#not that this like. Requires a college degree but still. it’s all gotta count for something might as well be this

[howaboutcastiel]

Make Your Acquaintance VI

Summary: Steven wants to talk some things over. Khonshu orders another mission. 

Word count: 5.4k

Content warning: making fun of a Christian holiday. No disrespect, I just feel like it needs a warning. 

MYA Masterlist

Author’s note: this reader doesn’t speak Spanish, so Spanish-speaking readers, I’m sorry. You just gotta pretend you don’t know what Jake’s saying lol. 

Things had been painfully quiet over the last few days.

Steven had fallen behind on his work. He had long abandoned his spot behind the gift shop counter, admittedly far overqualified for the position. He’d gone back to school, somehow scraping by and attending enough online classes and seminars to earn a Master’s degree in Egyptology. He had honestly made the task look easy; he was used to staying up until ungodly hours as it was, so churning out a thesis wasn’t too much extra on his plate. 

He had planned to move back to Marc’s hometown of Chicago and become a professor at a community college or even a small private institution. Those aspirations proved hard to realize, though, as Khonshu continued to send the three of them on missions all over the world. Steven opted to become a consultant at the museum and a virtual instructor for an online college in the United States. 

Even with the flexibility of a remote job, he often found himself struggling to keep things running on schedule. The very large-print, bolded warning of “tentative” at the top of his course syllabi proved to ring truer than he had intended. Mid-term papers had been due almost three weeks ago now and he hadn’t graded a single one. 

Your nine-to-five office job was way too forgiving to you. Marc only asked you to tag along on about half of his missions, but they still quickly cut into your sick days and vacation time. Mercenary work and inheritance meant you didn’t have to have an office job at all, but you both liked the idea of maintaining an image of normalcy. Plus, the schedule gave a kind of structure to your life when you weren’t out chasing felons and wrongdoers. 

It was three in the morning and Steven was sitting at his desk in the corner of the apartment. His lamp was pulled to the very edge of its cord, twisted sideways so it wouldn’t glare onto the bed. Anyone who laid eyes on him would be able to tell that he desperately needed sleep. Even with his reading glasses on, he squinted pitifully at the paper he was grading, mumbling words of disapproval at the inability of young adults to capitalize the names of ancient pharaohs. 

“This one’s not even half the required length.” He scoffed to himself. He didn’t realize you were awake. Normally, you’d be out like a light at this hour, snoring softly or even murmuring incoherently in your sleep. It was hard to sleep, though, with no one holding you to keep you warm. You had been having trouble sleeping since that night in Budapest. That was the last night you’d felt warm and safe in your rest. 

You stifled a yawn as you shuffled out of the bed, intent on heading to the bathroom to pee. He turned his head at the movement, having to pull his glasses down to see clearly over them. 

“Am I keeping you up?” His voice was low and groggy. He had a tiny look of guilt, concerned that he was the cause of your persistent unrest. You shook your head as you headed for the loo. Running your hand along the wall, you found the vanity light, which was too bright for comfort for both of you. 

“I just can’t get relaxed.” You explained. “Don’t worry. Tomorrow’s a holiday, remember?”

Tomorrow was Good Friday, a holiday that Steven and Marc mostly ignored for very obvious reasons. Your company celebrated not only British national holidays, but their fair share of American ones as well. You honestly didn’t know the full scope of the brand you worked for; they paid you well and didn’t snoop around at how often you took off work. 

“I guess that’s as good a reason as any for me to finish up quickly here.” He had gone through most of the stack of papers by now, having started several hours before you came home from work. He’d only had to pause for a zoom meeting with one of his colleagues and another with a very desperate failing student. You had forced him to pause for dinner as well. 

When you returned from the bathroom, Steven was on the last paper in his stack. He seemed too distracted to read it in detail, perhaps too exhausted as well. He was a fair grader, though, so whatever poor student was at the end of the list wasn’t going to suffer a bad grade due to his negligence. He skimmed the paper as you ventured to the kitchen to pour yourself a cup of water. 

“What did your students say about you missing your lectures?” Steven had been gone for a week and a half, which meant he missed at least two lectures for each of his classes and three for some of them. Most of his students liked how often Steven had to cancel class. He would never let them fall behind because of it anyway. Well, the ones who checked their emails wouldn’t fall behind, at least. 

“Marc emailed them for me. Didn’t tell them too much, obviously, but at least they didn’t have to sit there waiting for me.”

“That’s good. I’m sorry you missed so much.” All of the professor stuff went way over your head. Marketing and data entry were straightforward enough for you, but teaching a bunch of newly-graduated teens about the nuances of ancient history was a ship you couldn’t fathom how to steer. 

“Yeah, me too.” 

It took him a few more minutes to finish his work. He did a quick once-over to make sure there weren’t any wild inconsistencies between grades before returning the stack to the desk and turning off his lamp. Steven pulled off his glasses and folded them on top of the paper as he stood to his feet. 

“Did you really have to print all those out?” You pondered as you met him by his desk, trailing a hand along his arm. Just the fact that he was done with his work sent relief and melatonin through your body. 

“Beats looking at a screen for nine hours straight, don’t it?” He responded sleepily. “Not trying to make the glasses a permanent thing.” 

“I think they would look hot, though.” You teased. He smile a little, following you to the bed. Steven hadn’t really talked to you much since he came back. Not after the initial argument, at least. He’d mostly treated you in the way a roommate would, making small talk when necessary and leaving you to do your own thing when you were home at the same time. 

Moon Knight—whoever was included under that title, you didn’t exactly know—had been quite active over that span of time. At least a half-dozen traffickers had been apprehended in downtown London. A couple more had been outright put to rest, leaving no evidence or leads as to who killed them. The police couldn’t be less concerned about taking those cases, though. Whoever had done their work for them had done more harm than good in their eyes, though they wouldn’t admit that to the public. 

Marc hadn’t spoken to you. You’d see him front when you were cooking dinner or when you first woke up in the morning, but he oscillated between ignoring you altogether or pushing someone else to the front to deal with you. You didn’t show how much that hurt. You had come around a bit to the idea that you deserved it. 

“You think we should sleep in?” You murmured to Steven as you crawled back into bed. He seemed slightly more receptive to you than he had been over the last couple days, not pulling away when you curled into him. 

“God knows when we’ll have the next opportunity to sleep.” He responded with a hum. He almost leaned into your touch. “I reckon we should.”

“Awesome. I feel like I could sleep for weeks.” It was true. You had felt tired for as long as you could remember. 

“Speaking from experience, I wouldn’t recommend that.” He squinted at you. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“I’m kidding.” He grinned. Tiredness was tugging at him, slurring his words. He appeared a lot younger and happier than normal as he began to relax. “I mean I’m not kidding. I didn’t mean to make you feel awkward, though. It was just a joke.”

“Maybe we should save the joking for tomorrow, sleepyhead.” You planted a kiss on his cheek before settling down at his side. He blushed a bit, tensing. “Sorry. Was that okay?”

“Of course. I just didn’t expect it.” He nervously pressed his lips together, trying to relax enough that he could drift off to sleep. “I’m not trying to push you away.”

“We should talk about this.” 

“Tomorrow.” He reassured you. “It’s too late for that tonight. I don’t want to keep you up any longer.”

“Alright.” You shut your eyes and he shut his. “I love you. Goodnight.”

He hummed in response, but didn’t say anything. He was asleep before long. 

~~~

You luckily had remembered to turn off your alarm, but that didn’t stop Steven from waking at a far too early hour of the day. Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if you had gone to bed at a normal time. He pulled himself out of your grasp at 7 o’clock sharp, something obviously out of his control pulling him from his much needed rest. 

“Honey, what’s wrong?” You struggled to pull yourself awake, limbs tired and protesting your premature departure from a resting state. “Is it Marc? Is it Jake?”

“It’s the stupid old bird.” He grunted as he got to his feet. A strong draft blew through the apartment, an obvious protest from the ancient god. Khonshu just couldn’t let you have anything nice, could he? “Go back to bed. I’ll go to the kitchen and handle him. Quietly. He’s not ruining my day off.”

You followed his instruction, but you couldn’t exactly tune out his one-sided bickering with the skeletal bird. You didn’t have the privilege of seeing or hearing Khonshu, but you could always tell by the tone of the boys when speaking to him that he wasn’t exactly a pleasure. 

“I don’t care if you think it’s urgent. It’s a holiday, lad. We can wait till tomorrow.”

“He’s not going to get away! You’re a god, aren’t you? Can’t you just go follow him around for a day to make sure you know where he is?”

“Oh, now you remember that we’re Jewish. You’d think you couldn’t recognize any other gods, what with that pathetic ego of yours and all. It’s still a national holiday. I’m taking it.”

“I don’t want to hear it! You can go do it yourself if you’re that bloody worried about it. I’m staying here.”

When you didn’t tag along, Steven and Marc could just use their suit to fly wherever Khonshu needed them. No fuss about plane tickets or any other mode of transportation. Khonshu usually preferred this unless there was a mission too large for them to handle alone. It was quicker. Quieter. 

“Sorry about that.” Steven returned to bed with a groggy, lopsided smile. “He really has no manners at all, does he?” 

“What does he want you to do?” You were still not quite awake. The morning light coming through the window hurt your eyes. A pressure in your chest begged you to go back to sleep. 

“Some mob boss in Madripoor is gonna be vulnerable tonight. Khonshu wants him taken out.” He settled into your grasp, letting you hold him almost as close as you normally would. Maybe it was the tiredness. 

“It’s hard for me to imagine you killing anyone.” 

You knew what Khonshu asked of your boys. After Steven had found out about Marc, they had made a deal to shift the power complex between them and the ruthless god that asked so much of them. Ending a life was a much scarcer thing for them now; it would be nixxed altogether if Steven had his say. They only agreed to put down the worst of the worst—those who would only continue to cause harm if allowed to remain. Most of the time, Marc was the one who fulfilled the role Khonshu required. 

“I have to have a damn good reason,” Steven hummed, a serious tone in his voice. “This next target is an absolute menace. According to Khonshu, he’s got a thing for targeting the children of the people who miss repayments on their loans to him. He’s racked up quite a count. It’s staggering.”

“He kills kids?” Your blood ran cold at the thought. If Steven was ever capable of murder, his ideal victims would be those who went after innocent young souls. It didn’t take much to see why any of the boys had it out for people like that. 

“Technically, he orders other people to kill them. I don’t really put much merit to that distinction, though.” You held him tighter and he didn’t dare shy away from your touch. You hated to think of what he was being asked to do, but you had to admit that a bastard like that was better off in the ground. 

“So you’re gonna go tomorrow?”

“That’s the plan,” he sighed, “or one of us will, at least. If we don’t go tomorrow, we’ll lose our window.” 

The two of you sat in silence for a little while. Steven was on his back, playing mindlessly with one of his Rubik’s cubes while you laid on your side, your leg and arm wrapped around him and your head buried in his neck. His hand rested on your back, but it wasn’t holding you as tightly as you would like. He was still a little wary of you. 

A dull ache occupied your chest. You had royally screwed things up by being so hasty and so dishonest about Jake. Steven was being more generous than he really should have been just by agreeing to sleep in the same bed as you. The fact that he let you lay here now, pressed against his chest, was a marvel to you. 

“I love you.” You had no idea how to talk this through with him, but you figured that would be the best start. “I don’t know how to explain how sorry I am.”

“You could try.” His voice wasn’t accusatory. It was genuine, intrigued. He wanted this to work out just as much as you. Maybe even more than that, if that was possible. 

“I didn’t mean for it to all happen like this. When I first met Jake, all I could think was how different he was. How foreign he was to you and Marc. It was terrifying.”

Steven was listening intently to what you were saying, but he didn’t dawn the same look of trust and understanding that he had when you recounted your story before. He was suspicious, though he hid it well. He was also a bit pained. 

“At first, I didn’t know what to do. I mean, we were on the run and I didn’t really have time to stop and think. I thought one of you was in there, talking to him. It seemed like I was annoying him. Like I was a liability. 

“But… I don’t think it was that at all. As weird as it sounds, I think he was scared of me. Like he didn’t know what to do with me around. He was good at everything else, though. It was almost reflexive. He got us to safety without a second thought. And then, when we got to the barn…” 

“What?” He grew impatient with your pause. “What did he do at the barn?”

“He offered to sleep on the ground. So that I didn’t have to touch him.” 

Steven’s eyes widened a little at this. Evidently, Jake hadn’t told him that bit. You guessed you remembered different details than he did about that night. 

“What does this have to do with your apology?” There was a small waver in his voice, almost an unnoticeable one. 

“I just wanted you to know what was going through my head. It surprised me that Jake wasn’t how you described him. He certainly wasn’t how Marc described him. I mean, he did exactly as you said he would. He came out when you were losing a fight and he did whatever he had to do to win it. But after that…I don’t know. He wasn’t what I expected.”

“No?”

“No. Not at all. Especially… the next morning.” You knew that Jake had told him about that part. Maybe not in detail, but you could tell by the look in his eyes that Steven understood the moment you were referencing. He blushed, maybe more jealous than shy. 

“Jake told me that he regretted doing that.” Steven’s expression was a little confused and a little defensive. “He said you wouldn’t let him apologize, though.”

“Yeah. He begged me for forgiveness.” You scoffed, just as surprised as him. “I had to convince him that he didn’t need it.”

Steven looked like he was starting to understand. Maybe he didn’t agree with your thought process, but he could follow your feelings at least. Jake was a shiny new man in the same body as the ones you already loved. It must have been fascinating for you and you really believed that you couldn’t help yourself. Of course, you both knew now that that was far from the truth. 

“I wonder how we would get along if he talked to me more.” Steven pondered to you, his voice a little smaller than normal. “I mean, he seemed so desperate for my approval when he was explaining to me—”

He cut himself off. 

“Sorry. Don’t mean to be sharing his business, now. I suppose we should talk about something else.”

“I think that he is.” You stated. He dropped the cube from his hand and it toppled to the edge of the bed. 

“What?”

“Desperate for your approval. I’m not sure he’s ever had that before. Certainly not from Marc. Not from me. I doubt from anyone else, either, for that matter.”

“Well, I have to admit. I’ve learned a lot more about him in the last few days than I thought I ever would. And you’re right, he’s not at all what I thought.”

Some of the tension that had been looming over you both seemed to dissipate. Not completely—no, of course not—but enough that he could finally reciprocate your touch in a meaningful way. He planted a kiss on your forehead, holding himself there for a bit. You savored the fact that, for the first time in two weeks, you could smell his shampoo as he leaned into you. 

You tried to stay as lazy as possible, but sleep was far away from you both by now. Nothing like a dead, bitter pigeon-god to steal away your right to oversleeping on a meaningless holiday. Well, meaningless to some people at least. Your stomach was beginning to growl at you quite angrily, too. 

“You know, I missed you while you were away.” Your voice was partially drowned out by the whale noises coming from your gut, making your profession decidedly less romantic than you desired. 

“I’m here now.” He responded. “And I happen to know how to make a mean stack of pancakes.” 

“God, I hope so. I’m ravenous.” You giggled as he shifted his weight, his fingers dancing playfully over your stomach. 

“Yeah, I could tell. The whole bloody block could hear your stomach growling, I bet.”

Something feather-light and warm radiated through you. This teasing, absentminded touch was exactly reminiscent of the Steven you loved. The one before he came to find that you’d betrayed his trust. Maybe you could dig deep enough to find that version of him and beg and grovel and praise it back to the top. 

“Alright, then. Feed the beast, if you must. The beast likes chocolate chips in its pancakes, by the way.” You reached down to his hand tickling your waist, grabbing in to interlock your fingers. He let you, but his face dropped a tiny bit. He squeezed your hand before releasing it from his grasp, standing off of the bed. 

“Chocolate chip pancakes it is, then.”

