anyway.’ 

Sullenly, you slipped away, making rounds around the party to ensure that everything was progressing smoothly. Still, it couldn’t curb the irritableness you were feeling, so you snatched up a bottle of whiskey from the drinks table, pouring yourself a glass. Then two. Then three. Then four turned to seven and seven turned to thirteen glasses. Your surroundings blurred as time seemed to slow, and you sighed, feeling a heady pounding in your head. 

“Are you serious?” A gruff voice interrupted you in your fifteenth? Twentieth? Glass of whiskey, and you looked up from where you had sunk into a plush armchair, a glazed over, slightly cantankerous expression on your face. 

“Well, well,” you hiccuped, lifting the glass to your lips. “If it isn’t Mr Bigshot Targaryen.” Aemond sighed in annoyance, knowing you were picking a fight again. He made a quick assessment of your surroundings, noting two empty whiskey bottles and a third one that was almost drained. Seven fucking Hells, you were drunk. 

You let out an indignant yelp as a hand plucked away your whiskey tumbler, setting it down with a definitive clink. “Hey, I was drinking that!” 

“You’re fucking drunk out of your mind, little bookworm,” he said quietly, crossing his arms. “I’m taking you back to your dorm.” You hiccuped again. “You’re not my dad, Targaryen. So why don’t you just run along and socialise with those schmoozy lawyer friends of yours, hmm? They were all eager to have a piece of you. Or have you grown tired already?” 

Aemond wanted to smack you in the forehead. Oh, this godsforsaken woman. “I may not be your dad, yes,” he rumbled, snatching away the whiskey bottle that you were reaching for and making you curse at him. “But I would be damned if I let you get drunk on your first Christmas Eve spent away from your family.” 

You gave him a confused look. “Is it Christmas Eve?” Aemond frowned. He put a hand on your forehead, to check for a fever, which you promptly batted away. “Have you lost all your senses? The winter formal was scheduled on Christmas Eve, remember?” 

“Oh.” was all you could say, lamely. “I…I was so busy. I didn’t remember.” 

Aemond sighed, taking a seat in the armchair next to you. It was good that it was late and most of the guests had already left, so the both of you had some privacy. The vast hall was empty now, save for a few cleaners. “You know, you have got to take more time for yourself. You take on too many commitments.” 

You hiccuped, snorting softly. Perhaps it was the liquid courage, but you felt a strong inclination to vent out all your previous frustrations on Aemond right now. Who the hell did he think he was, criticising you for your decisions? 

“Yeah, and it’s all your fucking fault.” Aemond’s eye widened incredulously, his mouth dropping open. “My fault? Pray tell, did I ever tell you to overwork yourself that you forget to keep track of when Christmas was?” 

“It’s because of you that I have to overwork myself!” you blustered out, a tidal wave of emotions overtaking you. “Because you’re always so fucking perfect, and smart, and good at every single goddamn thing under the sun. Meanwhile, compared to you, I’ve always had to work twice as hard. And yet, I never come close to beating you. Despite how many fucking extracurriculars I have, how many A’s I get, how much praise I get for being ‘one of the best students in the grade’, it’s never fucking enough! Because you’re always the best! And I’m so sick of it!” 

After your tirade, you deflated like a balloon sucked clean of its air, collapsing back against the armchair. You felt hot wet streaks cascading down your face, but you didn’t care anymore. You were just so tired…it wasn’t fair. Why did he have to be so perfect? 

The touch of a hand on your shoulder startled you, and the next thing you knew, Aemond Targaryen embraced you, gently stroking your hair as if you were a lost child, and he was consoling you. Despite your mind screaming at him to let go, it didn’t translate to your physical actions. You just…stayed there, sobbing in his arms. “I hate you so much, you know. You’ve always had everything handed to you on a silver platter, and it’s like you don’t even care. You always treat things for granted,” you continued rambling on, the dizzy sensation in your head gradually increasing. 

Aemond was silent for a long time. He never anticipated you to feel this way, and the shock from your revelations sent his head reeling. He sighed, how could he ever tell you that he had a stupid crush on you since you were little kids? That his attempts at teasing you, riling you up, were all so you could just look at him for a second longer, even if it was with a scowl? How could he tell you that none of his A’s or first place trophies could make him feel the same fuzzy way he felt whenever you looked at him? He opened his mouth to speak, debating on whether to comfort you, or tell you all his feelings. “Y/N-” 

With a start, he realised you were asleep in his arms as you let out a snore, body slack in his arms. He sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. Wonderful. This was just the Christmas Eve he wanted. 

The sound of an alarm jolted you from a deep slumber. You flung off the blankets covering you, sitting up in bed and rubbing your eyes. “Ugh…” the pounding in your head was overwhelming, it was like there were a party of elephants having a fiesta in your brain right now. “What time is it…” you reached for the alarm clock to turn it off, only to freeze when a hand reached for it before you did. 

You and Aemond Targaryen stared at each other, wide-eyed, in the dim light of the dorm, while the red digits on the clock read, “6a.m.” 

You were the first to react, frantically struggling as you scooted to the far end of the bed. “Aaaahhhh!” you screamed, clutching the duvet closer to you for protection. “What the fuck are you doing in my dorm?” 

“Wait, we didn’t-” you looked down at yourself, noting with palpable relief that you were still in your winter formal attire, though you stank of alcohol. Thank the Seven. 

Aemond rolled his eyes, grumbling as he switched off his alarm clock. “No, we didn’t sleep together. And this isn’t your dorm. It’s mine.” 

“Then what in the name of the Seven and all that is holy am I doing here?” You hollered at him, the confusion coupled with the pounding in your head making your surroundings spin. “Ow…my head.” 

“Yeah, it’s called a hangover,” Aemond snided, taking a seat on the bedspread. “You know, for drinking nearly three bottles of whiskey last night.” 

Your eyes went wide in horror. “Last night…” You weren’t the type to forget what you did while drunk, so your memory quickly raced through last night’s events, where you got drunk, and…fucking shit. 

You squeezed your eyes shut, muttering curses under your breath as you remembered what had happened last night. Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap. An awkward silence had lapsed in the room, as you struggled to find words to acquit you of this predicament. ‘Me and my big mouth while I’m drunk.’ 

