#my cousin got two bags full even though she has so many clothes already

[thursdayg1rl]

realising that I need to be chosen at least once in my life or I will literally die and that is not an exaggeration

[collecting-stories]

Jolly Rancher - JJ Maybank

Request: Hey! Do you think you could do an imagine where the reader is Sarah’s twin and all the pogues are at a party or on the boat and her blood sugar drops really low (she has type one diabetes) and her pump keeps beeping. She is mid passing out, not feeling good and rafe has her Insulin so little bit of big brother rafe worried about his little sister and JJ and her not being together yet but he was super worried about her (like all of the pogues tbh). Thanks xxxx I really love your writing 🥺 every time you post something it makes my day

A/N: I did moderate research for this because the only person I actually know with diabetes is a cousin I don’t speak to. 

Outer Banks Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

In hindsight, taking the Druthers out in the bay for a party after sunset wasn’t exactly the best idea you and Sarah had ever come up with. And yeah, technically, taking the boat out would have been totally fine and acceptable but none of you had considered bringing anything but alcohol with you. Six pogues (two honorary) on a yacht in the middle of the bay with just alcohol and weed. It was a bad combination in any version of the world but especially in this one, where you’d been pregaming white claw because you were finally, finally, gonna tell JJ how you felt about him.

The crush had been a saga ongoing since you had first discovered JJ Maybank, which coincided with discovering that boys, while terrible, were incredibly attractive. And sometimes...not too terrible. John B had started working for your family the summer before highschool and at the same time JJ started to pop up. Around the Druthers when John B was cleaning the boat, in a neighbor’s yard mowing the grass or cleaning the pool. And then at the Island Club. By then you’d started hanging out with Kiara and her friends and JJ wasn’t just some cute guy who was friends with John B.  

“Honey,” Kiara laughed, reaching for the can of Naturdays in your hand, “I think you need to slow down.”  

“I’m fine.” You promised, knee jerking rapidly as you gulped the rest of the drink down before Kiara could take it from you.  

You weren’t a heavy drinker. The last time you’d gotten drunk was in ninth grade, at a house party on the cut with Kiara. You’d guzzled down one too many Pabst trying to act cool in front of JJ and had ended up in the hospital in diabetic shock. Once everyone was sure you weren’t going to die, your father had laid into you about how irresponsible you were and how you had acted like a child. It was embarrassing, mostly because you were still saddled to a hospital bed and your friends were standing in the hallway, well within ear shot of Ward.  

After that, you stayed away from anything more than two drinks at a party and you always kept your insulin with you. Except, apparently, for tonight. You’d gotten yourself worked up over confessing your feelings to JJ and the possibility of rejection that you were well on the way to drunk. And your insulin was in your backpack, in Rafe’s truck.  

“You’re not fine.” Kiara laughed, “you’re like, buzzing.”

“Buzzing,” you offered her a dopey smile as you leaned forward, whirling your pointer finger around as you made buzzing noises and tried to poke her.  

“What the hell?” She swatted your hand away, “are you sure you’re okay?”

The commotion was enough to get Sarah’s attention and she turned away from John B to look over at the two of you. “You’re like vibrating babe,” Sarah said, “you’re really jittery.”

“Fine, I’m fine...I’m all good.” You promised, bracing your hand on Sarah’s shoulder as you went to stand up. You missed your footing, tripping over the air and hitting the deck before either Kiara or Sarah could catch you.  

“Oh my god!” Kiara got down on her knees next to you and helped you sit up, leaning partially against her. She pushed your shirt up so that she could check your pump and noticed realized it had been going off. “Hey, do you have like...something to boost her blood sugar? I think it’s dropping really low, I can’t really read this?”

“It’s definitely low.” You replied, hands shaking as you checked your pump, “yeah...too much...too much alcohol.”

“Where’s your insulin?” Sarah asked, crouching down so she could try to meet your eyes, “hey, look at me, where’s your insulin?”  

You hummed, a little too long before finally looking at Sarah, “uh, Rafe’s...shit, Rafe’s truck.”

“Are you kidding me? Fuck!” Sarah cursed, getting up to grab her phone so she could call him, “John B, can you take us back?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he nodded, heading for the ladder.  

“Here!” JJ pushed through Pope and Kiara, spilling the contents of his backpack onto the deck beside you. Amongst a change of clothes, some pilfered pens, his wallet, house keys, weed, a stick of deodorant, and a travel toothbrush, was a bag of jolly ranchers. He grabbed a green one out and unwrapped it, holding it out to you, “here, it’ll make you feel better.”

“You have a bag of jolly ranchers in your backpack?” Kiara asked incredulously.

“Of course,” JJ replied, “if her sugar drops she said one jolly rancher usually does the trick.”  

It was a stupid thing to smile about, especially since you were currently using Kiara to hold yourself up and sucking on green apple jolly rancher, but you couldn’t help it. You had mentioned that ages ago, the first time you went out with the pogues after your drunken night turned ER visit, as you sat on the dock next to JJ. You had doubted he’d even cared and been embarrassed afterward for just rambling on about yourself but he remembered.

“You remembered,” you said as JJ sat beside you, letting you lean on his shoulder as the yacht headed back to the dock.  

Sarah had gotten a hold of Rafe quicker than she expected. He was already talking when he answered the phone, telling her that he was on the way back from Topper’s. According to Rafe he turned his truck immediately, that was what he told you later, when you were feeling more like yourself again. That he’d realized your backpack was still sitting on the passenger seat and he did a u-turn right there in the middle of the street. You weren’t sure that was totally true, your older brother’s pension for dramatics and your family’s obsession with treating you like a baby.  

Usually, it felt stifling but right now you were feeling pretty shitty about yourself. The jolly rancher did exactly what it was supposed to, boosting your blood sugar enough that you were beginning to feel better.  

“What were thinking?” Rafe called the minute he boarded the Druthers, “you know alcohol makes your blood sugar drop!”

“I know, I know!” You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. You’d moved from the floor to the couch, JJ leaving your side the minute your brother ran up the jetty. “I’m not a kid Rafe,” you muttered, grabbing your backpack from him.

“Really? Cause you left your bag in my truck and you’re out here drinking your ass off.” He snapped.  

“She’s okay,” Sarah urged.

“What if she wasn’t?”

“I am! And I’m right here!” You huffed, “Rafe, thank you and I know you were worried but I’m okay.”  

Rafe sighed, running a hand through his hair, “I’m not trying to be dad here...but you can’t take risks like that, you know better.”  

“I’m fine!” You slung your backpack over your shoulder and pushed passed Rafe, climbing down the ladder to the jetty. You’d apologize later, for now you were irritable and embarrassed and you just wanted to be back in your room, locked in where no one could see you and remind you how horrible this entire night was. The only decent thing that had happened was JJ but the more you let yourself psychoanalyze everything that happened the more you were positive that the pogues just saw you as a kid too. Like you couldn’t take care of yourself. Like you hadn’t been for the last ten years, since you were diagnosed.  

The Druthers said docked but you couldn’t tell from your bedroom window if everyone had gone home or if they were still hanging out and partying. You thought about texting Sarah but she would just tell you to come back down to the dock and stop pouting in your bedroom. You did your usual checks, to make sure your blood sugar had gone back up, and changed into comfier clothes. Even scrubbing off your makeup...you’d let this shitty feeling die before you saw anyone again.  

Or at least, that was the plan. As you were sitting in bed though, a knock at your window startled you. Not just a tap but a full-on knock. You climbed out of bed and went to the window, laughing when you saw JJ standing on the small balcony off your room.  

“What are you doing here?” You mouthed, reaching for the lock so you could open the window.

He pointed to his ear and then shrugged his shoulders, “I can’t hear you.”

You rolled your eyes as you pushed the window open and sat on the sill, “What are you doing here JJ?” You were trying your best to calm your racing heart, the last thing you needed was to go into cardiac arrest in front of him too.

“You left the party.”

“Not exactly in a partying mood...I was being stupid tonight.”

He sat down on the windowsill beside you, facing out toward the backyard but turning to look at you, “hey, I’m stupid every night.”

“You know what I mean,” you laughed, “I’m so careful...I haven’t had a night that bad in a long time.”

“Why weren’t you? Careful, tonight, I mean.” He asked.  

“It’s stupid.” You put your hands on your knees and looked away from him. You’d hyped yourself up to crashing lows and now he wanted you to tell him why? “You should go back to the party.”

“Not really in the mood...can you believe it?” He laughed like it was nothing but you could hear the heaviness in his voice.

“Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault...I just meant. If you’re up here, I don’t really feel like hanging out down there.”

You bit down on your bottom lip and looked over at him, feeling just the slightest catch in your throat. For a second you thought this night was going to get even worse and you’d throw up...but instead you just started talking, words falling out with no control, “I pregamed with Sarah before we even got on the Druthers cause I told her I was gonna tell you tonight that I liked you but I was so nervous that you would tell me you didn’t wanna date me so I just kept drinking...” you said. You realized a moment later what the implication was, “not that its on you that my sugars dropped...or like, not that you have to say you like me just cause I almost passed out.”

“What if I do like you though?”  

“You do?” You asked, shifting more toward him, “seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously...why do you think I came all the way up here? Or carry around jolly ranchers? I like you...I’d do anything for you.” He replied.  

You couldn’t stop the smile on your face as you leaned closer to him, “oh well, now it’s definitely your fault.”  

He laughed, “let me make it up to you.”  

You nodded, standing up and climbing back through the window before holding your hand out for him. JJ was quick to his feet, taking your hand and pushing the window closed as he followed you further into your room.  

[titan-fodder]

Prima Vista Part IV

[ previous ]

Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader wc: ~ 9.6k

Warning: a big helping of abandonment/daddy issues, lots of feelings, explicit sexual content A/N: y’all are gonna be so soft and then so mad lmao. 

The plan was to go to Mike's house then back to campus. You said you didn't have anything to do at your mom's, that a long phone call would suffice, which is why Mike is confused when you ask him if you can stop by before going back. It's an hour out of the way, but it's not like he has anything better to do, and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't curious about your humble beginnings. 

 The house is in a decent-looking neighborhood, small, nearly identical one-story homes surrounded by cracked sidewalks. He has to be careful not to trip as you make your way to the front porch, pots of dead or dying plants along the edges of it. You shove your key into the lock, twist and open, then motion for Mike to follow. 

 The den is dimly lit, ceiling fan above with only one working bulb. A crime show is playing on the TV but there's no one watching. There is, however, another light pouring from a back room, and as soon as you drop your bag on the couch, a head pokes out from the doorway. 

 "Baby girl!" A shrill voice cries, and Mike sees you grimace. "I thought you weren't coming by!" 

 A woman walks into the den wearing long, cotton shorts and an old tie-dye shirt then pulls you into a hug so tight that it makes you cough. 

 "Mom," you take a deep breath as if to refill your lungs with all the air that was pushed from them. "This is Mike."

 He holds out a hand and smiles, but all your mother does is stare with round eyes and blurt, "Oh, he's a big boy." 

 "My fucking god." You don't yell or whine, just pinch the bridge of your nose and mumble, "Just shake his hand please." 

 "Sorry, I'm sorry, just was not expecting… You didn't tell me how tall he was."

 "'Cause it doesn't matter. Why would I—nevermind," you cut yourself off, face falling flat just like your voice. 

 Mike isn't sure if he should be flattered or offended or embarrassed, so he just ignores the comment entirely and says, "Nice to meet you." 

 You make your escape to the back, dragging Mike with you before shutting your bedroom door and leaning against it. 

 "Mom is a little weird, but you'll always know where you stand with her," you tell him. "Also, sorry about the house. She’s a teacher, so she’s usually pretty beat at the end of the day. Not enough energy to do a lotta cleaning."

 "Didn't even notice," he reassures you. 

 Mike unpacks his bag next to you, and you gather the dirty clothes from both yours and his, balling them up and taking them with you out to the garage to throw into the washing machine. Mike should have done it at his parents', but as you were packing up that morning, his mother got all teary eyed and his dad just kept shaking your tiny hands and telling you to come back, so it just didn’t happen. 

 Back in the living room, your mom is sitting in an old rocking chair, and Mike thinks you'll take a seat on the adjacent couch, but instead you ask, "You need help with anything? Dishes or vacuuming or somethin'?"

 She looks up at you, fly-away hairs sticking out around her temples and forehead and responds, "It'd be nice if you could do the dishes. I just haven't gotten around to it."

 "Can do," you nod and walk into the kitchen, opening the dishwasher and making a displeased noise at the dirty plates and bowls inside. There's room for a few more, but once it's full and running, you just clean what's left in the sink by hand. Mike finds a towel, stands next to you, and holds his hand out for every scrubbed dish, drying it and placing it in the rack to hopefully be put up later. 

 "You hungry?" You ask when you're done and drying your hands. "It's almost one."

 "Uh, yeah. I could eat." 

 Truthfully, he's starving having only had a small breakfast at his parents'. He doesn't want to say that, though, doesn't want you making a big meal for him or apologizing for anything. 

 "Sandwiches okay?" 

 Something in your tone has him on edge. Your voice is too quiet, deflecting downward as if you're forcing each word from your mouth. 

 "Yeah," he nods. "If you get the stuff, I can make 'em." Mostly so that you can relax but also because there's no way he's gonna let you make him a fucking sandwich. 

 You shrug your shoulders, grab bread, lunchmeat, cheese, and condiments, then say, "You can make ours. I'll make mom's."

 He knows he's missing something, but he doesn't know what, and right now he's too afraid to ask. 

 He eats next to you on the couch, you and your mom watching TV as Mike tries to subtly glance around. Mounted shelves are decorated with dusty, mismatched figurines, cracks opening at the corners where the walls meet the roof. The brick fireplace is stacked high with plastic tubs and books, probably from your mother’s classroom, and the carpet has seen better days. 

 Mike isn't judging—not in the least—but he has a feeling he knows why being here puts you in a sour mood. The house feels lived in, cluttered and cozy and worn around the edges, but it's still empty somehow. 

 After the three of you are finished eating, you take the paper plates and dispose of them, then tell your mom that you'll be in your room. She gives you a soft smile that you struggle to return.

 It's a little more you in the bedroom, blue walls covered in old posters and collages, a quilt similar to the one in your dorm folded at the bottom of your bed. Your pillow cases are faded and covered in an old flower design that matches your sheets, and there's a small nightstand next to the headboard that's bare on top with wrinkled papers poking out of the bottom drawer. 

 "It's not much, but if you wanna snoop around like I always do, feel free." 

 Mike doesn't really want to, especially since you already seem so uncomfortable in what should be a safe space for you. The only thing he feels okay investigating is the old bookshelf next to your closet—mostly YA novels, some poetry books, an old set of The Lord of the Rings series, a textbook over rocks and minerals and another over volcanoes. Tucked away in the bottom shelf is a tiny booklet that looks like a photo album, and Mike has to fight the urge to pull it from its place and flip through the plastic pages. Anything to get to know you better. 

 You lay in bed, eyes locked on the ceiling, and Mike doesn't know what to do. There's a very small TV sitting on your dresser, an old DVD player next to it, so he figures he'll save both you and himself from talking by picking out a movie. 

 He fingers through them, not that there's a lot, just skims the spines until he pulls out a copy of Space Jam. You only glance at the screen when the intro starts, and Mike immediately zeroes in on the way your jaw sets and your brows furrow. 

 "I can pick something else," he tells you quietly. 

 You take a deep breath and shake your head. Slowly but surely your features begin to soften. 

 "'S'fine."

 "Are you sure?" 

 "Yeah. My, uh…" You swallow loud enough from Mike to hear, neck bobbing with the motion. "My dad and I used to watch it all the time."

 He doesn't know what to make of it or how to respond. In the months he's known you, Mike has never heard you mention your father a single time, and he's never asked in fear of what your response might be. 

 He moves your quilt to sit on the very edge of the bed, a little too tense as he heavily contemplates ignoring what you'd said and still switching movies. 

 "You can lay down, you know," you mumble. "I'm not gonna bite you."

 "You have before," he tries to act casual, but it comes out too stiffly.

 You laugh through your nose— "Suit yourself—" then get more comfortable on the mattress. 

 Michael Jordan gets pulled into a golf hole and the Loony Toons journey to retrieve his shoes from the real world. Mike is barely paying attention, more focused on the way your breathing evens out until it becomes slow and deep. 

 That's good. You could use a nap. 

 He watches you for a while, the way your eyelashes flutter against your cheeks and your lips part. You're all curled up on yourself, hands tucked under your chin, knees to your stomach, and Mike wants to slip behind you so badly, to pull you to his chest and lay with you until his heartbeat syncs with yours. 

 But first. 

 As carefully as he can, Mike stands from the bed and glides to the bookcase. He lowers himself in front of it, quickly finding what he's looking for and pulls it from the shelf. 

 It's a small little album, full of polaroids and old pictures cut in half. The first page sets the tone for the rest of the booklet, a photo of a very small you outside eating a popsicle next to a man that is most definitely your dad. You've got a similar facial structure as well as his coloring. Not to mention the expression he's wearing is one Mike has seen you make many times before. 

 The next picture is the two of you dressed up for an event. He's in a striped Polo and slacks while you're in a little checkered dress, a rose corsage on your tiny wrist. Some kind of father-daughter dance, Mike guesses. 

 Sitting on his lap at a fair, a chubby little boy a few years older than you standing close with a stuffed snake around his neck. A party where you're posed with an honestly frightening costume character. You in a bright, mesh jersey standing back to back with your dad, arms crossed, looking at the camera with your chins tilted upward. 

 They all look like good memories. The little boy in the fair picture appears several more times, and as he loses his baby fat, Mike sees the resemblance he shares with you and your father. It's too close to be a cousin—your eyes and mouths shaped the same—so he must be your brother. 

 Mike doesn't know how to feel about that because again, you've never uttered a word. As far as he knew, you were an only child, so why…

 He gets lost in the pages, watching you grow and pose mostly next to your dad. Smiles and laughs and silly faces with your tongues sticking out. Your mom is in some, brother in others, and then, you're in a cap and gown, grinning widely next to your dad who's beginning to gray at the temples. His own smile is barely there now, a ghost of what was seen in the previous photos. It's forced, it's sad, and it's the last picture in the book. 

 Mike's chest hurts. He wonders what happened, when exactly you'd lost him. Was it a quick goodbye, or had it been drawn out and painful? Had he been sick for a long time? He'd looked perfectly healthy in all the shots. Maybe a car accident that took both him and your brother…

 He flips to check for one last photo on the back of the page, but it's empty. However, tucked in a tiny, paper pocket is a folded up note that Mike stares at for a few solid minutes, debating the pros and cons of reading it. He knows he's already violated your privacy by looking through the album, and fuck, he's only been in your house for a couple hours at most—how has he already managed to tumble down such a humongous rabbit hole? 

 Your tiny snores reach his ears, and Mike gently pulls the note out, biting his lip as he unfolds it as quietly as possible. It's soft, like it's been read too many times, and the letters scribbled in all caps are beginning to fade, but the words are still legible. 

 It starts with your name, and then it's all apologies—sorry I can't stay, I have to leave, you don't understand how much this hurts me and so on. 

 Mike's eyebrows pull together the further he reads, blood pounding against the walls of his arteries, pulse picking up because he understands now.

 Your father wasn't in any sort of accident; he just left. 

 The letter ends with a gut-wrenching, You'll always be my little girl, and Mike nearly crumples the paper up to throw away. He resists somehow, simply folds it with shaky hands and slips it back into the pocket at the back of the album. 

 He's never been so mad at a stranger in his life. This must be it. This must be why you are—

 "Should've known you'd go straight for the photo album." 

 Your voice makes Mike's body jolt, his face heating as he turns to look at you with wide eyes. 

 "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean—"

 You wave him off and prop yourself up on an elbow. "It's whatever."

 But, it's not. It's this huge part of you that still affects you to this day. Mike is no psychologist, but he has a pretty good feeling this is the main reason you hold everyone at arm's length. 

 "Why didn't you ever tell me?" 

 "What's there to tell?" 

 Sitting up fully, your gaze moves to the screen just in time to see Michael Jordan step off of the spaceship and onto the baseball field. I Believe I Can Fly is playing, and you're gritting your teeth. 

 "It's not anything that comes up in normal conversation anyway. I wasn't just gonna hit you with it outta nowhere. Also," you look back to Mike, eyes still sleepy, lips pulling downward in a frown. "I'm not the only one who hid stuff about my family."

 Mike sighs and quietly tells you, "That's different," as he closes the album and slides it back into the row of books. 

 "Is it, though? Is it really?" 

 "I..." 

 Mike shuts his mouth and actually thinks on it. He wasn't trying to lie to you about his home life or his heritage. He's only half Greek on his mom's side, after all, and he's only been to the country to visit family a couple of times—once when he was a child and once right before college. The culture is a little different over there, but it all seems so natural to him, especially after being raised to speak the language. 

 Honestly, he didn't ever tell you because he didn't think to, but Mike can understand the shock of walking into his childhood home and getting thrown through that loop. It must have been jarring for you. 

 It's a positive aspect of his life, though. It's not something that's damaged him or made him cold toward others. And, he hates describing you in such a way, but it's true.

 At least it makes sense now. 

 "I guess not," he shrugs. He's not about to fight you on it. 

 You stare at him for a while, waking up a bit more as you rub your eyes and stretch. 

 Then, you flop back down on your pillows. 

 "So. Any questions, Zacharias?" 

 He's surprised that you're asking, and though he doesn't want to twist the metaphorical knife in your gut, he still replies honestly: "Too many."

 A long exhale through your nose, and then you're patting the mattress next to you and grumbling, "Fine, I'll do my best, but you gotta come up here."

 "Why? You gonna need to cuddle afterward?" He can't help but tease. 

 "Fuckin' maybe, dude! We're about to get into my god damn trauma so—"

 Mike is up on his feet and flying toward the bed. He isn't about to sabotage the one fucking moment you're opening yourself up. 

 "Alright, what first?" You ask, trying to look bored, but Mike can clearly see that you're nervous. 

 "He left." 

 "Yeah."

 And then he gets the full story. 

 Your dad was pretty perfect during your younger years—a bit of a workaholic but still good. He took you to dances like the one you'd both dressed for in the photograph. You'd spend days at amusement parks where he'd carry you on his shoulders. He coached the basketball team you'd played on as a child.

 "Not saying he played favorites, but I was definitely closer to him than my brother was."

 The brother who developed a drug problem at fourteen, who was always either out with his little addict friends or at home where he would just scream at you and your mom. 

 "He went to rehab a couple times, but it didn't stick." 

 He left home at seventeen and hasn't gotten in touch with you or your parents since. 

 "I keep thinking one day we'll get a call from the police saying they found his wallet on a fucking corpse, but who knows. Maybe he got clean. Maybe he started a family somewhere else. He'd be twenty-five now."

 "Were you ever close with him?"

 You shrug. "We spent a lot of time together when we were really little, but even back then he was kinda a mean kid."

 It very quickly circles back to your father. Mike still doesn't feel like he has all the answers, so he asks through the skin of his lip, "Why'd he leave?"

 At this point, you've got your head in his lap as he sits against the wall. He smooths your hair back from your face every once in a while, something his mom used to do to him when he was very young that always soothed him. 

 He hopes it's having the same effect on you, thinks it might be considering you've had your eyes closed for a while now, humming now and then as you talk. 

 "Honestly, I don't really know. I don't think he and my mom were ever in love. Like, they just kinda settled for each other," you sigh. "They didn't have a lot in common. They had different upbringings. But, they didn't fight or anything—not in front of us. They were good at hiding the hard times from me and my brother. They just didn't… click."

 Mike bites his tongue, wonders if that was hard to watch or if you'd been too naive to notice. 

 Then, there's his second train of thought that's really just the voice in his head screaming, we click, though! You and I work! But he keeps it to himself. This isn't about you and him. 

 "I think maybe dad had, like, a 'stay together for the kids' mentality 'cause as soon as I graduated, he was fuckin' gone. And, I mean gone. We went to a graduation party the next weekend that lasted a few hours—just me and mom—and when we got back his truck wasn't in the driveway and his drawers were empty. He left that note you read on my desk."

 Mike breathes. Just breathes. He tries to make sense of it, how someone could just do that without a real reason. There hadn't been any explanation in the letter, only apologies. 

 "Have you seen him since?" 

 You open your eyes and reply, "Nope," popping the 'p'. "I don't know where he is, and he hasn't reached out. Mom made the drive to my grandma's—his mom—but she said she didn't know where he was either. Pretty sure she was covering for him, though. She was always kind of a bitch. You know, save for the whole paying for my college and all."

 Mike snorts at this, not that there's anything funny about the situation. It's just his first reaction. 

 You ignore it, moving on with an, "Anyway."

 "Anyway," he mimics. 

 "I don't know if you've noticed in the short time you've been here, but my mom is a little… off. Not super good at taking care of herself."

 "Is this why?" 

 "Clever boy," you show a bitter smile. "I didn't really understand since they weren't, like, in love or whatever, but… I think it was the betrayal more than anything. Like, it came outta nowhere, a big ol' slap in the face."

 "Plus, he left you behind," Mike adds, as if you don't already know. 

 Looking up at him, you raise your eyebrows and smirk. "And, now you know about my abandonment issues." The last part comes out in high-pitched, melodic syllables, a little song that would be funny if Mike didn't know it was a coping mechanism. It most definitely is, though. He can tell that you're the type to mask every issue with humor and sarcasm. It's how you've been dealing with him for the last several months. 

 "So, that's my story," you conclude on an exhale. "Now you know all my dirty secrets."

 "For some reason I don't think that's all of them," Mike pets your hair again. "But, probably the important ones."

 "Mm. I guess."

 The rest of the day is really just spent killing time. You cook an easy dinner that you refuse to let Mike help with, then sit in the den with your mom just like you did at lunch. A medical show is playing. Then a reality show. Then a game show. None of you say much of anything, and it's painfully awkward for Mike now that he knows what happened, but he can power through a few days of this if it makes you feel better. 

 Hours pass until you can retreat, and moonlight shines through your bedroom window, not that Mike needs it. He's memorized your body at this point, knows where to touch without even seeing. He makes sure to be gentle, to suckle and blow on your pebbled nipples as you card fingers through his hair and breathe faster and faster. 

 Leaving love bites down your chest and stomach, he sucks on your skin, gently grazing his teeth over every bruise. Mike wants you to see them all the next day—not a staked claim, just something you can't ignore when you look in the mirror, evidence of his feelings in every mark. 

 When you're finally nice and relaxed, he spreads your legs and licks into you, trying not to be too rough with his beard, but a few swipes of it over your clit leave you shaking in his grasp. You whisper his name, the common one that everyone knows him by, but then, rolling off your tongue like a prayer, you call him, "Miche," and he can't help the rumble that rises in his chest. 

 It should be strange. That's the name only his family uses, the one he was born with. He only simplified it so that kids in school wouldn't ask questions or make fun of him, and after that, it just sort of stuck. But, here and now, falling from your lips, it's so soft. So intimate. 

 You whimper when he sucks on your folds, making them swell, making them sensitive. And then, he's pushing his tongue inside of you and humming happily at the taste. His nose is bumping against your clit, and Christ, you even smell good to him—that ripe, tangy aroma that has Mike going a little crazy. He has to make sure he doesn't get too carried away. You can't make very much noise even with the rattling of the air conditioner, but as he slowly slides a finger into your pussy, he hears you moan around the fist you're holding to your mouth. 

 He stretches you just enough to get you ready, then he holds himself over you and pushes into your wet cunt. Your eyes are open, locked with Mike's as your brow raises and your jaw drops. It's erotic, something you've never done with him before. You typically either gaze somewhere other than his face or keep your eyes squeezed shut. 