~~~

The day had been about as lazy as you had hoped. Other than updating grades on whatever online portal his school used, Steven stayed clear of his work. You did the same gleefully, the most agonizing task of the day being washing the dishes. To be fair, he made quite a mess cooking breakfast. 

You spent the morning watching crap television and putting together a puzzle you found on one of Steven’s bookcases. It was 1000 pieces, some impossibly colorful landscape that Bob Ross could have easily put to shame, and you had given up before you’d even gotten the border finished. Steven would have helped, but he needed a different kind of mindless task to do with his hands while reruns of The Golden Girls kept his brain occupied. He settled on knitting, which took everything in your being not to make fun of, but you knew better than to tease him about it. It was more calming to him than pretty much any other hobby he’d ever tried to pick up. 

Lunch was ramen noodles and chili Doritos. Was it a wise decision? Not by any metric, but it felt good to live like a seven-year-old whose parents were gone for the day. Steven hated the dust that the chips left on his hands, though. He only tried one or two before resigning to eating peanut butter straight out of the jar instead. 

Steven was halfway through knitting what was supposed to be a bunny, but was starting to turn out more like a rat. He dropped the yarn from his grasp, obviously startled, and snapped his head toward the bathroom door. From your perspective, he was staring at nothing. 

“Khonshu again?” You could almost hear the snickering of the old god. He still often referred to Steven as a worm, though he appreciated his problem-solving ability and extensive knowledge of Egyptian mythology that Marc Spector so hilariously lacked. Finding him knitting in his living room was perfect ammunition, though. Genius historian or not. 

“What are you going here, you limey old bird? I said I’d go with you tomorrow.” Steven squinted at the door, obviously perceiving Khonshu’s form where you could not. He looked pissed and you didn’t blame him. 

Steven’s eyes widened and his body tensed as he listened to the god. He must be yelling at him. Not that Steven was scared of Khonshu by any metric, but he was sensitive to the noise and also as averse to being yelled at as any other person would be. You wondered how Jake reacted to yelling. 

“I’m sorry you feel that way.” Steven collected himself perfectly at what you assumed was the end of the old bird’s rant. He had a knack for becoming a little shit when someone was pissed at him. Especially the god of the moon. “I’ve already told you. I’m staying here. It is going to have to wait.”

You watched Steven’s face intently, not having anyone else to look at, of course. He seemed decisive and self-assured, which was normal for him, but it didn’t last very long. His face contorted in confusion. At least, it looked like confusion to you. Then he looked… distant. Steven shut his eyes, rubbing one of his temples with his dominant hand, and he was still. 

You knew that look. That’s what a switch looked like. 

You sat in silence as you expected Marc to come to the front. After all, he was the one who had taken the oath of servitude for Khonshu. He was the one who agreed to sacrifice his own conscience for the god of the moon. Marc would be much more quickly convinced to drop everything on what was supposed to be a day of rest for him. The service gave him purpose. It gave him peace of mind, ironically enough. 

But it wasn’t Marc who emerged. You would recognize that frenzied, openly-deranged look in his eyes from a mile away now. No, Jake Lockley was the man who had chosen to step to the front. He held his head high, just as Steven had, but it was an entirely different kind of confidence. 

“What time do you need me there?” His voice was… different. He certainly didn’t speak to the old god in the same tone of voice he used when speaking to you. It was something else entirely. Something you struggled to find the words to explain. He was almost excited, obviously more content with taking orders than Steven, and less hesitant about following through than Marc seemed to be. Had he taken missions for Khonshu before? This wasn’t the look of someone who didn’t know what he was doing. 

“Jake?” He didn’t turn to look at you. His eyes were still focused on the bathroom door. Jake slowly got to his feet, dumping the yarn out of his lap and onto the floor, kicking it out of the way. His stance was powerful, not in the way that either of the others held themselves, even with the suit on. It wasn’t a rageful look, wasn’t a vengeful look, and certainly wasn’t a look of self-loathing or pain or guilt. 

Jake looked relaxed. Confident, strong, and ready to pounce at whatever Khonshu ordered him to, but he looked more than satisfied to do it. Without a second thought and without compromise. 

“What the hell, Jake?” He turned to look at you as if it was the first time he’d noticed you were in the room. His eyes softened immediately as they met your own, but not nearly as much as you would have liked. Not enough for comfort. 

“This can’t wait till tomorrow.” Jake gave a quick pleading look before turning back to where the god was standing. They started to converse in Spanish, so most of the meaning was lost to you, but you caught bits and pieces.

“¿Cuántos tengo que pasar?” How many do I have to go through?

“¿Cuánto tardará?” How long will it take?

You caught a few stray words that you couldn’t put in context. Transaction. Seven. Broken. Quickly. It wasn’t enough for you to figure out exactly what was being asked of him. You decided to just stop listening, venturing to the bedroom to grab his duffel. For a second, you considered grabbing your own as well. After a few minutes, he followed you. 

“What are you doing?” He seemed hasty.

“Packing your stuff. You’re gonna need to dress warm for Madripoor.”

“I can handle it, and I don’t need to pack. I’ve got everything I need, I just gotta change.” He grabbed the bag right out of your hands, a bit too aggressively for your taste. “Have you seen my gloves?”

“What gloves?” You’d never seen him wear gloves. He hadn’t really been around long enough to wear anything other than the clothes Steven and Marc had put on. They never wore gloves, save for the ones on their ceremonial armor. 

“Oh, right. Nevermind. I’ve got all of this. Don’t worry.” He threw the duffel back to its spot under the bed, still almost fully packed. Jake was moving with almost as much frenzy as he had in the hotel before, though he was more calculated in his movements. 

“Do you do Khonshu’s bidding often, then? You don’t seem like someone who’s never done this before.” Your emotions were swimming around in your brain and body, none of them quite sticking out. There was still so much to learn about Jake. 

“I do what I have to.” He dug around the room, you guessed searching for his mentioned pair of gloves. Why were they so important to him? He pulled a black jacket out of the closet and tossed it on the bed as he shuffled through the clothes. 

“You don’t have to do everything he says.” You pointed out to Jake. Perhaps the boys hadn’t explained this dynamic of servitude to him. Maybe he thought he didn’t have a choice. 

“I’m not doing it just because he says. This bastard can’t be given the chance to get away. He has to be put down.” 

“Put down? Jake, you’re talking about killing a man.” This should be harder for him. Hell, even before you met, you thought that Jake only killed in self-defense. This new revelation of his philosophy was scaring you. 

“He’s hardly a man. I gotta make sure he can’t hurt anyone else.” He tugged off the sleep shirt that Steven had been wearing, not even turning to face you completely. He sighed in relief as he spotted a pair of black gloves on the bottom shelf of the bed frame. Jake pulled them on, still half dressed, and continued his search for clothes. 

“I’m coming with you.” That stopped him in his tracks. He turned to face you head on, a short fuse behind his eyes. 

“There’s no time. I’ve got to be there before midnight.” He obviously didn’t want to raise his voice at you, but he wanted to be assertive. The line between assertive and aggressive was hard for him to find. 

“That’s plenty of time. I can get us plane tickets right now.”

“Midnight their time. We can’t fly there in four hours. Khonshu has to take me.” You didn’t want to admit defeat, but there was no way for him to take you along. It was probably for the best, after all. Jake had never been on a mission with you before, and it seemed unlikely that he was used to teamwork. 

“Can you at least tell me your plan?” You would be damned if you would let them fly across the world without telling you what they were leaving for. Jake might be new to this dynamic, but he wasn’t leaving you with no idea what he was doing. 

“There’s an art showcase happening at midnight. He’s going to be there with half of his normal security and he’s expected to be there all night. If I can get into the venue before it opens, I can scope him out without putting a target on my back. Then I just have to wait until he’s alone. Or… mostly alone.”

“How long is it gonna take, then?” He pulled on his preferred outfit as you spoke. You noticed the gloves had white crescent moons on the knuckles. Jake obviously knew more about Khonshu than you had thought. 

“I don’t know. Maybe a day? It could take hours, it could take days. It just depends on what I see when I get there.”

“And your only target is the mob boss that Steven mentioned? He’s the only one you plan to kill?” 

This was too much for you. You had come to terms with Marc’s self-loathing and his agreement to seek vengeance for those that Khonshu deemed the travelers of the night. You had accepted that Steven was able to do those things without the resentment that his alter felt, though it required a significant push for him to resort to such things. You didn’t know how to feel about Jake having no remorse for the violence and no hesitance to obey the old god. 

He looked at you with a resignation that you saw once before. Your mind shot back to the words he had uttered as he dawned that look. You’re scared of me. He knew exactly how you were feeling right now. Jake couldn’t bring himself to feel guilt or shame or anything else. He knew that this is what he needed to do. It didn’t mean that he felt good at all about his answer to you, though. 