“I’m sorry,” you both blurted out at the same time, before breaking off, staring at each other awkwardly. “Wait, why are you sorry?” you questioned him, looking dumbfounded. Aemond sighed, smiling wistfully. “Isn’t it obvious? For making you feel that way. I…I had no idea you did.” 

“It’s fine,” you cut him off brusquely, awkwardly fiddling with your fingers as the duvet slowly slid back down. “It’s all just fucking stupid, anyway. Let’s just let it go-” 

Suddenly Aemond seized your hands, holding onto them with some sort of restrained anger. Startled, you stared up at him, as his one eye glazed over with pain and sorrow. “Of course it’s not fine. Don’t brush aside your feelings like that.” you stared at him, stupefied. What had gotten into him? 

Aemond inhaled deeply, looking down at your hands. “You know…how I lost my eye over the break last year right?” You nodded warily, not sure where this was headed. Aemond’s voice shook a little as he recounted that incident. “It was because Luke was drunk, really. He wanted to pick a fight with this guy because he had stolen his girlfriend. And then next thing we knew, his goons surrounded us. Then, I think maybe it was the heat of the moment, or adrenaline…but Luke had a glass shard in his hand, and he accidentally attacked me.” You felt your heart plummet to your stomach. “What?” 

Aemond smiled, a contortion of pain and feigned impassivity. “He was drunk out of his mind, he probably thought I was one of the goons by accident. By the time Jace pulled him off, it was a little too late.” He sighed. “You know, the drunk part I can forgive, but the worst part was that my father didn’t even care to hear my side of the story. He just said that we should’ve been more careful.” His voice hardened, “I was angry, because he just chose to brush this under the rug, pretend like we were still one big happy family, like Luke didn’t slash out my eye in a drunken rage. He didn’t try to comfort me, or understand my situation. And I just…” he shrugged helplessly. 

You bit your bottom lip, looking at his scarred eye. “I’m sorry…that must have hurt. A lot. Your dad is a dick.” 

The ghost of a smirk lingered on Aemond’s lips. “Yeah…he is. I’ve made my peace with it though, and Luke has never stopped apologising since that day. So it is what it is.” He hesitated, before reaching up tentatively, taking off his eyepatch. A gasp sounded from you as you took in the sapphire crammed into where his right eye should’ve been. “...does it look scary?” Aemond asked you, his voice small. You shook your head, unable to tear your gaze away. “It’s not. It’s…quite beautiful, actually. Even though it’s a bit macabre.” 

Aemond chuckled, gently brushing aside a strand of your messed up hair. “My point is, don’t try to just brush things under the rug, okay? It never did anyone any good, and it won’t for you as well.” You shifted, a faint sense of discomfort prickling your skin. “But why…are you telling me all this?” ‘Why are you being so nice? I hated you.’ 

Aemond barked out a rough laugh. “Isn’t it obvious? I have a crush on you, little bookworm.” 

You blinked. Once. twice. Thrice. “I’m sorry, what?” 

“I have a crush on you. Since we were kids." Aemond repeated himself, his voice light with amusement, but tender. “Did you know why I always teased you? Why I always wanted to make you frustrated? It was because I wanted your attention. I didn’t care if it was negative or positive, which in hindsight, didn’t seem like a good choice.” 

You stared at him, mouth agape. He-he can’t be serious, can he? 

“You don’t have to say anything,” Aemond said quickly, releasing your hands. “I just wanted you to know how I felt. No brushing things under the rug, you know.” Still, Aemond could feel his heart breaking a little at your silence. He had shot his shot, even though you made it clear that you disliked him. He shouldn’t expect much. “Little bookworm?” he asked carefully, observing your expression. 

“For someone so smart., you’re a real idiot, you know that?” Aemond opened his mouth to answer, but before he knew it, your lips were on his, as you launched yourself at him. Aemond’s eye widened, but then you mumbled, “You’re supposed to kiss me back, you know.” 

Then, with a choked laugh, Aemond did, reaching up to cup your cheeks and stroke them with his thumb as he returned the kiss from the girl of his dreams. Your lips moved in perfect tandem to one another, filled with tender, sweet desperation. “I’ll be an idiot, an annoying pest, anything you want.” Aemond murmured, his lips breaking away for a moment. “As long as you keep tormenting me, as long as you’re still here. I would be your anything.” 

You laughed, feeling slight tears prickle at the corner of your eyes. “You’re such a doofus, you know that?” Aemond flipped you over, making you land on your back with a yelp, as he hovered over you, smirking. “I know. But I’m your doofus.” 

Aemond continued kissing you, his hands roaming across your body sweetly, carefully. “This is probably the best Christmas of my life,” Aemond muttered softly against your lips. Your eyes widened, “Shoot, I completely forgot again.” Aemond laughed, sitting up and looking down at you with a naughty grin on his face. “Well, I actually have a present for you, you know.” 

You raised your eyebrows, looking up at him. Even in nothing but an old, faded sweatshirt and some sweatpants, he looked like a vision sculpted by the Seven. “Oh? And what might that be?” 

“Me, of course,” he said smugly, leaning down to kiss you again. You let out a few whimpers as you felt his hands slowly sliding up your dress, creeping up your thighs…into your panties. 

“Oh!’ you gasped out, as Aemond found the spot between your wet folds. He grinned devilishly, “Already wet for me, hmm?” You rolled your eyes at him, groaning as he teased your wet slit with the pad of his finger. “Just shut up already.’ 

Aemond wiggled his eyebrows mischievously, “Why don’t you make me?’ You blinked, not quite comprehending his point. “I want you to sit on my face while I eat your wet little cunt,” he delineated bluntly, looking at you hungrily. “It’s a victory for you, no? You get your pussy eaten out, and shut me up at the same time. Hell, if I wasn’t so eager for a taste of your pussy, I would’ve grumbled at the unfairness of it.” 

You stared at him incredulously, but you felt the slow rise of arousal in your abdomen as he continued looking at you challengingly whilst teasing your folds, and you decided, why the hell not? “Game on, Targaryen.” 