 Tonight, though, you've been vulnerable and apparently want to stay that way for a little while longer. 

 He bends to catch you in a kiss, lips and tongues moving just as slowly as his hips, and when you reach to tug at Mike's hair, he pants into your mouth. 

 Those words are there again, stuck in his throat but slowly crawling upward until they're just there, pouring from his tongue, "I lo—"

 Until you cut him off with a sharp, "Don't."

 He makes a noise of frustration, wants to protest because he's so deep inside of you, and you're holding onto him like you want him—truly want him, but you mutter once more against his lips, "Don't say it, Miche."

 So, he doesn't. He bottles the confession up and keeps it locked away, hoping like hell that one day you'll let him tell you. 

 After you climax and coat his cock in slick and cream, he gives a few more thrusts and comes inside of you, filling you with himself and wondering why you're so willing to accept him in that way but not in any other. 

 He's hurting again, like he did at his parents' as you walked around like you belonged there. Except it's worse now. 

 If you don't want him to say it, that means you don't want to say it back. 

 He stays with you for a few more minutes before pulling out. You leave to clean up, and while you're gone, Mike sits on the edge of the bed, head in his hands as he tries to get it all out of his system, whispering it out loud to himself: 

 I love you. I love you, I love you.  

 You still let him hold you as you fall asleep, gripping his hand until you can't anymore, and as Mike drifts off behind you, he has one last thought—Just let me.

* There’s only three weeks left of the semester when you head back to campus, and you intend to make the most of every passing day. 

 You pay better attention in class. You study harder in the library to prepare for final exams. You go to a few more Pi Alpha Kappa parties, making sure not to burn yourself out. And, you let Mike fuck your brains out every few days. Sometimes it’s late at night after those parties. Sometimes you're too tired after the nights of drinking and end up just going to bed only to wake up in the morning and have slow, sleepy sex. Sometimes it’s in the middle of the afternoon when you both have breaks between classes.

 Neither of you bring up anything that happened over the break—meeting families, details about your childhoods, how much you learned about one another in general.

 Most importantly, neither of you address that first night at your mom’s, the way Mike had basically worshiped your body, how he’d come so close to uttering the three words you least want to hear. 

 Thinking about it still makes your chest tighten, your heart beat faster. Sometimes when you’re sharing his bed with him, back pressed to his chest, large arm slung over your waist, you think about why it is you’re so vehemently against it. The two of you already act like a couple most of the time. You walk with each other to class when you can. You stick to each other’s sides at parties. You fuck like rabbits and don’t care who knows about it. 

 And, though you’re hesitant to admit it even to yourself, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t have feelings for him. Mike is your best friend at this point. He’s insanely hot. He’s goofy. He’s kind. Yeah, the frat boy persona he puts on around his friends is annoying, but you understand it a little better now. Plus, he always takes off the mask when he’s alone with you, giving both you and himself a break from it.

 You know your time with him is quickly coming to an end—for about two months, at least—and whenever you think too hard about it, it makes you pout and huff. You’re not looking forward to your summer classes without him, but he promises on several occasions that you can call him while he’s at his parents’ if you ever need help with the material.

 It’s impressive, the way he’s able to act like nothing happened. You know it must be troubling him, but it’s not like you can do anything to soothe him. If he was really upset with you, he would have stopped spending time with you, but he hasn’t. He just bottles it up, keeps smiling at you all crookedly, and keeps satisfying you in the bedroom (more than satisfying honestly. There’s really not a word to describe what he does).

 He’s back to getting along with everyone in the Pike house, everyone being Erwin. It’s a relief just because you don’t have to put up with the tension between them, but it’s also awkward. And, a little frightening. 

 The brothers have Smash Brothers tournaments and movie nights, a few date parties here and there, and it never fails that at some point during the evenings, you find your neck prickling as it always does when you feel someone staring at you. You always hope it’s Mike. Fuck, you wish it was him. But, when you glance up and around, it’s Erwin. Every time. His deep blue eyes are trained on you, the corner of his mouth twitching upward on one side. It doesn’t matter if he’s alone or if he’s got Maddie or some other girl sitting in his lap. He's fucking shameless, and it makes your stomach hurt.

 You keep your mouth shut for the sake of the friendship but also for the sake of Erwin’s pretty face. If he and Mike ever got into an actual fight, Erwin would probably be able to get a good few punches in, but you’re nearly positive Mike would end up destroying him in the long run. That could get him kicked out of school. That could get him thrown in jail. 

 Finals roll around, and you manage to pass all of them without issue, even getting grades above the class average. You feel fantastic, like your long term goals might actually be attainable. You have a long road ahead of you, but your GPA at the end of the year is more than enough to raise your confidence. 

 Mike asks you to come back to his house for the couple weeks between the end of the semester and the start of your summer courses, but you turn him down, too scared of what might happen while you’re there. Acting like a couple in front of his parents will only exacerbate his feelings as well as yours, and you’d like to avoid that as best you can. 

 Even now as you’re standing outside by the Jeep, he tries to persuade you one last time, almost pleading, “Are you sure you don’t wanna come?”

 “Miche, I’m sure,” you tell him, trying to stay stern, but it’s hard when his sea glass eyes light up at the sound of his real name. It’s a habit you’ve gotten into, a bad one considering how much he likes it. How much you like it. “I already told you I wanna spend the free time I have at mom’s. I need to check up on her and… Probably clean, honestly.”

 He lets out a little grunt of disappointment, then nods. “Yeah, I get it.”

 “You saw what she’s like,” you remind him. “Someone needs to drop in every once in a while to make sure she isn’t, like, wasting away or something.”

 “Makes sense. I’ll be bummed, though.”

 “Be bummed all you want,” you smile. “I’ll probably still bother you over break. A lot.”

 He sounds terribly sincere when he mumbles, “You never bother me.” It makes your stomach flip in the way you do not enjoy.

 Mike sighs, taking in one of those deep breaths that makes his broad chest rise then fall, calling attention to it and making you bite your bottom lip. 

 “Alright, I should get going,” he concedes, bending down to kiss you too deeply for simple friends with benefits. It doesn’t stop you from humming into his mouth and smiling against him. You hold him by the back of his neck as he pulls your body close to his, his voice muffled when he tells you mischievously, “Don’t forget to send pictures.”

 It makes you laugh, and you lean back to swipe your tongue over his lips so that he groans and chases after you. 

 “I promise I will. Perv.” The beating sun is nothing in comparison to the way your body heats at the thought. You’ve sent him nudes before, but the idea of him looking at them from hours away, fisting his cock as he admires your body through his phone… It makes seeing him off even harder.

 After a couple more softer kisses, Mike swings into the Wrangler and pulls out of the lot. You stand in his parking space and watch him until he’s out of sight, then walk back to your dorm, dragging your feet the whole way. 

 You only stay at your mom’s house for a week, and just like you predicted, you spend most of it cleaning. She thanks you the whole time but makes excuses in between. You just reassure her that you don’t mind even though you do. She really should see a therapist and sort out the depression she’s been stuck in for a few years now, but telling someone they need professional help is easier said than done. 

 Sleeping in your old bed is much harder this time around. You're all too aware of the weight that isn't behind you, and most nights you lay awake for at least a couple of hours trying to imagine it. 

 Like you’d promised, you send him a few pictures, some of them just lewd selfies with your tits pouring out of the cups of your bra, but others are of your naked body in the bathtub, sometimes a shot of you with your hand between your legs. It feels wrong to touch yourself in your childhood home, but it’s necessary, especially when Mike sends you a few pictures of his own—one with his torso on display, defined abs absolutely mouthwatering and the V of his hips suggestively leading into mesh shorts. Another is of him in the gray joggers he wears all the time, the ones that always show off his cock. 

 He’s so fucking hot it atually hurts, makes your pussy throb as you crave his touch. It’s an awful feeling honestly, but even worse than that is the way you miss him. You aren’t supposed to miss him. You’re just supposed to be friends who have sex. Nothing more than that.

 It's why you’re glad to go back to school. Your classes will distract you, keep you from thinking about him too much. The semester is shorter during the summer, so you have to work even harder than you do during fall and spring. You don’t really think it’ll be a problem since you’re trying to cram your brain full of anything other than Mike which is great motivation for studying. 

 Nothing is gonna get you off track, you tell yourself. Nothing will interfere with your studies. That’s the plan.

 Then, you meet Zeke Jaeger. 

* You're studying in the library. It seems like you spend most of your time here, nice and quiet and empty. The campus isn't nearly as busy in the summer as it is during the rest of the school year. No parties, no sporting events, just you alone with your books. 

 It's nice. Most of the time. A little boring but mostly nice. 

 Your eyes are getting tired, and when you check your phone, you realize why. It's almost eleven PM, meaning you've been studying for about six hours. You've had longer nights, usually spent on the phone getting quizzed on the information you're learning with a few breaks in between, but that wasn't the case tonight as Mike had to spend the day with family from out of town. 

 It's okay. You're supposed to be distancing yourself anyway. 

 Taking a deep breath, you pack up your books and slide your laptop into your bag, then stand and swing it over your shoulder. 

 The strap is too long. The bag swings too hard, and your heart sinks when you hear a little grunt followed by a, "Agh, hot!" 

 Turning with wide eyes, you immediately start apologizing, "I'm so sorry, oh my god, fuck, I'm so sorry!"

 A head of light blond hair looks up from the brown stain on his white t-shirt, icy blue eyes narrowed behind wire-rimmed glasses, but when he sees the mortification on your face, his own expression softens, and he chuckles. 

 "It's fine. You can calm down."

 You're still breathing heavily, guilt making your hands shake, but he really doesn't look angry. In fact, he's grinning now, eyebrows raised like he's amused. 

 The longer you stare at him, the more familiar he looks. You're pretty sure you've seen him before. Many times before, actually, and then it clicks that this guy is on the front page of the school website. You see him every fucking time you log in, looking much more stern than he does now. Baseball hat and jersey, mitt on one hand as he hides his other in it, and yeah, you know him. 

 "You're Zeke Jaeger."

 He makes a face, scrunching his nose up and squinting. "Yeeeeah, I guess I am."

 Best pitcher in the college league despite being a sophomore like you. He's beaten the records of some major league players. 

 You don't give a fuck about baseball, have never even been to any of the school's games, but you've been hearing about Zeke since the last season. You've learned to tune it out because, again, no shits given (and also you're much more partial to lacrosse now), but he's hard to ignore when he's staring you right in the face. 

 "Well, uh," you try to act casual. It's something you're pretty good at these days. "Cool."

 He snorts, picking his shirt off his chest to air it out like it'll help, then says, "I don't know your name, though."

 You run your tongue over your teeth, wondering why he cares, then introduce yourself. 

 "Oh, you're Zacharias' little girlfriend, aren't you?"

 Your stomach flips at the mention of him. 

 "We're not dating."

 Zeke cocks his head to the side. "No?"

 "No. Just friends."

 He hums but doesn't say anything, and your eyes are once again drawn to his chest as he fans over the stain. 

 "Okay, let me get you a new shirt or something," you try. 

 He laughs again. "I highly doubt you've got a men's shirt tucked in that bag of yours, sweetheart."

 "I—" you pout for a second, mumble, "Okay, yeah, fair point."

 "Another coffee, though," he muses out loud. "Wouldn't be the worst thing."

 You shoot him a finger gun and smack your lips. "On it. Where do you get coffee at eleven o'clock?"

 "I'll walk with you," he states more than offers. 

 Then, you're both leaving the library, leaving campus, and going to a little 24 hour cafe where you blow on lattes and cover the basics about each other—philosophy major, valedictorian of his high school class, playing baseball since age seven, etc. You should sleep. You should get ready for another long day of studying.  

 But it's hard to make good decisions when Zeke Jaeger is smirking at you from across the table like you're the most interesting thing he's ever seen. 

* Zeke gets your number that night. You're not exactly sure how, but he does. 

 Then he doesn’t text you for three days. It doesn’t bother you that much. You figure he has other things to focus on. He’s on campus to take a couple courses and practice for the upcoming season, so he’s probably just busy. If that night had just been a one-off, it’s fine with you. It was cool to talk to him, but your heart isn’t broken.

 These are all the thoughts and justifications running through your head when you’re in class on Tuesday and your phone lights up during the PowerPoint lecture. You glance down, expecting Mike or Hitch, but it’s an unknown number instead. Eyes flicking from the projection screen to your much tinier one, you slide to open the message and chew on your lip. 

 Hey, it’s Zeke. You have classes this afternoon?

 You do not. And, you are too quick to tell him that.

 He takes you to a little Mom and Pop restaurant, too far to walk so you end up riding in the black Bronco he drives, trying to convince yourself that it definitely does not make him any more attractive to you. Because you aren’t attracted to him in the first place. Right?

 You sit at a table for two eating paninis and fruit. Zeke asks how classes are going, you ask about practice, and as you talk, he gets that look in his eyes again, like you amuse him or interest him or something.

 It confuses you, and for a moment, you’re taken back to last fall at that first Pi Kappa Alpha party, the one you met Mike at when he tried to get you to shotgun a beer. God, he had been so obnoxious back then, always following you around and flirting and—

 “You listening, sweetheart?”

 Your eyes refocus on the man in front of you, his raised eyebrows and little smirk. “Looks like you’re a million miles away. Sorry if I’m boring you.”

 “No, no,” you try to defend. “I just zoned out for a second. Realized I, uh, got an answer wrong on the quiz I took today.”

 “That sucks,” he hums. “Anyway, I can stop talking about baseball.”

 “It’s okay. Just go over the last, like, ten seconds,” you say with a laugh, hoping your cheeks will stop burning sooner rather than later.

 Zeke chuckles and does just that, doesn’t seem irritated or put out. He tells you about how he has a new trainer this year to warm him up and make sure his throwing arm is in top shape. “I hope he’s as good as my last. Colt was always on it, knew exactly how hot to make the warm compresses and how cold to make the ice packs. Stuff like that. He learned my needs.”

 You both laugh, and if it was anyone else, you’d have an innuendo sliding off your tongue, but for some reason, you don’t think Zeke would want to hear it, like he’d be unimpressed with your vulgar humor. 

 Back at the college, he drives you to your dorm, explaining that he lives in the apartments on the other side of campus and wouldn’t want to make you walk that far. Then, as you slide out of the Bronco, he stops you with a smooth, “Hey,” that makes you look over your shoulder at him. “Make sure you save my number in your phone, okay? I’ll text you soon.”

 The way your stomach flips is worrisome, a feeling you’re only used to when you’re with…

 “Yeah, okay.”

 He grins widely and nods, then waits for you to get a good distance away from the car before driving off.

 No distractions, you’d said. It’ll be good for your focus, you’d said. 

 What a fucking joke. 

*

Mike has to help you with some homework that weekend. You can hear his smile through the phone, snort when he makes his little nerd jokes, then sigh when he gets to the actual subject and explains it to you without a problem. His brain is incredible, and when you think about it too hard, it makes you warm inside. 

 “You’re so fucking smart. Why don’t you let people know?”

 “Maybe I just want you to know,” he chuckles. “You think I wanna spend my days tutoring every idiot who needs help?”

 “Miche, did you just call me an idiot?”

 You hear another breathy laugh followed by a sigh. “I have many, many names for you, but ‘idiot’ isn’t one of them.”

 “Oh yeah?” You play. “And, what might those other names be?”

 He lists a few, all of them making your face flush and your body tingle, and before you know it, you’ve got your pants off and your fingers between your legs. You can hear Mike’s heavy breathing on the other end, the wet sound of his hand stroking his lubricated cock, and when you reach your climax, you moan out your usual, “Oh fuck, oh fuck, Miche.” 

 He tumbles down right behind you, panting and telling you in a voice of disbelief, “Jesus, it just keeps coming.” It makes the pulses of your orgasm even stronger, remembrance of all the times he’s painted you in white, and God, you are so ready for him to get back to the school.

 Then, there’s the voice in the back of your head that makes you think maybe it’s better that he’s gone for now, that he might not be too pleased that you’re spending time with another guy. But, it’s not like things with Zeke are going anywhere. You wouldn’t even call him a friend. You text on and off, have brunch or lunch or coffee depending on the time of day. 

 And, yeah, he calls you pet names, tells you that you look nice even when you’re just in leggings and a t-shirt, talks about his family and…

 Okay, it could potentially lead to something more, but it’s only been a week, and considering his golden boy status, he could have anyone he wants, so why would he even be interested in you in any way, shape, or form?

 Naturally, your thoughts circle back to Mike and the way he could have any girl on his arm, but he still chooses to spend time with you. To fuck you. To nearly confess his feelings to you. You have to wonder if you’re emitting some kind of scent or beacon, if there’s a sign hanging above your head with an arrow pointing down. Sports gods, come get a piece. 

 If only you’d never gone to that party. If you had just kept your head down like you had freshman year. Your life would be so much easier now.

 But now you’re in Zeke’s apartment listening to him rant about some philosopher you’ve never even heard of. He’s gesturing with his hands, flipping curling, blond bangs from his face, and whenever he pauses to think, he scratches his beard. He’s very fond of the white t-shirts and jeans get-up, sometimes switches it up and wears a button down under a sweater vest. Both looks are becoming of him no matter how much you try to deny it, but when he drops down onto the couch next to you and peers into your god damn soul with those piercing, blue eyes, you have to choke back a dreamy sigh.

 What is happening to you?

 “So, what do you think about it?” He asks, looking hopeful that you might have some insight on this matter.

 But, you simply laugh and shake your head. “Zeke,” you start. “I’m gonna be real honest with you here. I didn’t understand a fucking thing you just said.”

 You assume he’ll be disappointed, maybe tire of you since you can’t be as intellectually stimulating as he’d like you to, but Zeke exhales in a lighthearted sort of way, shows one of those amused smiles, and tells you, “You’re cute.”

 Anyone else and you would have snapped back, something along the lines of, don’t fucking patronize me, but with Zeke, all you can do is stare at him and let your lips part, silently asking for something you won’t speak out loud.

 His gaze moves to your mouth for a split second. That soft smile turns into one of his famous smirks. Then, he’s back on his feet and asking, “You wanna go to dinner?”

 You are more than relieved at the shift in atmosphere, but your heart is still beating too hard as you follow him downstairs and to his car. 

* Summer is passing quickly. Too quickly. The eleven week classes are kicking your ass, or are close to kicking your ass. Lucky for you, you have your own private tutor just a call or text away. Mike helps you, and you laugh and goof around, shoot off innuendo after innuendo, but the phone sex slows to a halt eventually. You tell him that you’re tired, and you are. It isn’t a lie. But, it also isn’t the full truth.

 Between classes when you could be resting, you’re eating out with Zeke. Or, watching him and the rest of the baseball team practice for the upcoming season. Or, sitting in his apartment, watching movies and chatting about all manner of things. Nothing important, of course—there’s no diving deep into your life story like you had done with Mike over Spring Break, but Zeke still learns the little things about you. Why you’re majoring in geosciences and how you became good friends with some of the Pike guys. You don’t give him the full details on that one—that you got blackout drunk and fucked Mike and just couldn’t stop. You don’t think Zeke would be interested in hearing about it anyway.

 You learn a bit about his dad and stepmom, the latter of whom he isn’t very fond of. He also has a little brother who’ll be attending the college starting this fall, and he’s interested in the Greek life. Naturally, you build PKA up. Even if there are some… Problematic people in the house, there are also a lot of really good guys. 

 “I’ll make sure to pass it along to him,” Zeke tells you one evening as you’re both sprawled on the couch, backs against the armrests as you face each other. It’s how he seems to prefer to sit when the TV isn’t on. When you asked him why, he had told you, “Just like looking at you,” and you didn’t know how to respond. You still don’t know how to respond.

 “Eren thinkin’ about joining any sports?” You ask now. “Does baseball run in the family or anything?”

 Zeke snorts. “Kid couldn’t hit a baseball even if it was on one of the t-ball stands.”

 “I’ll take that as a ‘no’, then.”

 “I would say he’s more academically inclined, but,” Zeke sighs. “That would be a lie.”

 You can never tell if he actually likes his brother. Most of the time he complains about him, but every once in a while he’ll bring up something cute Eren did as a little boy, and you see a fond glimmer in his light eyes. 

 “Anyway,” Zeke waves off the subject and transitions to a new one—one that makes your stomach drop. “Are you gonna tell Zacharias about us?”

 You choke on your own spit, leaning forward to cough a couple times, then challenge him with a nervous laugh, “I wasn’t aware there was anything to tell him.”

 Zeke tilts his head, mouth pulling up as he raises his eyebrows. “Come on,” he chuckles.

 “Come on, what?” You frown. If you were with Mike, you both would have died at that. Come on my face, you can hear him say, and you have to fight a smile because there’s absolutely no way you could explain that to the man in front of you.

 “You don’t have to play coy, sweetheart. We both know there’s something going on between us.” He says it with such confidence that even if he wasn’t right you wouldn’t be able to argue with him. The assumption should annoy you, should make you scoff and leave, but instead you sit there staring, caught up in his gaze and cocky grin.

 “I—”

 “It’s okay, you know. Not like you’re alone in this.”

 Those questions swim through your mind again, all the insecurities that you’ve been sorting through with Mike, but now that voice is louder because that sense of trust hasn’t formed yet. You’ve only connected with Zeke over meals and movies. It sounds domestic, but despite your apparently obvious attraction to him, you still don’t feel like you really know him. 

 But, he draws you in, like a moth to a flame. You can’t help it. There’s just something about him that makes you want him to like you, like you want to impress him, like you want to be good for him. You’ve been trying to ignore those thoughts, but they’re much harder to fight now that you’re sitting in front of him, taking in his wavy hair and pale blue eyes, that ever present smirk on his face, the curve of his neck that disappears into his shirt.

 He could just want sex. He could just want a fling. Wait for everyone to get back on campus and drop you for another girl. You tell yourself you wouldn’t care; you’re good at keeping things casual.

 Wouldn’t it be fun to be his arm candy for a while, though? Let people look at you and whisper louder than they did when they’d see you and Mike together? You don’t care about status, about being in the spotlight. It’s more for the experience, dating someone who could teach you things.

 Mike teaches you things, that voice pops up again. He’s been helping you with your work for almost a year now. You can’t just overlook that. 

 “What, are you weighing the pros and cons over there or something?”

 You snort. “Maybe. We still don’t really know each other all that well, Zeke.”

 “Might I remind you that we’ve been hanging out all summer? Did you honestly think it wouldn’t lead to anything more?”

 “Honestly,” you mimic, “I never thought you’d be interested.”

 “Why wouldn’t I be?” His brow furrows like he’s genuinely confused. “You’re smart. You’re funny. You’re cute.” 

 God, you can’t even count how many times he’s called you ‘cute’, how many times it’s made you blush over the last several weeks, just like it does now.

 Then, he pushes, “Do you not find me at—”

 “Of course I do,” you cut him off. “I don’t know who doesn’t, which is exactly why I don’t know where this is coming from.”

 Zeke sighs like he’s annoyed, then turns the hand on his thigh palm up and beckons you with two fingers. “Come here.”

 “What?”

 “Come here.”

 Your blood pressure spikes, breaths coming in little puffs that have no way of getting to your brain. It’s probably why you obey, rolling to your knees and clumsily crawling over to him. You stop short, right between his bent knees, but Zeke sits up, straightens his legs, and pulls you into his lap.

 More of that precious air leaves your lungs as you exhale too sharply, staring at him with huge eyes. You don’t know what’s happening, can’t believe it’s happening. It doesn’t feel real even as you rest your hands on his shoulders, even when he holds your hips and pulls you so that your full weight is on him, but fuck, you can’t say anything. You can’t make a sound. All you can do is wait for him to make his next move.

 “Why do you look scared?” His voice is just above a whisper, but at this proximity you can hear him without a problem. 

 “I don’t have a lot of experience sitting in men’s laps,” you manage, trying to keep your usual careless tone, but you doubt it works.

 “For some reason I don’t believe that.”

 You rear back, actually offended. “Excuse m—”

 That ire, however, melts away as quickly as it arose. Zeke slides fingers up your waist, all the way to the back of your neck to bring your face to his—your lips to his. 

 He feels different, not at all what you’re used to. His kiss is more demanding, hungry, and God, you still can’t breathe, can’t think straight because his tongue is moving past your lips, and you’re letting it, letting him taste you as your fingertips dig into the flesh of his shoulders. You lift yourself from him just a little only for Zeke to pull you back down with the hand still gripping your hip. He makes sure you feel him when he grinds up into you, the zipper of his jeans rubbing you through your little shorts so that you gasp into his mouth. 

 You both stay like that for what feels like a fucking eternity, biting and sucking on lips, stroking over each others’ tongues until you absolutely have to break apart. You’re panting now, body still tense on top of his, and Zeke stares at you with half-lidded eyes and shows the ghost of a smile.

 “Oh, I’m gonna have so much fun with you.”

 The statement sets you on fire, so much so that all you can do is whimper quietly and lean in for more. 

  And, as you get lost in Zeke Jaeger, you decide for yourself.

I need to tell Mike

[ next ]

[cosmiclatte28]

Steal My Girl (jaehyun x you)

a/n : Am I posting too much Jaehyun fic? Anyways it is February and I associate him with February (despite there are other members having Feb as their bday too! miannnn)

ALSO HAPPY JAEHYUN DAY EVERYONE!!! 

warning : none :D safe to read for all age! drink moderately and be responsible

enjoy................................

“Hey um sorry to bother you,” Mark pops his head into your room.

You turn your head to look at him, eyebrows rising to ask him why.

Mark scratches his neck and you pause the music jamming into your ears. You drag your earphone down and ask the “troubled” man on your door frame.

“Umm Jaehyun is drunk again, and he called me to pick him up.” Mark explains slowly, you nod and wait for him to continue, “Are you busy?”

You glance at the clock, it’s almost nine and tomorrow is Saturday. You don’t really have anything coming soon, you finished your work for this week already.

“Nope not busy, why?” You finally tackle Mark down to the big question mark you had in your head.

Jaehyun is drunk and yeah what does Mark needs?

“You know I still cannot drive, and Johnny is on the party too drunk. Taeyong has passed out since his first cup and I don’t know who else can I ask help for.”

You smirk and shake your head, what a silly request!

However, Mark is still your cousin and Jaehyun is the man you treasure.

“Funny how Jaehyun called you instead of me! Did he forget you cannot drive yet.” You stand up to change your clothes and Mark doesn’t need a second order to change too.

“You’re sitting beside me! I am not dealing with the drunk men!” You put on a jacket and grab the key, wallet, and phone.

You made it to the party house, Mark quickly fetching his three drunk brothers and you just stay back. You’re not coming in.

The last man to enter the car is Jaehyun. You did not know how Mark made the three big men sit on the back compartment of your car, but here we are!

“Woaah we’re suddenly in a car! Who called the cab? Why is the service so nice…” Taeyong blurs off laughs and words, “Even the driver is pretty!”

You roll your eyes, why would Tae drinks if he knows he is this bad with alcohol.

“Hey she’s (y/n)! Dummy… keep quiet Yong, or else you’ll puke.” Johnny pushes Taeyong’s head to the other side. Well Taeyong needs to sit between the two men and he’s already leaning to Johnny.

“Ah it’s you sweetie! Sorry for going out again without you…” Jaehyun reaches for your shoulder from the back seat. You’re used to this, even though you two are dating, you don’t always join him on his parties.

“Driving her boyfriend home safely, check!” Jaehyun giggles in his unconscious state.

__

“Bae, help me with this calculus homework!!” Jaehyun once knocked on your apartment you share with Mark. He barged in one evening after you and Mark finished dinner, in a messy hair and crumpled math paper.