“Yes, just him. That’s the plan. For now.”

~~~ @n1ght5h4d3-24 @magicwithaknife @rmoonstoner @nervouslaught3r @unavoidabledirewolf @sarcasm-n-insomnia @kbakery @mccn-bcys @gingermous @dennyreadsfanfic @rosequinn121 @avatarofseshat @damreonsgirl @dragons-are-my-favorite @k8esilver @competentpotato @theconsultingdoctor10 @notsochillnerd @rayrlupin @moony-artemis @nerdory10 @valkyrieace @ahookedheroespureheart @mt2sssss @loki-hargreeves @starfirette @celeste412 @avengersinitiative2012 @sifinskies @unspokenmoon @maplemind @dear-odessa @mainstreambitchlife

[subjecta5newtella]

alright fuck it it’s been about a week the blinding rage has simmered down into a tasteful anger stew so I’m gonna talk about the crank palace a little. technically this is probably spoilery, but I don’t really go into specific plot points

there’s... a lot of shit I can point to that’s wrong in the crank palace. blatant contradictions to things in the original trilogy. pacing. weirdly explicit descriptions of violence. some truly baffling choices made when it comes to dialogue. newt forgetting glader slang for some reason? everything about how sonya and newt’s sibling relationship is handled, which is still probably something I can’t talk about without going nuclear so i’m just gonna direct you to point 4 on sami newtedison’s excellent post here. 

some of these things just make it hard to read and enjoy from a technical perspective, and some of them show that there wasn’t enough care taken to make sure basic established in-universe facts weren’t directly overwritten. while all of those are warning flags in their own right, the issue at the core of tcp is, in my distinctly less than humble opinion, that newt himself is barely a character in his own novella.

obviously at the point where the story starts, he’s not going to be the exact same newt we’ve seen throughout the trilogy. partly that’s because we’re now actually in his perspective, partly it’s because the flare is progressing so quickly, and that would create some understandable differences. the problem here is not just that he’s kind of different; the problem is he’s hardly an actual character at all.

one of The Most Basic things about characters is that their history has an impact on them. this is not fucking groundbreaking, but I say this because I literally do not think it’s achieved here. aside from his resurfacing memories (which... even then is basically all stuff we already know from tfc) we do not learn anything about newt that is not established in the trilogy, which is an incredible waste. I don’t think it’s a stretch to say that when people have expressed interest in newt’s POV, it’s to get information we don’t have from the earlier books, like his time in the glade, conversations he had that thomas didn’t see, anything we couldn’t see or easily extrapolate from thomas’ perspective.

thomas in book 1 has no memories. newt, theoretically, has over two years of them at this point, so why doesn’t it feel like his pre-series past exists any more than thomas’ does? i’m not about to subject myself to a reread just to 100% fact check this, but I don’t think we get any meaningful recollection of his time in the glade before main series canon begins. there would’ve been plenty of opportunities for these kinds of things to be woven in naturally, but more crucially, there are a couple places where I think pieces of his past should have absolutely come up, and they just... don’t. 

newt obviously has leadership experience as the glade’s second in command, and yet in tst is very vocal about not wanting to be the leader. when he’s kind of thrust into a leadership position in tcp, both of those things should affect the way he acts, and yet they don’t really seem to. if we’re looking for places to sprinkle in memories, this would be a really good one. he could be thinking about the point at which he became alby’s second, the reasons he accepted, and the anxieties associated with that, all in relation to his current situation. in tcp, becoming the leader of the group of cranks is just... straight up something that happens to him because he was a WICKED subject, with no real internal strife about it. I do not like the vibe of this whole plot point anyway, but im not gonna get into that. 

in a similar vein, I swear to god dashner forgot newt used to be a runner, because there are times where it should have logically come up. there’s a point at which newt talks about minho as a runner while giving absolutely no indication that he himself also used to be one, even though during the situation in question it would be relevant for him to have the skills and memories of his time as a runner (you could argue this was forgotten in any meaningful way as of tst because a similar thing happens, but i’m not gonna go on that rant rn). this is a crucial fucking character piece! based on a loose timeline, newt was a runner until probably ~6 months before tcp. it should have an impact on the way he acts and the way he evaluates situations.

regarding minho himself, newt’s descriptions of him feel like he read the wikipedia page, not like this was a) someone he’s been through over 2 years of highs and lows with and b) one of his only surviving friends in the first place, let alone one of the only ones from that original group. and minho’s hardly the only one that gets fucked over. alby? newt’s best friend as of the first book, with whom he co-ran the glade and who literally saved his life? mentioned once, as part of a list of the dead. those are the two that immediately come to mind as deserving better based on the way we’ve seen newt interact with them previously, but none of newt’s dynamics with existing characters feel lived-in at all. I think that contributes significantly to the fact that he feels so off, and frankly, not really wildly compelling a lot of the time despite being one of the most interesting and well written trilogy characters (there’s also times where his dialogue is just... weird and ooc, but im trying to stay out of nitpicking to that degree).

and to what end?? was dashner just too lazy to write in anything more than what’s established after this long? was it because creating any too-meaningful relationships with other characters could potentially take away from the thomas/newt dynamic that it seems like he’s relying on in order to stay relevant? even for people who go hard for newtmas, I can’t imagine it could really be considered a bonus to have one character’s past and other significant relationships stripped away. also?? even though he mentioned thomas’ name a lot, I don’t feel like we got that much of a sense of a meaningful connection there either. 

there were parts I liked about tcp, which may come as a fucking shock at this point, but still. keisha was a good character, a good break from the mold in terms of anything we’d seen before in the series, and I did honestly appreciate some of her interactions with newt. some of the minor characters were kind of interesting, and there were a couple small pieces that were... surprisingly well written? i think in terms of word choice and description, his writing has improved from what we see in the trilogy, so there’s my positive feedback. also, newt bitching about the lack of fruit and vegetable offerings at the crank palace was objectively funny as shit. one of the most genuine moments of Personality in the whole thing.

this could have been something. I think some pieces would’ve worked well as a short story, in which case I wouldn’t have expected nearly as much in terms of characterization and utilization of backstory. instead we just get a lot of suffering and not much out of it, because the one thing that could’ve made it worth it was an actual deeper understanding of this character and I truly don’t feel like we got that. 

[another-tmnt-writer]

Truth or Dare?

Raphael x Reader

Author: Admin Mo

Summary: When Mikey needs another actor for his film project, Raph gets roped into it. He didn’t, however, expect for his costar to be so cool.

Note: There are not NEARLY enough college au fics for the bayverse boys, so have this as my first contribution. <3

Warnings: Swears, mentions of drinking, plenty of fluff

Word Count: 3.9k

“Raph, PLEEEEEAAAASE!!!” Mikey folded his hands together, pleading. “We need actors for our project and our group members can’t be in it.”

Mikey, as part of his endeavor to explore every creative program at the university the turtles were currently attending, was taking a filmmaking class. And, as a part of that class, he and his fellow classmates were required to make short projects in order to learn the basics of filmmaking, from writing to directing to using the equipment to editing. As an added bonus because his professor was so especially cruel, none of the people in his group could appear in his project, and while they had managed to recruit some of their classmates to fill in the smaller roles, one of the main roles was still unclaimed.

Raph scoffed. “Mikey, you know I can’t act for shit.”

“You don’t have to actually be good at it!” He pleaded. “You should see some of the other projects. No one in the program is good at acting.”

Raph was quiet for a second, his large arms crossed in front of him, thinking. “How long is it gonna take?”

“Few hours.” Mikey shrugged. He raised an eyebrow. “And your costar is really, really hot.”

Raph sighed, disgruntled. “When?”

“YES! DUDE THANK YOU SO MUCH! YOU WON’T REGRET IT!” Mikey ran and returned with a script and a schedule, shoving it into his older brother’s hands. “We film tomorrow!”

Raph’s eyes widened. “TOMORROW?!”

***

Raph went with Mikey to where the rest of his group was meeting to film their project. He hadn’t really had time to look at the script and Mikey assured him that they’d be filming in small enough chunks that he wouldn’t need to have very much memorized at a time. He also didn’t really know what kind of movie it was and he didn’t care; he just couldn’t wait until it was over.

A few minutes after they arrived, so did his costar. And god, he couldn’t stop staring. Mikey was right. God, why was Mikey always right?

“I am so sorry I’m late. The bus almost hit a pedestrian and it was a whole thing.” You apologized.

“Don’t worry about it!” Mikey waved off your concern. “This is my brother, Raph.”

“Nice to meet you, Raph. I’m (Y/N).” You introduced, a warm smile on your face.

Raph didn’t miss the way your eyes lingered on him, but instead of the looks disdain he usually got, instead it seemed to be curiosity. Awe, even? Weird, he decided, but not unwelcome.

It was a long, awkward moment before he realized he’d better respond. “Oh, uh, nice to meet you too.”

“Um, you guys can get to know each other a little better. We’ve gotta get the equipment set up.” Mikey said, leaving the two of you on your own.

The filming location was a place you were very familiar with: the library. Particularly, in front of the cozy little coffee shop in the library.

“I didn’t really, uh, look at the script, but I’m guessing they needed a monster for a horror movie or something…” Raph flipped through the pages, skimming.

“It’s a rom com.” You corrected quietly. “I’m the main character. You’re the love interest.”

If Raph could physically blush, he was sure his cheeks would rival the color of his mask. “…Oh.”

“Is that alright?” You asked.

“Oh! Yeah, yeah it’s fine, I just…” He chuckled to himself. “I ain’t ever acted in anything before, let alone anything romantic.”

“It’s not too much, I don’t think.” You reassured him. “I’m pretty sure the most they’ll have us do is awkwardly brush hands. It’s a coffee shop meet-cute.”

“Gotcha.” And while he was relieved, he was also a little…disappointed? Huh. Weird. “So, uh, what’s yer major?”

“I’m a film major. I’m in Mikey’s class and they needed actors, so I’m paying it forward in case I need someone in my project. What’s yours?”

“I’m undecided. Just, uh, taking some time to figure things out, you know. I never really had any…school experience before this.”

“That’s a lot to adjust to.”

“Yeah, it is. I’m getting used to it, though.”

“That’s good! If you need any help with anything, let me know. I’ve picked up a bunch of good tips and tricks.”

He chuckled. “I will, thanks.”

“Do you have snapchat?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“One second.” You fished your phone out of your bag and unlocked it, opening the app to your snapcode, which he scanned and added you. “There you go.”

“Thanks.”

“Of course.”

Raph took some more time reading over the script to get the gist of the scene and you were right. Indeed, it was a rom com. Not his preferred genre, by any means, but maybe he’d warm up to it a bit over the course of the day.

“Hey (Y/N)?” Mikey called from over where they had the camera set up on the tripod. “Do you know how to white-balance this thing? Everything is orange for some reason. Which is a great color, but I’m sure Smith will dock us points for it.”

“Oh, I’ve got you.” You nodded. You looked up at Raph, your purse in hand. “Will you hold this for a second?”

“Uh, yeah. Sure.” He nodded, holding out a giant three-fingered hand to take the bag from you. He watched you walk over to where the rest of the group was standing, crowded around the camera. You worked your magic, shuffling through the menu and helping adjust the camera correctly. Raph couldn’t stop staring. You looked so focused. So passionate. He could tell you really liked film and everything it entailed and he wished he could just find something he cared about as much as you cared about your major.

“Awesome.” He heard Mikey say, his eyes fixed on the camera’s screen. “Thanks!”

“Of course!” You walked back over to where Raph was and he handed you your bag back. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, no problem.” He opened his mouth to say something else, but Mikey walked over to the two of you.

“You guys ready? I think we’re good to start now.”

“All set.” You confirmed, giving him a thumbs-up, and Raph nodded.

***

Raph might have to reconsider his stance on this acting thing. Did he think he was all that good at it? No. But so long as he had you as a costar, he’d act willingly in any project Mikey (or you) needed him for. And at the end of the shoot, he ended up having a really good time. So much so that when you guys were all done, he was…sad. Like, really sad about it.

You parted ways. You weren’t in any of his classes, so Raph wasn’t really sure if he’d see you around that much. And he didn’t see you around…until a few weeks later.

He was at the library studying with his brothers at their favorite table when suddenly, his phone buzzed, a message from snapchat coming in. He looked at the notification, doing a double-take when he read your name there. And when he reached to answer it, he moved too fast and knocked his shell-shaped cell phone off of the table.

Shit.

He bent down to pick it up and when he opened the snapchat, he was surprised to see…the back of his shell? It was captioned: “I spy with my little eye…Something red and green 😉”

Immediately, he whipped around, and sure enough, nestled in a table by the windows was you, looking at him over the top of your laptop screen. You giggled when he spotted you, waving.

Raph nudged Mikey, who was sitting across from him and Mikey traced Raph’s eyeline to where you were, his face immediately lighting up.

“Oh! Hey (Y/N)!” Mikey waved. “You wanna sit with us?”

“Is that alright?”

“Hell yeah!” Mikey motioned you over. “The more the merrier! We can pull up a chair over here on the end.”

So, you gathered your stuff while the guys rearranged some things, putting you on the end of the table, right between Mikey and Raph. When you got over there, you noticed they were sitting with the other two giant mutated turtles on campus, who you had heard of, but hadn’t met yet.

“(Y/N), these are our brothers. Leo’s over there in the blue, our fearless leader. And this is Donatello, the one we go to for homework help.”

“Not tonight you aren’t. This paper is due at midnight and it is…” Donnie glanced down at the clock on his laptop and as soon as he did, he started typing impossibly faster. “Eleven thirty-seven. Do not look at me or breathe in my direction.”

“Noted.” Mikey nodded, a trace of fear in his eyes.

“Nice to meet you, (Y/N). You’re in one of Mikey’s classes, right?”

“Yep! I’m in his film class.” You smiled, taking a sip of your iced coffee. “I got the pleasure of costarring with this one.” You nudged Raph lightly, causing him to smile the most genuine smile Mikey had ever seen on his older brother’s face.

Huh. Mikey took note, something devious stirring in the back of his mind. Interesting…

“What did you get on that, by the way?” You asked.

“We got an A! Well, Minus. But you know how Smith is.”

“Dude that’s awesome!” You bumped your fist against his. “Good job. I’m pretty sure my group got a B, but we’re not mad about it. C’s get degrees, as they say.”

“Cheers to that.” Leo chuckled.

“What are you working on today, Raph?” You asked, tilting your head in a way that sent his heart racing in a way he could not explain.

“I have a paper for my Writing 150 class.”

“Oof that sucks. Who do you have?”

“Trainor.”

“Ouch. She hated me.” You grimaced, shaking your head. “She found out I was bi and it was all over for me.”

“Did you report her? I’m pretty sure you can report her for that sort of thing.” Raph asked, trying not to get heated over it. He was pretty sure she didn’t like him very much either, but it was probably due to the fact that he was a giant green turtle. “That’s bullshit.”