He grinned, putting his finger in his mouth and groaning as he tasted your essence. You clamped your legs a little tighter at the sight. “You taste so fucking good already. I can’t wait to feel your cunt on my mouth.” Deft fingers helped you out of your gown, and you tossed it away carelessly, moving to take off your underwear. Aemond’s eye trailed over your naked form shamelessly, and he planted a soft kiss on your neck. “Beautiful.” he murmured. You felt your cheeks heat up, but decided to sass him a little. “Well, are we going to wait here all day, or?” Aemond grinned, a handsome, wicked expression that made your stomach do flips. “Definitely not. I need to taste you now.” 

He laid back on his pillows, gesturing at you. “Come here. Now.” You swallowed, crawling towards him, angling your cunt to his face. “Don’t suffocate or anything, okay?” You quipped as a joke, but Aemond only smirked. “No promises, sweetheart.” 

He pulled your hips down towards him, and you let out a pleasured gasp as his tongue flicked across your clit. Moaning, you dug your nails into the wooden headboard of his bed, writhing and shaking slightly as Aemond devoured your pussy. When he pressed the tip of his nose up your slit, you let out a mewl, eyes rolling to the back of your head. 

You rode Aemond’s face eagerly, as he pleasured you without much regard for his own safety. A few times, you were so concerned that Aemond had not come up for air in so long that you tried to move your hips off his face, only for him to firmly grip you by the hips and pull you back down again. With Aemond’s insistent licking and sucking, you felt a coil beginning to form in your stomach. “Oh, god, I’m cumming, Aemond-” you moaned, but your moan was cut off when Aemond lifted you off his face, smirking at you smugly with his face coated in your juices. “Why’d you stop?” you whined, pouting. 

Aemond chuckled. Oh, you were just so adorable sometimes. “Because I want your first time cumming with me to be on my cock,” Aemond explained, looking eerily calm, like he hadn’t just nearly drove you to climax with his tongue. “On your hands and knees.” 

You gave him a scolding look, but Aemond only repeated himself, sterner this time. “Now, princess.” The nickname earned a shiver from you, and you found yourself obeying, shifting on your hands and knees. You heard Aemond dispose of his own clothing, and your legs quivered in anticipation as he came up behind you. 

He chuckled darkly, landing a few gentle spanks on your ass. “Gods, this ass is magnificent. I’m going to have to spank it someday.” You had to bite back a moan as he leaned over you, whispering sweetly into your ear. His other hand wandered to your chest, pinching and then rubbing your sensitive, hardened buds, releasing a shaky, shuddering moan from you. “You would like that, wouldn’t you? Having my hands all over this perfect ass of yours? Leaving red handprints over it? Hmm?” 

You nearly choked on your saliva as you fought to answer, “Yes, daddy.” He groaned, smacking your ass lightly for a few more times. “Good fucking girl,” he punctuated each word with such raw intensity it made your cunt ache for him. Oh, how you craved him.

As if he could read your mind, Aemond began to enter you, groaning as he did. Inch by inch, he sunk in, watching his cock disappear inside your warm, wet folds. “Gods, you are so fucking tight,” he swore, his hands gently going around to pinch your nipples. You yipped, which brought a smile to his face. How could someone be so perfect? 

Your legs were quivering at this point, and you were barely hanging on by a thread as Aemond sunk into you slowly, reaching places so deep and so pleasurable. You moaned, just how big was he? 

“All in, princess,” he whispered affectionately, stroking your hair gently. “You okay?” “Yeah…” your voice was slightly raspy from the pleasure. “Good.” Aemond kissed down your spine gently, making goosebumps rise up on your skin. “Do you want it hard and fast, or slow and gentle?” 

Biting your lip, you managed to stutter out, “Slow, please. Need to get used to you.” Aemond smiled, hands trailing down your abdomen. “Anything you want, princess.” 

Then, Aemond began to move, and the world dissolved into a fuzzy nothingness as he did. He was so careful, taking his time with you, thrusting so deep inside you it elicited the most delicious, deep sighs and moans from you. “Oh…that’s the spot,” you murmured as Aemond’s cock hit your g-spot, making you see stars. Aemond chuckled darkly, one hand moving to play with your hardened nipples, watching as you arched your back into him. “I’m going to go faster now, alright, princess?” he murmured, the other hand soothingly trailing down your spine. You barely managed to gasp out the words “yes” before Aemond began to thrust harder and faster in you, hips ramming into yours as his cock stroked the most sensitive spots inside of you. 

You moaned, panting needily as he did, feeling your ruined orgasm beginning to creep up again. “Aemond, am gonna come-” A guttural moan torn from Aemond’s throat as he heard that, his hands moving to flip you over as his movements slowed. “No.” He nearly snarled, turning you around to face him. “You come looking at my face, princess. Understood?” 

You nodded, too desperate for your orgasm to object, as Aemond wrung moan after moan out of your pliant body, mouth kissing and biting everywhere on your neck and shoulders, leaving his marks all over you. He groaned as he began laving his attention on your perky tits again, mouth sucking at them harshly, teeth grazing over the nub. You shut your eyes, too lost in the pleasure as Aemond continued pounding into you, gripping your hips tightly. 

“Eyes open, darling, or I won’t let you come,” Aemond’s rough sounding command made your eyes snap open, and he grinned roguishly as he saw your eyes fixed on his face. “Atta girl. Are you close?” 

You nodded, pleading, “Please let me come, Aemond. Can’t last much longer…” 

“I know, darling. I know,” Aemond groaned, leaning in to kiss you again. “You’re just a needy little slut for me, aren’t you?” You nodded frantically, anything to make him let you cum. He chuckled, “Thought so. It’s alright though, daddy likes needy little sluts like you, so long as they’re obedient. You’re a good girl, aren’t you, princess?” 

“Yes, yes, I am,” you cried out, hands moving to grip at the sheets tightly. “Oh god, I’m going to come, I’m coming-” 

Aemond’s fingers moved downwards, and his thumb rubbed over your clit, coaxing you towards your orgasm. With a loud cry, you came all over Aemond, eyes squeezing shut in unadulterated pleasure. Aemond’s thrusts didn’t slow a bit, as he chased his own high, groaning. “Do you want me to come inside, or…” 

“I’m on the pill, don’t worry,” you reassured him, looking up at him, smoothing his white-blonde locks back from his forehead. He looked like an angel, all sweaty, his expression filled with pleasure and hunger and affection as he looked down at you. An angel of lust. 