You nicely offered him dinner and brought him to sit on the dining table. Mark served him snacks and water, while you calmly taught him how to work on the problems. Step by step, well while reviewing too, since he was on the same class as you.

After working on the homework and Jaehyun could answer ten sets of question by himself, you let him go.

“Thanks girl! You’re the perfect lover!”

Teaching and tutoring your boyfriend? Check!

__

 “Babe, sorry to disturb you again…” Jaehyun’s voice appears softer and you know he is going to ask you a favor with this tone.

You glance from your homework, sparing only an eyebrow to him and he grins “I lost some buttons on the way home.” He shows you his button up shirt that lost three buttons.

You raise your brow, “Did you fight?”

He scratches his pink hair, “Well, someone mocked Doyoung and Taeyong, so I taught them some lessons.”

Only then did you notice, he has a small bruise on his face and a ripped lip.

You quickly stand up and grab his cheeks, checking for any other scratches on his pretty face. Jaehyun giggles when he sees your worried face.

You pick up the first aid kit and sit down on the sofa with Jaehyun by your side. “You should stop fist fighting sweetie, you don’t want to end up in the police office. I don’t have enough money to bail you out.” You roll your eyes and laugh, trying to make him laugh too.

Jaehyun smirks, “Haha yeah I know that, but you will find a way.”

You press on his scar and he winces, “Stop playing around.” You snap at him.

After taking care and bandaging his wounds, you finish your homework while Jaehyun sits on the sofa compressing his body.

You clean up your stuffs and finally walk to take your sewing kit, “Do you still have your buttons?”

He shakes his head, “Gone.”

You smirk, “Sorry, the only one I have are these,” you show him a set of cute pink buttons.

Jaehyun’s mouth drop, “You want me to wear that?”

You frown, “Well you lost your buttons. That is your button up, you go buy your own buttons.”

He sighs, “Fine…”

You smile secretly, “I’ll fix it later, wash this first.” You toss it to him and he lazily walks to the laundry basket and bring his dirty laundries with him to the washing room.

He goes back to the room with a happier face, saying he met Doyoung and Taeyong doing their laundries and got treated to some coffee. You just nod and the night goes on.

Only on the next morning did Jaehyun greets you with a spin and a kiss.

“When did you fix my shirt? Gosh thanks! You really are a perfect girl! Love you!!” he kisses you happily and you just nod your head.

Well, he slept early last night and you nicely sew his three buttons back with a normal button. You have them, you just want to tease him.

“Taking care of boyfriend and sewing clothes, check!”

__

 “Sorry I am late!” Jaehyun appears wet under the rain, and you just shake your head at the boy who is stranding in the front porch of your college building drenched in rain water.

“Forgot your umbrella again?” you calmly lead him into your college hall. Well, he promised to attend the exhibition with you, but here he is drenched in rain.

“I lend it to an old lady, she was stuck in the supermarket and I passed by.” He tries his best to squeeze the water out of his shirt.

You dig into your bag and toss him your sweater, “Lucky I brought your sweater. Go change, at least you won’t fall sick.”

His pants are wonderfully wet, but that guy managed to half dry it on the toilet.

“Secretly has a back up for boyfie, check!” Jaehyun grins to himself.

--

The list goes on, the number of incidental and accidental moments pile up. But always whatever happen, you always have a solution for him. With your calm personality, you just shake your head in disbelieve and like magic, you are able to give him a solution.

“Yow Jae, tell us how are you still surviving college at this rate?” Johnny asks his friend on a Saturday boys night.

Jaehyun looks away from the TV screen and spare a glance on his friend, “Survive? What do you mean?”

Doyoung groans at his slow wit, “That slow wit, fights, constant good scores despite you sleeping in class, and many more drunk nights.”

Taeyong has already shifted his attention too from the screen to the young man in pink hair.

“Share the secret please!” Yuta chimes in.

Jaehyun thinks for awhile, trying to answer all the questions proposed to him suddenly.

“Um… I think I survived and still live today because of (Y/n).” he shrugs his shoulder.

The four men groan and sigh, “RIGHT! How can we forget your super girlfriend!”

“You’re right (y/n) is the one who takes care of me! It’s like any problem I have… she has the solution.” Jaehyun realizes.

Doyoung lets out a huff, “Where can we get one?”

“I lowkey want to steal her when she picks us up on the club at night!” Johnny winks, which earns a pout from Jaehyun

“I want her more when Jaehyun said she sew his clothes at night when he lost three buttons. Gosh Jaehyun you’re really pampered, she does everything for you!” Taeyong punches Jaehyun’s shoulder playfully.

Jaehyun stays silent, his friends’ words coming in and out of his ear like that, but his head is slowly playing all of the memories and times he asked for your help and you’re always there. You always leave everything behind and help him, but has he done the same thing for you? Doubt.

“Aigo she is perfect! Can I just steal her? I believe I can be a better man,” Yuta laughs, and the other men laugh too but that earns him a loud smack on the head from Jaehyun.

“CALM DOWN! MY HEAD! YOU PUNCHED ME FULL POWER!” Yuta rubs his pounding head and sees fire in Jaehyun’s eyes

“No one is stealing her! She is mine, and fyi you cannot find anyone else like her in this world.” Jaehyun smiles with proud, “She is one of a kind, and if you find someone else like her, she belongs to me.”

end

lol wouldn’t this be cool if there is a tiktok trend for this? 

“helping boyfie do calculus,check!”

“helping boyfie sew buttons? check!”

byee author is just out of her mind

[itslieutenanthawkeye]

Lucky Guy

Day 7 of Jeankasa Week: College AU

AO3

Sasha and Connie dragged him forward; they’d loaded him up on caffeine that very afternoon, picked up a set of clothes for him and tried to shave his stubble. Jean hadn’t allowed them to do the latter. The night was starting, and he already felt tired.

Final exams had worn him out, consumed all his energy for the sake of a pass, for the sake of a chance of a good job in the future, a nice home for his family. Not that he had any prospects at the moment, mind you. All he seemed to have was stress, and exhaustion nowadays.

He understood that the two dragging him to the party wanted to help him wind down, but Connie had already started taking over for his family business and Sasha had graduated culinary school a year ago. They were living the adult, independent life already.

Meanwhile Jean was stuck with physics and mathematics. At least the artistic portion part of his classes was fulfilling.

“So, where’s Niccolo?” Connie asked as they got on the tramway.

“He had to close up, but he’ll meet us at the party later.” Sasha said, taking them to the long seat at the back of the tramway. Jean sat in between the two, listening to their chatter in silence. “Aren’t you going to lighten up, Jean? You look like someone just died.”

Jean lowered his head, the repetitive rattling of the cart almost lulling him to sleep. “My will to live has died.”

“Come on, man, is it that bad since Marco left?”

“That traitor.” Jean said, with a tone of voice that spoke longing instead of anger.

Marco and he had decided to study architecture together; Jean driven by his knack for drawing, Marco driven by his desire to be by his side. A year into their university course, however, he’d gotten that scholarship to study photography in Hizuru. A great, one-in-a-lifetime opportunity that didn’t come around twice.

An opportunity that would force them to stay apart for four full years. Since neither had enough money to fly back and forth and Jean had not wanted to give up his studies in Paradis, they’d decided to remain friends. They’d been friends since the beginning, after all.

After the first months of heartbreak, Jean had realized that Marco had left him with just about enough money to pay for three months of rent. Although he couldn’t blame him, Jean had gotten the habit of cursing him lowly for the past year, whenever he was forced to balance his part time job and his ridiculous physics lessons.

“I still don’t understand why you don’t get another roommate.” Connie said, scratching the back of his ear. “Are you just holding out until a cute guy shows up at your door?”

“Or girl.” Sasha added, opening a bag of potato chips sneakily.

“Oi, Sasha,” Jean said, frowning. “We’re gonna get a fine because of you.”

“I’ll pay for it,” Sasha said, waving her hand to undermine the matter. “You guys want some? They’re new spicy ones.”

Jean reached out under her jacket and took a few chips into his mouth. “I take it the restaurant is doing well? With you being okay for paying fines, I mean.”

“Niccolo said that breakfast menu I came out with put us on top. If we keep it up, in about two years we’ll be able to set our next location,” she said proudly, her mouth also half full of chips. She gave Jean a significant look. “We’ll need an architect for the place. And someone here will be almost finished with uni.”

He smiled. “Thanks. I’ll make sure to remind you.”

“You know you can ask for money, right, Jean?” Connie said, resting his back against the seat. “You don’t need to work yourself to death when you’ve got us.”

Another lazy smile came to his face. “I don’t want to be a burden to you guys.”

“You’re more of a burden when you don’t come with us to these things,” Connie said. “First, you missed all barbecue nights at Niccolo and Sasha’s. And now you didn’t want to come, and you know Reiner throws the best parties. His little cousin took down that Galliard guy the last time.”

“Isn’t she a kid?” Jean blurted out.

“She likes to sneak in to get in fights with the college kids.” Connie explained, laughing. “I think she’s been in martial arts since five or something.”

“Now that’s a surprise,” Sasha said, elbowing Connie as the tramway arrived at its next station. Jean looked at the person getting on and his breath caught. Wearing a corseted black dress, her hair up in a high ponytail and wearing a choker around her elegant neck, Mikasa Ackerman stood out as a comet across a blue sky.

“I didn’t think she’d come tonight,” Connie said. “You know, considering Eren.”

“What happened with Eren?” Jean asked.

“Don’t you check her feed?” Connie asked, wiggling his eyebrows. “You know, since you had that huge crush on her in high school and whatnot.”

“I’ve been busy.” Jean said, too tired to try and deny that crush he’d had on her in their school days, the crush that had always irked Marco somehow. “You don’t have to tell me. I’m too busy to be concerned about other people’s drama.”

“They broke up,” Connie said in a gossipy tone, as if Jean hadn’t just snapped at him. “Around six months ago. He skipped town. Didn’t want to be tied down or something, wanted to be free as birds or whatever. He’s backpacking in the continent, I think.”

Jean sat straighter on his seat. That dick. That stupid, nihilistic piece of shit. “Why didn’t you guys tell me? Isn’t Sasha her best friend?”

“Because you disappeared the whole semester, man. That’s why I told you to ask for money instead of working yourself to death,” Connie said, shaking him by the shoulder. “You miss out on parties and gossip.”

“Stop it. She’ll hear you,” Sasha said, lifting her arm to wave at Mikasa. “Hey! Mikasa, over here! Come sit with us!”

Jean felt heat in his cheeks. “Sasha, don’t. She’ll come.”

“That’s what I want.”

“I can’t talk when she looks this pretty.”

Sasha rolled her eyes. “Stop being an idiot, Jean.”

Mikasa’s eyes caught sight of them and she made her way to their seat, not bothering to hold onto anything to keep her balance as the tramway moved forward. They had known each other from high school and little things had changed about the way she moved; she carried herself with the elegance of a swan, and the strength of a mountain. He remembered teasing Eren about her being the boss in their relationship during their very last year of school, when the embers of jealousy had begun to die for Jean, and chuckled lowly at the memory of the enraged response he always received.

“Hi, everyone,” she greeted them. Sasha scooted to the side, and Mikasa sat between her and Jean, close enough for him to smell her perfume. “Are you guys going to Reiner’s?”

“Best parties in Trost.” Sasha said, offering her the bag of potato chips. “Want some?”

Mikasa dipped her hand in the bag. “Aren’t you scared you’ll get a fine?”

“She says she’ll pay it,” Connie explained, reaching over Jean and Mikasa to grab more.

“Sasha,” Mikasa said sternly. “How many more fines are you going to pay?”

“She’s paid more this month?!” Jean said.

“She has. It’s getting ridiculous, she can’t go on a tramway without getting hungry…” Mikasa stopped herself from talking and settled her eyes on him, with a vague surprised expression on her lovely pale face. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I’ve been busy with work.” Jean said, shrugging, hoping that she wouldn’t see the blush in his cheeks that look of her had caused. He waited a second, wondering if he should bring up that he had, in fact, seen her. “I saw you, though. Drawing, in the Maria building.”

Understanding washed over her face, and her mouth fell open. “You should’ve said hi, Jean.” She said. “It’s a huge classroom, there’s no way I could’ve seen you.”

“I’m sorry.” Jean muttered. Truth was, he hadn’t wanted her to see him in the state he’d been in two weeks ago. With his double shifts at work and his assignments for the end of the semester, Jean had resembled a walking corpse more than a human.

Mikasa was an anthropology and history major and, much like Jean himself, worked part time jobs. However, with her looks, most of her part time jobs were related to modeling. That morning at creative drawing, she’d been hired to pose for the class covered only by a thin sheet. And despite being a class full of professionals, Jean had still not wanted the girl who resembled a goddess to see him bordering a mental breakdown.

“Have you been getting enough sleep?” She asked him.

“Does it show that bad?”

Mikasa’s mouth made a perfect O in terror. “I didn’t mean to sound like that.”

Jean chuckled. “Don’t worry about it. It shows. If uni wasn’t free, I would’ve gone broke already.”

“You need to look after your health more, Jean. Have you even been eating well? If you don’t sleep and don’t eat well, you’re just going to burn out,” Mikasa said, then froze, grabbing the hand that was going to reach out to him. “I’m sorry. I just sounded like a mother there.”

“You’re right, though.” Jean replied, smiling at her. “I haven’t been eating well. With work—”

“Is that why you haven’t been to any of the barbecues?”

“You went?”

Mikasa nodded. “We missed you.”

Jean’s head came up with a thousand names to call himself in that moment. He missed his friends enough during the semesters without the knowledge that she’d been hanging out with them at barbecue night. “I’ll make it next time.” He managed to say. “Did Armin go?”

“He’s been busy with moving in with Annie.” Mikasa said, sighing. “I don’t think I’d talk to anyone outside work if it wasn’t for Sasha and Mina.”

“Wait, Armin moved out too?” Jean asked, growing concerned. “Did those two just up and left you alone in that huge apartment?”

“Armin left me some money to pay a couple more months’ worth of rent.” Mikasa said, almost apologizing in Armin’s behalf. Jean’s fists clenched automatically; he’d seen how smitten he was with that marleyan girl, but leaving Mikasa alone to pay for that huge apartment by herself…

“Besides, I insisted,” Mikasa added with a low voice. “I didn’t want him to wallow in self pity with me when he has a perfectly lovely girlfriend.”

Jean sighed tiredly. He should’ve known. Even heart broken, Mikasa cared more about her friend’s happiness than her own economic safety. In a way, it was something that made her all the more charming in his eyes.

“Hey, are you two going to ignore us all the way there?” Connie asked, slapping the back of Jean’s head. “Why did you have to sit in between us if you’re just gonna talk to each other?”

“He’s right,” Sasha said, shaking Mikasa by the shoulder. “Mikasa, pay attention to your best friend now! She brought chips for you!”

Mikasa narrowed her eyes in Sasha’s direction. “Since when do you carry food for anyone but yourself, Braus?”

Sasha’s face contracted into a miserable expression, and she threw herself over Mikasa, hugging her while kissing her head. “Not the last name treatment, Mikasa!”

Maybe a few years ago, Mikasa would’ve thrown Sasha back onto her seat. This time, however, she limited herself to exchange an amused look with him and Connie, patting Sasha’s head in a conciliatory manner. “Alright, alright. Control yourself,” she told Sasha. “Don’t you have a boyfriend? What will Niccolo say if he sees you hugging a woman like this?”

“He’ll probably think we look hot.” Sasha replied innocently.

“What a perv.”

“Mikasa!”

_________________

The tramway took them to the west end of Trost, where high skyscrapers and fancy apartment buildings rose into the sky. The elevator took them a whole thirty floors up to Reine’rs apartment. As soon as they walked in, Jean stared at the ceramic floors, the balcony with its hot tub and view of the distant mountains in the island. When Reiner came to greet them with a hug for each, Jean held him by the shoulders.

“When did you get this rich?” He asked, baffled. How had everyone gotten rich so quick before him?

“My mother and I won the alimony trial last month,” Reiner laughed, hugging him again to then make a wide gesture with his arms at the people in the room. From the way he moved, Jean guessed he was already drunk. “Nineteen years’ worth of unpaid alimony, all paid in full!”

The crowd cheered, raising their beer bottles in the air to celebrate his makeshift toast. “Galliard, Pieck!” Reiner said, stumbling back into the crowd, being caught by the two exchange Marleyan students. “Get the karaoke machine going!”

Sasha and Connie dived into the party in full, going over to Mina, who had her hands full while pouring two bottles of vodka into a large crystal bowl filled with fruits and juice. Jean rubbed his temple; getting drunk wasn’t on his list of priorities, not with so little sleep in his system.

He turned to look at his right, realizing Mikasa stood by the door, watching the crowd move around Reiner’s apartment with apprehension. He took a couple of steps in her direction, leaning against the wall with his hands crossed over his chest, perhaps in a subconscious attempt to appear nonchalant. “See anyone you know?” He asked.

“Too many people.” She muttered in response, rubbing her arms. “Sasha said this was going to be like the barbecue.”

One would think that with her looks and strength, Mikasa would be a little more popular. She’d been an introvert since secondary school, shielded behind the personalities of her two childhood friends. And despite that a few people had managed to break through the cold outer layer of her personality (like Sasha, who’s might as well have gone through it with a war hammer) it always seemed to Jean that there as hidden sadness behind her eyes, a brake of sorts that didn’t allow her to express herself to the fullest.

“Let’s go to the balcony,” she said, pulling his sleeve. “Bring beers.”

Jean almost -almost- felt bad for Reiner’s father as they walked along the balcony. Trost had skyscrapers aplenty, but very few had a perfect look of the suburbs and mountains, and very few had an infinity pool with a hot tub included. The place must’ve costed a fortune. He could almost see his own neighborhood from this height.

They found a set of unoccupied pillowed seats at the corner, far from Reiner’s infinity pool, and sat there to watch the city in silence.

“I live there,” Mikasa said after a while, pointing south to a cluster of colorful buildings. “It’s the big tall one, with the red lights.”

“Ah, party town,” Jean said. He and Marco had tried to find a place there, but the rent had been astronomical, given its strategic location near the universities and clubs. “Was it a big change from the suburbs? That’s where you grew up in, right?”

“It was a huge change from my uncle’s house,” she said, her eyes set on the red building, amused at some memory Jean wasn’t aware of. “He was grossed out when he visited last year.”

“College neighborhood isn’t for him?”

“He said it was too dirty,” Mikasa said, sighing. “Although I’m sure he was terrified at the number of teenagers that threw themselves at him. He said I was to visit him from now on.”

Jean giggled at that. “Girls threw themselves at Levi?”

“Apparently he’s got something that makes university students go crazy.” Mikasa said, making a disgusted noise. Jean laughed again; Levi had been their teacher in middle school. How any college girl found him so appealing, he didn’t understand.

“Well, at least you can have fun in that neighborhood.” Jean said.

Mikasa made another disgusted noise. “I was only there because Eren suggested it. It was too loud for my liking. Too many creeps on the streets. And the rent is too high.”

“How did you guys manage to afford that? I mean, Eren and Armin aren’t precisely rich,” Jean said, covering his mouth as soon as he realized what he’d blurted out. “I’m sorry, Mikasa! I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay,” Mikasa said, shaking her head in amusement. “Eren’s brother paid for most of the rent. He works in Marley and sent him money.”

She finished with a sigh, setting her eyes on the floor for a second before taking a sip of her beer. When she turned to look at him, Jean recognized annoyance in her eyes. “Now that he’s gone, Zeke stopped paying for that big chunk of the rent.”

“And Armin moved in with Annie,” Jean finished saying.

“And I’m in that huge place all by myself,” Mikasa said, taking another sip from her bottle. “Scraping my bank account to pay utilities, taking any modeling job that comes up besides working at Sasha’s restaurant, two months behind on rent.”

“Did Sasha offer you money yet?” Jean asked, recalling all the times their friend had tried to hand him checks for his rent.

Mikasa smiled. “A couple of times. But I don’t want to be a burden to her. As good as the restaurant is doing, having her own business can be tricky. One bad luck streak and she’ll be needing that money she offers me.”

“What about a roommate?”

“Nobody I know can afford rent there. I don’t want to disturb Niccolo and Sasha, and Levi has plenty on his plate. And it’s impossible to find a place this late in the year,” Mikasa said, sighing tiredly again. “Do you know how close I am to modeling underwear? A man in this shady company offered me so much money for nudes the other day—”

“Move in with me.” Jean blurted out, and his words were followed by excruciatingly long minutes. Mikasa rested her back against the seat, scrutinizing him with those perfect, serious eyes. “I don’t mean in a weird way. I mean, my rent is much less than yours must be. But ever since Marco left, it’s been harder to afford it on my own. I could use a roommate, and all the people I’ve interviewed were weirdos.”

“Won’t Marco be angry?” Mikasa asked politely. “Won’t he be upset that a girl is living with you?”

Jean smiled. “We’re not together anymore.”

“No?” She said, looking genuinely surprised. “Why? What happened? I thought—”

“Neither wanted a long-distance relationship, or had the money to afford one,” Jean explained, surprised at the lack of pain in his words when he spoke of what had happened. Perhaps, the exhaustion throughout the year had forced his heart to get over a heartbreak quickly.

“Besides,” Jan added, arching his eyebrow in her direction. “I know for a fact that hizuran people are beautiful. I couldn’t deny him having fun over there. So, we decided to stay as friends.”

Mikasa smiled, and Jean blushed. “You’re a good friend.”

“I’m not,” Jean replied, leaning back against his seat as well. “I had no idea about you and Eren. You’re our friend since high school, and I had no idea you’d gotten your heart broken too this year. So, I’m not that good of a friend.”

Mikasa rested her hand at her sides, her pinky almost touching his, leaning back to catch sight of the night sky. “You’re in no obligation to carry anyone’s pain, Jean, let alone mine.”

“What do you mean? You’re my friend.”

“I know. We are friends,” Mikasa said quickly, as if noticing the hint of pain her previous words had caused in him. “What I mean is…I knew it was going to happen. I saw the change in Eren. I knew he wouldn’t want to stay put. He was more in love with the idea of freedom than with me. I should’ve ended it a long while ago. So, no need to carry pain that was dragged on for no purpose.”

“And you didn’t want to go with him?”

Mikasa thought about it for a moment. He could hear Reiner and that Pieck girl singing at the top of their lungs inside, as well as Connie’s laughter. And yet, all his mind was set on was her, how her eyes focused on his as she spoke every word, how a bit of lipstick had smudged on the edges of her mouth due to their drinking. Jean had always been aware of Mikasa’s beauty, but he hadn’t been truly enthralled by it in a very long time.

“I don’t think I would’ve gone,” she said at last. “I love the island. I love my home. I want to have a peaceful life here, grow old here. I like seeing new places, but I don’t want to spend my life wandering. He did.”

Jean nodded, understanding her fully. All he’d ever dreamed of was a nice house in the inner districts, alongside the wife -or husband- of his choosing.

“Besides,” Mikasa said with a quiet laugh. “He never asked me to come.”

“What a fucking idiot.”

Mikasa blinked in surprise. “I’m not mad at him, Jean. You don’t need to be in my behalf.”

“I’m not mad on your behalf,” Jean said, shaking his head, a deep crease forming between his eyebrows, feeling all of that frustration he’d had towards Eren in high school come back in full. “What kind of idiot do you have to be to break the heart of someone like you?”

“Someone like me?”

“You’re fucking amazing!” Jean said, shocked by the confusion in her face. “Mikasa, you’re gorgeous, smart, strong. You can lift a whole hundred pounds without breaking a sweat…who would want to break your heart?”

Another chuckle escaped her throat, and she gave him a look that he could only describe a sweet. “Thank you,” she said, tilting her head to the side. “My heart was breaking the whole last year we were together, though. I guess in a way, him leaving helped me heal.”

“I hope he falls into a pit.” Jean muttered, then shook his head. “No, I hope I fall into a pit, for not noticing you were hurting before.”

“You had your thing with Marco moving away,” Mikasa replied. “If anything, I was the jerk for not helping you like Connie and Sasha did. I was too focused on trying to force Eren to be happy with me.”

“Still, I should’ve helped.”

“You’re helping now,” Mikasa replied, lifting her pierced eyebrow. “You’re letting me be your roommate, aren’t you?”

Jean took a deep gulp of his beer before speaking. “So, you are taking up on my offer?”

“Yes,” Mikasa said, setting her eyes on the section of town in which he lived in. “If you take up on my offer.”

“Which is?”

“The agency wants a couple male models,” she said, elbowing him playfully. “I heard from Sasha how you’re killing yourself at that part time. This money won’t be great, I do warn you, but it will be better, and you’ll have more time to study.”

The color traveled to his cheeks yet again. “I-I’m not a model, Mikasa.”

“No need to be modest, Kirstein,” she said, scrutinizing him again, her gaze sensing a shock of electricity across him. “I saw you on that beach trip we did. You’ve got nothing to envy from the models.”

They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, and Jean’s mind became a storm. Had she just told him she found him attractive? No, it couldn’t be. She’d just said he had nothing to envy from male models. But that was just a creative way to call someone hot, wasn’t it? She had no reasons to call him hot, however.

“Jean, I think—”

“Niccolo!” Sasha’s shouted drunkenly, startling the two in their seats. It wasn’t until they turned in her direction that Jean realized how close their faces had been to each other.

“Alright, alright. Do it again.” Niccolo laughed, sounding quite drunk himself. Sasha grabbed her shirt and tightened it around her waist, showing him her bloated stomach.

Niccolo giggled. “It’s adorable! It does look like you’re pregnant,” he said between snorts. “How many garlic buns did you eat back there?”

“Why are you calling your baby a garlic knot, Niccolo?!” Sasha half-laughed, half cried, only causing Niccolo to laugh harder. They were soon on the floor, struggling to catch their breath because of their laughter, and Jean was grateful for the protective mesh at the edge of the balcony.

“They’re drunk.”

“They’re high.” Mikasa said, casting a glance inside. “Ymir and Historia are here.”

“No wonder they’re high.” Jean chuckled. Historia wore a beautiful pink dress, looking as happy as ever with Ymir’s hands around her waist. Ymir, as always, wore a dark suit. As always, she was more focused on kissing Historia’s neck than the conversation around her. They’d been inseparable since their wedding, and from the sparkling necklace around Historia’s neck, Jean supposed their business was growing well.

Mikasa grabbed his sleeve. “Do you want to go get some?”

“You smoke that stuff?” Jean asked, wondering when he’d smoked anything last.

“Not really.” Mikasa admitted, looking at Sasha laughing on the floor while placing a thousand drunken kisses on Niccolo’s forehead. “It looks like they’re having fun, though.”

“We could do it to celebrate,” Jean said, shrugging. “You know, each of just found a good roommate and we might not be as broke from now on.”

“You are sure about the roommate matter?” Mikasa asked, frowning. “You’ll have to take a few visits from my uncle.”

“I’ll cope.” Jean said, looking at Niccolo and Sasha. “Are you sure? What if Eren returns and gets mad?”

Mikasa rolled her eyes. “He can get as mad as he wants. I won’t care.” She said, and from her tone of voice , Jean knew she was done talking about Eren for the time being. She looked more annoyed at the inconveniences that Eren had caused her than heart broken. Perhaps, the exhaustion had forced her to get over a heartbreak quick, as well.

Jean offered her his hand. “Shall we, my lady?”

“You’re still an idiot,” Mikasa said, intertwining her arm with his. “Thank you, by the way.”

“No, thank you,” he said, using his other hand to take their bottles. He offered one to her and lifted his own. “Toast? For roommates?”

“For roommates.” Mikasa said. Their bottles clang together, their sound foretelling a change of wind for the two, perhaps.