“I’m in the process of that right now.” You nodded. “She’s a bitch. I don’t know if they’ll actually do anything about it though.”

“Keep me posted. I might file something too if she doesn’t stop glaring at me during class.” Raph grumbled. “It’s annoying.”

“That would be annoying. Her beady little eyes glaring at you for two agonizing hours of ‘This is how to correctly use a comma’.”

He chuckled. “Yeah. It is.”

You glanced at your phone, which buzzed with a text from one of your roommates. “Oh! Uh, do you guys have any plans this weekend?”

“Nope. Why?” Mikey asked, curiosity seeping into his voice.

“My roommate is throwing a party, if you guys wanna come. It’ll be pretty chill. Drinks, pizza, some music.”

“Oh hell yes.” Mikey nodded. He looked at Leo. “Leo, can we?”

“I don’t see why not.” Leo shrugged. “Sounds like a good time.”

“Is there a dress code?” Mikey asked. Now that he was finally allowed to socialize, he didn’t want to fuck it up.

“Nope. Just casual. Come as you are.”

“Do you need us to bring anything?”

“If you guys have a drink of choice, bring that, I guess, but otherwise, my roommate’s boyfriend works at a pizza place, so we get a pretty good discount and we have literally so much wine.”

“That’s amazing.” Mikey nodded, making a mental note to look into jobs at a pizza place later.

“We’ll bring a veggie tray.” Donnie said, his fingers flying across the keyboard of his laptop until finally, he stopped. “I finished, by the way.”

“Good job, dude!” Mikey gave him a thumbs up. “You wanna write mine next?”

“Ha.” Donnie stared at him. “Funny.”

“What’s your paper on, Raph? Maybe I can help.”

Raph turned his laptop towards you. “We have to write it about like growing up. You can, uh, read it if you want. I don’t mind. I’m kinda stuck right now anyway.”

“Okay.” You agreed, switching his laptop for yours. You winked. “Trade ya.”

“What are you writing about?” He asked, scrolling to the top of your document.

“Women in Film.” You shot finger guns at him. “I’m about to make some Film Bois REALLLL mad.”

“Roast ‘em, (Y/N).” Mikey laughed, knowing all too well exactly which film boys you were talking about. He was not a fan.

“That’s the plan.” You chuckled and then started reading over Raph’s paper. You had known before meeting them that they hadn’t exactly had the best childhood, but…wow was it eye-opening reading the experience from his eyes. “Holy shit.”

“That bad?” He joked, trying to read your expression.

“No, it’s…Raph, this is really good, but wow. You guys went through a lot, huh?”

“Yeah…” He shrugged. “It wasn’t all bad, but it sure wasn’t normal by any means.”

“Mmm…” You nodded, looking up at him. “I mean, normal is kinda overrated.”

He chuckled. “I’m glad ya think so. Not many people do.”

You shrugged, smiling softly. “Well, it’s a good thing I’m not like many people.”

***

“(Y/N), this place is as clean as it’s gonna get. It’s a party. It’ll be messed up in,” your roommate, Haley, glanced down at her watch, “like twenty minutes.”

“I know, I just…I’m nervous. These guys are basically superheroes. I want to make a good impression.”

“Fair point.”

You swept the kitchen floor and got out the cutest paper plates you had in the cupboard as well as some solo cups and plastic wine glasses. If you could avoid broken glass today, that was probably the move.

The doorbell buzzed and your heart raced, but it was just your other roommate’s boyfriend with the pizza.

“Is Darcy here?” He asked.

“She’s upstairs getting ready, you explained, helping him get the pizza and breadsticks and everything set up on the counter. He’d also brought a few two-liters of Pepsi, which was good. You put it next to the giant jug of fruit punch you’d bought at the grocery store. It was important to make sure your non-drinking friends had something to drink, too.

A few minutes after, guests started arriving. Darcy came downstairs and started up her iconic party playlist. Your neighbors popped in. It was easier to invite them and let them have a good time with you than have them call security on you guys for throwing a party, even if it was the weekend and it was only nine.

You turned off the lamps in the living room and instead set your strip lights to party mode, causing them to cycle through a bunch of colors in time with the music. It was then that the doorbell rang again and you rushed to the mirror to check yourself once more. You adjusted your hair, straightened out your top, and checked your teeth for food. Nope, you were good.

So, with the rest of the hosts distracted, you opened the door. On the other side of it were four tall, green gentlemen, one of them carrying a veggie tray.

“Hey guys, come on in!”

You moved out of the way so they could step inside.

Mikey’s eyes widened, looking into the living room full of dancing college kids. “Woahhhhh this is awesome!”

“Glad you think so.” You laughed. “There’s food and drinks in here, the bathroom is in the hallway, and everyone else seems to be either in the living room or the back yard.”

“Where do you want this veggie tray?” Donnie asked.

“Thank you so much for bringing this, by the way! You can set it over by the pizza boxes. I can get a spoon for the dip.” You said, walking towards the silverware drawer and producing a spoon while Donnie popped the lid off of the plastic serving tray and opened up the dip. You handed him the spoon.

The guys were each sporting their signature color, but they were wearing clothes you hadn’t seen them in before. Usually, Raph liked to wear a large gray hoodie, but today, he was sporting a black t-shirt and an impossibly large red flannel with some jeans. It looked good on him. Like, really good.

Apparently, he was thinking the same thing, because as soon as you were free, he walked up to you and nudged you gently. “You look really good.”

Your cheeks flushed with warmth and you wished you could blame it on wine, but you hadn’t even had a sip yet. “Thanks. You clean up pretty nice yourself.”

Had you worn a red top on purpose? Yes, absolutely. Would you admit to it, though? No, definitely not.

But Mikey noticed. Oh, Mikey noticed everything. And he couldn’t help but think that you and his older brother would make quite the couple. Maybe there was something he could do to just…give it a little push.

***

The time came later, when the party was finally starting to wind down. Some people had left. Your neighbors had gone home, and you’d switched the strip lights to a light, warm color. You’d also switched the upbeat party playlist for something chill to play in the background. The remaining partygoers were all settled in a circle in the living room, eating whatever pizza was left, sipping on box wine, and playing a game of truth or dare.

“Haley, truth or dare?” Darcy challenged.

“Truth.”

“Okay…Fuck, Marry, Kill: Chris Evans, Chris Hemsworth and…..Chris Pine.”

“DAMN.” She cursed. “You can’t do that to me. Shit. Uh…Fuck Chris…Hemsworth. Marry Chris…Pine? And—”

“Don’t you do it!” You warned.

“Kill Chris Evans.”

“Noooooooooo!” You whined, taking a sip of your drink. The rest of the group laughed. “Poor Captain America.”

“Rest in pieces, Cap.” She agreed, shaking her head. “Okay…Mikey, truth or dare.”

“Dare.” Mikey answered quickly. He always picked dare, so in the fifth round of the game, it wasn’t much of a surprise.

“I dare you…to take a shot of straight lemon juice.”

“Easy peasy.” Mikey scoffed, pouring himself a shot and downing it.

You watched as his face contorted at the sour, sour taste. You couldn’t help but giggle a little at that.

“Good job, Mikey.” Donnie laughed, dipping a piece of broccoli in dip before popping it into his mouth.

“Taking it like a champ.” Leo added, nodding.

“Alright, my turn?” Mikey asked, looking around the circle for his victim, pretending he hadn’t been planning this since round one. “(Y/N). Truth or dare?”

You thought about it for a second. How easy it would be to just choose truth again, but for some reason, you were feeling a little brave, so instead, you picked, “Dare.”

“Oooooooh,” the circle said, all of them a little surprised by that choice.

“Okay. Alright.” Mikey rubbed his hands together mischievously. All according to plan. “I dare you to kiss the hottest person in the room.”

“OOOOOOOHHHH!” The circle all stared at you and you thought for a second, a smirk settling on your features.

“Oh that’s easy.” You got up and crossed the circle until you were standing in front of Raph. Even sitting down, he was almost your height. “Think I could get a kiss?”

Raph stared up at you, shocked, waiting for you to say Sike! HAHA! Did you actually think I thought you were hot?! Loser!

But you never did, instead looking down at him with sincerity, patience. Were you a little…nervous, even?

“Why me?” He whispered, his eyes fixed on you. There were plenty of good-looking human guys still there, and yet you were certain. Unwavering. Then, louder, he asked, his heart absolutely fighting to get out of his chest, “Are you sure?”

“Positive.” You nodded, starting to lean closer. Once you were most of the way in, you let him meet you in the middle, your soft human lips meeting his, which were, you had to admit, way softer than you thought they would be.

Raphael kissed you like you were made of glass, like if he moved too fast, you would shatter. It was his first kiss, after all, and he didn’t want to fuck it up.

When it finally ended, you walked back to your seat in the circle, your cheeks rosy, heart racing. Haley gave you a nudge and you giggled, your stomach filled with butterflies. The rest of the game went along with little fanfare, and once everyone was tired enough, the apartment cleared out even more, leaving just your roommates, Darcy’s boyfriend, and the turtles, who insisted on helping clean everything up. Well, it had been Leo’s idea, but the rest had agreed to stick around to help.

You volunteered to go out into the backyard to pick up all of the stray solo cups and White Claw cans. You hated litter. You worked out there alone for a bit. As you bent down to pick up the last can you heard the signature screech of the sliding door opening.

Raph squeezed through the narrow doorway, cursing his shell for making him so damn wide.

“Hey,” you said softly, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. Your voice was almost swallowed up by the sounds of the choir of crickets outside.

“Hey.” He closed the sliding door. “Can we talk?”

“Yeah, of course.” You nodded, tying off the trash bag you were using to collect garbage. “How was your first college party?”

“It was great. Really, really great.” He said, taking slow steps through the grass towards you. “Um…I…did you mean what you said? Earlier.”

“What do you mean?”

“When you…was I really…” he laughed at the absurdity of it. “You think I’m hot?”

“I do.” You nodded. “Of course I do.”

“I’m sorry if I find that a little hard to believe.” He shook his head, stopping right in front of you. When he was standing in front of you like this, he was remined of just how big he was compared to you, just how much he towered over you. Just how different you were. “I’m just used to the opposite reaction.”

“Believe it.” You reached forward and took his hand in yours, gripping one of his giant green fingers.

“I’m trying to.” He chuckled and fiddled with your little hand, nervous. “You know, uh…that was my first kiss in there. I wasn’t too awful, was I?”

“I didn’t mean to steal your first one.” You laughed softly. “Sorry. But to answer your question, I thought it was perfect.”

“That’s a relief.” He was quiet for a moment, thinking. “Uh…If it’s alright with ya…I’d like to give you my second kiss, too.”

Instead of answering, you took another step closer, looking up, up, up into his piercing green eyes. “You’re gonna have to come down here; I can’t reach.”

He laughed. “Right.” Raph craned his neck down, one of his large hands tilting your face up towards his so he could meet you in the middle for another perfect kiss.

***

“What are you doing?” Leo asked Mikey, who was peering through the blinds into the back yard of the apartment.

Mikey only grinned proudly, nodding to himself. “Works every time…”

[linorangge]

Codes | Bangchan College! AU

Chan takes an interest in the generous computer science major and makes it his mission to befriend her. (Content Warning: Mild swearing, suggestive language). | Word Count: 1406 |  Part 2

Restless nights doing homework, due dates, 10 page essays, and a degree waiting to be conquered. College life wasn’t as glamorous as presented in movies, at least not for you. Parties weren’t a priority to you, the most you had done in your college career was get drunk off a whole bottle of wine when you passed finals.

Of course this didn’t mean you had no social life, you had a small friend group, although it was a bit hard to consistently hang out with them because you all majored in different areas.

You were consistent with school, work, and a somewhat active friend group. Life wasn’t that bad. Of course though, that didn’t last forever. You were a fifth year computer science major, and you took an advanced coding class. The class was small and rather easy to you, however it was quite the opposite to your peers. This required you to constantly give out answers and teach your classmates what the professor failed to teach.

“Hey!” a small voice whispered.

You ignored it, assuming the call wasn’t for you, and continued typing letter after letter.

“Yo!” the same voice called again.

You turned slightly and met eyes with a guy who was peeking at you through the wall of computers.

You nodded your head in his direction in response.

“What’s the symbol to move it to the left?”

“Move what to the left?” you said, turning fully now.

“The graph.” the guy replied.

“We’re not supposed to move the graph.”

“Then what do we move?” he said, his tone panicked.

“Nothing.”

He made a face of confusion and looked between you and his screen.

“Do you need help with anything else?” you asked.

He shook his head before briefly thanking you.

You turned back to your computer and soon the class ended and you were dismissed.

This time, a different guy went up to you, “What’s your major?”

You flinched in surprise since you had never seen the guy, much less talked to him.

“Computer science, you?”

“I’m kinda in the same boat.”

“Nice.” you deadpanned and started picking up the pace to go meet your friend Jihyo for lunch.

“What’s your name?” the guy asked.

Now you felt a bit odd, no one had really bothered to talk to you for anything other than school reasons, so why now all of a sudden?

“Y/n… you are?” you said, briefly slowing your pace.

“Chan, nice to meet you.”

You turned to look at him and gave him a polite smile before shaking his hand.

“So, do you need help with assignments? Or?”

“Oh! No not really,” he swallowed and let out a sigh, “Well kinda,”

You nodded in understanding, “So what is it? Codes? Typing issues?”

“Oh uh,” he was quiet for a moment, “I’m pretty new at all of this to be honest.”

“How come you’re in the advanced class then?”

“Uh,” he stuttered and stayed silent.

You stopped your walk and gave him a confused look. You waited for an answer.

“I have my ways.” he finally said, and you gave him yet another confused look.

“I’ve gotta go, but it was nice meeting you.” you said before smiling and giving him a little wave before making your way out of the building and to the courtyard where your friend awaited you.

All the while Chan watched you walk away in longing.

__

As of the beginning of the semester, Chan had seen you around campus, he noticed the way you carried yourself and the way you knew every move you were making, everything you did made you seem so sure of yourself.

So what? Chan found out Jeongin was one of your closest friends and forced Jeongin to tell him your major. Computer Science? Perfect! Producing had something to do with computers at least.

Chan took the class to at least have something in common with you. It was pure luck they even let him take an advanced course when he had little to no experience. And it was once again pure luck when your schedules somehow aligned for you to take the class in the same hour.

Soon, Chan noticed the way no one really bothered to talk to you unless they were asking for answers. In a way, he admired you, yet pitied you all at once. You however, weren’t too bothered by this fact considering you didn’t mind helping people to begin with.

The whole three times he had seen you at a public place, you were alone and eating some variety of a sandwich. He made sure to make a mental note of that. And when he found out Jeongin was in your friend group, boy did that take a toll on his entire perception of you.

Chan still remembered the day he found out. He was at Felix’s dorm with Hyunjin, Felix, and of course, Jeongin.

They were playing video games and Chan was talking out of his ass, completely letting his mouth wander off about anything and everything that came to mind. And then he mentioned you.

“There’s this one girl....”

The boys stayed silent, waiting for him to finish his sentence.

“Okay?” Hyunjin had said, waiting for more.

“I don’t know, she looks kinda cool.”

“Cool how?” Felix mumbled, half of his brain trying to maintain the conversation, the other half trying to help Jeongin.

“Well not cool, she’s like, I don’t know.”

“Dude pick a struggle.” Hyunjin said jokingly.

Chan rolled his eyes, “I don’t know, I hardly know her, I’ve just seen her around.”

“Hm,” was all Felix said, before the conversation moved on. They talked about annoying professors and how bad the lunch meat was, until Jeongin got a facetime call from you.