Aemond moaned at that, feeling his dick twitch before he spilled inside of you, hands going to grip at the headboard tightly, as he rode out his orgasm. 

Aemond collapsed onto the bed next to you, taking you into his arms. “I should probably get you cleaned up,” he murmured softly, “But I just want to be selfish for a while, and cuddle with you a bit. That okay?” You nodded, leaning your head onto his chest. A content sigh burst from your lips. “More than okay. We can just shower together later, anyway.” 

Aemond hummed in approval at your proposal, kissing your forehead gently. The both of you stayed in each other’s arms for a while, basking in the afterglow of sex and in each other’s company. 

“Hey, princess?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Merry Christmas.” 

“Merry Christmas, Aemond.”

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thank you for reading! if you liked it, likes, comments and reblogs are always highly appreciated! merry late xmas guys 😘🎄

[somewhere-south-of-neutral]

Senior year of high school, a classmate and I both received the STAR award, which is given to the student or students who get the highest SAT scores in their graduating class each year. The award ceremony was held at the clubhouse of an old wealthy social club, the kind that, in Atlanta at least, probably doesn't want you digging into its past. I am Jewish, and the other recipient from my school was Black. Most of the honorees, students from high schools all over the city, were members of one minority or another. A large number (though I don't remember if it was more, less, or equal to half) were also women. I remember thinking that there was a good chance that almost none of us would have been allowed into that room before the 1980s. And then I remember thinking, as one student after another who didn't fit the white, Christian, male mold these clubs were built to cater to went on stage to accept their award, that our presence in that room was a victory in more ways than one.

I have been to Masada, from which you can still see the outlines of the Roman warcamps that besieged a doomed band of Jewish rebels and where, nearly two thousand years later, an Orthodox rabbi tearfully looked up from the ruin he was investigating to inform the watching archaeologists that the ancient mikveh they had found, the oldest we know of, was kosher.

I have stood in the ruined Jewish quarters in Lisbon and Madrid, where there are very few Jews anymore. But I was there, and I did not need to hide. I have been to the former headquarters of the Spanish Inquisition, where, in buildings made of bricks hewn from the graves of my forebears, they orchestrated my nonexistence. But I was there, and I existed, and the inquisition did not.

I have been to Savannah, GA, where the descendants of those who fled the inquisition founded a synagogue. The Inquisition headquarters were in ruin, but that synagogue still stands strong, and people still pray there. It is beautiful.

I have been to Berlin, where less than a century ago a plot to ensure that I could never exist, along with the descendants of many other minorities, was hatched and came frighteningly close to succeeding. But I was there, and I walked the streets visibly Jewish, made so not by a badge of shame but by my kippah, which I wore, and still wear, proudly wherever I go.

I have been to Prague, where centuries ago, according to myth, the rabbis created the golem, a magical protector built out of necessity to shield the community from harm. The golem is not there, but the community still stands. The Great Synagogue is one of the most beautiful and ornate buildings I have ever been to.

In every generation they have tried to destroy us, but we are still here and they are not. These next four years, and likely many after, will be hard. They will be steered by those who want us dead, and when I say us I mean all of us, any who do not fit their very narrow mold, but we will survive. And, one day, our (literal or figurative) descendants will stand in the places where they plotted to destroy us, and they will be free, and they will work to undo the damage, and their presence in those places will be a victory in more ways than one.

Good luck. Stay safe. We will get through this together. I love you.

[ateez-himari]

J-HOPE DISCHARGE CEREMONY

Jin brought an unexpected guest to celebrate his bandmate's military discharge

October 17, 2024 (8:41PM)

J-Hope enlisted in mandatory military service on April 18th last year and was finally discharged today after completing his eighteen months of duty holding not only the rank of Corporal, but the title of Special Class (Elite) Warrior as well. Unfortunately the only member present at the site, as announced by BigHit days prior, was the group's eldest, Jin, who completed his own service earlier this year, along with Suga's younger sister, ATEEZ lead vocalist Himari.

While people have just now begun uncovering the closeness between these artists, what happened during the ceremony solidified any findings circulating through social media platforms as the seniors beckoned the young woman to celebrate with them. When the rapper stepped out with a large bouquet in hand, those present at the scene believed the flowers to have been offered as a congratulatory gift by those stationed alongside him until he handed them to her.

Widely known to be rather soft hearted it was no surprise when the maknae was caught tearing up when sharing a tight embrace with him, and those watching what little clips were uploaded from the live stream reportedly got sentimental alongside them. J-Hope himself was seemingly attempting to hold back the wave of emotions that came with seeing her after so long, and although he did not touch on their reunion much during the Weverse live, the reason behind the flowers was finally revealed.

"I couldn't properly celebrate her debut as a fashion designer, or her surpassing 200 KOMCA credits...I missed a few milestones for her career so I wanted to let her know that I was watching and that I'm proud of everything she's done."

Himari was clearly overjoyed at the mere fact that her senior had returned and posted some heartwarming pictures to her personal Instagram account's story, showing what the two got up to prior to her attendance at the Elle Style Awards that evening;

Photo Source; @/min.himeeee on Instagram

Translation; 'Thank you oppa' - 'I missed you'

Even amongst so much happiness some keen eyed netizens noticed the vocalist hopefully searching the military base's grounds in hopes of seeing her older brother - which the rapper confirmed later that evening saying she did not get the notice posted by the company and thought they would get a chance to reunite shortly. Atiny were able to find some sense of relief for their maknae as he closed off this personal topic by promising that until they could be with one another again, the two discharged members would make sure to support and care for her like he would and would not fail to continue afterwards.

On this note; Welcome back J-Hope! 💜

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[bballlvr8]

this is kind of long sorry lol.

Azzi Media Day Availability 

Feeling Really Good and Strong.  Close to being back at full practices. 

Doing most at practice, still on “load management”. Doing most stuff. 

Learned that Sarah is really good. 

Feeling great about the squad, very young, so many new pieces, working on chemistry. Every week is looking better than the last. Kaitlyn is smart, adjusting getting use to the program. Makes the right reads and decisions 

Having Allie on the team: Great Shooter, Great scorer, reads the floor really well, will help open up the floor. 