______________________

Gabi walked along the bookstore holding onto Falco’s arm. She and her mother spent summers with her cousin Reiner in the island. And despite this being her fifth year visiting him and despite the luxuries of his apartment, she missed him terribly each time she left. So, she clung to him before and after her journeys, enjoying their time together as if it were a treasure.

“Want to get an ice cream afterwards?” He asked.

“The place by the zeppelin museum?” Falco nodded in response, and Gabi smiled widely. “Alright, then. But it’s my treat this time.”

“Let me buy the comic books this time, at least,” he said, pulling out a book with a few giants on the cover. “This looks good, doesn’t it?”

Gabi frowned at the sight of the naked giants. “I hate historical fiction.”

“It’s not like titans were real, Gabi,” Falco said, running through the pages. “This is mostly political-oriented. See? They even consulted a historian from Paradis to write it.”

“Hey, I know her!” Gabi said excitedly, looking at the picture of the main consultant from the work. “She’s the head of the anthropology museum at the island. She’s Reiner’s friend.”

“Is she?” Falco said, his eyes wide as he stared at the picture of Mikasa, who wore a fancy pantsuit and had her hair up in a ponytail. Unlike at the parties, her make up in this was formal, no bright pink lipstick, no dark eyeshadow. “She’s really pretty, isn’t she?”

“Falco!” Gabi said, then took a second look at the picture. “You’re right, she’s really pretty. Her husband is a lucky guy. He always says it himself.”

“Oh, she’s married?”

“Yeah, she married a friend of hers, I think. It was a late spring wedding, so I didn’t get to go. They’ve got a baby on the way and everything,” Gabi said, scrunching up her nose. “He’s friends with Reiner too, but I can’t recall the guy’s name.”

“Gabi, you see those people every summer,” Falco said, his kind face showing a slight hint of repeoach. “You should at least learn their names.”

“Reiner has way too many friends for me to remember,” Gabi replied, not wanting to admit that she did need to be a little more polite to them. “I do remember he had a bit of a horse face.”

“A horse face?” Falco said, horrified. “This woman here married a guy with a horse face?”

Gabi smiled amusedly. “She seemed quite smitten by him. Every time I go and they’re there, they’re always all lovey dovey. Kissing, hugging, they can’t keep their hands off each other,” she said, tilting her head to the side with a flirty smile. “Besides, it was just a nickname. The man is handsome, and taller than most guys, too.”

“Gabi, don’t talk so kindly about married men.” Falco said, closing the magazine with his cheeks flushed. Although his expression caused her own smile to grow wider.

“Are you jealous?” She teased, then placed a fleeting peck on his lips. “You’re way more handsome than horse face. And, you still have more years to grow. I’m sure that you’ll be taller than him by when we get married.”

“Gabi!” Falco said, flushing harder.

[bxdbxdboy]

Character Development

BASICS

Full Name:  Luz Noceda 

Alias:   Apprentice

Nicknames: Bad Boy, (Luz Squad) B.Boy, (herself) Soft Boy, (Cottage) Baby Boy, (Eda) Nice Boy, (Sunny) Sweetheart (Bee)

Sex / Gender:  Female, Nonbinary  (she/her/hers, he/him/his, they/them/theirs ) .

Right or Left:    Left 

Age:   16.

Height:   5'6″.

Eye Color:    dark brown

Hair Color:   Dark brown

Distinguishing Marks:  She has a raven tattoo over her scar she received trying to stop her villain in her timeline. She’s shaved her left eyebrow in the middle to match her friend’s scar.  

Paragraph Of Physical Traits: She’s got a rather strong build which means she has no weak nerd arms and a significant amount of muscle to her arm. Her hair is slicked back like a wave and it’s always been like that it just has always naturally curled and folded over in that direction. When she sleeps it gets wavy or spikey sticking up like a parrot.

FAMILY / RELIGION

Parents / Guardians:     Camilla Noceda 

Siblings: n/a  adopted Brother King.

Marital Status:  Not married. 

Significant Other(s): Bee (Amity-Bee), Blushy (Amity in her timeline)  

Children:   N/A.

Other Relatives:   Many Many cousins, aunts and uncles and cousins on both sides of the family. 

Pets:   Bunga, (familiar, honey badger) Saturn, (familiar magical Owl) Calypso. (palisman Sable)  

Friends:     Cottage, Sunny, Iris, Bee, Lucky, Otter, Puppy, Gus, Willow.

Enemies:     Emperor Belos. 

Ethnicity:     Latina 

Religion:     None. 

Beliefs:    N/A

Superstitions:    black cats, broken mirrors. KARMA!

Languages:   English. Spanish. 

Diction / Accent:    Spanish 

SCHOOL / WORK / HOME

Education:   Public School / High scool leverl/ Hexside

Degree(s):   Not yet. 

Occupation:   Local Power washer for her boiling isles, Food delivery, Potion distributor. 

Own or Rent:    Neither.

Living Space:   Eda’s home in the owl house, Her home in the human realm, and Magic Treehouse bedroom. 

Work Space:    N/A.

Main Mode of Transport:   Skateboarding, Walking, running, or flying. Can drive, will learn, will drive without license. 

PSYCHOLOGY

Fears:      Being replaced / abandoned,  her anger issues, her home getting concurred, loosing her friends, venomous snakes, possessed creatures, dark mimics. spiders, The deepest depths of the Ocean, Slender Man, Siren Head.  

Secrets:    A big softie just doesn’t want many who meet her to realize it. 

IQ:     Was never formally tested,   but she may not be as intellectually gifted as the other Luz’s There’s a big jock mentally mindset to her as a whole.

Eating Habits:  Ravenous Appetite, no matter how much she eats she’s always asking for more. She can put some food away if someone has something they’re saving it’s too late she’s already gotten to it. 

Food Preferences: She enjoys Hot Wings they are her most favorite food besides Pizza coming around at a close second She likes a lot of junk food candy, cookies, chips of all kinds. On occasion she will eat something green though like some lettuce with taco meat or a green pepper. She’ll eat it all everything under the sun and even be adventurous eating a wide margin of other foods. She almost always has hot sauce on her there isn’t a single kind of meal she doesn’t love covered in the hot stuff.  

Sleeping Habits:   She sleeps well, for the most part, when she isn’t attempting to be a night owl she falls asleep relatively quick, even rivaling some of the younger Luz’s with how early she can fall asleep. It’s likely she has sleep apnea as she has tendency to snore so very loud and wakes up during the night in cold sweat, when she stops breathing from night terrors. She will oversleep until almost 2:00 in the afternoon if not monitored.         

Book Preferences:   She’s not a big egg-head book reader like the rest of the squad is the most Bad Boy read in school was “Animal Farm”, and The “Lord of the Flies”, in high school two books that peaked her interest a little bit. She also enjoys listening to Cottage read some horror books it’s the most she’ll really listen rather than use her eyes to read, in fact, one would say she struggles to read efficiently. 

Music Preferences:     Hip Hop, Rap, Dubstep, 80′s music, The Weekend, Various artists. 

Leader or Follower:    She likes to be the boss, but will occasionally follow if she doesn’t have to do much. 

Planner or Spontaneous:  Spontaneous! All of her ideas are never planned out she definitely does not look before she leaps. Her leaps are full of optimism and happy stupidity. The only time she tends to plan is when Bee holds her hand and forces her to take a step back. 

Journal:    Nope

Hobbies:    Dancing,   listening to music,     training,    watching videos / shows,  exercising,  roasting members of the Luz squad, doing dangerous stunts, skateboarding, basketball, baseball, (more so the batting range)  Surfing (Prior), Deep woods exploring, practicing her magic, teaching her familiars, (Saturn and Bunga) Listening to music, Swooning Bee, Video games, Baking Pizza, Breakdancing, Beat Boxing, Collecting Hats, Serenading, Dancing, Snuggling King.

How Do They Relax:  By listening to some calming beats privately, counting to 10, or at any point stroked by Bee she curls and becomes softer. 

What Excites Them:  Competitions,  Wild magic, Magical Creatures, Parkour, Plane Crash videos, Unus Annus, Dogs! Kitties, Being in charge, Buffalo sauce, Food!, Flirting, 

What Stresses Them:  Bossy individuals, Strict Parents, Rude people, Being inside the Emperor Castle, Being the butt of the joke, Tests, Explosives. Needles. 

Pet Peeves:   Vegan food, Whining, losing games, Being accused of being a perv, mocking, people stealing her hat,  Lucky sending her cursed images. 

Prejudices:  high horse, pretends not to be a trouble maker to stay in good graces, struggling to not be hostile towards her doppelgängers, 

Attitudes:   Closed off, Laid back, Aggressive,  or chill and cool depending on who you are. Bad Boy appears to be the “scary” anger issues Luz that is liable to explode at any moment and when she does her face and ears can get as red as Bee’s. You’re either in good graces with her or your not, she’s not always easy to approach unless you have a good sense of humor than she cracks up with you about stupid jokes. 

Obsessions:    Her shoes and hats, her favorite music, lids, BEE

Addictions:    Does addiction to sugary cereal count? because oh my god-!!

Ambitions:     Defeat Belos in her timeline, find a way to get adopted as a sibling by Cottage Core, Have her own identity outside of Cottage and the Luz squad.   Become a powerful witch, Make her mom proud.  

ASTROLOGY / PHISIOLOGY

Birth Date:    November 26,    2005.

Sign:    Sagittarius

Traits Associated with Western Sign:  loyal, smart, assertive, and compassionate personality   

Chinese Zodiac Sign:    The rooster

Traits Associated with Chinese Sign: active, amusing, and popular within a crowd. Roosters are talkative, outspoken, frank, open, honest, and loyal individuals. They like to be the center of attention and always appear attractive and beautiful.

Handwriting:     It’s okay…;      fairly sloppy.

Sexual History:   N/A.

General Health:     She takes pretty good care of herself as far as hygiene and having a good confident attitude.  experiencing some struggles with her adhd, bad posture leaves her with some back pain.

Mental Disabilities:      PTSD,   ADHD,  depression,  

Allergies:   Seasonal.

OBJECTS KEPT IN

Purse / Bag:  Wallet, towel, water bottle, Treehouse keys key chain,

Wallet:     Photo ID, Gold, Cash, rings, Brass knuckle, 

Fridge:     Chalked full of between meal and frozen pizza. 

Medicine Cabinet:  Bandages, Healing Potions, Icey-hot muscle rub,  

Glove Compartment:   Parking tickets, Trespassing tickets, concert tickets. 

Junk Drawer:     fidget spinners, gum, pens, sharpies, stress balls. 

Backpack:   Hats, Snacks, Mints, hair gel, Extra clothes, socks,  pepper spray, hand sanitizer, suntan lotion, hair brush

Desk:   Doodles, Paper Airplanes, Crumpled up Paper.

Clothes Pockets:    Phone, Hot Sauce packets, hand warmers, stress ball.  

OTHER

Halloween Costumes:   A zombie, the cementary is hiring.

Talents:    break dancing, beat boxing, fighting in close quarters, self defense, making Luz squad question their sanity, making jokes, flipping her hat. being annoying. 

Politics: Nah. 

Flaws:   stand offish,  moody,     blunt and direct,   vain,  doesn’t like to be on the losing side indecisive, selfish,

Strengths:  Her optimism, strong sense of personal integrity, avoiding the status quo, free spirited, confidence level, good sense of humor.  

Drugs / Alcohol:    N/A. No who invited? 

Passwords:     The most random shit. 

Prized Possessions:   Her hat passed down by her oldest cousin, her unus annus sweatshirt, a small wolf plushy named Akela 

Time and Place:    Currently, at the Treehouse interviewing new members of the Luz squad. She just got back from a trip and she has jet lag.     

Special Places:      The treehouse, her original house, The owl house, the forest where she goes to meet Blushy, The cliff by the Grom tree, the beach. 

Special Memories:   Meeting Eda and King then running into Cottage and Bee, Becoming friends with Cottage Core learning magic from them, Teasing Belos and Hunter with Cottage Core, Dancing with Bee at her Grom, becoming a polyamorous couple with Bee and Cottage. Being accepted into the Luz Squad. 

Tagged by:    Stole it from @witchesborn​

Tagging:    You,    if you want to do it.

[theladyofdeath]

The Cadre {18}

A Throne of Glass, 1920s Period AU.

Summary: Orynth became Aelin Galathynius’s kingdom the moment the Prohibition began. She sang every night, the voice of the city’s underground world, her cousin selling the liquor that was banned by the authorities. She was living the dream, young and free, until the Cadre, until Rowan Whitethorn, came into her life.

Since Rowan Whitethorn returned from war, everything had changed. His aunt wants to take his crown, old enemies have returned as business partners, and he can’t sleep without feeling as if he’ll be suffocated by the memories of war. Little did he know that when he came back home he would be leaving one battlefield and entering another.

All characters belong to SJM. I am no more than a fan with a plot.

**Warning: mature content - language, alcohol use, drug use, sex, murders and shit.

A/N: ……….Enjoy this short chapter, with only two chapters left....you know the next one is going to be serious. 

Links:

The Cadre Masterlist

Full Fanfic Masterlist

My Askbox

The sun was rising before Gavriel found the nerve to open the letter Lysandra had slid beneath his door the night before. He knew it was from Aedion, even though she hadn’t said a word. After staring at it for hours, though, Gavriel slowly undid the seal and pulled out the folded letter.

A photograph fell onto the floor.

Gavriel stilled, staring at it breathlessly before bending down and taking it into his shaky fingers. They were so young then, he and Saoirse. The sight of her, of him smiling broadly as she clung to him, broke his heart. Slowly falling back on his bed, Gavriel’s eyes didn’t leave the photograph. He brushed his fingers over her captured beauty, as if he could reach out and feel her, still, sitting right in front of her.

Aedion looked so much like her.

Especially those Ashryver eyes.

It pained Gavriel to look into those eyes, because when he did, all he saw was her.

His Saoirse. 

Refusing to put the photograph down, Gavriel picked up the letter. 

It was short.

Simple.

Powerful.

Gavriel,

I recently came across a handful of my mother’s belongings. I never knew much about her, as I never had the chance to know her. As you know, she died after having me, due to complications that I will never understand. And I think you know this, because, after reading my mother’s journals and finding this photograph, I’ve come to the conclusion that you loved my mother very much. I know that she loved you. She wrote a lot about you. How much she loved you, and how she couldn’t wait to have your baby, so that she would forever have a piece of you with her, even though your love was prohibited. 

Choosing to believe that you loved her just as much, I wanted to write to you, letting you know that I know that I’m your son.

I’m not sure how you feel about that, and I do not expect anything from you. I only wanted you to know, and to let you know that I know, too.

You can keep the photograph.

Aedion Ashryver

He read it over and over and over again, each time feeling more worthless than the last. How awful Aedion must think him, knowing that Gavriel’s his dad. Gavriel had never said a word to anyone, save for Darragh and Rowan, and now that Aedion knew…

Aedion must hate him.

But Gavriel did what he had to, did what he thought best, what Saoirse had thought best before her death: That Gavriel stayed away, that the bad blood between their two people would be too much for a child to bear.

But Aedion was no longer a child.

There was so much he wanted to say to his son, so much he should have said, but he wasn’t sure if he should, wouldn't be sure if Aedion cared to hear.

With the letter in one hand and the photograph in the other, Gavriel was bolting from his room and down the hall, where he pounded on Lysandra’s door.

She opened it, a moment later, dressed in her day clothes, preparing to go into the office. She blinked. “Good morning.”

Gavriel held up the letter, the photograph. “Do you know?”

Her eyes grew soft. “Yes, I do.”

“How long have you known?”

“A while,” she confessed. Before Gavriel could ask her why she kept it hidden from him, she stated, “It was not my secret to discuss.” 

The tension faded from Gavriel’s shoulders as he leaned into the door frame, eyes weary. “I’m sorry.” What he was apologizing for and who he was apologizing to, he didn’t know, but it sounded like the right words to say.

Sorry to Aedion, for being worthless.

Sorry for you, for barging into your room like a madman.

Sorry to Saoirse, for I’m the reason she’s dead.

“Do you wish to speak with him?” Lysandra asked.

Gavriel hesitated.

“If you do, he’ll listen,” Lysandra said, and she sounded certain. 

Gavriel said nothing. He had too many thoughts, too many emotions coursing through him. So he nodded, numbly. 

“Walk me to the office?” she asked, after watching him for a moment. “It’s a nice morning.”

Gavriel nodded, once more, clearing his throat. “I’ll...let me get dressed.”

“Okay,” she whispered, smiling brightly. “I’ll wait.”

And she did, as Gavriel wandered back into his bedroom and dressed. Before he left, he put the letter into his bedside stand and the photograph into the inside pocket of his jacket.

~~~~~

It was early afternoon when Rowan met the others and they walked toward the offices in the building above the Fireheart.

He’d woken up, once again, with his arm around Aelin; but, this time, his shoulder hurt like shit as he woke up with the realization that he’d been shot.

Rhoe fucking shot him.

And now it was time to make amends. 

Whatever the fuck that meant. Rowan could confidently say that he’d never been shot by woman’s father before, after said father realized that Rowan was fucking his daughter.

As he smoked a cigarette, all he could think about was the mess he’d gotten himself into.

And how he didn’t give a damn, because he wanted to wake up every morning with Aelin Galathynius in his arms.

Which is why he walked into Rhoe’s office with his head held high. Gavriel and Vaughan accompanied him inside, while the other three stood just outside, waiting.

Rhoe said nothing.

Neither did Rowan as he took a seat.

Gavriel and Vaughan waited patiently. 

“How’s the arm?” Rhoe asked, at last, nodding to Rowan’s shoulder.

Rowan cocked his head. “Feels like I’ve been shot.”

Rhoe nodded, slowly, with pursed lips. “I’ve been told I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Funny,” Rowan muttered. “I’ve been told I deserved it.” 

Rhoe snorted, and folded his hands on top of his desk. “There is no need to worry, boys. Our deal is secure.” 

Rowan stilled.

That was too easy.

“After talking to my daughter, I’ve come to realize that she should have never been a part of the deal to begin with, and so from this point forth, she will remain out of our dealings.”

Rowan still didn’t say a word.

His eyes narrowed.

“Then is this a good time to ask for your men to stand by my side come Saturday?” Rowan asked, steadily.

Rhoe sighed. “Against Arobynn Hammel, I assume?”

“Yes,” Rowan answered, without hesitation. 

“I’ve already lost a lot of men, Rowan,” Rhoe answered.

“I realize that,” Rowan said, “but Arobynn doesn’t want them dead, just me. It’s for appearances only, unless things get out of hand. In that case, they’ll be in the back.”

“I see,” Rhoe said, clicking his tongue. 

“I would not ask if it was not crucial,” Rowan continued.

It was a simple question, really, although not a simple request. Rowan didn’t know what else to say, though, aside from begging, but he would never become so desperate. He would rather die than beg.

“Nonetheless,” Rowan said, clearing his throat as he rose. “Send word with your answer. If I have your men, they will need to know the plan.”

The three men made their way toward the door, but Rhoe called out, “May I have a moment with you alone, Whitethorn?”

Vaughan tensed, but Rowan nodded, “Of course.”

After giving Rowan a look, Gavriel walked out, Vaughan close behind.

“Sit,” Rhoe said.

With a sigh, Rowan did so, resuming his seat. He waited.

“I have been very protective of my daughter,” Rhoe went on, rigidly. “After her mother’s passing, she has been all that remains. She is wild, yes, but she is a good woman, Rowan.”

Rowan looked at Rhoe for a long moment before saying, “I know you think you know me, Rhoe, and perhaps you do, to a certain extent. Only a certain type of man can do what we do, I realize that. But, I do not disrespect women, and I would have stayed away from Aelin forever if I did not intend to treat her with love and respect.” 

Something in Rhoe’s eyes softened as he said, “Good, because she loves you.”

Rowan must have looked surprised, because Rhoe grinned, weakly. “She told me as much when she was ripping my head off after you left the room last night.” 

Rowan chuckled as he nodded. “Sounds right.”

“Do not break her heart, Whitethorn,” Rhoe said, smile fading. “I mean it.”

“I don’t intend to,” Rowan said, honestly.

Rhoe nodded, once more, as he opened the top drawer of his desk. He slid a small velvet bag across the desk. “Take that, then. For when the moment is right. The way Aelin looked at you last night was the same way my wife used to look at me. And that,” he nodded toward the drawstring back, “was Evalin’s. Upon her death, she wished it to go to Aelin.” 

Fully aware that he was full of confusion, Rowan opened the bag and looked inside, where a ring, with a small sapphire surrounded by white diamonds sat.

Rowan was speechless. He looked back up to Rhoe. He opened his mouth to say something, but Rhoe cut him off. “Call it a truce.” He gestured, once more, to Rowan’s shoulder. “And don’t break her heart.”

Rowan nodded, lips snapping shut as he secured the ring in the bag and placed it in his jacket. When he got up and walked to the door, Rhoe said, “You have my men. And myself. We can meet tomorrow to discuss strategy before the club opens.”

Without turning back to face him, Rowan gave the man a curt nod and left the room.

~~~~~

“Will you miss me, my love?” 

Arobynn watched Maeve walked across their room, the firelight outlining her bare frame.

“Of course,” Arobynn murmured, still catching his breath.

Maeve was a brutal, ravenous woman - especially in bed. 

“Good,” she grinned, falling on her knees at the foot of the bed and crawling toward him. “I shouldn’t be gone long, though. You must send word, either way, after your encounter with Rowan and the boys. I’m eager to hear how it all turns out.”

Arobynn snorted, brushing Maeve’s hair out of her face. “I already know how it will turn out, and I’ll be just as eager to share the news and dwell in our victory. Rowan Whitethorn will die, the Cadre will crumble, and I will rise to the top of this city. Then, once you return, we will run this empire together. No more hiding. All three of us.” 

Maeve’s fingers swept across the small bump that had formed on her abdomen. “Now that young Cortland is out of the way.”

Arobynn still felt guilty for the encounter with Sam. He had truly loved him, but now he was having an actual child, a true heir to the kingdom he was building. He would not let Sam get in the way of it. 

May the kid rest in peace and forgive him in the next life. 

Arobynn’s hands covered hers atop her skin. “We are so close, Maeve. So close to accomplishing the dream.”