“Aw damn, hold on, Chan cover for me.” Jeongin had said, hurriedly handing over the controller and answering the call.

Your face popped up on the screen and you had a big smile, “Where are you?”

“Friend’s dorm, why?” Jeongin said as he turned the volume up to hear you over the gunshots from the game.

“I got you iced americano!” you said happily waving the drink around and showing it to the camera.

Jeongin smiled, his dimples becoming visible, “Aw thanks, I’ll go get it from your place later.”

“Okayyy, but don't take too long, ‘cus the ice will melt!”

Chan looked between Jeongin and his phone and saw your face and practically went into cardiac arrest.

He dropped the controller and excitedly whispered to Hyunjin, “Dude that’s the girl!”

“What?” Hyunjin looked at Chan like he was a mad man.

“Dude, that’s the girl I was talking about, the one I called cool.”

“The girl Jeongin’s on the phone with?” Hyunjin whispered back.

“Dude yeah.”

“Chris can you fucking play the game, we’re literally about to die.” Felix said rather loudly.

“Chan I told you to cover for me.” Jeongin said looking up from the call he was still having with you.

“Oh shit.” but it was too late, Chan was unable to revive Felix, all hope was lost, the match was a failed attempt at winning a first person shooter game.

Frustrated, Felix let himself fall back into the carpeted floor and sulked in silence.

“I’ll see you in a bit, bye y/n!” Jeongin waved and Chan caught one last glimpse of you waving back and smiling before Jeongin hung up.

“Dude how do you know her?”

“Why?”

Chan made an exasperated face, “Answer the question younging.”

“I met her at orientation, why do you ask?”

“She’s the cool girl.”

“Cool girl?”

“Were you even listening earlier?”

“Dude I was just trying to win a match, that you totally sabotaged.” Jeongin rolled his eyes and stood up.

“I’ll catch you guys some other time, I’ve got an iced americano to press my luscious lips to.” Jeongin started collecting his things but Chan stopped him.

“What’s her major?”

“You’re being mega weird about this girl Chris.” Hyunjin mumbled as he scrolled through his phone.

“I’m just trying to find some background info.”

“Okay stalker.”

Chan looked at his friend for a long while before deciding it was better if he didn’t throttle him.

“Her major, what is it?”

“Computer science, so she probably won’t have classes with you.” Jeongin shrugged and bid his goodbyes to the group before leaving.

All the while, Chan’s brain swirled with new ideas about the information given to him.

[sugarcomatosed]

i love your stories so much!! and was wondering if you can give some writing tips perhaps? 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

Breaking this up into sections for you + putting it under a cut cause I went overboard. 😅

General Writing Tips

These work for both academic and creative writing.

Make an outline.

It doesn't have to be a formal one, but having at least a general idea of the scenes you want to include is helpful. If I know my fic is going to be a longer one (like Don't Hesitate was and my current WIP is), I break down the larger story beats i want to hit on a piece of paper or my iPad.

It's good to know what you're planning to do, in a any piece I usually have a single specific scene I want to do and depending on what it is, I might either just do the scene I want to or turn into something longer.

Draft, draft, draft.

I cannot stress the importance of going through and reviewing your work. This is a big part of any sort of writing.

Your first idea isn't always your best idea. As you work on a piece you might find your original idea is holding you back, focus shifts! Don't be afraid to let your work change as you go. It's not always easy to let go of your original idea but if you find it's not working, you have to let it change. Sections will need to be rewritten, things have to be readjusted to fit with later sections. Reread for clarity while you're drafting and look to see if this makes sense to you, or reads well to you. If you can't follow it and you wrote it, chances are your reader can't either. Did you use the same phrase again and again? Find and search it on your doc to double check.

Sometimes you have to cut things you really like because they just don't contribute to the fic anymore. Save those bits and use them somewhere else!In a lot of my longer pieces I will write a paragraph, realize that's not where it should go and cut/paste it into another part of the doc because the pacing/scene doesn't make sense where I had it originally, but it works somewhere else.

If you're stuck, skip around, come back and then stitch the bits you have written together.

Don't Focus on a Word Count

This might be controversial, but I'm of the opinion just because something is longer does not make it better. Some works are short, and that's okay! I very rarely try to aim for a specific count of words unless it's for a prompt exchange or a personal challenge. I write till I feel the piece is done. Some stories require more words, some require less.

Don't Hesitate is a great example of this again, because all I wanted to do was a bittersweet first kiss fic, but jumping write into the kiss wouldn't get the full effect I wanted. Meanwhile, with Old Habits all I wanted to do was write dumb comedic kisses, we didn't need a 2k preamble.

Get Someone You Trust to Edit

My go to editor for the past six years or so is one of my good friends. She has edited everything from college papers to my fics for me before I post them to read for clarity, find any funky phrases or misspelled words I missed, and I do the same for her when she asks! A fresh set of eyes makes a world of a difference. Find someone to trade fics with or ask a friend! They might have good suggestions you never thought of, or be able to tell what you were going for when you don't even know yourself.

I also rely on my friends a lot to brainstorm and talk my ideas out before I start because it helps me think and figure out what I need. It's super common for me to text someone and say "im gonna spitball at you, that okay?" and then spend twenty minutes chatting through my ideas.

Have Reference Material

For my 13sar fics, I regularly go back and review/screenshot videos of the dialogue to make sure I am staying consistent with story events, character nuance and small details. You don't have to go crazy, but it is really helpful to have your source material to go back to and check yourself against. In non creative writing I always had a pile of papers highlighted with my own notes on the margins.

Take Breaks/Pace Yourself

Know your own limits, and if you are working and working on something and it's not coming out leave it alone and come back to it. I'm really bad at this personally because when I get an idea in my head I want to see it through but sometimes you gotta step back! It's not healthy to keep working on things and overwork yourself. Stretch, get up go for a walk.

Write What You Want to Write

Don't focus on what people want to read. Focus on what you like. Find a topic, a scene, anything that you are passionate about and the rest will follow. The only time I write fic for other people is when I am writing for a friend. Even prompt requests I only take open ended ones, if I am not interested in writing it it's not gonna happen. I know it's super hard and I get really anxious sometimes about letting people down now, or worrying people won't like something but then I step back and remind myself this is a hobby and I'm doing it for fun.

Play to Your Strengths

You shouldn't try to write like me, you should try to write like yourself. Find what skills you have and use them to your advantage!

I can't give you a step by step list to write like me, because nobody in the world has my background! We're all unique. Everything I've listed so far I know because I'm not a beginner anymore! I'm in my twenties and have come from a strong academic writing background.

I took on an intensive course load in high school, and then went onto college for a sociology degree. I very rarely had test based finals and at the end of each semester would have five 10-15 page papers to submit. Straight up some of my skills come from having read and studied the works of anthropologist Clifford Geertz. I am not saying you should read anthropology/sociology texts. Unless you like that sort of thing lol

I also have 6+ years of theater experience (acting & directing), I use this all the time for my writing. When I think about a scene, I think about how I would work through it as an actor, how the character would move, and how would things read to an audience. The GOTE ("Goal, Obstacle, Tactics, and Expectation") method of acting by Robert Cohen is really useful hear if you want a more technical breakdown of what I mean by that.

This leads to a lot of what we called "business" in acting, doing small tiny things while you talk or move around on stage to give the sense you're a real human. I don't have to think or try on these sort of things because they're in my skill set already!

Things I do Personally

As in, these are not transferable skills this is just the stuff I do while working on projects.

Find a Vibe™️

I come into any fic with usually a goal I want to hit, a line of dialogue or something I want to capture. Just like, the general idea of a feeling a song even if the lyrics don't match up. Make a mood-board, a playlist, just find something you wanna do. It's less about the actual words on the page and what you're aiming to do.

Look to things that inspire you

Don't Hesitate got written because I wanted to write a fic that captured the same vibe as a scene in Macross Frontier, where two characters have a bittersweet kiss before the final battle and that scene still has me fucked up six years after watching it.

My current WIP is doing the same thing but with the song All I've Ever Known from Hadestown. Two characters working through loneliness, the sudden feeling of falling in love and the frustration that feeling can bring on sometime.

I don't plagiarize them word for word, but these are scenes that inspire me! I also patchwork quilt ideas together. Using Don't Hesitate again, I also ended up pulling from a bunch of shoujo anime, Toradora, Sailor Moon, Yona of the Dawn, Princess Tutu...specific scenes I enjoy to blend and create something new.

Goof Off While You Write

I name my documents stupid things, I write dumb placeholder dialogue or vague sentiments like "insert better word here", I make memes when I'm struggling and roast myself and my predictable tastes.

I spent twenty minutes texting a friend Juro's name with different letters spelt out and then the "fuck your chickenstrips" vine saying it was Juro during destruction. Just have fun with it!

Listen to J-POP On Loop for Hours at a Time

i am not kidding I do this all the time. Perfume, AKB48, anime idol osts, Sailor Moon's OPs/ED, vocaloid songs. I like technopop and Japanese is good because it usually doesn't distract my brain since I only know random phrases, but still know what the meaning og the song is.

I love music, it helps me vibe out.

Thank you so much for enjoying my work ;o;

I hope this is useful to you in some way! I'm so sorry it's so long winded but I am overly thorough and love to teach people ;w;

[miikrokkosmos]

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: fluff, angst, coffee shop!au, college!au, best friend!au, shy/awkward!reader (they say to write what you know)

word count: 6.3k

summary: “Yoongi begrudgingly rose to his feet and walked to behind the counter, but didn’t stop at the register, much to the chagrin of the young hipster man waiting to order his third iced Americano of the day. He instead went to the back and whipped out the biggest mug the coffee shop offered, and got to work on a drink that nobody ordered. By this point, the whole line of customers had their eyes glued to him incredulously. “Oh, I’ll be with you all in a minute,” he said to them nonchalantly.” aka Yoongi and reader have been dancing around their feelings for each for far too long and something’s gotta give

a/n:hey guys! i’m still trying to figure out my writing style for my bts characters. but i hope you enjoy, and as always, any feedback, ideas, and/or constructive criticism would be indescribably appreciated! inbox currently open for requests, as well!

You hugged your sweater tighter around your torso as you settled into the hard plastic chair of the lecture hall to get ready for your favourite class of the week – your M/W/F late morning marketing class. Not that marketing was your concentration, or even one of your favourite topics to study…it just happened to be the one class you shared with your best friend, Min Yoongi. Not a day passed by without you thanking the heavens above that marketing basics was something required for your business major, as well as Yoongi’s music production degree. It worked out perfectly. Almost as perfectly as when Yoongi had gotten an assistant manager job at the café you spent all of your study hours in (as well as your free personal hours, if you were being honest).

Fresh off the morning shift at said coffee shop, Yoongi’s face poked through the door with minutes to spare, fluffy black hair flying in every direction as he tried to keep two coffee cups in his hands from slushing over their brims. You hustled to lift your heavy backpack off the chair next to you, dutifully saved for him every time. He gave you a warm smile and slid one of the paper cups towards you, gently patting your head as he sits in his chair. You excitedly grabbed the cup and brought the side to your eyes to read WCM scrawled across the side. You eyed him sneakily as you raised the cup to your lips. “White chocolate mocha? You’re trying to make me fat, aren’t you?”

“Don’t act like it’s not your favourite,” he threw out. “Besides, we needed to have matching drinks,” he said, twirling his own cup around to show you the matching sharpie label scrawled across the side.

“You’re really annoying, you know,” you mumbled, but couldn’t hide the grin stretching across your lips.

“You’re welcome for the free coffee, by the way, hand-poured by your favourite barista,” Yoongi drawled out, attempting to match your annoyed tone, but even more unable than you to make his visage match his tone.

He moved to take his notebook and textbook out of his bag, neatly arranging them on the desk in front of him. You eyed him fondly as he did so, enjoying the coziness spreading throughout your body from both the hot drink in your hands, as well as from the warmth that you naturally felt whenever you got to spend time with Yoongi. Even if that time was sometimes spent just slouching next to each other in the far back of a business lecture hall, passing the time by sharing memes and occasionally jotting down notes only when it seemed most important. In those moments, there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

Which is precisely why you decided then and there that you had to do something, anything, to move on, to keep yourself from basing so much of your happiness in someone whose depth of feelings for you surely didn’t match your own of his.

_______________________________________________________________________

After finishing up your classes the next day, you headed to the café as usual to work on your homework, Yoongi working to keep up at his register in the background with the rush of rude customers coming in to order minutes before the café was officially closed. You couldn’t help but notice how every second girl attempts to flirt with him, pausing your music each time to listen in on their suggestive comments every time against your better judgement. Jealousy would boil in your veins every time, but you were usually able to calm down fairly quickly given the fact that Yoongi never, ever appeared to reciprocate. You didn’t know if he was completely oblivious, or if he just plain didn’t care for girls who blatantly asked for his number in the same breath as their latte order, but either way you appreciated it. Not that you truthfully had any right to appreciate it. It’s not like he ever flirted with you either.

Minutes later, after ushering everyone out of the café on time, Yoongi rushed over to you, placing both his hands on either side of your head, kneeling in front of you. “The place is finally ours again,” he said, rubbing soft circles into your temples, “and…we didn’t sell out of those big ass expensive cupcakes today. They have to be gone one way or another. Interested?”

You lightly place your hands on his wrists, still hovering by your face. “Do you really need me to answer that?”

_______________________________________________________________________

You found yourself not ten minutes later seated across from Yoongi at your tiny round table, quickly putting away your study materials to make room for two cups of tea, giant cupcakes topped with bountiful icing in tow.

“I don’t think that last group of customers appreciated being kicked out while I so blatantly overlooked you lounging in the corner,” Yoongi said, a grin finding its way to his lips.

You weren’t quite sure how to take that one. “Oh, well, I can start leaving earlier if you think it’s an issue…I never want to do anything that could chance getting you in trouble, you know that.”

Yoongi quirked a brow. “What? No, I’m kidding, _____. Besides, what are they gonna do about it? I’m here more often than the regular manager. I practically own the place,” he added, with a wink.