How is Paige different or better this year? Taking her leadership role very very seriously, because she does not have the other seniors (Nika and Aaliyah to rely on). Try to fill in that void. being a strong voval leader. Doing really good she’s been able to see that shift in Paige. More aggressive (offensively and defensively) said that she’s really been taking charge which she loves to see

The team is working on nipping the bad habits now and not letting them linger. Having discipline and holding eachother accountable is going to help them go a long way. 

Seeing KK and Ashlynn more comfortable, KK trying to be more vocal, Ashlynn being more confident, says its nice to see them settling in a little more. 

Her Goals on being back: Hasn’t really had that conversation, but they are taking it step by step. She’s feeling good on where shes at in practice and adding more makaing sure her knee responds well. 

Asked if she could see the light at the end of the tunnel on her rehab: She said “oh forsure” shes never been so happy to practice in her life, its a great feeling. 

Thoughts on Champion Classic and game against USC: Thinks its going to be incredible you see the energy that barclays can have, and being one of the first groups that get to play there is going to be special. 

Says that she was surprised to be back at Media Day (if you are selceted for a preseason award you get to come). Says that shes been here every year and that she has not made it through a year yet to get an award lol. Nice to see but you still have to prove it. 

Still in the phase of getting her feet back under her, getting use to the pace, playing with other people!!, spacing and the flow of offense. said her shot is alright right now lol.. she has her days, working on giving herself grace because she knows she is not going to come back  and be 100% right away after being out for 10 months. 

Said giving herself grace has been very important because she does have high standards for herself and she does want to see that ball go in everytime she shoots it lol.

She’s doing 5x5 with contact, and say yeah its been fun lol. 

Her time away has forced her to see the game from a different prespective, slows it down for you. Thinks it going to help her going into this year. 

Questioned on whether paige gave her any advice on coming back from an acl injury at the collegiate level: She said not really lmao. Said she’s a great hype woman, and if she needs anything she knows paige is there for her as is all her teammates. 

Excited for any game she gets to play. 

Talked about being sidelined and watching how the game has taken off (viewership wise) said that she felt it was really special because they weren’t just fans of basketball but were fans of them as well, said getting see the little kids that come up is so heartwarming. Said its crazy to think that they are role models to them. 

Said that Paige was crazy; they asked if she could go to a football game and be in class the next morning, she said not for football but for another sporting event most definitely 

Talked about Paiges World and Work Tour 

Talked about being an upperclassman and understanding what the coaches want, and how everything works.. feels that will be able to help her coming back to the game. 

Talked about books and listening to Rod Wave. Said she hasn’t really read recently because shes been reading so much for class. 

[inmyheaddd]

gold rush - grayson hawthorne x reader

warnings: academic rivals not really to lovers/ friends to lovers, kissing, very fluffy wc: 1.7k masterlist

grayson hawthorne sat across from you in your biology class in your senior year. you’d known him—or of him—all the way through high school.

you two were practically the two top scorers in everything. 

you two would always cross paths; in class, award ceremonies, extracurriculars, anything academic-related, honestly.

but you two never really spoke though, up until now.

you always sort of hoped you’d be partnered up with him for something: an excuse to talk because you knew neither of you would speak to the other first. 

the opportunity finally arose when your biology teacher put you together for your end of semester project. 

you can’t lie, the first time you met in the library to do work was awkward. 

something about him always intrigued you, so you bit the bullet and tried to start a conversation.

his “strictly work” mode was boring, but once you two got into a flowing conversation, he quickly warmed up, and his eyes looked much more inviting than they did 20 minutes ago.

“sometimes i geniuenly can’t understand what he’s saying with that accent of his, i think we need a scottish translator in the class,” you said with a soft laugh. 

you two had been sitting in the library for around 30 minutes now, with no work done. 

you didn’t have to worry about disturbing anyone by talking, it was just you two in the whole place.

he chuckled at what you said and you felt your stomach do a backflip when you saw dimples flash for a split second. 

he had dimples. god, could he get any cuter? 

“i much preferred our teacher last year, miss hawkins”

a smile found your face, “oh my god, yes, she was the sweetest!” you put a hand on your chest, almost in awe, thinking one of the best teachers you had. 

“she’d always round up my scores and talk about students and teachers with me when i’d finish my work.” you couldn’t help but laugh at the memory of gossiping with your 30-year-old biology teacher at her desk.

“so that's what you two were always doing.” a smile stretched across his face, then he continued, tilting his head to the side slightly and furrowing his brows, “isn’t that… somewhat illegal?” 

“hey, it gave me motivation to finish early. let me live.” 

he shrugged, “i’m not telling.” he made that sound like a challenge.

“so you won’t let any underlying jealousy from me being biology student of the year get in the way?” you teased him right back.

“oh i’m not jealous, believe me.” you raised your eyebrows at that, and he spoke again with a grin. “you just told me half of it was because miss hawkins would round your grades.” 

your mouth fell open. “okay, yeah by like one percent!” you crossed your arms over your chest. “there’s no need to be rude here.” you leaned back in your chair, like you were truly appalled. 

grayson saw right through you, and after 2 seconds of staring at each other in silence with your lips twitching upwards, you two fell into a fit of laughter. 

when you two recovered, he spoke again, “you did deserve it, though. you’d be the only one answering questions in class half the time.” he said, looking in your eyes deeply, reminiscing on times that seemed so far away now. 

“don’t count yourself out, hawthorne. you were like the only person who took that class seriously.” 

“apart from you?” he finished your unsaid thought with a tiny grin on his face.

“yeah,” a smile formed on your face, “apart from me.” 

an hour later, still, with no work done, you were talking about books.

he was a nonfiction and classics reader. and you, well, you were definitely not. 

“okay, why don’t you read little women then? it’s also a classic, but it's not boring.” 

“actually, now that you mention it, i have had my eye on it for a while.” 

he said that so calmly, if only he knew how much his rating just went up in your head.

“well if you want, i could lend it to you, i have an extra copy.” you both knew he was very capable of getting his own copy, but this way, it felt like you were actually building some sort of relationship together.