“So close,” she repeated, and kissed him, softly. 

~~~~~~~

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[xofanfics]

String - Part I

Prologue | Part I | Part II | Part III

Genre: angst, fluff, SMUT

Pairing: Baekhyun x Female Reader

Word Count: 3k

Summary: You find yourself in a friends-with-benefits situation with your best friend. You have no business falling for him, but your heart begs to differ. 

Your phone vibrated on your nightstand and Baekhyun’s picture popped up on your screen. You smiled and your heart fluttered as you raised your phone to your ear and heard Baekhyun’s sweet voice on the other end. He said, “Guess who’s back?”

You sat up in your bed with a yawn. “What time did you get in?”

“About five this morning. Did I wake you? It’s a little after seven.”

“Kind of...but it’s okay. I have to get up for work soon,” you said. “I’m glad you got back safely.”

“When am I gonna see you?”

“Are you free tonight? Let’s get tacos after work. I get out at five.”

“Taco Tuesday, huh?”

“Yeah. We have to enjoy our free time for the next week before classes start, right?”

“Yeah. I think I’m gonna take a nap. I’m so jetlagged.”

“Get some sleep. I think I’m gonna go back to sleep, too.”

“Good. See you later, cutie.”

*

You made your way to the restaurant. Situated near Times Square, you pushed past tourists and ignorant people that had no idea of the unwritten rules of walking around in New York City with a roll of your eyes. The restaurant you’d agreed on wasn’t anything fancy by any means. To be completely honest, their guacamole wasn’t good but their drink specials were better. With just a twenty dollar bill, you could have four margaritas if you wanted.

You went inside, showing the bouncer your ID before getting seated at a table. You knew it would start getting crowded soon as people started pouring in for happy hour specials.

Your phone vibrated on the table with a text from Baekhyun saying he was a block away. Your heart fluttered at the very thought of him. It had been three months since you saw him last but he’d still made time for you while he was in Korea. He still Facetimed you when he could, with the thirteen hour difference and all. He told you some things but you were excited to hear about his trip anyway. It had been a long time; three months too long since you’d seen him face-to-face. You couldn’t wait to see his face, to hear his voice, to feel his touch.

You ordered two frozen margaritas, in anticipation of Baekhyun’s arrival. You knew that he preferred them frozen and it was even better since it was so hot out today. And a few minutes after the waiter left to put in your drink order, you saw a familiar face coming through the door.

He showed the bouncer his ID before glancing around the restaurant looking for you. He didn’t find you immediately, his eyes darting from right to left, right to left. Your eyes met his a few seconds later as he made his way toward the back of the restaurant and he smiled brightly. You stood up in anticipation and he hugged you tightly, wrapping his arms around you. He’d never hugged you this hard and your heart was two seconds from exploding, with all of the pieces falling onto the dirty, wood floors of the Mexican restaurant.

“How’s my favorite girl?” he asked, pulling away with that warm smile you loved so much.

You broke out into a huge smile, one that you were sure your face was turning shades of red. “She’s good.”

He planted a sloppy kiss on your cheek before sitting down at the table. “Did you order something already?”

“Two margaritas coming right up,” you said, pointing to the waiter walking toward the table.

Baekhyun laughed as the man placed the drinks in front of you. “This is more like it. I’m glad you got frozen ones. It’s so hot outside today, I almost melted on the walk over from the train.”

You took your margarita glass and raised it up. “Cheers!”

“Cheers to the little bit of summer we have left.”

“That, too.” You took a gulp of the margarita and added, “So tell me about your trip. How was your summer in Korea?”

“It was great. It’s a beautiful place. I think you’d like it a lot. You’ve never been to Asia at all, right?”

“Nope. I want to go to a bunch of countries in Asia though. The closest to Korea I’ve been is Koreatown.”

Baekhyun scoffed. “That’s nothing. It has a similar vibe but Korea is way better. And so much cheaper. In Korea, you can get barbeque for around twelve dollars instead of paying four times that here.” He shook his head. “Food is cheaper, the streets aren’t dirty, and bubble tea is better, too. I got you a gift but I left it at home. I was halfway to the train station when I remembered.”

And with that, his story began. He talked about the foods he ate and the ones he thought you would like. He talked about the nightlife and how the party doesn’t stop until at least six in the morning, when the trains start running again. He mentioned his family and how he got to see his cousins that he hadn’t seen in years. He talked about all of the things he saw in Korea that he didn’t get to before. You watched his facial expressions while he talked. They were so pure, his dark eyes full of excitement, wonder, and awe.

“One day, I’ll take you to see Korea. I’ll show you everything.”

*

Two margaritas later, you were feeling the tequila in your core. The drinks were cheap and, surprisingly, they packed a punch. Baekhyun was feeling it too; You could tell in his eyes that he was tipsy and having a good time. His face was starting to glow a little and he was talking more loudly than usual.

You were excited to finally be with Baekhyun again; it was more than just the sex that you missed about him. You’d never felt like this with anyone. You and Baekhyun had so much chemistry. To you, he was perfect in every way. Even when he was being annoying or pissing you off your heart still fluttered the same, your knees weak.

You’d been with other guys but none of them could compare to what you had with Baekhyun. No man had ever treated you in the ways he had, even from before you’d had sex with him for the first time. As your best friend, he was always there for you and he never changed. Other guys before Baekhyun couldn’t compare. You swiped back and forth on dating apps, hoping to come across someone different but you never did.

You thought about what you said before he left, about dating officially when he got back from Korea. You were excited for him to be back. Now, you could be together for real. You had fallen hard for Baekhyun and being away from him for three whole months had been so difficult. Everyday you woke up, wishing that Baekhyun was holding you. With every passing day, you’d missed Baekhyun more and more, longing for a text from him, longing to see his Instagram stories he’d posted while you were sleeping. Now you understood how hard it was to maintain long distance relationships. Not being able to see or call Baekhyun whenever you wanted was strange. But you made it this far and, well, here he was.

Part of you wondered what he did in Korea. Did he sleep with other women? Baekhyun wasn’t the type to sleep around but he was flirty. The thought of him flirting with other women didn’t bother you. It was the thought of him touching someone else in the ways he’d touched you. It was the thought of him thrusting into someone else and making them feel good that made you feel uneasy. But Baekhyun wasn’t the kind of guy to sleep with as many women as he could; it just wasn’t in him to do it. Even with his good looks, it wasn’t in him.

You pushed those silly thoughts out of your head as the waiter brought the bill. Baekhyun took out his wallet, pulling out his credit card. “My treat.” He grabbed the check and paid for the drinks.

“Thank you.” You smiled. “Are you hungry? I’m starving.”

“I’m always hungry,” he said. “How about we get some tacos that are actually good?”

You stood up, grabbing your bag. “What about that place near school?”

“Sounds good. Let’s go,” he said, standing from his seat. He left a few dollar bills on the table and followed you out into the August heat.

Baekhyun put his arm around you as you walked to the train station, turning toward you. “I missed you. Korea would’ve been way better if you were there…”

“I missed having you around,” you said. “My other friends are great but they suck at being spontaneous. I miss our random trips around the city, even if it's two in the morning and we just wanted pancakes.”

“Well now we have plenty of time,” he said. “We should make a list of things we wanna do. And cross each thing off, one by one. Like the aquarium. Have you ever been to the aquarium? The one in Brooklyn?” You shook your head. “Yeah, let’s do that before school starts. We have a little over a week until the first day of classes.”

You said, “It’s free on Wednesdays.”

“Wednesday it is, then.”

You were excited to try new things with Baekhyun. While it was still warm out, you wanted to hang out with him as much as you could. New York is a beautiful place to be in the summer, you thought, but the winter months are hard to enjoy when the temperature drops under twenty degrees or so. But maybe this winter would be a little warmer with Baekhyun by your side.

*

His lips crashed into yours as you stepped into Baekhyun’s room. He shut the door behind him and whispered against your mouth, “God, I missed your pretty little lips…”

You smiled and pressed your lips to his. As he put his tongue in your mouth, you could taste the beer he’d had. You explored every inch of each other’s mouths as you peeled each others’ clothes off. You said, “Let’s shower…”

He smiled and followed you into the bathroom, watching your naked body from behind. He shut the door behind him as you turned the water on. When you turned around, you were met with a smirk.

You said, “What?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. I just haven’t seen you naked in a while.”

“Those nudes I sent you weren’t enough?”

“Nope,” he said, stepping closer to you. As the water ran, he stared at you for a moment. It had been a long three months and he was ready to devour you. He decided against giving into any animalistic urges he had, deciding that he wanted to take his time with you tonight. He wanted to give you a huge dose of what exactly you’d been missing. Your body was everything he could’ve wanted.

He caressed your face, looking into your eyes. He planted a sweet kiss on your lips and ran his fingers down your neck and to your breasts. He ran his thumb over your nipples, sending chills up your spine. His touch made you go into a frenzy. Your mind began getting overrun with images of all the dirty things you wanted to do to him at this moment. You wanted to forget the shower and fuck him right here on the bathroom floor.

As he moved down further and further to your sweet spot, you bit your lip in anticipation. But he stopped before he could touch you there and opened the shower curtain, motioning for you to get in. You pouted and got inside. Baekhyun joined you, caressing your hips from behind.

Baekhyun washed you up first, taking a little extra time down there, running his soapy fingers back and forth against your lips. You bit your lip, trying your best to keep it together. But Baekhyun knew you better than that. He knew that you were loving this and couldn’t wait to get you on your back to really make you feel good.

You washed Baekhyun up in turn, running your hands all over his body. Sometimes he let out a small sigh, especially when you were rubbing his balls. Baekhyun was impatient. He wanted you and he wanted you now.  

You’d barely dried off before Baekhyun was feeling you up, his hands going wild across your naked body. You missed this; you missed the way he always paid attention to you and how you responded.

You followed Baekhyun into his bedroom. He sat on the bed and you crawled into his lap, kissing him.

“I missed you,” you said.

“I missed you too,” he said, between kisses. He pushed you backward into the bed and got on top of you. “I missed the taste of you too. Come sit on my face.”

You smirked as you positioned yourself above Baekhyun’s face. Before you could balance yourself on the bed, Baekhyun had already grabbed your hips and pulled you onto his tongue. You held onto the wall for support. His mouth covered your lips and then he started feeling around the area with his tongue. Then he started attacking your clit roughly. He obviously didn’t forget how you liked it. He licked and lapped up every drop of wetness that leaked from your body. You moaned and body writhed as he ate you out.

Then, you got off of him and turned your attention to his rock-hard dick. You repositioned yourself above Baekhyun and you both went at it. You sucked his dick the way he liked it, nice and slow while you rubbed his balls. And he slowed down on your clit. The last thing he wanted to do was deplete you of your energy. He would tease you and drag it out until you came undone all over him.

Baekhyun pulled away and said, “You’re so ready for me.” He felt your pussy with his finger, swiping across it to feel how wet you were. With that, he flipped you over onto your back and hovered over you. You could feel how wet you were, how Baekhyun made a mess of you. He smirked and bent down to kiss you as he rolled a condom on. Within the same minute, he pushed inside of you.

Your lips parted in a low moan. You missed this feeling, this feeling of Baekhyun stretching you out and filling you up. He cursed under his breath as he began to thrust in and out of you, slowly but surely. His chest was against yours, his head in your neck. He planted a few kisses on your neck between heavy breaths. A few moments later, after teasing you with slow thrusts, he began to pick up the pace with short, deep strokes.

To be honest, Baekhyun was close. He knew that if he’d started pounding you from the first thrust, he’d come in ten seconds. So, he kept it cool and thrusted slowly. Plus, he wanted you to get off as well. And with women, he knew that perfect timing was the key to a clitoral orgasm. He thrusted again, sure to rub his body up against your clit. By now, he knew that this was one of your weaknesses and he could tell with the way you were moaning from underneath him.

He could feel your body shaking from underneath him and the scratches you were leaving across his back. He couldn’t see your face from this angle but he had an idea. He pictured this in his head as he thrusted into you.

“Fuck,” you whispered.

He turned to give you a kiss on your neck. “You feel so fucking good...”

Baekhyun lifted himself up, leaving you on your back. Then he lifted both of your legs up and over his shoulder. He started pounding you, sending you into a frenzy of moans. You let out a string of obscenities as he thrust into you harder. Baekhyun knew you were close; he started rubbing your clit. Your moans got louder, to the point where he thought that maybe his roommates would be able to hear. He didn’t care. All he needed was for you to come.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come Baekhyun…”

“Good,” he said, rubbing your clit even harder with his thumb. “Come for me.”

You were just a few seconds from losing yourself. You were blinded by pleasure as he thrusted and rubbed your clit at the same time. It had been so long since you came like this, being away from each other for three months. You held onto his arm as he pounded you and rubbed your clit like crazy. You were biting your lip to stop yourself from screaming out too loudly.

Baekhyun said, “Let’s come together baby.” He was watching your tits bounce as he was pounding you and the sight was starting to become too much for him.

At his prompt, you started coming. And Baekhyun knew this. You became a mess of moans and squeals as you came. Baekhyun followed, collapsing on top of you after a final, guttural groan.

The room was filled with the sounds of heavy breathing. Baekhyun gave you a kiss before pulling out of you. The condom was filled with Baekhyun’s seed. He let out a laugh. “Wow, this is what happens when you go three months without sex, huh?”

You smiled and sat up in the bed as Baekhyun put the condom in the garbage. He disappeared into the closest and came back with a stuffed plush cat. “I got you this in Korea.”

“Aw,” you said, taking it from him. “Thank you so much.”

“Of course. I wasn’t going to come back from Korea without a gift for my best friend.”

You got up to put on one of Baekhyun’s T-shirts. Baekhyun bit his lips as he saw you change. He loved to see you in his clothes. You joined him in the bed. You held the plushie, putting it in between you and Baekhyun. He chuckled. “So now I have to cuddle the cat too?”

“Yep,” you said, rolling over onto your side. And with that, Baekhyun took the plushie and tossed it to the other side of the room.

“Hey!”

[everydayanth]

Academic Elitism: an institutional issue

Sorry for being so rant-y lately, but the elitism of university has been a problem for me from the exact moment I accepted my scholarship with a signature and a handshake in high school. (The scholarship was later revoked due to state up-fuckery, but that’s another story, and I was already in too deep by the time they told me).

My parent’s house was only an hour north, my younger sister had already claimed my room, but I was excited. I was in the furthest dorm building, because that’s where the scholarship kids went, it was like a poor kid diversity hall, every few doors was someone from a completely different background, but we were all poor except our Swedish RA, and there was an odd pride in that. We all had various scholarships: robotics, dance team, nerds like me, etc. (not the football or hockey athletes though, they had their own dorm next to the library for... reasons, lol).

But being the last hall, it wasn’t actually full, most of us had entire rooms to ourselves, often whole suites; our hall was co-ed, but rooms were only occupied at every-other, staggered down the corridor. Only the front two halls were used, the back two closed off for construction or codes or something. We had to hike up the hill for dining halls, which was fine until snowdays that shut the whole campus down (and I mean west Michigan ones, with 4+ feet of powder and ice underneath). I had an old computer my dad got me for graduation and I didn’t know it was old until my peers started calling it a dinosaur. I had to use the library computers to write and print papers, and most places I went, I ran into the other scholarship kids. We didn’t talk much, just a head bob here and there, awareness at our similarities and an annoyed spite at being thrown together this way. It was lonely for everyone.

I had a purple flip phone I’d gotten only that calendar year (2009) and was still learning to text with (abbreviations? instant messaging? what?). My roommate had come down from Alaska to live near her dad, we’d talked in the summer, but I never saw her. I moved my things in and her stuff was on her side, I texted her about going to turn in paperwork and when I came back, there was a note on my bed and all her things were gone, she couldn’t do it, had never been away from home for even a night. She left a few mismatched socks and a bag of junk pens that I resented for years. 

Social media was mostly a way to talk to people across campus and exchange homework and party times/locations. We posted over-edited photos of our food and still jogged with our mp3 players and ipods. But within two years, I had to trade in my computer three times and upgrade to a smartphone to keep up with the expectations of communication. Professors would cancel classes by emails an hour out, and if I was on campus, I simply didn’t get the message, running between classes with 19 credit hours and three jobs. Work would call in or cancel my appointments (tutoring) and I needed to be able to communicate at the rate of my peers, so though it wasn’t something we could easily afford, my parents let me get the smartphone and my dad helped me find computers that could keep up with writing papers and researching without having to go to the lab, which saved so much time. 

There was little understanding for my suffering. I didn’t have a car, I had to call my parents and organize a time to get home or take the train which was more expensive than waiting around on an empty campus. They were often things that even the wealthiest students had to deal with, but there were so much more of them for us, more stress, more problems, more solutions, more consequences, and in some ways, more determination.

I spent plenty of breaks holed up in my room, but when the swine flu/H1N1 outbreak happened, guess where they quarantined students?

In our hall. 

Not the back one that was closed. In the room attached to my suite. 

After half a semester alone, suddenly strangers shared my bathroom. I never saw them, I would just hear the formidable click of the bathroom lock followed by the shower. A week later I got a blue half-sheet note in my mailbox about quarantines. The other kids were as pissed off, as we watched kids escorted in with blue masks and were told to just get cleaning wipes from the front desk –they ran out in a week. 

We were the recyclable students, brought in to trade scholarships for university grade averages. Many of my friends were struggling with scholarship qualifications and gpas (which only encouraged my continual obsessive perfectionism and involvement). 

We were expendable. 

I didn’t understand the elitism then, or I did, but I’d twisted it in my head from years tossed between private and public schools. I was an invader, I wasn’t supposed to be there, but I wanted to be. I understood that I didn’t deserve it, that I had to work harder to stay. I completed Master’s coursework for my Bachelor’s degree, finishing two BA programs (anthropology and English: creative writing) and 2 minor programs in philosophy and world lit, lead several campus groups and volunteered with honor’s societies. I spent hours on campus every day, running home just to go to one job or the other. I slept about four hours a night and I still romanticize it because I loved it. And I was good at it. It was a closed system, easy to infiltrate, easy to watch and observe and follow, to feel protected from the world, but there were always ways that I came up short. 

I didn’t have leggings or Northface fleeces or Ugg boots or name brand anything (except a pair of converse I got in 8th grade from my Babcia). I had old high school sweats and soccer shirts, hand-me-down clothes from sisters and cousins that mix-matched a style I thought was unique but I now understand screamed I don’t really belong here. Example: I went to propose an independent study to a professor I really admired and I panicked about what to wear. I still cringe at the memory, gahhhhhh, but I pulled on what I thought was a decent dress because it had no rips or stains or tears and though I’d picked it up from a clearance rack, it was the newest thing and therefore the best. But in retrospect, it was definitely a “party” dress, I grabbed a sweater, hoop earrings that had always been beautiful in my neighborhood, and heels I never wore otherwise, and presented my idea. This old professor was just like “um...did you dress up for me?” Clearly spooked by red flags and I realized my mistake. Saved by quick thinking I clarified “no, I have a presentation later,” and being a familiar face in the social sciences department, I let him assume I was dressed up as something. I just went in my sweats and t-shirts after that, got a haircut that tamed the wavy frizz and learned the importance of muted tones, cardigans, and flats.

I made a lot of interesting friends in the process, people who also stuck out from the American Academic culture: exchange students, older (non-traditional) students, rebels, and other poor kids. But that also meant that we all evolved during our time there, so friendship was quick and fleeting as we adapted or dropped out or remained oblivious, lost in our studies and dreams of changing the world or our lives. 

I had no idea how to approach the dining halls because I could only afford the bronze plan that was included with my room+board scholarship. I could enter the hall ten times per week, with four included passes to the after-hours carry-out (this was an upgrade from the free high school lunch I was coming from). I met other kids on this plan and their dorm rooms had fridges and microwaves and shelves of ramen and mac’n’cheese. Mine was sparse, my fridge had jugs of water from the filtered tap in the common room, and though it had a shared kitchenette, it always smelled bad or was being used and the nearest grocery store was Meijers which was a 15-20 minute drive from campus. I used so much energy dividing up my meals and figuring out how to sneak food from the hall for later or just learn to not eat, which is another story involving malnutrition, broken bones, and the American Healthcare System.

We like to summarize the college experience with fond struggles. I went back to my old high school to watch my younger sisters’ marching band competition that first year (it’s MI, and they were good). My old art teacher (not much older than we were but she felt so much older at the time, also her maiden name was Erickson and so was her fiance’s so she didn’t “change” her name and that blows my mind to this day), anyway, she stopped me to ask how school was going, and I was not prepared to be recognized in anyway and stammered out something like “oh, yeah, stressful. Fun, cool, yeah,” like the eloquent well-educated student I was. And she said, “oh, I loved it, don’t you love it? Everything’s so charming, and being poor? Oh man, it’s hard for a while, but it’s so good to go through.” 

I was dumbfounded at her reference to poverty as a thing to go through when you’re a student. I again had to remember that I was infiltrating places where people weren’t just marginally more well-off than I was, but far beyond, in a place where they couldn’t comprehend an alternative, couldn’t conceive of surviving poverty, of not having a reliable place to fall if you mess up, parents who couldn’t support you if things went wrong, who couldn’t save you from having to drop out if scholarships were canceled because the money just wasn’t there.

Talking with my parents never worked, and I recently found this video by The Financial Diet about Boomer shame in being poor, where many Millennials were united by it and it was #relatable. But all this is to say that there are so many layers and ways we develop in higher education that are often overlooked by the romantic nostalgia of the elite expectation. What we demand from education vs. what it offers us in return is rarely equal for students coming from poverty, and it starts with that first sacrifice of looking at money and deciding it has to be worth it to do something bigger, and that education is a necessary piece of that goal.

Now I live near Brown University, I’ve been to Harvard when we lived in Boston and recently took a trip to Yale with bold expectations. I am friends with several people who work at these places and I hear the same things: so many students are in a place where their obsessions are considered more important than the larger world, an argument that Shakespeare is a woman is more important to prove than the greater issues of sexism in society as a whole, while others are trained to look at data and the world as a pocketable fact-book, going to conferences and  week-long summits and then off to D.C. to make important decisions about places they’ve never been to, for people they’ve never met, about problems they’ve never experienced.  

It’s not new. It’s not romantic. It’s not nostalgic. It’s just sick. 

I was horrified at New Haven. I have read so many social science reports and papers and experiments and academic bullshit that has come from professors at Yale with a big badge of ivy-league validation. So much of this research was focused on homelessness and culture clash and socio-economics in America, as that was my “dissertation” that got me discounted master’s classes for my BA in Anthropology. Anyway, my point was that I thought this noble, proud university that put out so much research was going to be situated in something of a utopia, where their research is put into practice. Obviously, I was wrong, but I didn’t expect how wrong. (I had also started reading Leigh Bardugo’s Ninth House, so... there’s another thing).

My observations were validated by employees of ivy-league schools, who have watched over the past 2 decades as they grow more and more reclusive, hiding away from the public except through a few, probably well-intentioned, outstretched hands that do little to contribute to the world outside the university itself. These ivory towers are built by poaching: environments, observations, resources, research, and yeah, even students.

I love academia. I will sit in a library for hours just pulling down tomes (and putting them back in their proper locations like a dork) and drawing connections just for fun. But right now, I’m a bit bitter and spiteful and angry. 

When something like Coronavirus sneaks up on us, we have a tendency to throw the most expendable people under the bus as quickly as we can, and all I can think about is my shadow of a suite-mate sneezing and coughing with swine flu for two weeks, at how I refused to use my own bathroom and listened to my hall-mates’ advice about showering at the rec center a mile away as we all collectively locked our bathroom doors and were left there by the university to get sick without insurance to help with any foreseeable costs.

It’s not the same now, they’ve rebuilt the entire section of the campus, it’s odd to see it, I wonder where they put the expendable kids. Or maybe they don’t accept them anymore. I’ve worked in college admissions since then, and it is a scary industry of politics and preference and hidden quotas and image-agendas. Not all schools are industry monsters, but when you’re expendable, they sure do feel like it, whether you graduate summa cum laude with two degrees, six awards, and five tasseled ropes around your neck or not. 

I wish I had a positive message. I wish I was in a place to help people who feel expendable or like they can’t keep up with communications because of technology or language or network or environment. But I don’t have much right now. For all its posturing and linear progression, academia needs to create profit. All I can do is yell about this existing.

If you are feeling expandable in university, I can tell you you’re not alone. I can let you rant about all the small ways your peers don’t get it, whether its an accent they shit on or ceremonies you don’t have the right clothes for or textbooks you share with a friend to cut costs but then they hoard them. I can relate to you about guilt and that sneaking panic that fills you with anxiety at night as you question yourself and wonder if it’s worth it at all, if it’s necessary, if it’s okay to be expendable to follow something that feels bigger. I can validate your doubt and tell you that you’re not actually expendable, you’re a bridge. 

I’m sorry it still works like this. I wish we figured out how to change it by now, I wish I had secret shortcuts to tell you about, that there was more accountability or hope, but I’m not seeing it lately. I hope you do. <3

[fal-carrington]

Stuck with the mother-in-law

Pairing: Kamilah x Mc

Disclaimer: Characters belongs to PB

Tag list: @kamilahtopme @gavryllo @made-me-deep-blue @sapphics-choices @nighthuntresskatherine @cheeto-choices @beccaislove @whoinvitedalx @thepotatobleh @toyhenoctus @shanuuh @wildsayeed @voltos9 @iam-the-fuckin-queen @ilovekamilahsayeed @soundtrackforlife @thecleveridiot09 @otakufangirl-12 @scarlet-letter-a0114 @justejuste727 @deereboy97 @h-doodles @slytherinthoughts7

Prompt: Kamilah thought she had gone through more approvals than any other living being, with 2000+ years old, she thought she had seen it all, but when Mia's mother decide to pay a visit and stay for a few days in New York, Kamilah has to deal with her mother-in-law... Who happens to be a bloodkeeper and don’t like her at all.

The wooden floor was cold against her skin, but she didn't care, she had promised herself that she wouldn't leave, no matter how cold and hard the floor was. The little girl could hear clearly the low cry of her mother coming from behind the door, she had already been there for two days, two days without leaving the room. Two days without Mia being able to see her mother.

At this point she should have been used to, the "bad days" were becoming frequent that month. "Bad days" was what Mia's father used to call the days when Mia's mother became reclusive, cold, and extremely prone to explosive surges. Mia always thought that this was a very strong headache, but she hoped that her mother would heal soon. She missed her mother more than anything else in the world.

Mia never understood how a person could be so kind and loving at one moment, but explosive and cold at another.The little girl lay on her stomach against the floor, spying under the door where a dim light came from her mother's room.

"Mommy?" Mia called her.

No answer.

"Mommy, it's me. Please open the door." Mia asked, without answer again.

The little girl stretched her little fingers to the box of tissues she was carrying and took two, stretching them under the door.

"Please, Mommy don't cry." A little smile came over her face as the tissues were pulled. She sat down and leaned her back against the door, holding a portrait in one hand.

In the portrait lay a photograph, Mia wiped the tears that fell from her green eyes, looking at the photograph of her parents with her. The latin features and the seriousness in the severe brown eyes and black hair highlighted the beautiful young face of her mother. Hugged by her father, a beautiful young blond man with green eyes hidden behind his thick glasses. Together, both were holding a little girl.

"Mia?" Her father's thick voice called out to her, making her look up.

"Hi, Daddy." Mia said wiping her eyes, her father looked briefly at the door and a glance of recognition appeared on his face. Mia looked at her father, knowing full well from his clothes that he had just come from his work. The loose tie on his tweed suit, the tired eyes behind his glasses, and the leather bag strap on his shoulder.

"Is Mama on a bad day?" her father asked, Mia shook her head in affirmation.

"Daddy, do you think that... Mommy's sad because of me?" Mia hesitated to ask.

"What? Why?"

"Maybe because I didn't do very well on my math exam, I know she was expecting a lot from me." A tear ran down her little face, her father sighed tired, getting down on his knees in front of his daughter.