You giggled, trying to hide the bright pink dusting your cheeks by practically stuffing your whole face in the cupcake. Yoongi rolls his eyes as he reaches across and wipes off a dab of icing off the top of your lip under your nose, which did absolutely nothing for your already furious blush. You both laughed at each other for a moment, a beat passing between you as you catch each other’s eyes. Yoongi had a way with his eye contact. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, and there wasn’t a particular technique to it, it’s just the way he was. Something about it always felt so intense, but in a good way. It made you feel so…seen.

You felt a painful pang after you felt you had spent too much time gazing into his orbs, however, and soon looked off to the side. “So, I have something to say,” you started slowly, taking a big gulp to keep yourself from going further.

“Let me guess. You’ve decided to switch majors and we now have all of our classes together?”

“No, about my love life, actually.”

An expression flashed over Yoongi’s face that you couldn’t quite identify, but you didn’t have time to attempt to decode it. “Oh? How so?”

“Well,” you began, slowly pushing your teacup to the center of the table, “I think…I don’t know. I just feel like it’s a good time for me to be more open to looking for a relationship, maybe?”

“Oh. I didn’t know you were closed off to the idea before now, actually.”

“I mean, I wasn’t really. I just mean…I want to start being more intentional now about it, I guess? I didn’t really have time to think about it much the past couple years, with finishing my undergrad and then traveling around and working for a while.” AndbecauseI’vebeentooinlovewithyoutoconsiderdatinganyoneelse.“But now that I’m back in school and working on my master’s, and I know I’m gonna be here in one place for a while to finish that, I thought maybe it’d be a good time to look for something more serious, I guess?”

Yoongi was no longer even trying to make eye contact with you, his gaze firmly pointed at the empty cups in front of you both. “I mean, yeah. That makes sense,” he said rather quietly, throwing his head into a quick firm nod, as if to make up for the firmness he lacked in his voice.

“Yeah. So I think I’m going to break down and finally try a dating app.” You try to force yourself to look more excited about the prospect than you actually feel.

Yoongi threw a hand behind his head, ruffling up his already messy hair. “Ah, I see. You know, from most people I wouldn’t be at all surprised to hear that, but that isnews coming from you.”

“I know, I know,” you say as you let out a nervous chuckle. “I’m nervous.”

“Well, it’s a brave thing to put yourself out there,” Yoongi said, offering a smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes.

You nodded to him, rising to pick up your dirty dishes to bring to the café’s counter behind you.

“Hey, that’s my job,” Yoongi whined after you, which you completely brushed off.

You walk up behind him, letting your hands drop to his shoulders. You begin kneading in a massaging motion, causing him to drop his head down onto his chest. “Ready to go home and study for the marketing exam?” you quietly ask.

He tenses and raises his head back up, standing to his feet, causing your hands to drop back down to your sides. “Would you mind if we pushed that to tomorrow, actually? I have to sort through some stuff in the money room here that I forgot about, probably will take a good while.”

“Oh. Okay then, tomorrow it is,” you say, tipping your head in thanks when he hoists your backpack around your shoulders. You give him a quick hug before turning to walk towards the door.

“Hey, _____?” Yoongi calls out after you.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks…just thanks for being open and vulnerable with me and telling me about your thoughts and feelings. I know it’s not easy to do.”

Ouch.

“Of course, Yoongi. That’s what best friends are for.”

_______________________________________________________________________

Your study session with Yoongi the next day lasted all but fifteen minutes before you had both given into the temptation of moving from the stiff kitchen chairs to the enveloping coziness of his couch, marathoning episodes of your current favourite tv show all afternoon instead. Although you had begun the show by sitting upright next to each other, the sleepier you became, the more your body involuntarily decided to crawl into Yoongi’s welcoming hold. You eventually fell asleep with his arm around you, head tucked gently into his neck, television buzzing lowly in the background.

You woke up what must have been several hours later, almost feeling overheated by how absolutely entangled you and Yoongi were in each other: legs mixed up in each other, a protective hand pulling you closer to his chest rising up and down in soft breaths, and a plaid blanket that was strewn across you sometime after your eyes had first fallen shut. Not that you could complain, though. Settings such as this were where you felt truly the safest, and most at peace.

As slow as possible, you hoisted the blanket off of yourselves and attempted to extricate yourself from Yoongi without waking him. But the second he noticed in his drowsy state that you, his source of warmth and comfort, had been ripped from his hold, his eyes snapped open with a start.

“Don’t get up,” you whispered in a soothing voice, hoping to coax him back into his comfy position. “I didn’t mean to stay so late, sorry.” You walked over to the kitchen area to pick up your study materials you had left strewn about the table.

Ignoring your instructions, Yoongi picked himself up and sauntered over to stand next to you, your hips touching. “You can stay, you know,” he said in a raspy voice still full of sleep, gently placing a hand atop your own to stop you from continuing to pack up.

You glanced up to meet his eyes as you contemplated his offer. It wasn’t like you hadn’t accidentally stayed over before, late night study sessions and movie nights never ending and never moving from his couch in time to beat the sun rising. It also wasn’t as if you didn’t desperately want to spend more time with the boy, especially if that time involved reverting back to your previous position of having your bodies tightly snuggling into each other under a woolen blanket on his oversized couch. It’s just that you really didn’t know if your heart could handle that any longer.

“No. No, thank you. Thank you though. But no,” you awkwardly stuttered out, dropping your gaze almost as quickly as you rescued your hand from his tender grasp to snap the straps on the front of your backpack.

“Oh. Okay,” he said, and did his eyes look…sad?, “But text me when you get home. It’s getting pretty late.”

You nodded dutifully at him as he reached over your shoulders to grab your bag, lifting it over your shoulders and patting it twice for good measure. “I will.”

This was clearly the moment you were supposed to leave, but somehow you were both kept standing there in front of each other, stubbornly refusing to be the first to move. He looked down at you through his shaggy bangs, eyes still not fully open as the not-so-distant promise of sleep tried to pull at his eyelids, lips pressed together in a maddeningly adorable pout, and you were sure in that moment that you had never before seen him look so beautiful. You had definitely never before had such a pulling feeling in your gut that was just begging you to reach forward, just a few inches more, to capture his soft strands in your fingers, and pull his delicate mouth against your own.

In the midst of unknowingly staring at his lips, you felt his hand reach down to grab your own, slipping his fingers in between the spaces that always felt like were made to house his digits perfectly.

You only noticed how your close your faces had become when you felt the heat dancing on your cheeks, causing you to once again unceremoniously yank your hand from Yoongi’s. “Okay, I will, I’ll text when I get home. Okay. Bye. Goodbye,” you stumble out, fiercely making your way to the door. The last thing you see as you pull the door shut behind you is Yoongi still standing in the middle of the kitchen, eyes trained on his still outstretched hand, dangling empty above his floor.

_______________________________________________________________________

As you sat in class the next morning, backpack saving the seat next to you, you did everything in your power to think about absolutely anything other than Yoongi. You didn’t have enough time, however, to focus on any one thing for too long before the man in question hopped into the seat next to you, placing a warm, handcrafted beverage in front of you. Once again, “WCM” was printed into the side in his tiny, meticulous handwriting.

“I brought your favourite again today,” he offered, a smile in his voice.

You brought the drink to your lips, a grateful smile on your face, but unable to meet his eyes. “So, I’m actually talking to someone on that dating app already.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I’m surprised. Most of the guys on there are as gross and vulgar as can be, but this guy is actually talking to me like I’m a real person.” You tried to sound excited. You tried to make your little chuckle sound convincing. Whether your efforts were more for you or for Yoongi though, you weren’t sure.

“Ah, well that’s exciting. And most guys are gross.”

“Yeah. Wanna see a picture of him?”

“No,” Yoongi said, probably faster than he intended. “I trust your judgment. I’m sure he’s very good-looking.”

You looked up to Yoongi at that, but his gaze was trained on the PowerPoint on the back wall, refusing to meet your eyes.

_______________________________________________________________________

Later that night, you found yourself on your balcony having an evening cup of tea with your roommate, Kelsey, who knew your relationship with Yoongi probably better than anyone. You inhaled a deep breath in an attempt to ward off some of the stress of your current situation, the burnt orange sunset reflecting off your face.

“I just can’t continue on like I’ve been going,” you practically whine. “It’s getting to a point where it’s almost painful to be around him. And I don’t want to ruin the friendship I’ve built with him because I got greedy with my affection or something.”

“Well, I’m not saying that I’m not in support of you talking with your dating app boy,” Kelsey began, “But having feelings for someone does not mean you’re being greedy, _____. And you know I’m not convinced Yoongi doesn’t have feelings for you.”

You placed your head in your hands and groaned before sitting back up in your rocking chair. “You always say that, but let’s be real. We’ve known each other for several years now. If Yoongi really wanted me he would’ve said something by now.”

“The same could be said about you though, couldn’t it?”

You rolled your eyes at that. “I’m too shy. I’m not good at being open about my feelings. Yoongi knows that better than anyone.”

“But isn’t Yoongi quiet and shy as well? Particularly when it comes to his true feelings on things? At least, that’s what you’ve said before.”

“Yeah. I mean…yeah, but still.”

Kelsey nudged your knee with her own. “Hey. I just want to see you happy. You know that. And you also know I think Yoongi is a great guy, and I’ll never be convinced he doesn’t feel something for you. But I’m gonna support you doing whatever you think will make you the most happy. And if that means moving on from Yoongi, then go for it.”

You gave her a small, sad smile. “I don’t think I have much of a choice.”

_______________________________________________________________________

Once classes were finished the next day, you spent your evening time at your usual table at the cafe going over homework. There was a bit of a lull in the traffic of customers at this point, so Yoongi took the opportunity to just sit with you for a while.

“I don’t know what to be doing with myself at this point, Yoongi. We talked on the phone for a little bit today, and I was so awkward. He said he liked my accent though, so I guess that’s a good thing?” Yoongi nodded to this, offering a small smile. “I think it went well. But I’m getting terrified at the idea of meeting him in person.”

“Why?” Yoongi cocked an inquisitive brow.

“You know me, Yoons. I’m shy enough over text, but much more so meeting people in person.”

You noticed a couple of customers walking towards the counter, and nodded your head towards them so Yoongi could take notice. He turned around, and immediately rose from his chair. He walked closer to you until he was a foot in front of you. “Just remember to be yourself, _____, and if he doesn’t fall head over heels for you he’s a complete dumbass, because you’re perfect.” Right as he finished his sentence, he quickly dipped down to place a kiss to your forehead, before skipping back over to behind the counter to serve his customers.

You were left sitting in your seat, your lips forming an “o”, completely unprepared for the sudden public display of affection from your best friend. The only thing your mind knew in that moment was that the butterflies in your stomach wouldn’t let you sit still for a moment longer.

You rose to your feet, grabbed your stuff, and called out a quick “Have to go now!” to Yoongi. His eyes were ripped away from the customer whose order he was taking, and his legs rushed to meet you at the other side of the counter.

“Wait! Don’t forget your tea!” he practically shouted into the café, outstretched hand offering you a paper cup.

“I didn’t order tea…” you breathed out, but found your hands reaching for the drink all the same.

“Well, it’s still your tea.” Yoongi smiled, locking eyes with you for a few moments until his waiting customer loudly cleared her throat in the background, causing him to dejectedly walk back to the other side.

You pushed your way through the doors into the cold night, and took a sip of the welcoming warmth. Peppermint tea with vanilla steamed milk. Your favourite soothing, caffeine-free drink that you only treated yourself to nights before you had a big exam or stressful day ahead of you. A treat Yoongi usually insisted on making for you himself. At this point you weren’t sure whether you enjoyed and got so much comfort from that particular drink because of the drink itself, or because of its association with Yoongi. You also weren’t sure you really wanted to know the answer to that question.

_______________________________________________________________________

The next afternoon was spent comfortably sitting next to Yoongi at the campus library, catching up on studying for the marketing exam. Or at least attempting to, as your brain deemed it fit to focus entirely on the boy next to you instead of the thick textbook in front of you. You chewed on the strings of your hoodie, sneaking a glance here and there at Yoongi’s adorable focused expression whenever you felt you had the best chance of not being caught. Eventually you failed, however, causing Yoongi to take one of his AirPods out once he saw your face studying him.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked.

“Uh, so…he asked me out! To your café, actually.” “What?” Yoongi asked, and ripped out the remaining AirPod.

“Yeah. I want to do it when you’re not working though,” - you attempted to throw out a giggle – “So what’s your schedule like tomorrow?”

Yoongi scrunched up his face, as if he couldn’t comprehend the simple information you were giving him. “You’re going out with him? The guy from the dating app?”

“Well, it’s a date. Just to meet up in real life and see how it goes. I’m really nervous…but you said it’s good, right? To be ‘vulnerable’, and put myself out there?” You gave him a wide-eyed, questioning glance.

Yoongi broke your gaze, and dragged his eyes to his clasped hands settling on the table in front of him. “I just close shop tomorrow,” he said quietly, as he dragged a hand through his hair.

“Okay, well I’ll suggest early evening, give us enough time. I just don’t want to look over my shoulder and accidentally lock eyes with you and think of an inside joke and laugh in his face, thus ruining any chance of a good first impression,” you tried to reason good-naturedly, though your smile didn’t meet your eyes.

“Makes sense,” Yoongi said.

You grinned as you reached over and gently punched Yoongi in the shoulder. He did not respond. _______________________________________________________________________

Yoongi entered the café for his closing shift with a sulk on his face, tying his apron perhaps a little tighter than he usually did. He stopped dead in his tracks, however, when he noticed you still sitting at your usual table in the back of the café. He didn’t expect to find you still there, but he most definitely didn’t think he’d find you there sitting alone.

Upon moving closer, he happened to notice that the gloomy expression on your face was rivaling his own. He gently walked towards you, wordlessly coming to a stop right in front of you, hoping your eyes would meet his own.

Although you took notice of the quiet boy standing in front of you, you continued to scroll mindlessly through your phone, refusing to look up for fear of your current emotions betraying your vulnerability. “So! He didn’t show, stopped answering any messages about an hour before he was supposed to show, and probably has no intention of ever answering messages from me again anyway. I was right, I should have trusted myself, online dating sucks butts.” Your tone was firm and final, and your eyes still refused to meet Yoongi’s.