“that would be nice, thankyou.” he smiled once again, and it was like your face mirrored everything he did.

you glanced down from your notebook to him and, then back to your empty notebook and laptop that was now turned off in realization.

you two hadn’t written a single word down.

he was watching you, and you tilted your head back up. “oh my god, we haven’t done a single thing.” 

it was honestly kind of funny, or maybe, everything seemed to be funny right now with grayson. you had that, airy, light, and giddy feeling. 

you were surprised you weren’t giggling at every word he said like a mad woman. 

he shrugged, humming slightly in disagreement before speaking. “i’ve gotten to know you, that’s more important to me.” 

oh. 

okay. just act normal. be chill about it.

“oh, yeah, it’s nice to get to know you too.” 

you were 99% sure your face was the colour of your red school tie.

he smiled at you, and his dimples you saw flash earlier were on full display now.

“we should get some work done, then?” he suggested, after a beat of silence and ever so slightly awkward eye contact, putting you out of your misery. 

“yeah, we probably should.” you let out a nervous chuckle.

grayson thought he made you uncomfortable with that. he’s actually known you for less than a day; how did he even let that thought slip out? he was never like this.

the next time you met in the same library, you brought your little women copy. you honestly forgot about it because you fell into conversation so quickly, but soon enough it was pinging in the back of your mind, and you told grayson.

“you really didn’t have to, thankyou.” you heard the smile in his voice as you looked through your bag to get the book. “i wanted to,” you replied, as you handed him the book. 

his gaze caught yours with a smile, and then he was flicking through the book. 

‘you annotate?” his eyes sparked with interest, and he was hoping the way he was so totally enamored with you wasn’t so obvious on the outside.

“oh,” how did you forget that you wrote inside of that copy? “yeah, nothing really special, just thoughts or whatever.” 

“that’s good, it’ll be like you’re there reading with me.” 

“yeah,” your cheeks were heating up, and then he looked down at the book in his hand before looking up and asking another question. “would you mind if i wrote in it as well?” 

oh my god. 

“no, no, of course not!” good thing you didn’t sound too eager… 

“i mean, i’d love to see what you think about it.” and if it was possible, he smiled deeper, flashing his dimples that you’ve quickly grown to love. 

once you both handed in your project, he decided to ask you out on a “celebration” date. just two friends hanging out. nothing special!

you arrived at the coffee shop 15 minutes early, only to find grayson already sitting there. 

your heart fluttered as he looked up and caught your eyes. he did a small wave, and smiled at you.

“hey,” you said as you sat down, scooting in your chair closer to the table.

“hi,” he did a once-over on you, and he realized this was the first time he was really seeing you outside of anything school related. “you look lovely,” he spoke his thoughts out loud.

“thank you,” you added, “you don’t look too bad yourself.”

he chuckled, “thank you.” 

you fell into comfortable conversation, and 20 minutes later, you were both done with your drinks. iced coffee for you, black coffee for grayson. the weather was perfect, and he suggested a little walk, you couldn’t think of a better idea. 

a waiter came to your table for the tab, and you reached in your bag. “please, let me,” grayson interjected, and gave you a look that left no room for argument.

you thanked him and smiled, leaning back into your seat as he paid, knowing damn well the only things you brought with you were your phone, gum, and lipgloss. 

as you both stepped outside, the warm sunlight bathed the streets in a golden hue. you and grayson strolled down the sidewalk, making light conversation and sharing stories. you found yourself leaning into his side, subconsciously wanting to be closer to him.

“i have to admit, i’m really enjoying little women,” he said, glancing at you with a smile. “your annotations make it even better.”

“i’m glad you like it, it’s one of my favorites.” you replied, feeling your cheeks warm again.

after a few moments of comfortable silence, grayson turned to you, looking thoughtful. “you know, i’ve really enjoyed getting to know you these past few weeks. i wish we had done this sooner.”

“yeah, me too, i've been having a lot of fun." you said softly, meeting his gaze.

grayson smiled, and his hand brushed against yours. “i’ve been meaning to ask you something,” he began, coming off as hesitant for the first time in his life. “would you like to go out on a proper date sometime?”

you heart skipped a beat, and a smile spread across your face. “i’d love that.”

relief washed over his features, and his dimples were starting to make an appearance again. “are you available this saturday?”

you felt as if your words would fail you with the excitement you felt bubbling up in your stomach, so you simply nodded, mutters a small, “yeah, i am.” with a nod.

grayson was already thinking about all the places he’d take you and what you’d enjoy; he was going to make the most out of it. 

as you continued your walk, he reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. the simple gesture alone made your heart soar.

“you know,” grayson said with a playful glint in his eye, “i never got to tell you my favorite part of the book.”

“oh?” you asked, slightly curious.

“it’s the little hearts you draw next to your favorite quotes,” he confessed, a hint of a blush on his cheeks. “i think it’s endearing.”

you laughed softly. “i didn’t realize you’d notice that.”

grayson slowed down his walking, coming to a stop and looking at you. “ i notice a lot of things about you.”

you felt your heart drop, like there was a whole zoo in your stomach. you felt yourself lean in, but you barely even registered it. you hesitated, unsure of how to respond, and he gently closed the distance and kissed you, his touch soft and unexpected. it was a brief, sweet kiss that made you feel like you were floating. 

when he pulled away, you both were smiling. 

you’d never get tired of those goddamn dimples.

[elliotly]

the 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂thon prize is a highly competitive award, given to a single senior in each graduating class who can match the ardess administration’s 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴

[accio-victuuri]

from this article about wang yibo’s new show with discovery channel 📝

Discovery Channel's latest masterpiece "Exploring the Unknown" officially announced that Wang Yibo's first outdoor exploration full record

Produced by Warner Bros. Discovery and exclusively broadcast on Tencent Video, Wang Yibo's outdoor exploration documentary program "Exploring the Unknown" has officially been announced. Starting from August 31, the 12 episodes will be updated twice a week on Tencent Video. Actor and singer Wang Yibo, as the initiator of the program, will follow six Discovery Chinese explorers to start an outdoor exploration journey deep into the polar regions. Cheng Er will be the special interviewer to explore Wang Yibo's mental journey and personal growth in participating in the program.