"Isabella Amelia Cortéz Evans" He touched her face looking deep into her inherited eyes. "Your mother is not like that because of you, you could never disappoint her, you are our greatest pride. Your mother... " He took a break before he went on. "She's just going through a bad phase, that's all, but I'm sure it will soon pass."

"... In the meantime, why don't you and I go in the kitchen and get dinner ready? How about we make lasagna and then watch cartoons on TV, okay?" He messed up her blonde hair with a smile on his face, making a dimpled smile appear on his daughter's face.

"Right!" Mia took her father's hand and followed him down the stairs. "Can I call Rebecca and Alex to join us for dinner?"

"How about just the two of us tonight? I'm sure you can call your cousins for the weekend."

"Okay."

...

Mia looked over at her side as she listened to her father's snoring, who was immersed in a deep sleep, he fell asleep after dinner on the couch next to her while watching cartoons on TV. Mia got up and took a blanket and covered her father, gently removing his glasses and leaving them on the coffee table.

An idea popped into her mind, her mother even though she didn't attend dinner tonight, maybe she was still hungry. Mia went to the kitchen and heated up the rest of the lasagna in the microwave and took it upstairs on a tray.

What the little girl didn't expect was her mother's bedroom door to be open.

"Mommy?" She called, opening the door a little wider so she could see her mother clearly.

And there she was, her black hair caught in a loose coke, wearing only a sweater and sweatpants, with her back to Mia, sitting on the bed.

"Mama, I brought your dinner. Daddy and I made lasagna." Mia approached with caution.

"Thank you, sweetie." Her mother answered with a weak smile, Mia left the tray on the bed and approached hesitantly watching her mother's red eyes and pale face.

"Don't cry." Mia lifted the sleeve of her blouse and wiped her mother's eyes, receiving a weak laugh.

"I'll be all right, darling." Her mother touched her face. "Mommy's just..." Suddenly her mother stood still, eyes glazed and distant.

"Mommy?" Mia touched her mother, not expecting a wave that invaded her body, images and faces of people appearing in her mind. A man with blue eyes, long hair and a cruel expression on his face, a woman accompanied him, with black hair, tanned skin and brown eyes, people screaming and running and blood everywhere. "Who... Who are these people?" Mia asked scared.

What she didn't expect was a strong push from her mother who knocked her down.

"STAY AWAY FROM ME!" Her mother screamed angry, an expression of terror and anger on her face.

"Mama?" Mia called her tears in her eyes, being greeted by a look of hatred, being ignored by her mother who locked herself in the bathroom. “MAMA!”

Sweat dripped from her forehead, with her breathing panting and her heart racing, Mia sat on the bed. The girl sighed, passing her hand across her face.

"It was just a nightmare..." She said to herself, trying to calm down. “...Or a really fucked-up memory." She was used to her frequent nightmares — which usually involved Gaius, Rheya, Lily's death, or some of her many traumas. They were frequent and agonizing, but she was already used to them. Now seeing her parents... She didn’t know which one of them, was the worse.

The girl looked to her side, finding Kamilah, who was lying on the left side of the bed, her tanned chest descending and ascending, immersed in a light sleep. The silk sheet partially covered her naked body, memories of last night wrapped Mia's mind, and a smile came over her face as she silently observed the features of Kamilah's gorgeous, calm and serene face.

She still had no idea how she had managed to marry Kamilah, but the thought that after 2000 years she was the only one who had managed to put a ring on Kamilah's finger made her chest fill with pride.

The thoughts involving her wife were interrupted by the memory of her nightmare involving her mother. The girl sighed and looked at her watch, there were still 4 hours left for her to go to work, and she was sure she wouldn't be able to get any more sleep.

Mia got out of bed carefully so as not to wake Kamilah, and went to the bathroom. Under the hot water shower, the girl leaned her face against the marble wall, letting the warm water fall under her face.

"It was just a memory, that's all." She said to herself.

...

Raines Corporation, 19:30pm

Sitting in her leather armchair in her Raines Corporation office, Mia leaned back while talking to one of her newest clients.

"...You have to admit that the potential of this contract to benefit both us is extremely high..." She supported the phone on her shoulder as she spoke. "Danny, at the end of the day you and I are the same, we think and see the profit this will bring us.”

“...Exactly, we can run this country. Japan? Who cares about Japan? You and I will close this deal together and be partners." With her attention focused on the origami swan that she patiently made in her desk, she noticed her assistants entering her office silently.

"...Really? I am so happy that you and your investors liked the whiskies and cigars I sent. Seriously, it was from the heart." She laughed. "Sure, I'll see if I can convince Kamilah, for us to go spend the holiday in Hamptons.”

She gestured for the assistants to leave the contracts on her desk.

"Danny, you're the man. I knew you'd understand, I'll see you and your investors on Wednesday, with a celebration." She smiled victoriously when she saw that she had managed to close another deal. "Okay, I'll tell Kamilah you sent her a hug, tell your wife and kids, I sent a hug too.”

When she turned it off, she raised her eyes to her assistants.

"Guess who closed another deal?" She pointed to herself. “That's right, me. Booom, it's Britney bitch" She gestured by pretending to knock over a microphone.

"Um, by the way, we have something else." Natalie mentioned it.

“Yeah? What?" Mia turned her attention to her origami swan.

"Your mother called. She asked you to return the call." Tyler told her while collecting some papers, making Mia stop at the same moment.

"My mother? What does she want?"

"She didn't say, she just asked you to call back," Natalie told her.

At the same moment her heart began to beat fast. Was her dream a warning she chose to ignore? If she'd mentioned it to Kamilah, maybe she'd say yes.

"All right. You two can go." Mia said and picked up the phone, sighing patiently before calling her.

The phone rang a few times before her mother answered.

"Hello, hija," Her mother said at the other end of the line. “It’s has been so long.”

"Hey, mom." Mia said sheepishly.

...

"You are so quiet today," Kamilah commented in a low tone, as if making a mere observation.

Of course she had noticed, she always notices all things, Kamilah would not let go of a behavior that differed from her usual behavior, but as always, patient, Kamilah waited for her to pronounce herself.

"Huh?" Mia looked at her.

"Distant and distracted too." Kamilah completed her observation.

"It's nothing." Mia lied looking at her plate. "Didn't you enjoy your dinner?" She asked.

"I'm not the one not eating." Kamilah told her, drinking a sip of her glass of wine. "And you know I like it when you make puttanesca paste."

"Do you want to tell me what's bothering you?" Kamilah asked, as if she was stretching out a hand so she could pick it up.

"I had a bad dream yesterday." Mia started talking. "It was a memory, like I was reliving this childhood memory, you know?"

Kamilah nodded, silently. Her brown eyes warm and understanding.

"I couldn't sleep afterwards. I didn't want to wake you so I came to the kitchen and arrived early at work. My day was going so well today, I kicked ass at meetings, closed two deals today, and even made Aiko lose a contract. I was so happy, and then my mom called."

At the same moment Kamilah's expression changed, she was watching her cautiously now.

"And what did she want?"

Mia bit her lower lip, looking at Kamilah with fear, her brown eyes looked for an answer that Mia feared to give her.

"Mia?"

"She called to say she's coming to New York. She wants to stay a few days... A few weeks with us." She waited, she waited for an answer from Kamilah, when she looked at her, she saw the expression on Kamilah's face, the same one she saw in old memories that made thousands run for their lives.

"Your mother... wants to stay with us." Kamilah said it like she was trying to absorb the information. "She automatically invited herself to stay here?"

"Yes."

"I think I've lost my appetite"

"Babe..."

"Why? I don't understand."

"She said she wants to spend some time together. She wants to get closer and improve our relationship." Mia told her, taking a sarcastic laugh from Kamilah.

"She's up to something." Kamilah said more to herself than to Mia.

"Babe..."

"I don't understand why she decided at the last minute to come here and stay in our house." Kamilah dropped her napkin on the table. "You invited her?"

"No!"

Kamilah sighed, Mia touched her hand over the table.

"Mia, your mother hates me." Kamilah told her.

"What? She doesn't hate you!"

"She specifically told me that she was against our marriage, that I wasn't good enough for you, and that we wouldn't last. Aside from all the comments she made during, before and after the ceremony to make you quit."

"Alright, I agree, but my dad loves you, he's crazy about you. And he supports our relationship, as does my whole big family."

"Except your mother."

"My mother doesn't like anyone. It's not personal."

"I guess in that case it is. Your mother's a Bloodkeeper, she's seen all my past and knows all the terrible things I've done, I never expected her to approve of our relationship, but I also didn't imagine she'd make my life hell. She criticizes me at every possible moment, and I can't kill her because she's my mother-in-law.

"She made my life hell too, but now she seems to want to fix things, maybe it's different. Babe, I did not want that either, but please, just this once, if she does something, I will send her away. But make an exception for me." Mia looked into her eyes, looking for a breach.

Kamilah sighed, thoughtful.

"Alright, for you." She knew perfectly well that there was nothing she didn't agree with when it came to Mia, she could deny it and roll her eyes and say it was stupid and kill anyone who told her, but she knew that if Mia asked her to stop a moving train, she would. And even if she had to accept the devil woman itself in her house, she would accept to please her wife.

[sunflowergirl522]

You Had Me at Chicken Tenders

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Writing Prompt: You had an assigned seat next to them at a wedding for a mutual friend

Word Count: 1548

Warnings: language, drinking

Masterlist

***

Bucky’s day was not going as planned.

His alarm didn’t go off so he slept until twelve because Steve kept him up late so he could help him finish writing his best man speech. He loved his best friend but he sure had a way of procrastinating everything. So then he had to rush a shower and get dressed so he could get to the church by two. And right when he was getting ready to leave Alpine threw up.

So here he is trying to find a parking space with only twenty minutes until the wedding starts. And of course the church has the smallest parking lot known to man and everyone was here already. He was getting ready to just block someone in when he spotted the last open spot. He doesn’t think twice before parking and jumping out to make his way to the church.

The only pews left were in the back and that was perfect. Bucky could be the first one out the doors to leave to make it to the reception on time.

***

Everything was going wrong.

Sam left his tie at home so you had to run to the closest clothes store to find him one. While you were there Wanda called you crying about how the photographer was gonna be late if they even made it at all. So finding a replacement was on you. You didn’t understand why they both had decided to treat you as if you were a part of the wedding instead of having Steve or Pietro do all of this, they were the best man and ‘man of honor’ anyway.

You found a dark navy blue tie that, from a distance, appeared to be black and made your way back to the church. You called your best friend MJ to come take the pictures since she was majoring in photography. Both problems were taken care of.

“Okay, I know it’s blue but it’s the darkest I could find. It’s a clip on too so just put it on now and don’t lose it.” You basically throw the tie at Sam when you get to him.

“Have I told you recently that you’re my favorite cousin?”

“You haven’t but I better be after treating me like your best man without giving me the title.” You were getting ready to bring up the photographer thing to him but Pietro makes his way to you before you can.

“Y/n, Wanda has lost her shoes.”

“What? Pietro it’s ten minutes till the fucking wedding, why didn’t you call me while I was at the store? Or find them yourself?” Your voice is hushed so as not to alarm anyone in the front rows.

“She just discovered them missing. She thinks they’re either in her car or in one of the other rooms.”

“You, go look in the car, I’ll run around and find them.” You throw your hair in a quick bun and slip your shoes off ready to run around everywhere.

“What can I do?”

“Sam you just stay here and get ready to be married. I’ll fix this.”

You know you sound exasperated and annoyed but you can’t help it, you’re tired. Sam kept you up all last night to help him with his anxiety about today. You spent the night at his place like you were the youngest at the family reunions again and having to share a bed. He woke up close to seven and tried to leave you to rest but, being a light sleeper you are, the sounds of him entering and leaving the bathroom woke you up too.

After running round for a few minutes you discover that her shoes are in the bathroom attached to the dressing room she’s in. You quickly tell Wanda how beautiful she looks and with only a few minutes to spare you rush out into the seating area of the church. Sam gives you an anxious look and you just give him a thumbs up and a smile before looking at the pew next to you, where an attractive stranger is already looking at you as if you’re crazy.

Bucky’s attention is immediately drawn to you when you come dashing out of the back with your shoes in your hand and hair falling out of a bun. He can’t help but wonder how someone who looks so disheveled and exhausted could still look so beautiful. He’s stunned really, and because of that he doesn’t notice your quick interaction with Sam.

“Anyone sitting there?” You point to right next to him and before he can answer you continue. “No, okay cool, thanks.”

The music begins almost right after you sit down and Bucky can’t peel his eyes away as you pull the band out, allowing your (y/h/c) curls to fall around your shoulders. And he can’t help but notice the way your skirt rises a little when you reach down to put your shoes on.

“Hey, can you do me a favor?” You look up at him, hair falling in your face a little, while you finish the straps to your shoes. Bucky can only nod as he swallows at the sight of you. “Can you wake me up when the vows start? I could really use a power nap.”

“Um, y-yeah sure.” Bucky has to clear his throat to gain back his speech. You mumble a thanks in response and he goes tense when you lay your head on his shoulder to sleep.

Bucky doesn’t move the whole ceremony so as not to wake the sleeping beauty. You look so peaceful he doesn’t even want to wake you when the vows are about to begin, but he also doesn’t want you to miss them. He moves his shoulder to nudge you and smiles at how you mumble for ‘five more minutes’.

“Doll, the vows are beginning.”

You sit up straight immediately and look over at the attractive blue eyed man. “Thank you, I didn’t stay up the past few nights helping to perfect these to miss them.” Bucky wants to know what you mean but Sam starts speaking and you stop paying attention to him.

***

The reception was in full swing and all Bucky wanted was to eat, he had missed breakfast and lunch due to how his day had started. He was seated at a table close to where the wedding party was which in this case was just Steve, Sam, Wanda, and Pietro. They only wanted to have the main parts to not offend anyone who didn’t make it in. Bucky’s table consisted of him, Natasha, Clint, Scott, Thor, and an empty seat next to him assigned to a Y/n.

The food is being delivered to tables when you show up to the reception hoping no one notices the bookbag you have. Most tables are full while you look for your assigned spot.

“What the fuck is this?”

“There’s no meat?”

“It’s a spring roll, just eat it and stop being babies.”

A myriad of voices meet your ears when you are near the last table to check for your spot. You immediately recognize the stranger from the ceremony.

“Nat this is bad.”

“It’s all leaves!”

“Clint, Scott shut up and just eat them or don’t, stop complaining.”

“They have a point Natasha, why isn’t there meat?”

“It’s because when they were planning this Wanda was trying to be a vegetarian.” The tables attention turns to you as you sit down. “So even though it was heavily suggested,” you begin to speak through your teeth and shoot a glare at Sam who didn’t listen to you, “that they have some meat options, Sam insisted that everything has to be vegetarian so Wanda doesn’t feel weird. I’m Y/n, who are you guys?”

“Bucky!” Bucky blurts his name out before anyone else could have a chance to and then goes to fix how eager he sounds. “I’m Bucky, this is Clint, Scott, Thor, and Natasha.”

“Pleasure to meet you all. Now why does it sound like you’re all complaining?”

“They don’t like the food.” Nats the one to answer you, rolling her eyes at them all.

“Hey Buck, you want a chicken tender?” You open your bag and pull one out to hand to him. You made sure to say it loud enough that the whole table could hear you.

Bucky accepts it with a thank you while trying to pay no mind to the way you saying his name made his heart flutter.

“You sharing with everyone?” Scott leans over Clint to see how many you had with you.

“I think I’ve got enough to go around.”

Everyone was so thankful that you had ‘actual food’ as Thor had put it. You become quick friends with your whole table and the night is spent with you all drinking together and making jokes.

“So doll, you ever hooked up with someone from a wedding?” The alcohol in him gave him the extra boost of confidence he needed to ask.

“Can’t say I have. How ‘bout we get out of here so I can check that off my bucket list?” You lean in close and pull on his tie a bit and after he nods, you lead him out of the building.

[billyhargrove-imagines]

Kindred Outsiders: Pt. 1

Pairings: Billy Hargrove x OC

Warnings: Cursing

Word Count: 2374

A/N: Hello! This story was originally posted on my fanfiction.com account but I decided to bring it to tumblr as well :) Anyhow, this story is going to take place in the beginning of summer & will later lead up to the events starting in the beginning of season 3. Gif used isn’t mine. Enjoy!

-

Indiana is…different.

I moved out here merely two weeks ago from Los Angeles, California. My father died from a plane crash over a month ago. He was on his way home from a business trip. My mother, on the other hand, isn't in the picture because she passed away from cancer 5 years ago. I was 15 years old at the time.

I couldn't stand being alone in my father's mansion any longer. It just wasn't the same without him. It caused me nothing but pain having to enter a home where I am not greeted a simple 'hello' from my father. Dinners were always lonely so I ended up resorting to going out with friends almost every night for dinner, followed by drinking at home from my father's in-home bar.

When it came around to bedtime, I felt a pit in my stomach whenever I passed my father's office and didn't see the light shining under the crack of the door. He always worked in his office late.

One day I made a bold move by giving my aunt Joyce a call and moved in with her in Indiana a month after the incident. Aunt Joyce is my father's sister.

Her small house is nothing compared to mine and lacked the useless amenities I was used to. But I didn't care. Living here so far with her, Will and Jonathan was much better than living back in California all alone. Sure, I had friends but it doesn't compare to family.

Since I am an only child of my parents, I inherited all of their money. I also made a selfless decision and paid off my aunt's mortgage. When I told her the news, I was thanked with a slap across the face followed by a tight hug. She never wanted any handouts from my parents in the past and still doesn't til this day.

It is 1pm and I just clocked out for my short shift at this clothing store in the starcourt mall. Yes, I have a great amount of money in my bank account, but I still wanted to keep myself occupied by working a part time job. I didn't want to just sit on my ass all day. Especially since I still don't know what I want to do for my career. I am 20 years old and time is ticking, but I don't want to waste my time and money on schooling when I don't know what the hell I want to do yet.

After every shift I've been stopping by the ice cream shop, Scoops Ahoy and I always see the same duo, Steve and Robin. I've become quite acquainted with them and I learned so far that they're fresh out of high school.

"Let me guess, rocky road?" Steve said with a grin.

"You know me too well, Steve." I replied with a smile, stretching my arm out to hand him cash.

"God Steve. Just ask her out already." Robin added, rolling her eyes playfully and crossing her arms over her chest as she leaned against the back counter.

"Can you not?" Steve snapped his head at Robin, cheeks flushed red.

"Very funny, Robin." I let out a chuckle and waved goodbye to the duo as I licked my delicious ice cream on my way out.

As usual, I took my time walking through the mall. I wanted to make sure I finished my ice cream before I arrived to my car and headed home. A variety of families, couples and friends seemed to be enjoying their shopping trips. Though word on the news is that many local business owners are enraged about the mall being built due to losing business.

A familiar female voice snapped me out of my thoughts. "Hi Victoria!" Aria, my eccentric coworker greeted me, her shoulder-length blonde hair bouncing as she kept up to my steps.

"Hey Aria, I thought you're off today?" I asked, still enjoying my ice cream.

"Yeah I was just shopping around for a gift for my mom's birthday next week." She briefly lifted the shopping bag in her hand. "Did you just get off or are you on lunch?"

"Um, I just got off."

"Yay! I'm going to the pool after this. Join me so I'm not alone!" She suggested. "There's also this hot hot hot lifeguard they hired last week. I went to school with him!"

"Okay sure. But I'm not really into that."

"Come on, Victoria." Aria groaned. "I know you don't have any plans today."

"No I meant the hot lifeguard or whatever. Not into that." I gave a dismissive wave of my hand before taking a generous lick of my ice cream.

"Oh. You're into girls? So sorry. I didn't know."

I snorted in amusement, but internally I was rolling my eyes at her. She's always been quick to make assumptions.

"No no no. I like boys." I made known. "I just don't care to drool over a piece of meat. But I'm down to take a dip in the pool."

"Oh! Okay. Sorry. Sorry again."

"It's fine Aria," I dragged. "I'm gonna go home and change out of this and I'll meet you there."

"Yay! Okay bye!" Aria shouted with glee before going our separate ways. She sure can be annoyingly hyper sometimes, but she's the only real girlfriend I've made here so far. Robin is always working and when she is off, she's always busy doing god knows what.

Like clockwork, my ice cream was finished off before I made it outside to my car. Or should I say my late father's black 1984 Porsche 911. It's quite showy for someone who now lives in Indiana, but this car was my father's baby. I'm never letting go of this.

The Rubberband Man by The Spinners blasted on my stereo as I drove to Aunt Joyce's house. Music from the 70s has always stuck with me. On my face are my favorite pair of black aviator sunglasses.

After a moment of driving down the familiar roads, I pull into the front of my aunt's house. I take the keys out of the ignition, remove my aviators, hop out of my car and enter the non vacant home. "Hey Jonathan." I greeted my cousin who is watching television on the couch with a full plate and fork in his hands.

"Hey there, Vic. You're home early." He said with a full mouth. I hummed in response before scurrying to my bedroom.

I searched through my dresser drawers until I found the perfect bikini for my mood, which is a two piece. I paired my black cheeky bottoms with a neon green strapless top. After quickly peeling off my work attire and slipping into my bikini, I made sure to at least cover up my ass cheeks with denim shorts before throwing on a pair of sandals.

Now I am out the door, tossing my bag of pool essentials in the passenger seat and making sure not to forget my aviators. The sun is at its peak and I am ready to cool off.

Minutes later I pull into the parking lot of the community pool for the first time since moving down here. I've driven past it plenty of times but never had the need to go yet until Aria randomly invited me.

Exiting my car with my bag under my arm and my aviators on, I hear various sounds at a short distance of people enjoying themselves in the water.

The sun is beaming down at me as I'm making my way through the gate, glancing around until I find Aria. "Victoria! Hey!" She shouted with glee, waving her hand. I found her lying on the pool lounger.

"Hey Aria." I greeted, placing my bag on the ground.

"Go on in the pool if you want. I'm waiting for him to show up for his shift. It should be any moment now!"

"Really?" Sitting down at the foot of the empty pool lounger, I shook my head at Aria in disapproval.

She scoffed. "Oh don't give me that look, Victoria." I shook my head at her, dropping my shorts and tossing it in my bag.

Aria let out a gasp out of the blue, sitting up straight. "Speaking of Billy. There he is!"

"Where?" I asked, casually pulling a flask out of my bag. I'm not an alcoholic and I don't plan to get plastered, but a little buzz is well deserved.

Aria doesn't respond. Instead, I scan my surroundings until I spotted the only male lifeguard walking the grounds to my left. He is tastefully shirtless, wearing red swim shorts, a whistle necklace and brown aviator shades. His dirty blonde hair is styled into a mullet, which surprisingly fits his face perfectly.

Billy's head snapped my direction as I'm taking a swig out of my whiskey filled flask. I couldn't tell if he was directly looking at me due to the shades masking his eyes, but all of the women's eyes were on him. And by the swagger of his steps, I can tell he's reveling in it.

"Eh." I shrugged my shoulders, once Billy passed me and sat comfortably in the lifeguard chair. "He's alright." I lied.

From his perfectly tanned skin to his flawlessly sculpted muscles, it's as if his body was made by angels. Even from a distance, I could see that his plump lips could lose any woman in his kiss. But no, I had to feign being unimpressed because a man that looks like that is bad news for me.

"Are you freaking kidding me?" She briskly pulled her sunglasses off, shooting me a look of disgust.

"Are your sunglasses blinding you?"

I snorted. "Nope. I can see perfectly clear."

"Ugh! If you think that Billy Hargrove is just alright, then I don't even want to know what kind of men you consider perfect." Aria mentioned seriously to me as she laid back and placed her sunglasses back on.

"Don't care. I'm going for a dip." I threw my flask back inside my bag before rising to my feet towards the pool to swim a few laps.

Stroking through the water, there is no one alive who can stop me. It's a moment like this that makes me miss the beaches in California. But I close my eyes and lose myself, pretending that's exactly where I am.

Unaware how long I've been swimming to and fro, I do one more lap before I take a break and reward myself with another sip of whiskey.

As I am motioning out of the water and my feet are planted onto the cement, a deep, male voice captures my attention. "Here."

I look and it is the stud himself, Billy Hargrove handing me a towel. "Oh thanks." I accepted with a soft smile, almost hesitant because I have a towel in my bag but I didn't want to seem rude.

I begin pat drying my long, black hair with the towel and begin sauntering towards my designated pool lounger, but Billy halts me, "Hey sweetheart." I spun around to face him with furrowed brows. "What's your name?" He asked, removing his glasses to reveal his annoyingly beautiful, blue eyes.

"Victoria. And you?" I asked even though I already know.

"The name's Billy." He said, randomly placing a piece of gum in his mouth which caused me to catch a glance at his lips, then to his abs and back to his eyes. I swear I saw the corner of his lip quirk up when he caught me. "Nice to meet ya Victoria."

"You too Billy." The sun was so hot that I didn't even need to dry off my body anymore. Instead, I threw the towel over my shoulder.

"Am I mistaken or is this your first time here?" He asked, smacking his gum as he's indiscreetly giving me an elevator look.

"No you're right." Before Billy had the chance to speak any further, I pointed behind him towards the pool. "Hey, I think there's a kid drowning over there."

Just as I predicted, he cautiously looked over his shoulder and that's when I made a beeline towards my pool lounger next to Aria.

"You. Dumb. Bitch." Aria remarked with obvious displeasure as I'm searching for my flask. "I can't be friends with you anymore."

"What now, Aria?"

"Billy the hottie was obviously into you and you blew it! Ugh, the things I'd do to be in your shoes right now."

"Oh please. He's just another pretty boy that wants one thing." I implied before taking a sip. "Go over there and talk to him yourself then." Flickering my eyes, I am now seeing that Billy's back on his lifeguard chair.

"Um no. If Billy wants somebody, Billy always makes the first move. Do I look like I want to embarrass myself right now?"

"If you say so." I said, readjusting the pool lounger so that it was flat and I lied on my stomach, using my arms as a makeshift pillow. "Can you rub sunscreen on me and wake me up in 30. I'm taking a nap."

Being the good friend that she is, Aria stole the sunscreen from my bag and did as I asked. She knows I'd do the same for her.

"I know you can't see right now," she started after a minute of no words exchanged, "but he's looking over here. Probably at your ass." She paused. "I wouldn't blame him though."

She's right. I do have a nice ass.

"Billy can stare all he wants. What do I care?" I uttered lazily, eyes closed and ready to sleep.

"You're insane! If I can't have him, then can you have him for me? And tell me if it is big!" She whisper shouted, rubbing the last bit of sunscreen needed on me.

"Im not having sex with anyone, Aria. Especially not him. I'm taking my nap now."

Billy is just another handsome face with a Calvin Klein body which doesn't impress me because it seems like he's used to getting any woman he wants. But I'm not any other woman, so he can use that charm on the next one for all I care.

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, theydraggedmein!

For @theydraggedmein. I hope you like this story!

Fic inspired by Melsephant's Monster of the Week Comic, specifically Solidarity and by the freedom of creation from my Secret Santa giftee

Tags: Supernatural is somewhat known, Stiles is a Selkie, Alive Hales, Friends to Lovers, Quickburn, Workplace Setting, Light/Background Angst, Communication

Read On AO3

*****

Selkie Solidarity

Stiles’ alarm doesn’t go off when it’s supposed to and he wakes up about two hours late for work.

Thankfully, he has an understanding boss with even more understanding bosses, so when he calls in, they just tell him to get himself there safely and don’t worry about it.

Stiles hops in and out of the shower so fast his suit doesn’t even have time to dry before he stuffs his clothing into a waterproof bag, chucks his phone and wallet in too, and leaps off his balcony to do a perfect seal dive into the water below.

He makes good time swimming, but nothing changes the fact that he’s late and he and his office mate were supposed to be running expense reports all day today.The final step before the merge negotiations happening next week.Thankfully they got most of it done this past week, but still, Stiles feels bad about slacking when his office mate is such a good sport. Without him there, Derek’s probably gone a little grumpy around the edges, the way he always does whenever Stiles is inevitably late.

Stiles passes a delicatessen and backtracks. He’s already late, so a few minutes more isn’t a huge deal, and Derek does love everything bagels.

Stiles climbs out of the water, ducks behind some brush, and sheds his suit. He tugs on his clothes, checks his phone for messages—none—and grabs a twenty out of his wallet.

Then, bag slung across his back, he troops into the deli and orders three everything bagels, two for Derek and one for him because he hasn’t had breakfast yet.

Then, it’s an exchange of his clothes for his suit, making sure the bag with the bagels is secured in his bag, and then leaping back into the river to finish his commute.

He’s already apologizing when he races into his and Derek’s office.

“Dude, I know I’m so, so late, but, look, I got us bagels!”

He stops short at the sight of Derek, shifted into his full werewolf form, hunched over his computer and poking at his keyboard.

He looks miserable, his snout long and dripping with saliva where his teeth are too big to retract anymore. His claws keep catching on the keys and he stares at them sadly before huffing out a sigh and starting again.

Stiles digs out the bagels and plops the bag onto Derek’s desk. Comically, Derek’s nose twitches. He looks at Stiles with his baleful eyes before gently opening the top of the bag and with far more care than Stiles is used to seeing from Shifted-Derek, he plucks out a bagel and pops it whole into his mouth.

As Derek chews with the power of a ravenous wolf, Stiles glances at the little calendar Derek keeps pinned to his side of the office.

“Oh man,” Stiles remarks, tracing the outline of the day. “Full moon? That’s rough, buddy. I’m sorry.”

Derek shrugs and picks out his second bagel. “s’okay,” he mumbles, spraying saliva and crumbs everywhere. “T’nks for bagels.”