You sensed him standing awkwardly still for a few moments, unsure of how to react to you, but you couldn’t blame him. You eventually sensed him dropping to his knees on the floor right in front of you, most likely dirtying his apron in the process. Strong, gentle hands were placed on either side of your face, physically dragging your focus away from your phone and onto your best friend’s face.

“What are you do – don’t look at me like that, Yoongi.”

You couldn’t stand the pitiful look he was giving you. If your heart wasn’t already heavy that night, it was at that moment being crushed to pieces.

“I’m not a hurt puppy, Yoongi…I’m just frustrated, is all. I didn’t really like him all that much anyway,” you said, trailing the last bit off into a mumble.

“Angel,” Yoongi breathed out.

You quirked an eyebrow at the endearment. Why did he have to make everything so much…harder?

“You don’t deserve to be treated like that.”

As if on cue, the final rush of customers seemed to be gathering by the counter all at once, some of their eyes pointedly trained on Yoongi. You grasped Yoongi’s hands to take them off your face. “You have customers again,” you said, nodding your head behind you.

Yoongi begrudgingly rose to his feet and walked to behind the counter, but didn’t stop at the register, much to the chagrin of the young hipster man waiting to order his third iced Americano of the day. He instead went to the back and whipped out the biggest mug the coffee shop offered, and got to work on a drink that nobody ordered. By this point, the whole line of customers had their eyes glued to him incredulously. “Oh, I’ll be with you all in a minute,” he said to them nonchalantly.

Although you pretended to focus on your phone and not know what was going on, your insides lit up when he walked over and laid the drink down in front of you, extra whipped cream spilling over the side. You had half a mind to just reject it and leave, not wanting to have to face Yoongi any longer that night, but you couldn’t make yourself budge. “You really are trying to make me fat.” Yoongi laid a tiny pat on your head and made his way back to the counter. Feeling deflated, you sunk down even further into your seat, and decided to drown your sorrows in the tub-sized white chocolate mocha in front of you.

By the time Yoongi had rounded everyone up and out of the shop, you were so deep in your thoughts you had no concept of the time until you heard the lock on the door click, leaving you and Yoongi alone once more. A position you really didn’t trust yourself to be in in that moment. Before he had even fully made his way over to you, you had stood up, hastily rushing your dirty cup over to the counter and running back to pick up your phone and the bag you had thrown aside as soon as you knew your date wasn’t showing.

“You know you don’t have to leave yet,” he called out softly to you.

You pushed your chair back into the table, your back still turned to him.

“_____.”

You still had to force yourself to ignore him, running a hand through your hair as you surveyed the area to make sure everything was in place before you left. You knew he didn’t deserve to be treated in such a confusing manner, but you also knew what you had to do to keep yourself together in that moment.

Before you could make your break for the door, however, you felt two strong arms wrapping around your waist in a loving manner, and a warm face nudging gently into your neck as his chin laid over your shoulder. “I’m sorry about today. Truly.”

You couldn’t do it anymore. You swung out of his grasp and around to face him, tears stinging at your eyes. He gingerly reached out again, this time stroking your hair. “Hey,” he cooed, “You’re gonna be okay.” You scrunched up your face and looked down to your feet, causing the first silent tear to swim down your cheek. How could he be so…good,but so oblivious to what his actions did to you?

“You’re crying?”

You push against his chest to try to bring some distance between yourselves, so you could move around him and finally go home to your bed safe from boys who ghost you and from boys who fill your heart to the brim with unrequited love. “No, really it’s okay, just stop being so nice to me, please, Yoongi.”

A concerned expression graces Yoongi’s face as he cups your face in his palms for the second time that night. “What?”

“Please stop,” was all you could weakly muster out, pushing against him again. This time his hands fell limply to his side, and you took your escape out into the night, once again leaving him in a dejected confusion.

_______________________________________________________________________

You couldn’t bring yourself to get up to go to class the next morning, especially not marketing, especially especially not when you were supposed to save someone a seat in that class. You saw a notification come up on your laptop that you had one attendance point for today, and laughed, realizing it was the only time you had skipped class all semester. Maybe the first time in college, come to think of it. And all because of your best friend.

You were mindlessly flipping through tv channels when you realized you had a voicemail from Yoongi, voice full of worry, telling you about how sorry he is about that dumb guy, how much better you deserve, and whether or not he could drop by with the class notes from today for you.

You felt guilty enough to force yourself to compose a quick text just to let him know you were okay and that you’d see him in class the following Monday, but felt a ball of anxiety knot in the pit of your stomach when his immediate reply to your text was simply “come down please”.

You inch over to your curtains, pulling them back just a smidgen to look out, and there it was – Yoongi’s white car, parked directly in front of the staircase to your apartment.

You threw your favourite grey hoodie over yourself and tiptoed out of the apartment, trying not to alert Kelsey, who was getting ready for class. You took a deep breath when you began walking down the stairs, bracing yourself for whatever was ahead.

When you got to his car, Yoongi leaned over to open the passenger door for you, welcoming you into the warmth of his car. Two cups of coffee and a bag of steaming breakfast sandwiches lay on the dash, Yoongi ever the provider.

You sat in the seat next to him, and eyed him carefully for a moment, neither one of you offering to speak yet. Eventually, Yoongi nervously reached a hand over to cradle the back of your hand that was rested on your knee. “I just don’t understand it.”

“Understand what?”

“How a man could be brave enough to ask you out and then not follow up on it. The logic of that is beyond me. And –“ he held a finger up with his free hand – “I know it must be a blow to the ego. But, _____, please don’t let yourself dwell on it. He doesn’t deserve any more of your time or thoughts. You do deserve someone who takes care of you.”

You shook your head. “Yoongi, please stop talking about that stupid boy. I keep telling you, I don’t care about him. It was just a minor frustration.” You felt the familiar sting of hot tears rising to your eyes for what felt like the hundredth time that week. Using your free hand, you quickly brushed away the beginnings of any that threatened to slip out.

“I know you’re hurt…” he said, ever so gently.

“Yes! I’m hurting!” you yelped in his face, maybe a little too loudly.

“And it hurts me to see you like this! I need to know how to help!” Yoongi’s tone easily matched yours in passion, but he could never bring himself to actually raise his voice. Especially not to you.

He tried to interlace his fingers with yours, but you pull your hand back. The anguished expression on his face at your rejection was just enough to push your tears over the edge, and they once again flowed freely.

“Stop hurting me then! We can’t keep going like this, Yoons, I care about you too much, I…I –“ you trailed off almost at the point of hyperventilation, crossing your arms across your chest in an attempt to do anything to keep yourself calm.

The shock on Yoongi’s face was unlike anything you’d seen on him before. He was almost to the point of tears himself now. “What? Angel, am I hurting you somehow? You have to tell me, I love you, the last thing in this life I want to do is hurt you…”

“I love you too! But not in the way you think! And I’m sorry, I’ve tried so, so hard to not think about it and, and to just move on but. I can’t! I fucking love you, Yoongi!” You didn’t try to scream it out as loudly as you did. But there it was. Out there now, and it couldn’t be taken back…there was no mistaking your feelings this time. You couldn’t bear to see what would come next, and buried your face in your arms as you sobbed your heart out.

If Yoongi’s shocked silence was any more deafening, your ear drums would’ve burst. It took way too long for an eventual soft “Hey…” to roll of his tongue.

“Stop crying.”

You kept your head hidden, sobbing onto your own arms.

“I love you too…I mean it. I’ve tried to show it to you for years, but I just wasn’t brave enough to say it, oh my god I love you so much, oh my gosh please stop crying you’re breaking my heart – “

Your heard whipped up now, puffy red eyes meeting his own swollen ones. “What are you talking about?”

“I. Love. You.”

You knew you probably should’ve stopped crying as loudly at that point, but you couldn’t. “You do?”

“Yeah. I do.”

Yoongi whipped the arm rest backward to remove the only barrier from between you two, and pushed his chair till it went as far back as it could go. “Come here,” he said, patting his own chest.

You took the hand he offered out to you, awkwardly trying to maneuver yourself over to him. You sat facing him, straddling his lap, and he pulled your sniffling form tight into his warm chest. “Please don’t be sad anymore,” he whispered into your hair, hand rubbing soothing circles into your back.

You pushed off of him to bring yourself to an upright position so that you could see his face. He looked so beautiful, eyes staring at you full of emotion, his delicate hand thumbing at the hair on the nape of your neck. Your head still swam with all of the new information it was trying to hold, but for the first time in a long while, you truly felt like everything was going to be okay. He leaned forward and rubbed his nose against yours, barely touching it. You tilted your head up to place a gentle kiss on the tip of his button nose.

He let out a soft giggle – music to your ears -  and gently placed a palm on your cheek. He rested his forehead against your head, but kept his eyes fully open and trained on yours. “So…is there any chance you’d like to be my girlfriend?”

You nodded and giggled like a silly schoolgirl, but were cut off by his warm lips pressing against your own. You were caught off guard at first, but soon melted into the kiss, becoming putty under his touch.

A few seconds later he pulled away, not wanting to overwhelm you, but you were having none of that. Your fingers curled around the collar of his hoodie, dragging him back to you as soon as you caught your breath. Just like you had dreamed about so many times before, you let your fingers tangle in his dark locks and twisted them accordingly. The small groan of appreciation he let slip out of the back of his throat was all the encouragement you needed to melt into him further. You felt him push against your shoulders, leaning backward until a loud “HONK” sounded from the horn under you, causing you to break apart with a jolt. Yoongi hugged you back into his body with a chuckle, leaning backwards against his seat. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, and placed a soft kiss under his jaw.

“Maybe we should try to make it to our last classes of the day,” he said with a laugh, the reverberations in his chest rumbling against your hand that was laid there.

“Maybe we should,” you said, peppering his jaw with gentle kisses.

_______________________________________________________________________

Twenty minutes later, you were being driven to class, Yoongi’s right hand intertwined with your left, resting against your lap. You felt your phone buzz and checked to see an attachment text from Kelsey. You opened it with curiosity, to find a photo she had evidently snapped on the way to her car earlier.

You on Yoongi, front seat of his car, making out like high schoolers. The caption? “Happy for u”.

You were happy for you, too.

[argylemnwrites]

Why Are We Still Waiting? - Prologue

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)

Book: The Royal Romance (It Couldn’t Wait Another Moment universe, just over one year after the epilogue)

Word Count: ~5500

Rating: R (language only)

Summary: As Riley prepares for a new chapter in her life, she’s forced to reflect on a time when things felt much less certain.

Author’s Note: Well, the sequel’s here... and I feel like it’s gonna not be what any of you all are expecting, but hopefully you will enjoy the journey still. We are so far from canon at this point, given the diverging plots, so no point comparing this timeline to that timeline. This prologue is set 13 months after the epilogue of It Couldn’t Wait Another Moment, but it does feature a flashback (in italics) to an event that happened about 4 months after that epilogue. The subsequent chapters will pick up about 8 months down the road from this prologue, or 21 months after the ICWAM epilogue.

Riley rifled through her purse, trying to find her keys, eventually finding them shoved beneath her phone, three tubes of lip gloss, and her flashcards that had scattered everywhere when the rubber band broke. Flashcards that were now sticky with lip gloss, she realized as her hand came out with tacky coral streaks across her knuckles. Oh well. Nothing was going to kill her good mood today.

She had just finished her last final exam of the spring semester. And provided she passed, which she was pretty confident she had, she would be a college graduate. It was crazy to think about. After her mother’s death, she assumed her degree would just sit unfinished, those last two semesters of credits seemingly unattainable. But now, she had probably just completed her last requirement for her BA in Communication Studies and Resources. Combine that with the fact that she had a likely job offer pending from the director of a PR firm who had led her Race and Media seminar and that she was getting married in four weeks, and she was riding high.

Hana had told her she was crazy when Riley had told her the wedding was going to be a month after her courses ended, but honestly, it hadn’t been too bad. Sure, Riley probably should have checked the academic calendar before she and Drake set the date, but they only had 23 people coming down to Texas, and that included Maxwell who was officiating. And an outdoor, casual wedding on a ranch involved a lot fewer details than the ritzy London soiree Hana and Catherine were currently putting together. At this point, all that was really left was trying on her dress one last time so Hana could see if she needed to make any last alterations, and that was happening next week when Hana was coming to New York for both business and the bachelorette party.

Climbing the steps, Riley knew she had to be basically grinning. She could smell something delicious coming from their apartment. She’d suspected Drake was going to make something special for dinner tonight, and the aroma that was wafting down the hallway confirmed that she was in for a treat. He could hear his voice muffled through the door as she turned the key, meaning he was probably on the phone. Knowing that he liked to keep the phone on speaker when he was cooking, she kept quiet as she opened the door and entered their apartment, not wanting to interrupt his conversation.

“Savannah, you gotta slow down,” Drake said towards his phone which was sitting on the counter as he held a knife over a cutting board.

Savannah’s sobs could be heard through the speaker phone, slightly distorted and off. “I just feel like… such… an idiot. And Drake, I don’t know what to do.”

Drake glanced up as Anderson trotted over to greet Riley, but she raised her hand and shook her head. If his sister was having some sort of crisis, that came before celebrating the end of finals.

“It’s bad enough that I’m the… unwed Baby Mama at court, but to get knocked up... again? Drake, I can’t let them know. They barely accept me being with Bertie as it is.”

Riley’s eyebrows shot up as she quietly hung her purse up on the hooks Drake had installed by the door and sat down at the table. Maybe she should feel bad about essentially eavesdropping, but Drake was going to tell her everything Savannah said anyway. Particularly something as massive as this.

“Who cares what they think?” Drake asked as he set the knife down and rubbed the back of his neck in frustration.

“I care!”

Drake let out a little sigh and shook his head. “What does Bertrand think about all of this?”

“He was a little shell shocked at first, but then he marched into his office and pulled a ring box out of a desk drawer. Apparently, he’d been planning on proposing for a while.”