It is the first outdoor exploration documentary program that Wang Yibo has participated in. The program unites six top survival and outdoor experts in China: Lao Xue, a jungle survival skills expert, Zhou Peng, a leader in China's mountaineering community and the first mountaineer to win the "Asian Golden Piolet Award", Wang Hao, an extreme explorer who focuses on cave exploration, Zhou Fang, a natural documentary director and senior underwater videographer, Abang, a world-class rock climber and rock climbing instructor, and Wu Xinlei, a former member of the French special forces and desert survival expert. In the 12 episodes of the program, they accompany Wang Yibo to six extreme geographical destinations such as snow-capped mountains, deserts, islands, and tropical rainforests to complete the exploration mission.

Through real-life footage it presents the audience with the entire process of natural wonders, exploration challenges, emergencies, and outdoor fun. In the trailer, Wang Yibo follows the explorers to extreme environments such as snow-capped mountains and tropical rainforests, and embarks on outdoor challenges such as rock climbing and waterfall rappelling, showing a strong learning ability and sense of skills. When exploring the snow-capped mountains, Wang Yibo faced altitude sickness, quickly adapted and handled it calmly, and successfully reached the summit; when rock climbing, he faced the danger of the rope falling off, but he still did not give up the challenge... His determination and attitude to overcome adversity, his passion for love and exploring the unknown, show the vitality and vigor of young people.

The program not only presents the process of young artists exploring the world, but also focuses on exploring the spiritual world of explorer Wang Yibo. Through six exploration themes, Wang Yibo constantly challenges his physical limits, explores the boundaries that the body can reach, discusses topics about growth among young people, and shows Wang Yibo's attitude and thinking towards big topics such as living, ups and downs in life, fear, and loneliness. Each challenge brings him one step closer to his true self. Contemporary young people can project their own mental state into the program and follow Wang Yibo on a journey to find inner answers and inner strength.

[bad268]

new req idea but Kimi and reader being “she fell first but he fell harder” trope and reader is also a dancer and there can be a part where reader is practicing and one of her friends is prob in the room prob resting or smth and they catch Kimi (he went to visit her) looking at reader with a lovesick gaze like HES SO IN LOVE WITH HER BYE IM A DANCER ALSO SO

You Are The Reason (Andrea Kimi Antonelli X Dancer! Reader)

Fandom: RPF/F2/F3

Requested: Clearly (As an ex-dancer, I had fun with this <3) (Also, shoutout to @67-angelofthelordme-67 for the spam, you literally gave me the will to knock out three stories lol)

Warnings: None, but friend’s nickname is Peaches in honor of my actual best friend and no I will not elaborate :) Also, the song referenced is You Are The Reason by Calum Scott

POV: Second Person (You/your/She/her)

W.C. 1389

Summary: The Senior Solo (trademark) that changed it all.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

Dancing has always been a passion of yours. For as long as you can remember, you have been dancing. Your parents enrolled you in dance classes at age two, and you have not stopped since. You started competing at age six, and you even won national titles throughout your years. 

Despite your major success in dancing, you always tried your best to maintain relationships with your friends. Dancing was your passion, and it was incredibly time-consuming. You ended up moving to Bologna, Italy when you were about 10 years old, and you met your neighbor, Kimi, who happened to be in a similarly demanding sport.

Anytime that he was home for the weekend, you made sure that you did not have a competition. Since you chose which competitions you competed in and he could not choose his karting races, it just made sense to maintain the friendship.

Well, the friendship eventually blossomed into a relationship, and that relationship, ultimately, played a role in you leaving competitions. Kimi’s karting was ramping up rather quickly, and you were happy with where you were at in your dance career and all of the awards you won. You were more than happy to take a step back if that meant others could also succeed. You have also made the step into the professional world. You were modeling for different dancewear companies, being asked to be on Dancing With The Stars, and you had been in a few auditions where you got the role you wanted. Plus, you started mentoring the minis. Your schedule was jampacked, but it’s not like you were ready to leave the dance community entirely. You just stopped competing every weekend. You also wanted to start supporting Kimi during some weekends, and this step back allowed for that. 

This week, though, Kimi had an F2 race, or training with Mercedes, you’re not entirely sure. You were too excited because your dance company director said they were hosting a showcase, and you were chosen to have a senior solo. When your dance company director pulled you aside to tell you this, you were ecstatic. You already had the song and some of it choreographed since you hoped to at least compete one last time before you graduated out of your age category.  

You could not wait to finish it, so you pulled your friend, Peaches, in to help you choreograph the last few counts. 

“What if you did a jump or turn here? Like use the space,” Peaches chuckled as they paused the music. You two were locked up in the main studio since it was roughly the same size as the stage, and all of the other classes had ended for the day.

“For the instrumental part, I could do a giant circle and have pirouettes and chaines and run through the center at the end for the last couple of 8 counts. Like this,” You responded as she rewinded the song to the climax of the song, and let you test out the moves. You ran up to the mirror as the music slowed back down and you paused for a second, staring into your eyes. “Can I have the room? I want to try something, but I don’t know if it will work and the last thing I need is for you to hold this over my head.”

“Yeah, I’ll be in the hall. I’ll go get us waters first,” Peaches laughed, knowing immediately where you were coming from, so you got up and left you to your devices. Unbeknownst to you, not only was the entire dance company standing outside the room, looking through a couple of small windows, but Kimi was also there, watching in admiration. Peaches looked around at everyone as most of the dance company dispersed to look like they were doing something else, but Kimi stood still. He was mesmerized, so Peaches walked to stand beside him, gently bumping into him before whispering, “Is this what we’re doing? Creepily staring at your girlfriend? I’m in.”

“I am not creepily staring at her,” Kimi tsked in defense, but as the silence grew, he started thinking about it. “Okay, maybe I was, but she’s so captivating. I can see why she’s won so many times.”

“At least you’ve got eyes,” Peaches joked with a small laugh, “Anyway, I’m going to get us water. Don’t make it obvious you’re staring.”

Peaches took off down the hall to one of the storage rooms where they stored water bottles while Kimi sat in silence as he watched you move throughout the room. When it came to the part you were previously working on with Peaches, you kept going on for the last 8 counts. This was the part that you wanted to try alone because if it worked, in theory, it would look beautiful, but if it didn’t, it could look sloppy.

You ran up to the mirror before pausing, taking a couple of exaggerated breaths. You slid down to the floor and did a few slow and sharp floor tricks before getting up, and doing one of your signature moves. Then, for the last few beats, you held yourself together with one arm crossed over your chest, holding your shoulder, and the other across your stomach as you swayed as the song faded out. 