His over large teeth and flopping tongue make his words nearunintelligible and kind of fascinating. Stiles wishes Derek would talk more during his shifts, but he also knows that Derek doesn’t like making messes even though he’s good at cleaning them up, so he tries not to make messes. And talking with his shifted mouth is about the messiest Derek can be. Second only to eating while shifted.

Stiles takes his bagel and sits down to boot up his computer. Derek hasn’t eaten his second bagel, and instead seems to be waiting for Stiles to start eating his. A quick bite confirms this, and Stiles smiles at Derek.

“So, shall we get those expense reports done?”

No argument from Derek, who seems to be trying to savor his second bagel.

Whatever. It’s cute. That’s why Stiles got them for him. He likes doing things like that for Derek, even when he isn’t almost two and a half hours late.

After a few more minutes of Derek struggling to type with his claws, Stiles turns to him. “Should I shift too?” he asks, gently. Derek barely moves his head, but Stiles feels stared at all the same. “I mean, if you’re stuck in your form, wouldn’t it be less awkward for me to be shifted too?”

“Work?”

Stiles shrugs. “I was late today. How productive am I really going to be?”

Derek looks at his keyboard. It isn’t really functional, and he’ll probably just keep tapping at it and then replace it on Monday when he can shift back. “Broken?”

Stiles waves his hands. “They’re flippers, dude. I don’t think they can do that much damage.”

Derek tilts his head while he thinks about it. It’s such a cute pose that Stiles has to physically turn back to his computer and enter his password before he accidentally squees out loud or something equally embarrassing.

“Okay,” Derek finally says. “T’nks.”

“Be right back!” Stiles grabs his bag and skips off to the bathroom where he exchanges his clothes for his suit and then happily bounces back to his and Derek’s shared office.

Derek straightens for a few minutes when Stiles gets back. At first, he thinks it’s because Derek is laughing at him. Stiles isn’t the most graceful in his human form, but in his seal form, he’s simultaneously better and worse at moving. If the office were water, he’d be grand.

Derek huffs a few times before slowly stepping off his chair and motioning Stiles to his chair. And, whoops, yeah, Stiles forgot that he’d have to climb all the way up there.

He gives Derek a hopeful bark and Derek nods. Together, mostly because of Derek’s brute strength, they get Stiles situated in his chair and ready to do as much work as his flippers can manage on his keyboard.

Surprisingly, despite Derek’s general malaise of being a werewolf in the midst of an uncontrolled shift, and Stiles’ selkie solidarity, they get a lot of work done. And surprisingly, Derek just holds half of the second bagel in his mouth for a long time before it disintegrates into mush and he swallows it.

Their boss pokes his head and shoulders in around lunchtime, some request dying on his invisible lips.

Stiles gives him a happy bark, and Derek follows it up with a less-pained wuff than he’s been giving lately.

“I just wanted to see how those reports were coming along, but I guess never mind.” Kindly, he adds, “If you ever need time off something like this, just let us know. We have a secondary set of time off for supernatural afflictions.”

Derek growls lowly before nodding. He stands up, hands his ruined keyboard to their boss, and walks out.

Stiles waits a few seconds to see if Derek will come back. It’s insulting to call their supernatural abilities afflictions, but Stiles can kind of see where their boss gets it from. He is invisible after all. There’s so many things he can’t do anymore because he inherently gets called a creep. In fact, he has to wear clothes on top of his invisible clothes constantly or risk being called out for being naked.

To him, being invisible is an affliction. To Derek, being a werewolf is like being human: natural.

Same with Stiles and his selkie side. He doesn’t even think of it as an affliction.

Derek doesn’t return, and Stiles decides that he might as well shift back and actually get something done, so he bounces off to the bathroom, tucks his suit away, and walks back to his office.

He finds Derek’s sister Laura standing by his desk. She has a note in hand and a tray of coffees. Stiles doesn’t think he was gone that long.

“Derek wanted to apologize for running off,” Laura says, thrusting the coffee tray at Stiles. One cup is already missing.

She hands him the note after he selects a mocha cappuccino. Then she installs a new keyboard at Derek’s computer and heads out.

Stiles opens the note. It’s a shaky apology written by Derek. Stiles flips it over and, avoiding the tears made from Derek’s claws, writes an acceptance of the apology and leaves it on the brand new keyboard. He’s not insulted by Derek needing time off. This full moon seems rougher than normal.

If Stiles really thinks about it, Derek’s tolerance and control during the full moons has been getting less for a long time. Almost six months. Something to think about.

He decides that he’ll bake Derek some of his prize winning double chocolate chip cookies when he sees him again.

It’s Friday today, so that means that Stiles won’t see him until Monday, and they have a meeting, so maybe he should do the cookies thing on Tuesday?

For now, he focuses on his computer and manages to complete all the expense reports they had planned.

5:00 rolls around and Stiles all but dances into the bathroom, switches into his suit, slides his bag on, and bounces out into the river for his commute home.

~ * ~

All weekend, Stiles does his normal routine, which involves staying up way too late and playing online games with friends halfway across the world. Then, he takes a quick, two hour break to make his apology-accepted-sorry-your-full-moons-suck cookies, because why not?, and clean his apartment.

Monday, he makes sure he has everything, including an actual suit for the meeting with their new clients, the ones he and Derek were doing expense reports for, slides into his suit, and speeds off to work.

He barely gets to greet Derek with the tin of cookies before they both have to change into their suits for the meeting. Stiles slings his bag on his back. He doesn’t like leaving it out of sight for too long, his mom and dad impressing upon him at a young age that selkies can’t trust people with their suits when they’re not in them. In fact, Stiles has a cousin who only just got away from her abusive partner that kept her suit locked away the whole time they were married.

Their boss is standing at the door to the conference room. He is made up to look as if he’s got an actual face for once. He’s wearing gloves and is dressed fully in the required suit. It’s a little uncanny valley, but has the desired effect of making all of him visible.

“Sorry, Stiles, you need to leave your bag somewhere secure.”

“What? Why?”

One of Derek’s ears twitches as he squeezes past them and sits next to Laura, who in addition to being Derek’s sister, is the head of their IT department.

“The clients. They’re human. We’re presenting as human today. I’m sorry, but you have to leave your bag off for this meeting.”

Stiles wants to bite out something about discrimination, but he knows how hard the supernatural world has worked for this. Their firm is the first human-supernatural merger, and if it goes well, there will be others.

“Isn’t this the meeting we reveal ourselves?” Stiles asks. That was the rumor around the water cooler a few weeks back.

“No.” His boss shakes his head. “We merge. Business goes on as usual. Another, more visible, supernatural business merges with another human business. The humans are told at that merger, and if there are any uprisings, we represent cases of discrimination.”

“What if our partners end up being discriminatory against us?” one of the more timid department heads asks. Stiles thinks his name is Boyd. He’s a werewolf, like Derek. It’s a good question, and it’s good coming from Boyd. He was rescued from a hunter farm where they bred and-slash-or forced werewolf creation so that they could “find out what makes them tick.”

Thank fuck that had been shut down right quick.

That’s what these mergers are all about: eliminating the humans’ natural instinct of being afraid of or hurting their supernatural counterparts.

“This firm has been heavily vetted. There can be no room for error here,” Stiles’ boss says. “Unfortunately that means that, for the press release, there can be no evidence of supernatural. Stiles, I am so sorry, you have to leave your bag somewhere. You will be compensated for your time without it.”

Stiles scoffs. “You think you can name a price and buy off my anxiety about my suit?” He looks at Derek, who looks murderous, at Laura, frowning, one hand on Derek’s arm, like she’s restraining him, at Boyd, who looks terrified. He sighs. “Fine. I’ll go hide my bag. But,” he adds, vehemently, “only because not doing so would endanger more than myself.”

“Hurry back,” his boss says. “The meeting starts in fifteen minutes.”

Stiles mutters a curse under his breath as he heads back to his and Derek’s office. There’s no place here at work that he feels safe enough to hide his suit, and there’s not enough time to call his dad to guard it for him.

Then he thinks about the file cabinet. It’s kept locked all the time. Paper copies of all the files he and Derek work on. He and Derek have keys, as does their boss. If he locks it in there, it should be safe for the meeting.

And he can check on it at lunch to make sure it’s still safe and sound. Stiles unlocks the top drawer, shoves the bag as deep as it can go, and heads back to the conference room, pausing to sneeze as some scent tickles his nose a little much. He slinks to his seat next to Derek and sits down.

Derek pats his arm, whispering, “I’m sorry,” without moving his lips.

Stiles shakes his head, turns to watch as the merging firm marches in, and the meeting begins.

~ * ~

Four hours later, Stiles heads back to his office under the guise of a quick refresher break.

When he gets to the room, he stares in shock at the destruction he sees there.

His and Derek’s computers have been knocked over, the towers scratched and smashed. Thank goodness for external servers. At least their work won’t be too disrupted while it’s fixed.

He turns to survey the rest of the room and his heart freezes in his chest.The file cabinet is leaning against the wall, all the drawers jimmied open, their contents spilled everywhere. Derek’s meticulous filing system ruined in a few moments.

But most heart-stopping of all is the fact that Stiles’ bag is gone.

It’s not anywhere in the mess and it isn’t still in the drawer he left it in.

Stiles runs around, digging frantically, in case he missed it. He also sneezes again and again, and finally pauses. He’s been gone too long. He’ll be missed at lunch, which they’re having catered in the conference room.

No. This is too important. Stiles isn’t hungry. He feels rather sick and on the verge of a panic attack.

He knows his nose is good, better than a human’s, but he knows better noses. He remembers when he first met Derek, and Derek was an awkward co-worker who claimed that Stiles stunk of the river even though, at that time, Stiles only went swimming on the weekend and used regular transport like his less aquatically-inclined counterparts.

Stiles hurries back to the conference room, grabs Derek’s arm, and drags him out, muttering something about a number or some shit.

Derek reverses their grip, holding onto Stiles as he leads him back to their office. Derek stares at the mess.

“What happened?” He doesn’t sound like he’s asking Stiles, so Stiles doesn’t bother to answer. He just goes to the file cabinet and points at the drawer where he’d stashed his bag.

Derek nods sharply, inhales deeply, and then points back out to the hallway. Stiles follows him as he goes through the building until they’re out on the street.

Lunch is probably being served now, but Stiles can’t find it in himself to worry about it. He and Derek already presented their expense reports. They’re clear for the rest of the day. It’s just that the firm wanted representation from all departments to be there for the whole of the negotiations. And lunch is also negotiations for some reason.

“Here,” Derek says suddenly, jerking Stiles into a coffee shop down the block from their building.

There’s a few customers in line and they all jump, muttering angrily as Derek budges.

He stops in front of the barista, a woman in her twenties, with long brown hair pulled into a requisite ponytail, green visor “protecting” her eyes.

“Sir, the line starts back there,” she says, bored.

“Where’s your girlfriend?” Derek asks.

Stiles frowns at him. Girlfriend? He leans closer, catches a whiff of something spicy on her. It tickles his nose, and he stifles a sneeze into Derek’s back. Oh hell. They’re both still wearing their suits. It makes a hysterical laugh bubble up in his throat. Derek pats at him clumsily but comfortingly.

The barista blinks. “My girlfriend is none of your business,” she snaps.

“She is when she steals something from my boyfriend,” Derek snaps back.

Stiles chokes on his spit. Boyfriend?News to him.

Derek gives him a quick, apologetic glance, before turning back to glare at the barista.

She caves rather quickly then. “Sorry. She’s in the back. What did she take?”

“A green bag, waterproof. Everything that was in it had better be in it when you get it back. My boyfriend will confirm.”

“I’m sorry about this. I thought she’d gotten over it.”

Derek just points to the back.

Behind him, the line takes a collective step back, some of the people mutter about being late, but for the most part, they all look too intrigued to leave. Shame.Stiles really doesn’t want to reveal to a whole roomful of people that he’s a selkie.

Derek grips his elbow and steers him to the far side of the counter so that they’re no longer in the line’s way. Another barista steps up and things start flowing again. No one leaves even after they get their orders. Crap. It’s like daytime TV, so hilariously bad as to be completely riveting. Stiles could do without the starring role though.

The first barista comes back, leading a pinkish-tinged woman with bright pink hair and cat ears headband by the hand.Stiles sneezes as soon as he catches her scent, the same spicy one on the barista, and definitely the same one in his and Derek’s office.

The pink woman has Stiles’ bag clutched tightly in one hand, the other is still being held by the barista.

“She’s sorry about taking your bag,” the barista says. She squeezes her girlfriend’s hand, and wordlessly, she offers Stiles his bag. Stiles grabs it, digging through to see that everything he’d left in there is still in there, including his suit. He strokes it before hugging the bag to his chest.

The pink woman nods at him. “Soft,” she says, voice low, sweet.

“I’m so sorry about that,” the barista says. “It’s just, she’s a pixie, y’know? She has compulsions.”

“Soft,” the woman says again.

“Yes,” Derek agrees. “It is soft. But it’s his.” He draws his eyebrows down, but it’s not his mad face. Stiles has become quite the expert on Derek’s faces after a year as office mates.

He knows they’re friends now because Derek doesn’t make his I-hate-you-and-want-to-rip-your-throat-out-with-my-teethface anymore, but he hadn’t known Derek thought they were dating. They haven’t gone on any dates. It’s an oversight Stiles will have to correct, and soon.Unless, a stray thought mocks, Derek only said that to get the bag back quicker. Stiles’ stomach drops. They’re still friends, so whatever direction Derek decides to go in after today, Stiles will respect his choice, even if it doesn’t include him.

“Soft,” the pixie repeats, making a gimme motion with her free hand.

“I’m so sorry,” the barista says again. “I used to have a coat like that, but it got lost.”

Derek’s brow furrows. “Where did it ‘get lost’?” he asks. Stiles leans closer. Derek has his I’m-going-to-solve-this-even-if-it-means-an-international-incident face on. Stiles has seen that face exactly once: when he ousted a hunter cell that was operating near their firm. Derek’s mother, high level ambassador in the supernatural-human merges, had come down swiftly and kept other hunter groups from retaliating. Stiles surreptitiously slides out his phone and picks out Laura’s number. He doesn’t dial quite yet though.

Derek’s faces, while always a clear sign of what Derek is going to do, are not always indicative of the trouble they may or may not cause. Mostly, it depends on the other parties’ reaction to 200 pounds of pissed off werewolf suddenly appearing in their faces.

The barista makes a face. “My ex-boyfriend stole it one night. And I couldn’t exactly tell the cops what it was, so he’s still got it. I’m unharmed for the most part. Sometimes,though, I can feel him stroking it.”

“That’s good that he hasn’t hurt you through it,” Stiles says. He hasn’t really gotten into dating specifically because of the horror stories from his mom and dad. From the look on Derek’s face, this ex-boyfriend is going to be dead when they meet him.

“What’s his name? Where does he live?”

Derek is speaking lowly, but even the pixie draws back, a look of fear on her face.

Stiles pats at Derek’s arm. “The full moon was just yesterday,” he explains. “He’s really good with control, but it might still be affecting him.” He shows the barista his phone. “This is his sister. His whole family will help you get your coat back.”

She covers her mouth, tears already running down her face. The pixie turns to her and starts swiping at them, making little distressed noises.

“No, no. they’re happy tears. They’re going to help us get my soft back.”

“Soft?” The pixie gives both Stiles and Derek a long, assessing look before nodding fiercely. “Friends.”

They get more information from the barista before she checks her watch, flinches, and says, “I have to get back to work. Thank you for doing this. Bye.”

Stiles checks his own watch. They’ve used up all their lunch break and if they don’t leave right now, they’ll be late for the other half of their meeting.

Derek seems to realize it too, because he deflates a little. “I’ll call my mom. She and my uncle can go get her suit back.”

“Coat,” Stiles corrects. “I call mine a suit. She calls hers a coat.”

Derek smiles then. “Remind me that I have to tell you something when all this is over.”

“What?”

Before Stiles can attempt to get it out of him now, Derek starts running, and Stiles has to run to keep up with him. As much as Stiles knows Derek, Derek knows Stiles too. It’s frustrating sometimes, like now, when they’re running half a block back to their firm.

When they get back to the conference room, their boss, looking a little less visible with some of his makeup worn off, ushers them into the room. Derek fakes needing the restroom, promises to be back in two minutes, and runs off. Stiles sits down and pretends to pay attention.

Derek comes back in the promised two minutes, sits next to Stiles, and together they just listen as the finer details of the merge are finalized and suddenly, they’ve doubled in size.

Derek and Laura both get a call as soon as the workday ends, and before Stiles can ask what’s up or what Derek needs to tell him, they’re both shifted and gone.

Stiles sighs. There’s always tomorrow.

He changes into his suit, glad to have it back, and swims home.

~ * ~

Tuesday dawns bright and early without sun and with a dripping wet werewolf sitting on the end of Stiles’ bed.

Stiles screams and throws the first thing he can grab—his alarm clock—at the werewolf, and Derek tumbles to the floor with a muted oof.

Stiles flicks on the light and points at Derek. “Explain,” he says. “Why did you try to give me a heart attack in the middle of the night?”

Derek rolls his shoulders in a self-conscious shrug. “’snot the middle of the night,” he mutters, pettily.

Stiles points at his clock. “Well, I wouldn’t know. I had to use my timepiece as an improvised weapon.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll go. I didn’t mean to—” Derek spreads his hands in a helpless gesture. Stiles can’t read it. He’d gotten so good at reading Derek’s facial expressions and tones but he forgot to learn his body language as well.Mostly because Derek doesn’t use body language. He sits still and doesn’t give clues. Stiles takes a metaphoric step back, studies Derek for a long, solemn moment, and then offers his hand to pull him up on the bed.

“Why are you wet?” he asks, more gently.

Derek rolls his shoulders again, like he’s trying to work out a kink, but it’s probably embarrassment that’s pinching his nerves.

“I wanted to update you on the pixie and the selkie,” he says, eyes fixed on his lap. “I only know you smell like the river a lot, so I followed it up.” A flush creeps up his neck, and he ducks his head down more. “I fell in,” he says miserably.

Stiles can’t help the laugh that comes out of him. He slaps his hand over his mouth, but the damage is done. Derek shakes his head once, and moves to get up. Stiles grabs his wrist.

“No, I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you—well maybe a little. I mean, you’re a werewolf and you fell in the river?”

“I wasn’t paying attention,” Derek says.

“Why not?”

“Because,” Derek says, and then mumbles the next part too low for even Stiles’ selkie ears to hear.

“What was that?”

Derek repeats himself louder and faster. It’s still just a jumbled mess of syllables that mean nothing to Stiles.

“Couldn’t catch that, dear, repeat again please. And enunciate.”

Derek lifts his head, determination burning in his eyes. “I said,” he speaks slowly, more, Stiles gets the feeling, to get the words out, than through annoyance at having to repeat himself for a third time, “that I fell in because I caught your scent and got distracted.”

Stiles doesn’t know how to respond to that, because, aside from the pretend-to-be-boyfriends to get Stiles’ suit back, Derek has expressed zero interest in Stiles like that. So why would he fall in the river after catching Stiles’ scent?

Stiles decides it’s too early and goes with a less confusing topic of conversation. “You said you wanted to update me on the pixie and the barista?”

Derek nods, grabbing the offered opportunity gratefully. “My mom and uncle found the ex-boyfriend easily. And because werewolves, they were able to locate and secure the coat quickly. Turns out he’s just a regular human obsessed with selkie lore and just wanted to have control over her.”

“Is he in jail?”

Derek shakes his head. “How can we arrest him? Humans aren’t exactly aware of the supernatural yet. My mom is going to keep an eye on him, and my uncle promised to put the fear of Peter into him.”

“‘The fear of Peter’?”Stiles raises an eyebrow. “That’s awfully cocky of your uncle Peter.” He gets a quirked smile in response. Stiles has met Peter once, and that was enough for Stiles to realize that Peter, if he didn’t like you, could make your life miserable.

Thankfully, Peter seemed to like Stiles, and he hasn’t been subjected to more of his particular brand of Peter-ness.

“Anyway,” Derek continues, “I wanted to tell you that Ari got her coat back, and Livie is sorry for taking yours.”

“I get it. She probably thought it was Ari’s.”

“Yeah, and one more thing: I think I love you.”

Stiles blinks at the confession. Blood rushes in his ears and it’s a little difficult to breathe.

“What?” he manages to whisper.

Derek makes eye contact with the wall past Stiles’ head. Choked, he says, “I think I’m in love with you. It’s why my full moons have been getting worse. My anchor is shifting. It’s you.”

“What?” Stiles repeats. Derek’s head drops, his shoulders droop. Confused, Stiles just stares at him.

“My anchor isn’t what it was before. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you. It’s too much. I’m sorry.”

He stands up almost too fast for Stiles to grab him again. “No!”

Derek looks at where Stiles is gripping his wrist. “No?” he asks, and it sounds so, so hopeful.

“No,” Stiles says, settling back, tugging Derek gently until he’s back on the bed. “Don’t go. Tell me more about your anchor. Tell me more about you. ‘Cause, Derek, you’re not the only one who thinks they’re in love.”

Derek’s eyes go to Stiles’ chest—his heartbeat. “I love you,” Stiles says, and the skip in his heartbeat isn’t from a lie. It’s because he’s realizing the truth. He may have been able to reason with himself at the coffee shop yesterday, and even explain away all the little anomalies of being attracted to his officemate as being friends, but he knows with certainty, he wants to be actual boyfriends with Derek.

He wants Derek here, in his space, wants to help him get his wolf back in control during the full moons, wants to get him bagels every morning, wants, wants, wants, so steady, it’s like his heartbeat.

And when Derek leans in, asks, “May I?” so gently and carefully before kissing Stiles’ like he’s the most precious thing in the world, Stiles knows, Derek wants too.

Warmth surges in his veins and he deepens the kiss, holding it like a breath, kissing like their lives depend on it, and trying to climb into the space in Derek’s heart that is already calling his name.

~ End ~

[catchyoulaterhotdog]

Country boy, I love you AU

What’s up, i’m back on my bullshit with this self indulgent country boy!Willie and city boy!Alex au. The new tag is country boy I love you au because I finally came up with a name. Since I don’t really write I wanted to write out some head canons for this au as I pump out more drawings. Put under the cut for anyone who doesn’t want to read all my ramblings.

Willie

Last name is Thomson, lives with his family on a big farm, has an older brother and a younger sister, plus his cousin Flynn lives with him!

Absolutely loves animals and getting up early. My boy is up crowing with the Roosters.

Can cook and bake like a god, predominantly works in the bakery in the back of his parent’s market. You have to try his homemade donuts, they’re to die for.

His parents are Renee and Allen, his sister is Fivel, his brother Matthew. Y’all already know Flynn

Absolutely loves horses!!! Had a horse boy phase, probably still in it.

His parents and trainer try to get him to do horse shows but he’d much rather go on trail rides all day

His formal trainer is Caleb Covington, who wishes he’d use his skills for much more than just running around the woods and pretending to be Merida from Brave.

Absolute best friends with Reggie and Julie, who he’s known all of his life. Reggie works as a stable keep and Julie works at the market with him.

Flynn and him are tight-knit, and tease each other about their respective crushes on some cute but definitely out of place people on the farm.

Friendly as hell but super energetic a lot of the time, can take some time to get use to him.

Carries around stim toys for him and Reggie in his bag, even sometimes puts them in saddle bags when they go out for rides.

Assigned to help out Alex, a new boy to town who just needed a job and didn’t expect this.

Alex

Lives with Carrie and Trevor Wilson, Carrie being his cousin, since coming out to his parents didn’t go so well

Trevor decides to move out to the countryside to find some new inspiration for his music and get out of the stuffy city life.

Trevor becomes friends with Ray (cough cough) and Alex is introduced to his daughter Julie

They hit it off and when Alex mentions needing a job, Julie recommends him to the Thomsons.

Shows up to his first day of work in a nice shirt plus his fanny pack, along with some nice jeans he had patched and painted with Carrie.

Willie is enamored but is like, what the hell are you wearing? As Willie stands there in beat up overalls and a very loose flannel button up. 

Alex is not amused, going through mud and hay and all this gunk to work with animals.

Low key terrified of the horses at first, the only animal he trusts is Willie’s beloved sheep dog, named Hot Dog for some reason???

Thinks Willie is hot way too energetic and kind of hates him at first.

Rants to Carrie, think Draco ranting about Harry to his dad, “You won’t believe what he made me do today!!! I almost slipped and ended up pig food! And He had the audacity to look so good in messy braids and overalls covered in filth!”

Low-key wishes he had a job in the market instead but is slowly coming around.

Does have one cow that he absolutely loves

Does absolutely 100% not have a crush on Willie shut the fuck up Carrie.

Julie

Absolute sweetheart and a half, we know this

Lives with her dad and brother in a nice house not too far from Willie’s, they grew up together and him and Flynn are her absolute best friends

Reggie she’s meant a few times but doesn’t really have a lot of time to check out the stables, he seems really nice though.

Works mostly in the bakery part with Willie, she can frost a cupcake like nobody’s business.

Absolutely adores music and she organizes a quarterly concert on the farm where anyone can sign up and help raise funds for cancer awareness (Started after her mom died)

One day a newcomer shows up and his name is Luke

She thinks he is absolutely obnoxious at first, wayyyy too flirty and wayyy too full of himself

Once he catches sight of her though he makes it his mission to go to the farmer’s market as much as possible without seeming to creepy

And maybe, maybe Julie’s starting to think he’s funny

No he’s not cute shut up Alex!!!

Reggie

Horse trainer and stable hand for the Thomsons

Willie loves going on long trail rides with him, they really get each other

Absolutely loves his job and the friends he’s made at the barn

Very common for him to stay with Willie when his parents are fighting

The first one to make friends with Alex on the farm (After Julie), they bond over a shared love of many 90s bands and he helps him come around to the horses

Thinks watching him and Willie in the beginning stages is absolutely hilarious

Takes Alex shopping for some actual appropriate clothing

Gets crushes really really easily, probably has had one on everybody on the farm at some point.

Absolutely loves Julie’s quarterly concerts and always plays the same song-Home is where my horse is

Sometimes on really busy days he’ll help out Willie and Julie in the market

Met Luke at the same concert Julie did and is now very happy to play matchmaker

He loves love!!!

Is trying to teach Luke horseback riding but it’s not going so well

May or may not be the reason the sheep dog is named Hot Dog

Luke

Lives with his friend, Nick, since he ran away from his parents. 

Has dedicated himself to music, and found out about a concert that a local farm did

There he meets Julie and Reggie and he loves them both

Makes it his mission to try and court the lovable but sassy Julie with Reggie as his wingman

Meets Alex and they bond over being into music and a little less country oriented than everyone else.

Though Alex will tell him off if he’s holding up business

Constantly gets snuck onto the farm by Reggie

First to notice the insane tension between Willie and Alex

Flynn

Lives with Willie since her parents travel a lot

Loves the farm but not as much as Willie, she’s not as big into the animals

Always performs with Julie at the concerts

Works in the market but in the produce section

Does hijack the speakers to play modern music

Meets Alex’s sister(?), she thinks Carrie is his sister at first.

Everyone thinks they hate each other but Willie, who realizes Flynn has a big crush on Carrie and tries to get her a job

Flynn will absolutely not admit her crush though 

Is very intrigued by whatever Luke and Julie have going on and teams up with Reggie to make it a thing

No one expects it but Reggie and her make a bomb ass team

They’re pretty close but they don’t hang out as often as they should

Carrie

Absolutely hates this move, even more than Alex

Goes to the farm with him a few times and almost cried when one of her dresses got ruined because a certain worker smashed into her with crates of produce

Though she couldn’t cry because the beautiful girl who smashed into her and was talking a mile a minute had absolutely enamored her.

Alex thinks it is hilarious since it’s finally reversed and she’s not teasing him about his crushes

Carrie is determined to get this girl to like her, but isn’t quite sure how. 

Finds an in when she becomes friends with Julie and Julie knows right away what’s going on between her two friends

Just a lot of oblivious gay pining

[phebia]

Making Family, Prologue

So, I can’t really write for shit but I love to do it. Normally, I just write for myself and don’t publish any of my fics but I figured posting a few couldn’t hurt. I’m almost done watching On My Block (I know I’m late to the party ya’ll) and I’ve had this fic idea bouncing around my head for a while now. If you read it, I hope you enjoy it hehe.

People like to pretend that family is all about blood. The DNA in your core is what decides who your family is, and that's just how it is. Few people know the truth behind that rule. Know that it's a blatant lie. Blood doesn't mean shit. The people I shared my blood line with were far from what family should be. My parents were never physically abusive. A hand never struck me and I never had a bruise courtesy of them. That didn't mean that they were good, though. Words can hit just as hard as fists. Every syllable knocked me to the ground and it got harder to get to my feet each time. Neglect wasn't a word I liked to use, but it was exactly what the lawyer explained it as in court. My parents were mean when they were present but most of the time they were gone. Their presence in my life wasn't strong or positive. I wasn't quite sure how it started. If I had to guess, I'd say that Ruth and Arthur Connelly- the elderly couple next door, finally decided to speak up. They didn't know anything for certain. Not that they had to. It wasn't hard to notice the empty driveway and hear the screaming echoes. It had been a Thursday when she showed up. Caroline Jennings was a fresh-out-of-college social worker. I would eventually learn that I was just her third case. She had blown into my life like a storm, her blonde hair looking more like sunshine. The first thing I noticed about her were her straight teeth, shining as she smiled sweetly at me. I didn't know that taking a few minutes to talk to her would change my life. Dragging an almost 18 year old from a group home to court and back again was harder than Caroline had thought it would be. Her past two cases had been a 5 year old and 2 year old respectively. They hadn't known what was going on. I did. I knew exactly what was happening at every point in time. Caroline had shown up in late April and the judges gavel slammed down for the last time in the end of August. I spent my 18th birthday in a group home full of strangers. Katrina was a kind hearted Latina woman with stern eyes who ran a relatively recent group home all on her own. She didn't ask for help from anyone and she surely didn't need it. I had been there for months but that didn't mean living in a home that wasn't really yours was easy. I wasn't close to the other girls that called the old farm house home. Teenagers were filled with mean comments that would leave a mark if they chose to say them out loud, and they always chose to say them out loud. Apparently mean things were okay as long as it wasn't your parents saying them. I kept out of their way. Minded my own business. Tried to make my plush form as small as possible no matter how fruitless my efforts were, all in an attempt to be ignored. It was funny that after so many years of being alone, I became comfortable in the isolation. In the months it took for the lawyers and social workers in charge of my case to find someone willing to take me in I had legally become an adult, but Caroline had kept my case open as a favour to me. I may have been legal, but it would've been nearly impossible for me to survive on the streets of Waterdown alone. I didn't know much about my extended family and it was impossible to blame anyone for not wanting to take in an 18 year old stranger, but that didn't make the ache of being unwanted any less painful. It was on a late May day that I first heard the name Geny Martinez. Caroline had sat me down and did her best to explain how exactly we were related but all I caught was that it was through my mom's side and she could be referred to as a distant aunt of mine. That also seemed to be the only Caroline understood herself. The tremor of surprise that first hit me when I learned I had family in California looking to take me in lingered for days on end. It still clung to my nerves during the first week of summer when I first met Geny and her husband Ruben. Caroline had told me they were being flown out but it didn't make looking into her brown eyes any easier. Behind her beautiful face there was stress and concern, Ruben on the other hand seemed much more relaxed. Leading them through town was awkward, but sitting down in the local Starbucks and actually having a conversation was much worse. Geny had confessed she didn't know who my mother was or how we were related (a trend that seemed popular) but she was still willing to take me in. I couldn't help but laugh when she had warned me about Freeridge and told me she wouldn't blame if I refused their offer. The thought of living with strangers pulled my stomach into knots of anxiety but it was a much better option than fending for myself on the streets of Waterdown, which I undoubtedly knew I'd have to do soon if the Martinez family didn't work. The next day the couple was gone, but they had taken my phone number with them. I didn't hear from Ruben very often, Geny on the other hand texted me multiple times a day and slowly filled me in on her family and Freeridge. The first time I visited Freeridge was in the early days of June and I visited once more over the summer. My last visit had ended in the early weeks of July and I left feeling decently comfortable with my new... I wasn't sure what to call them, but family seemed to be the easiest word to use. I was set to return in a month, this time for good.

My first introduction to California had been a blast of hot air to the face. A part of me had been hoping that Los Angeles would've cooled down in the time that I was away, but Ruby had drilled the weather patterns of Freeridge into my head and I should've listened to him. He even suggested I get my hands on an entirely new wardrobe if possible. According to the young Latino all of Canada was frigid year round and no clothing suitable for my hometown would be fitting for my new one. I had laughed at the harebrained boy but my tie dye hoodie and black leggings earned me some looks from strangers in the airport and I quickly decided I probably should've listened to him. My slight familiarity of LAX made grabbing my luggage a less anxious process than it was the first time I had done it, despite the fact that I now had a few more bags with me. My life may not have been grand, but I needed more than a single suitcase to move it to a new country. With a small grunt I heaved my final suitcase off of the baggage claim belt, and after a brief scan of my belongings I turned, starting to look around for Geny or Ruben. However, I quickly froze in place when my eyes landed on a small familiar form marching towards me. My sunglasses gave Ruby a green tint but he and his scowl were unmistakable. "Hey..." My hopeful greeting faded off as my distant cousin stopped before me and gave me a judgemental once over, then turned his attention to my luggage without a word. "I told you not to wear your cold weather clothes. No one listens to me!" All I could do was stare as he shook his head to himself and struggled to get a good grip on a couple of my bags. "I knew that you'd mess up. You're lucky I brought these for you." With a large flounce of his arms he had dropped the bags and turned to hold a pair of simple, two strap, white sandals in my face. I quickly snatched the shoes from him with an unimpressed grimace and uncomfortable slouch in my shoulders due to the attention he had gained us. Ruby ignored my displeasure and went back to my belongings with a dramatic roll of his eyes, now muttering to himself in Spanish. "Easy on the Spanish, bro. She's a gringo, remember?" A new voice took my attention off of Ruby and it only took me a second to recognise Mario, who had wandered up to us at some point during his brother's rambling. A relieved smile pulled at my lips at the sight of him. Mario was my age and his laid back demeanour had made him much more approachable than his younger brother, or anyone else in Freeridge really. His mom had coerced him into showing me around Freeridge during my first visit and our time spent together had turned us into surprisingly close companions. He was undeniably my first, and best, friend in town, and he'd be damned if anyone tried to take the title from him. And although his words were true, I couldn't help but scowl at the term while I moved to embrace him. "Teach me Spanish, then." It was a discussion we had often, ever since I had expressed a desire to learn the language after quickly feeling out of place in the Martinez household. Mario had always laughed at that and claimed that I would be a terrible student, whomst he would never waste his precious time on. "I have no time." He shook his head and smiled at me as we both pulled away from the hug. This time though, his words were true. He was headed off to Berkeley tomorrow and although it was a huge accomplishment, a part of me couldn't help but wish he wouldn't go. With Mario gone I'd likely be stuck hanging out with Ruby and his friends. There was nothing wrong with the soon to be freshman's, other than the fact that I was a good four years older than them. But that was something I'd have to get over. Ruby was mature for his age and I was in no position to be selfish. Mario already put off his departure by a full day just so he could take a few hours to help me unpack and, in his words give me, "A real welcoming home." I rolled my eyes at his ever persistent refusal, shaking my head and turning away so that he wouldn't be able to see the smile on my face. "I'll teach you Spanish, Selina." Ruby had joined my side, looking up at me with my black and white backpack slung over his shoulders, seemingly over his earlier fashion fury. "You already have the name for it. Selina." The thick Spanish accent he accentuated my name with and tilt of his head brought a loud burst of laughter out of me. "Ah, so you're over my wardrobe." I placed a hand on his head and gestured at my hoodie, managing to grind my knuckles against his head and mess his hair up before he escaped my reach. "You know what? You can find a new teacher." He sassed, spinning around and marching way without hesitation, leaving me to grab a suitcase and catch up with him, both of us leaving Mario behind to take care of the rest of the bags. In a few long strides I caught up to his short form, wrapping my arm around his neck from behind and pressing my cheek firmly against his temple. "I missed you, Ruby." I smiled softly, tilting my head to press a swift kiss to his forehead, remaining quiet about the goofy smile I spotted forming on his face. Together we walked in silence, the constant noise of the airport drowning out the way my black vans scuffed against the linoleum floors. "Hey, do you think we should help your brother?" My sudden remembrance of Mario caused me to stop and glance back. My brown eyes scanned the crowds around us, the younger boy also turning to look for his brother. Eventually Mario walked into our sights, scowling harshly and dragging more bags behind him than both Ruby and I both had combined. "Nah." Ruby decided, shaking his head and beginning to walk once more, dragging my plush form along with him. "I still can't believe your mom let you two come pick me up, alone." I had been talking about my surprise airport escorts for the majority of the ride back to Freeridge, and I was sure both boys were overly irritated with me. But, knowing Geny meant knowing how protective she was of her children, even if one of them was an adult about to move away. Things just weren't making sense. Ruby had interrupted my constant musing with stories about what had went down while I was gone, but the distraction didn't last nearly as long as he had hoped. After his brother's failed attempt at silencing me, Mario resorted to steadily cranking the radio up until it drowned out my voice. But all that did was give us all a slight headache and I was still talking as we pulled up to the house. "What? Why? I'm responsible." My eyebrows raised at Mario's offended voice crack, choosing to share a silent look with Ruby instead of doing my teasing aloud. Despite my effort, the older Latino caught the exchange and scoffed loudly, practically shoving me out of the car. "Get out of my sight." I lingered, watching him and Ruby move to the trunk, hesitant to leave the brothers to lug all my things inside themselves. "We got this." Mario caught me looking and waved his hands at me, shooing me away from them once more. "Let the muscle handle it, Selina." Ruby nodded at me and flexed his arms, and that was all the encouragement I needed to leave them be. With a grin and shake of my head I shuffled up the walkway, and debated knocking on the door for a moment but Geny had scolded me whenever I did that so I ending up opting to walk in unannounced. "Surprise!" Confetti was popped in my face and a loud gasp burst out of me at the sudden shock. My heart raced in my chest as my shoulders heaved with uneven breath, my eyes wide and looking over the group of people smiling widely at me. I recognised most of them within a second prompting a laugh of relief to spill past my lips, my laughter causing everyone else to cheer once more. "Welcome home, mija." Geny was the first person to move, rushing towards me with her arms open wide and a glowing smile on her face. "Hi, Aunt Geny." I groaned into the hug but forced a grin onto my face, nearly sighing in relief when she released me from her iron grip. She continued to coo over me, her hands holding my face and squishing my cheeks together until Ruben arrived to greet and save me. I watched the couple walk away with soft eyes until the sound of someone tsking reached my ears. Turning my head to the right revealed Ruby's friend Jamal shaking his head at me, his lanky arms crossed over his chest. "A hoodie? Girl, in this weather? You must be crazy." I sighed and looked to the popcorn ceiling, pushing the sleeves of my sweater to my elbows. Maybe I was starting to sweat a bit, but I'd never admit it to any of the California natives who were just waiting for my admission of defeat with baited breath. "Save it. I already got the lecture from, Ruby." I held my hand out to silence him before he could get another word out, a tiny grin warming my features. "I bet you did." He shook his head but a moment later he was smiling back at me. "Welcome to Freeridge, Selina. Permanently this time!" I thanked him sweetly and promised to come back later with my review of his dad's barbecue. I weaved my way through the house, greeting neighbours with varying levels of enthusiasm depending on my familiarity with them. At some point the twins had stolen me away to play with them, but I was sent right back into the fray when Geny walked in on me being forced to help build a block castle. Not long after leaving the youngest Martinez's behind I collapsed onto the couch next to the oldest one. My head lazily rested against the back of the couch, tilting so that I could look at the woman beside me. Her brown eyes were already fixed on me and she reached out to squeeze my cheek, much like her daughter had. The two of us looked at each other in silence for a minute, Abuelita eventually breaking it. "You want a hit? My stuff's in the basement." I laughed at her offer, nodding my head and promising her that we were on for tonight. The silence between us was a welcome break from the surprise party and there was no need to interrupt it. We were both more than content to watch the people milling about, her hand gently resting over my own which was sat in my lap. I had been focused on watching Ruby and Jamal do their best to ditch one of the neighbourhood girls around their age, who was very obviously invading their personal bubble, when I was distracted by the woman to my right once again. "I think you're going to like it here, mija." Abuelita's voice was quiet and soft but it rang out in my head clearly, a reminder that there was no more going back to my old life. "I hope so."

[romansrgn]

ch. 7

“What happened to you claiming my trainer as your baby daddy?”

Braelin rolled her eyes. “Stop with the pettiness. It's not cute.” she attempted to pick up the trash bag, but Roman took it out of her hands. “I know how you felt about the idea and didn’t think it would be fair to you.”

Roman nodded once again, surprised at how much impending motherhood has managed to mature Braelin. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

“There’s no need to thank me. These are your babies, as well as mine. But I also need you to understand that I like Dante, and I want to see where this goes with him, which also means that he will be in our children’s lives whether you like it or not.”

“I don’t, and there’s a good chance I never will because you are supposed to be with me. In my home and my bed.”

Braelin was tired of the caveman attitude that he seemed to put on every time a man enters into her life friend or otherwise. “Too fucking bad. We’re not together anymore. Do I need to remind you why that is? We made a mistake--”

“Our kids are not a mistake.”

“You’re right—they're not. But the truth of the matter is, what we did and the circumstances behind it certainly were. We don’t work. We get caught up with our history and fall back into old patterns that end up hurting the people that matter to us. I can't and won't hurt Dante in the same way you hurt me.”

Roman knew that any relationship they could potentially have with each other was shot to hell after she abruptly ended things once Janelle came back into his. But, as infuriating as they were, they had something people might wait a lifetime to find. “Will, you ever forgive me for that?”

Braelin smiled sadly “I want to. Despite me letting you back into my bed, I can’t risk letting you back into my heart.”

Ouch.

Roman nodded despite how much it stung; he appreciated her honesty, “I deserve that and for what it's worth, I am sorry.” 

“I know.”

Braelin gasped a little, placing her hand on her stomach.

“What?”

“I think they’re trying to say Hi.” she nodded towards her stomach 

Roman placed his massive paw over her baby bump “I don’t feel anything.”

“Just wait.”

After a few seconds, that’s when he felt it. For the first time, he was able to feel his babies kick “That’s amazing.” He said, looking up at a Braelin with so much awe.

“I hope I’m not interrupting.”

Braelin and Roman jumped apart. “No, that’s ok. Roman just wanted to feel the baby kick.”

Janelle looked in between them both. “Yea, I know how exciting that could be. I mean, I don’t know, but you know what I mean.”

Braelin fidgeted a little, suddenly feeling even more uncontrollable by the second “Yea, and I know what you mean. Look, I probably should say goodbye to everyone before they head out.”

“Before you leave Braelin, I wanted to talk to you both.”

Roman stood up a little straighter before looking at Braelin. “About what?”

“I know things are awkward because of our history. Roman and I were college sweethearts that found each other again when you two were together, and because of it, you guys broke up.”

Braelin smiled tightly, “Right.”

Roman ran a hand over his face “Janelle, maybe now isn’t the —”

“I’m not trying to shake the table or anything I’m not. I just want us to be honest. Like,  honestly, when Roman confessed that he cheated on me, I instantly thought it might’ve been with you, but then I checked myself because deep down inside I know what you two had wasn’t worth risking everything you have now for something so meaningless like a one night stand. I mean, you said it yourself, Roman, it had to be with some bitch that meant nothing to you. They were nobody.”

Braelin snorted before taking the trash bag out of Roman’s hands. “I’m sorry about what happened between you guys, and you’re right, our history is complicated, and that’s exactly why I’m trying to move on in the same way he did. Now, if you excuse me, I need to say goodbye to my guest. Feel free to take home some to-go plates before you see yourselves out.”

Roman waited until Braelin left before speaking to Janelle, “Was that necessary.”

Janelle shrugged, “I don’t see why it wasn’t. We never cleared the air after everything that happened despite constantly being in each other's faces, for I don’t know how many years.”

“You wanted to rub our relationship in her face, and for what?”

“To remind her that even though she’s carrying your children, I’m your wife, and that fact will always remain.”

Roman’s eyes widened.

“You didn’t think I would put two and two together. Give me a little more credit than that.”

“I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t know how.”

Janelle laughed bitterly, “I’m not surprised. I mean, how do you tell your wife that you got your ex-girlfriend pregnant? It can't be easy, and despite how much I wish you didn’t because it would make it helluva lot easier to leave your cheating ass, I know you still love me. But I also get the feeling you’re not completely over Braelin.”

“I do love you, and you’re right. I love her too.”

Janelle shook her head, wishing like hell she was wrong about him still being in love with his ex. “Does it get exhausting? Jumping from one bed to another? Do you think we deserve that?”

Roman swallowed. He was so caught up with his feelings for both women and their reaction to him that he never really took the time out to see what his indecisiveness was doing to them emotionally. “I was selfish and careless, and because of that, I hurt two of the most important women in my life, and for that, I’m sorry. You and Braelin will never know how sorry I am. So no, I don’t think my wife or the mother of children deserve that, but it’s the endless cycle that we managed to find ourselves in.”

“Ourselves? This isn't our situation, Roman. You cheated on me with your ex-girlfriend and got her pregnant. You did this, and now I have to sit back and watch you two share this connection that you refuse to have with me.”

“I never said I didn’t want kids with you. I just can’t think about that right now.”

Janelle laughed, “Right because your plate is already full with the little side family you manage to have on me.”

Roman knew nothing he could say would make this situation better for anyone. He fucked up and fucked around on his wife, and now these are the cards he has to deal with. So this only left him with one option: “You're right. This isn’t fair to you or Braelin, and that’s why I’m going to give you both the space you deserve.” He said before walking out of the house and past Braelin, who was watching the entire exchange.

November 30, 2011

“Friend of the birthday girl?”

Braelin laughed, “Yes, and no. She’s my cousin.”

Roman nodded, “The smile kind of gave it away.”

Braelin’s cheeks flushed, “and you must be related to the twins?”

“You see the family resemblance?”

Braelin rolled her eyes, “Not really. All of yall are major flirts.”

Roman grinned. “Can you blame us?”

Braelin shrugged, “I guess not. Want a beer?”

“Aren’t you a little young for that?”

“Boy, please. I’m twenty-one years old as of September 5th and have been drinking way longer than that. Either get on the bandwagon or move to the side.”

Roman threw his head back and laughed, “All that feistiness in that tiny package.”

Braelin popped a hand on her hip. “Don't let the small package fool you. I’m tough as hell.”

“I believe you. Now can I get my beer, please?”

Braelin laughed and tossed the beer to him “How long have you known Naomi?”

“Since she and Jimmy started dating in FCW.”

“You’re a wrestler! That makes so much sense.” She said, taking a sip of her beard, “How long have you been training?”

Roman shrugged, “I’ve been training for a while. NXT is good and all, but I’m ready for the main roster.”

Braelin nodded, “You have to appreciate a man who knows what he wants, but you know what they say practice makes perfect.”

Roman shook his head ”You believe that?”

“If I didn't, I wouldn't be in college, collecting this much debt to become a doctor.”

Roman had to admit he was a little thrown by her choice of profession. A girl like her would usually aim for a career as an entrepreneur or a model. Maybe a model was a stretch considering she barely stood 5’4 despite having the looks for it. “A doctor? Wow, I’m impressed.”

“Yea, you probably thought I would sell clothes on a website or something.” Braelin rolled her eyes when she noticed how guilty Roman looked. “As much as I can’t knock the hustle, that’s not for me.”

“Then tell me, pretty girl. What kind of doctor do you want to be?”

Braelin shrugged, looking at her hands a little, “I dunno. I’m still deciding.” 

Roman raised a brow before taking a sip of his beer. “Really? Usually, when someone commits to a career like this, they have a plan. Being a doctor  takes years of dedication and—“

“I know what it entails, thank you.”

Roman knew he had hit nerve, but for whatever reason, he felt she was holding back, so he decided to push her “Oh yeah? It seems to me you don’t know. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be hellbent on committing to something you had no intention of seeing through to the end. Why waste your time on something you don't care about when you can have something you actually want?”

Braelin blinked, not realizing she was that easy to read. “My mom wants me to become a doctor.”

He knew there was an ulterior motive behind her career choice “Ok, that’s fine, but what do you want.”

Braelin has been watching Naomi train for the last three years, and she couldn’t lie and say her interest hasn't peaked. So in her downtime, she’s been watching old wrestling footage in an attempt to train herself because she couldn't sign up for wrestling school without her parents finding out, “I want to wrestle.” She whispered, not making eye contact.

Braelin was ready to hear the laugh that followed by her admission. But when she looked up, she saw him staring at her intently.

“Ok, well, if you want to wrestle so badly, then I’ll help you get into wrestling school, and if you’re not ready for that, then I’ll train you myself.”

“You barely know me, and you’re offering to train me?”

Roman finished the last of his beer before tossing the bottle in the trash. “I’m a good judge of character, and something’s telling me you’re worth the investment.”

Braelin’s cheeks flushed suddenly, wishing she didn’t have a boyfriend.

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” Dante asked from his side of the bed. He noticed that she’s been on edge since everyone left after the cleanup.

Braelin bit down on the corner of her lip, not sure if she opened up this can of worms out of fear of losing him, but she knew it wouldn’t be fair to Dante if he went into this blindly “Janelle knows about everything.”

Dante blinked. “That explains why she’s been shooting daggers at you all night. Are you ok?”

“I’m fine. I’m relieved because this terrible secret doesn’t have to be held over my head forever, but at the same time, it makes everything feel real.”

Dante raised a brow “Really? It doesn’t get any more real than you being heavily pregnant, Brae.”

“I know that, and that’s why I’m ok with you bailing if this is too much.”

Dante rolled his eyes “We’ve been through this already, baby.”

“I know, and I feel like a broken record, but this isn’t fair to you. My drama and fucked up choices shouldn't come down on you” When he moved to approach her, Braelin took a step back “Don’t do that. I don’t want you to be ok with everything, especially not after I cheated on you.”

Dante shook his head moving to stand in front of his girlfriend “First of all, you didn’t cheat on me because we weren’t official, but now that we are I need you to know that I want us, I want you and I want to see where we can go. I will keep saying it until you believe it, but if this is too much and you don’t want this, then I need you to tell me,” he lifted her chin to look her in her green eyes. “Ok?”

Braelin nodded despite feeling as if she didn’t deserve him. She said, “Ok.” 

Survivor Series 2020

Roman sat next to the USO's at the announce table, going over their match. This year it would be faction vs. faction vs. faction: The Bloodline vs. Undisputed Era vs. Seth Rollins and his  Disciples for brand supremacy. As much as he was hyped about teaming with his family and competing against his brother,  his personal life had gone to hell in a hand basket. Since the barbecue, he and Braelin barely talked, and when they did, it had everything to do with the baby and the doctor appointments he often missed because he was on the road, which seemed to appease Janelle. 

Speaking of Janelle, after a few weeks of living in a hotel, Roman finally came back home despite wanting to keep his distance from both women on a romantic level, which is why he slept in the guestroom. 

Janelle wasn't to convince that their relationship was over and honestly? Neither was he. When he put that ring on Janelle’s finger, it was supposed to be forever. But that was all shot to hell when he fucked around on her not once but twice and with his ex of all people, and despite everything they’ve been through, he knew he still loved her.

Ok, smart ass, what about Braelin? His inner voice asked. 

 They were still friends, of course, and despite the relationship ending so abruptly, he knew there were some unresolved feelings there. The better word for it was love, asshole.

Roman sighed 

Love was the better word for it, and up until now, he had no problem admitting that to himself because he wasn’t hurting anyone, but now that no was no longer valid. He was hurting the two of the most important women in his life, and there was no way he was willing to put Braelin through another round of hell, especially now with his children in the mix.

Roman sighed and abruptly standing up, causing all three men to look in his direction.

“We ain’t done talking about the match?” Jey said from his seat next to Seth.

“I’ll be back; there’s just something I need to do. Besides, my head ain’t in it yet.”

Seth agreed, “I can tell since you haven’t listened to a word we said.”

Roman looked sheepishly, “My bad.”

Seth trusted Roman with his life, so he wasn’t worried about the big man carrying his shit with him into the ring and possibly hurting someone. He just knew whatever Roman was thinking about was creating emotional turmoil in the big dog. “Whatever it is, you want to talk about it?”

Roman looked around and saw all eyes on him. He knew they weren’t going to drop it, so he sai, “The twins are mine.”

Several eyes blinked. But it was Jimmy that said, “That makes sense.”

Jey nodded “When you told us that you and Brae fucked I didn’t know you hit—“

Roman’s eyes narrowed, “Hey, man. Besides, it’s not like we wanted any of this to happen. It just happened.”

“So, what’s the plan? Are you and Braelin going to give it another try?”

Roman rubbed the back of his neck, “I’m married, and she’s with Dante.”

“Yea, but that hasn’t stopped shit before,” Jey said with a shrug causing Roman to flinch. “I know the whole situation is fucked up, but you and Brae had something most people wait a lifetime to find, but you ended up fucking that up when you went back to Janelle.”

Roman rolled his eyes “I’m sorry I thought you said something useful that could help the situation.”

Seth decided to chime in. “The only thing that could help this situation is honesty, and we all know it’s a little bit late in the game for that. But the least you can do is be honest with what you want and who you want.”

“It doesn’t matter what I want because I’ve already decided to keep my distance from both of them.”

Jimmy raised a brow “Really? You moved back into your house with Janelle, and you’re what? Co-parenting with B? Yea, that’s a whole lot of space.”

“What the fuck do y’all want me to do?” Roman snapped “I fucked up and cheated on my wife and got my ex-girlfriend pregnant. But you want to know something I fucked up away before then by letting Braelin walk away because I wasn’t ready to get my shit together. Now I’m paying the price. She’s happy, and it has nothing to do with me and you know what as selfish as it is, I fucking hate it. But it’s what I deserve, and more importantly, it’s what she deserves.”

Jey held up his water bottle. “Now that you finally got that off your chest, are you ready to plan this main event?”

Roman looked around the arena and noticed that all eyes were on him “Yea, let’s do this.”

Braelin looked over Dante, who was busy talking to the photographer. Today was her maternity shoot, and she wanted this experience to be perfect and unbeknownst to her boyfriend; she was doing her shoot naked. 

“Baby, please leave that poor man alone and let him do his job.”

Dante shook his head “Where’s the stylist? They should’ve been here an hour ago?”

Braelin laughed, “Honey, there’s no stylist here because I won’t be wearing any clothes.”

Dante blinked before turning his attention to the photographer who didn’t even bother hiding his amusement, “You mean you’re doing this shoot naked?”

Braelin nodded, “As a Jaybird.”

Dante cleared his throat. Not at all ok with some other dude seeing his girl naked before he even had the chance too. “Is it too late to change the photographer.”

The photographer rolled his eyes, “If it helps your ego. I’m gay and would rather see you naked than your pregnant girlfriend.” He looked at Braelin, “No offense, B.”

Braelin smirked, “None taken. But I do have an idea.” she looked in between both men “Marty, I won’t be needing your services today, and don’t worry, you’ll still get paid for the day.”

That seemed to appease the photographer before he left the couple alone.

Dante held up his hand. “Look, you don’t have to send him away on my account. I know how important this is to you and—“

Braelin nodded, “You’re right, it is important, and that’s why I’m still going to do my photo shoot.”

“Without a photographer?”

Braelin shook her head, “I have a photographer, you.”

Dante laughed dryly, “I’m not a photographer.”

Braelin disagreed wholeheartedly. “Those pictures you took of me last night says otherwise.” She said, taking off her robe and tossing it to the side, “You just need the right motivation.”

Dante licked his lips. “Damn,” he whispered, taking the camera off its stand. “You trust me with this?”

“I trust you to make me look the same way you make me feel. That's why I couldn’t have picked a better man for this.”

Dante had a feeling they were no longer talking about the photoshoot “What are you saying?” he said while snapping pictures

“I’m saying that I choose you and will always choose you because I think you will be the best choice I’ll ever make.”

As friends, they’ve known each other for a long time, but as lovers, it’s new, but sometimes something new can be the thing that’s worth holding onto.

Dante sat the camera on the stand before taking Braelin in his arms and kissing her with everything he had. Braelin licked his lips in which he happily obliged as her tongue slid into his mouth. What had started out gentle quickly became passionate and heated as his large hand slid into her hair and gave it a gentle tug as his tongue trailed a hot path down her neck, causing her shiver.

“Fuck.” Dante whispered heatedly, “I want you so much right now.”

She whimpered as he captured her lips with his once more “I want to taste you, please baby, let me taste.”

Seeing Braelin's green eyes was so clouded with lust that the sight made his dick jump, “I want you to do a lot more than taste.” She said, biting his chin gently.

That was all he needed to hear.

Braelin legs cleared the floor and were instantly wrapped around Dante’s waist. He sat her down on a pile of pillows that was going to be used as props for the photoshoot but would come in handy for what he had in mind.

Dante removed his shirt, followed by the grey jogging pants he was wearing, causing his dick to spring free.

Damn. Braelin thought. He had to be nine inches long and thick enough to fill her in all the places she hasn’t been filled since.

Don’t even go there, her mind chastised. 

Dante’s dick was a thing of beauty as it pointed accusingly at her while leaking precum.

 Dante gave his dick two pumps before crawling over Braelin and capturing her lips once more. “I think I said something about tasting” he grinned against her lips.

“Let’s see what that tongue can do.” she whispered.

Dante smirked before leaving wet kisses down her protruding stomach and thighs. She didn’t have to wait long as his tongue jutted out and lapped at her clit like a kitten causing Braelin to moan loudly.

“You taste so good baby.” he said in between licks spreading her legs wider and inserting a finger which almost caused Braelin to shoot off the pillows. “So fucking good.”

Dante played her pussy like an instrument. He knew how lick and how to rotate his finger enough to make her squirm so her end was coming sooner than she liked “I’m finna come.”

Dante took that as a sign to double his efforts by literally fucking her with his tongue and that did it she came so fucking hard.

When Dante came up from between her thighs the top of his nose and the whiskers of his beard was covered in her juices “Ready for round one?” He whispered against her lips.