As soon as it ended, you squealed, running over to where your phone was propped up, recording the entire dance. You rewatched it and immediately knew that this was the dance you wanted to be your senior solo. You ran out of the room to show your company director, but you found Kimi standing in the hall, staring blankly into the studio with tears in his eyes. 

“Kimi? Mio amore (My love)?” You said softly as you walked up to stand beside him. “Did you like it?”

That snapped him out of his trance as he turned to you and immediately pulled you into his arms. He hid his face in your neck as a few tears slipped from his eyes as he whispered praises about the dance. When he finally pulled away, he moved his hands to your face as he gave you a passionate kiss. He pulled away but did not let you go as he leaned his forehead against yours.

“Ti amo (I love you),” he whispered as he gazed into your eyes.

“You’ve never said that to me before,” You replied in awe as you looked up at him. “I love you too, but this is the first time you said it.”

“What can I say? Seeing you in your element makes me fall harder for you,” He answered with a joking eye-roll. “You’re beautiful, inside and out, and your dance is perfect. The emotion you show when dancing is insane. How do you do that?”

“Do you want to see the dance with the music?” You offered as you pulled back, running your hands from his sides to hold his hands as you pulled him into the studio when he nodded. “Shoes off, and maybe this will help answer your questions.”

He took his shoes off as he took Peaches’s original seat by the computer, and that’s when he was able to see the song choice. You Are The Reason by Calum Scott. It was a song you referenced a lot when talking about Kimi, and he immediately knew he was the inspiration behind the dance.

“Would you mind playing it from the beginning?” You asked as you finished setting up your phone to record and got into your starting position.

You ran through the dance with more emotion than the last time, thanks to Kimi being in the room this time, and Kimi did not think he could have loved the dance any more than he previously did. Every part of the dance fit with the music, and he could not find it within himself to even blink, not wanting to miss even a millisecond of your performance. By the end, he was overwhelmed with love. He ran up behind you and held you against his chest as he looked at you through the mirror.

“If I were a competition judge, I’d say that was a perfect score,” He praised as he left a kiss on your temple before leaning against your shoulder and swaying with you.

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[duskier]

In school, my dumb little headcanons for the 141 were as follows:

Price was a total dork. I'm sorry, he was president of debate club or something like that, way too obsessed with military history to the point where it was uncomfortable. Definitely on high school trap team.

Gaz was that popular kid who was never involved in drama, just kept to his own business, got valedictorian (Totally was a tutor for math and everyone crushed on him) and got lead in his senior musical.

Soap was a class clown and absolutely a teacher's nightmare, drew on all his tests (especially when he didn't know answers) organized his senior prank for the school, burned down a stadium on accident. Got honors awards regardless because despite not doing homework because he aced tests like mad.

Ghost was genuinely forgettable. He wasn't remembered by anyone, just the quiet kid you groaned when you got paired up with for team work because you knew he wasn't gonna talk.

[beforeimdeceased]

A GIRL IS MISSING: SMALL TOWN, BIG PROBLEMS 🪰🔎🚬

synopsis: what happens when a young girl goes missing and you volunteer yourself to help find her?

a/n: this is like…i’m trying something new okay! let me know if you want a part 2 i hope you like my experimental mystery/thriller. please give feedback it’s highly appreciated! 🙏🏽

masterlist

everyone had gathered at the church on joneston, down the road from the chicken shack. you can’t miss it. everyone had been gathering there for days in the sharp cold of the winter. runny noses and swollen eyes. some crying, some from lack of sleep.

a young girl was missing. that was the headline of the town newspaper for the past 48 hours. missing poster plastered on the front. sweetest smile you’d ever seen.

dina woodward was witty, quick on her feet and excelled in all her classes. graduated from high school and went on to work at the local bakery for her gap year. just saving up for a car. she was in plays, never missed a festival, and lit up every room she walked into. that’s what everybody said. that’s what you wished you could say.

the truth is, you didn’t know her very well. you’d gone to elementary school together but she was bit off and hung out with a different crowd. all the way up till senior year. her friends were the ones with the tear swollen eyes.

ellie williams, her neighbor and girlfriend, had chosen the picture for the missing poster. you talked to her once and the conversation went like, “hey, do you know what time it is?” “2:30.” “thanks.” lined lips, freckled face, smelled like car oil and the cigarettes she pretended not to smoke in the stairwell.

abby anderson, her enemy turned friend, couldn’t even look up. her face was in her hands as she hid her wails. they had gotten into a fight about some miscommunication during lunch one day. threw the whole middle school into a ruckus. team dina and team abby. the brunch moms talked about it on weekends, you’d heard them while you sat off to the side as your mom waited tables. drunk ladies blabbering on about who should apologize first. they ended up settling it after a game of volleyball. real dramatic handshake. some people clapped.

jesse, last name unknown due to you never being awarded the chance of knowing it, was her ex boyfriend and right hand. as an outsider you predicted that it would’ve been messy. the way they’d broken up and she was seen slipping off into dark corners with ellie a few weeks after, but there was no war. no bloodshed. only whispers of drama from bored admirers and jealous bitches.

your eyes were sunken on account of your lack of sleep. days at the post office, mixed with nights at the police station, molded with mornings in the church for the search party meeting was a recipe for disaster on your sleep schedule. not that you could sleep anyway, too busy dreaming about finding her dead in a ditch somewhere. waking up sweating like a whore in church-

“alrighty! thank you all for coming again today. looks like the crowd is a bit smaller than it was yesterday, but let’s not fret. we’re all going to work together to find her.” maria, leader of the search party, wavers her gaze to the three close friends of dina. face falling into a sympathetic gaze. “we’re going to find her.”

that second sentence sounded far less convincing than the first one. you knew, and they knew, that with this shit weather there was no way she could have disappeared for a week and survived out there on her own. she could’ve been kidnapped, oh god that’s worse. let’s stop thinking.

since the crowd had gotten smaller, the groups maria had configured were forced to shrink. too many lone soldiers and people without partners. she had to start being strategic. playing on the strengths of each individual, hoping they’d all make well rounded teams. then she pointed her finger at you, then at the blonde, then at lips in a line, then at sweet jesse and she smiled in your face.

“and you guys will be team 4.”