Riley glanced down at the heirloom ring on her left ring finger. Savannah’s story was eerily familiar, and suddenly found herself thinking back on an afternoon last August.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Riley laid on the floor of the kitchen, trying to slow her mind down. It was a technique she’d been trying at her therapist’s suggestion for the past few months any time she found herself about to dive into a massive decision without giving it any thought. Apparently, her life experiences during her childhood and adolescence had created a habit of her rushing through major choices so that she wouldn’t have to think about possible negative outcomes. An avoidant coping mechanism was what he called it. Riley thought it was a little absurd that he needed a term for everything, and she didn’t think it took a genius to figure out that her absent father, her addict mother, and the endless string of foster homes messed her up in some ways, but he was relaxed and easy to talk to, which she supposed was what really mattered.

“Just find a way to ground yourself in the moment. Connect yourself to the physical environment, and let your thoughts settle. Give it a try, okay?” he’d requested, so she’d done it a few times since then, like when she was signing up for courses for the semester or when she and Drake had decided on this apartment. Laying down and closing her eyes usually worked pretty well. It helped clear her mind as her body adjusted to the position and the feel of the floor. But today, she couldn’t slow things down. Probably because her mind was racing thinking about the feel of her body, trying to determine if she felt any different. She knew that was stupid, but she just couldn’t help it.

Her phone buzzed on the floor next to her, but she didn’t want to pick it up. Because if she picked it up, she would have to look at her calendar again, the thing that was the source of her current panic and that she had killed the screen to avoid. 

It was really the phone’s fault, her current predicament. She and Drake had upgraded their phones about 6 weeks earlier, and it seemed like her calendar notification settings hadn’t imported over. Apparently, she hadn’t really used the calendar at all over that time. Until today, that is, when she had downloaded the syllabi for her course load and gone to add key dates for the semester. That was when she had realized she had missed her window for her depo injection by just over three weeks.

This was bad. She was too old to be this careless about birth control. She had just paid her tuition for this semester’s classes. She’d cut back to part time at the bar. Drake’s job paid okay, but this was absolutely not a good time for them. But she also felt weird even thinking about ending a pregnancy when she and Drake had recently had the “kid talk” and said they want children in the future. He wasn’t some random one-night stand. She wasn’t seventeen anymore. Their relationship was in a good spot. Things felt stable. Why did she have to go and fuck all that up?

She didn’t know what to do, what to think, how to feel. Kids with Drake was a someday thing. A down the road a bit thing. Not a now thing. They hadn’t even been together a year, and she might be pregnant. All because she forgot to go in for her depo. They’d been essentially trying for three weeks without even knowing. And because she hadn’t had a period for the past few months on the depo, she didn’t even know how to judge if she was late or anything.

Trying to calm herself down, she sat up, leaning forward and hugging her knees. Even in her panic, she was able to recognize that part of her dread came from the fear of the unknown. That much, at least, she could take care of. So she grabbed her purse and marched down the stairs, outside and over to the little drug store a block over. She grabbed the first pregnancy test she saw, paid for it, and went back home, ready to do what needed to be done. But she couldn’t. She just stood in front of the mirror, staring at herself, trying to will herself to just pee on the goddamn stick. But she felt locked and frozen, unable to take that final step.

She didn’t know how long she stood in the bathroom, but eventually, she heard the front door unlock and Anderson’s tags jangling as his little feet pattered across the floor. Drake was home. And she should probably tell him what was going on.

“Hey, Liu!” he called out, “What do you want for dinner? I was thinking maybe…” but he trailed off when he saw the look on her face as she walked down the hallway and joined him in the kitchen. “What’s wrong?”

“Drake, I…” she paused, taking a deep breath before she continued, “I forgot to schedule an appointment with my OBGYN.”

“Okay…”

“For my depo injection.”

“Oh.” Drake nodded slowly, like doing so would help him process the information.

“And I was supposed to get one over three weeks ago.”

Drake kept nodding slowly. “Okay… so you’re saying that?”

“That I very well could be pregnant, Drake. And it’s freaking me out.”

Drake just kept nodding, like he was a fucking bobblehead doll or something. It was annoying the shit out of her.

“Don’t you have any thoughts on this?” she ground out, frustrated at… well basically everything. Drake. Herself. That they were even having to deal with this at all.

“I think… you should take a pregnancy test before we do anything else. Do you want me to go pick one up?” His voice was calm and steady, but it felt like he hadn’t really processed, almost as if he had no reaction to the fact that she could be pregnant with his kid.

Riley wanted to scream and shake his shoulders. It was like she’d told a robot she could be pregnant. “I already went and bought one.”

“Okay, well then I think you should take it.”

“How are you so fucking calm about this?”

Drake just stood there for a second before giving her a little shrug. “I don’t know. I mean, it could be worse, right?”

“How could it be worse? We live in a one bedroom apartment in a mad expensive city where we just paid a bunch of money for my tuition and you work as a temp and I’m a fucking bartender and-”

“Shhhh, Riley. Come here,” Drake said, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around her. “First of all, we don’t even know if you’re pregnant. Second of all, I guess I don’t see it as that big-”

“Oh, that’s easy for you to say! It’s not you that might be pregnant!”

“Yeah, but this would be our kid. I guess I just feel like we could handle it, you know?”

“A kid is a huge fucking deal, Drake! Pregnancy is a huge fucking deal before the kid even gets here! And I get that for the guy it doesn’t seem like it. And you can act like it’s no big deal and we’ll just figure it out, but that’s because you aren’t facing the reality that you might have a baby growing inside you that you were not planning on. So, don’t you dare try and minimize this, Drake Walker.”

Part of her knew she wasn’t being fair to Drake. She’d been processing this possibility all afternoon. She’d just unloaded on him and expected him to react the same way she did. But a big part of her was just frustrated that he didn’t seem as worried or scared as her. Regardless of her storm of emotions though, her little rant somehow focused her. Taking a deep breath, she turned around and headed back toward the bathroom. She might as well get this over with.

“Riley, wait! Can’t we talk about this?” Drake called out. She spun to face him, throwing her hands in the air.

“I have to go pee on a fucking stick. And according to you, there’s nothing to discuss until I do that.”

Marching into the bathroom and slamming the door, she let out a deep breath as she scanned the instructions on the little purple box she’d left on the counter. It made it sound so fucking simple, like this wasn’t mad terrifying. She popped open the box, and pulled out a thin piece of white plastic. How could something so tiny be so fucking intimidating?

Somehow, she kept her hand steady as she did what she needed to do, setting the little stick on the side of the sink before she washed her hands. She let out one last sigh before opening the door and leaving the bathroom, setting the timer on her phone for five minutes as she walked back towards their kitchen and living room. She found Drake sitting at the table, hands lightly tapping in his lap as he glanced around the room. When he noticed her approaching, he seemed to hold his breath for just a moment. Eventually, he broke the silence as she sat down in her usual chair.

“So, did you…?”

“Pee correctly? Yes, Drake. I managed to do that.”

He didn’t acknowledge her sarcasm, instead he just nodded twice before he asked, “How long do we have to wait?”

“Five minutes,” Riley responded, waving her phone in the air before setting it down on the table.

“Look, I’m sorry, Riley. I didn’t mean to make you think this isn’t a big deal to me. Because it is. All I was trying to say is that I think we can get through whatever happens here together.”

Riley nodded, but didn’t say anything. Deep down, she knew that was what he’d been trying to convey. But at the same time, she was freaking out. An unplanned pregnancy was just different for her, the person whose body would have to go through all the changes, than for him. “I know, Drake. And I know I just kind of dumped all my stress onto you and didn’t really give you any time to think or react.”

They were both silent for a few moments before Drake leaned over towards her. “No matter what it shows, you know I’m not going anywhere, don’t you?” he asked, reaching for her hand across the table. “We’ll be alright. We’ll figure it out. I can get a second job on nights and weekends if we need more money. And we probably won’t need a bigger place for a year or two. We can just shove this table against the wall by the kitchen, and then we can fit in a crib and a changing table, so we’d be set there for a while, and I know next semester might not be doable for you, depending when you’re due, but we’ll just have to see, right?”

“Drake…” Riley said, but he was just rambling off plans now, seemingly oblivious to her interruption.

“I know it’s a little earlier than expected, but this was always the plan, right? I mean, we talked a while back, and you said you saw us getting married and having kids. So what if it’s a little quicker than we thought? It’ll be fine. And I know there’s a lot to think about, but I figure we can still have a nice, little wedding. Unless you want some big, fancy wedding. If you do, that’s fine, we are just gonna have to start-”

“Woah, what the fuck are you talking about?” Riley finally said, squeezing his wrist tightly to interrupt his ramble.

“I’m just trying to figure some stuff out for us, you know?”

“Like our wedding?”

A faint blush crept onto Drake’s cheeks, but it didn’t stop him. “Well… yeah? I mean, obviously I want you to-”

“Drake, are you kidding me?”

“No, I’m serious. We can get married and-”

“No!” she called out, cutting him off before he could start rambling again.

“What?”

“Well, for one, you haven’t asked me yet!”

Drake winced at that but nodded and let out a little sigh, “You’re right. Sorry… just, lots of thoughts… but I should’ve… Shit, what I mean is… Riley, will you marry me?”

Riley was sure her eyes had never been wider than they were as she stared across the table. After a few seconds, she finally felt able to speak. “You did not just propose to me because I might be pregnant.”

“It’s not just because you might be pregnant,” Drake muttered, rubbing his hand along the back of his neck.

“Bullshit, Drake! Are you telling me that you planned on asking me to marry you when you got off work today?”

“No, of course not, but-”

“Then this,” she said, gesturing her hand back and forth between the two of them, “is all because you feel fucking obligated to propose. And I may not be big on over the top romance, Drake, but the thought of a man asking me to marry him out of a sense of duty is so not okay. I am not some fucking burden to be dealt with.”

“Hey! I never said that-”

“Drake, simply proposing because you feel like you are supposed to is mad insulting. Proposals should come when someone is sure they’re ready to commit to the rest of their lives with that one person. Not because they feel bad they might have knocked someone up.”

Drake swallowed roughly, and nodded at that. He didn’t say anything for a few tense moments, but then he stood up abruptly, shoving his chair back and stalking down the little hallway.

“Drake?” Riley called out, but all she got in response was a muffled “Just gimme a minute” from the bedroom. She glanced down at her phone, checking the timer.

“We only have a minute,” she muttered, shifting around in her chair. But a few moments later, Drake was striding back out towards her, one hand dragging through his hair, the other clutching something tightly in his fist.

“I didn’t ask you to marry me because I felt like I had to,” he growled out, dropping down on one knee next to her chair, “And I didn’t ask you because you might be pregnant. I asked you because I love you and I can’t picture my life without your teasing or swearing or jokes. Because I love that everything is a competition with you, and that you are a crazy sore loser and even worse winner. Because I love the way your eyes always show what you’re really thinking, whether you’re angry or protective or caring, not that they need to, because you have no problem telling me exactly what you think. And because for some strange reason, you seem to get me, and that makes me so fucking lucky.

“It’s not that I thought, ‘Oh, if she’s pregnant, I guess we better get married,’ but that I thought, ‘Why aren’t we married?’ Because whether it happens tomorrow or ten years from now, I know I want you to be the mother of my children. So yeah, maybe the timing is shit, and I know I’ve done this all wrong, but you were wrong too. Because I am ready to spend the rest of my life with you. I’ve been committed to that for a long time. And right now, I realized there is no good reason to wait. I don’t want to wait. So that’s why I asked you.”

He let out a couple of heavy breaths, just staring at her expectantly. Riley reached forward and grabbed his hand with both of hers, giving it a little squeeze as she found her voice. “Drake…”

“Shit,” he said as he tugged his hand out of her grasp, uncurling his fist and revealing a green, satin box, “I was probably supposed to show this to you earlier, too.” And with that he flipped the box open, revealing a beautiful, vintage, diamond ring.

“Holy shit,” Riley whispered, trying to keep up with everything that was unfolding, “You have a ring.”

“Yeah, I have a ring. Riley, I have known you were it for me for so long. So, let me-”

“Yes.”

“What?”

“Yes, I’ll marry you.” And with that, Riley leaned forward, sliding her hands around his neck and kissing him deeply. He responded passionately, tangling his fingers into her hair, but after a few seconds, a beeping noise interrupted them. Her phone alarm was chirping.

She turned slightly to silence her phone before facing Drake again, watching as he took her left hand off her lap and tugged it forward. She glanced up and found him staring at her, eyebrows raised, so she smiled and nodded. He grinned back at her before he slid the ring onto her finger. She felt like they had so many things to talk about, so many questions that needed to be asked and answered, but right now, there was one very pressing question with an answer waiting for them in the bathroom.

“Come on, Liu,” Drake said as he stood, tugging her to her feet with him, “It’ll be okay, no matter what. I promise.” So they walked hand in hand into the bathroom and looked at the piece of white plastic she’d left on the side of the sink. The piece of plastic that would shape their future.

“Two lines… does that mean…”

Riley shook her head, staring at the box. “No, that one is just the control. It’s only one line.”

“So, you’re not…”

“I’m not pregnant,” she said, feeling a rush of relief wash over her as she tugged Drake into a hug, “Thank God!”

It was like sheets of stress and panic were falling off her by the second, and she even let out a little chuckle of relief as she clung to Drake’s shoulders. Drake didn’t say anything, just loosely looping his arms around her waist to return the hug. When she pulled back after a moment, she saw just a hint of regret and sadness in his eyes.

“Drake, what is it?”

He just shook his head, “I don’t know. It’s just… a lot, I guess.”

She nodded, sliding her right hand forward to cup his cheek as she waved her left in front of his face. “Not second guessing this, I hope?”

He smiled warmly at her at that, clasping her hand against his cheek and tugging her hips flush against his, “No fucking way, Liu.”

“Good,” was all she said, before his lips were on hers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Riley had always wished she could find something in common with Savannah. She knew Drake wished that they were great friends, but the truth was they just were very different women. It’s not that Riley disliked Savannah, not really at least, but they almost never had anything to talk about. But now it seemed like they both had proposals triggered by pregnancy scares. It was a weird ass thing to share.

Except, they really weren’t all that similar. Savannah was not only actually pregnant, but she lived a life where the optics of it were far from ideal. If Riley had been pregnant back then, it would have been a lot to handle, but at the end of the day, Drake had been right. It would not have been a big deal. No one in New York would care if she and Drake, a committed couple who lived together, had a baby out of wedlock.

But for Savannah, it was different. Dukes weren’t supposed to live in sin. They certainly weren’t supposed to knock up the same woman twice, once as a one-night stand, once as a girlfriend. And as stupid as Riley found it, she knew that Savannah’s ramblings did express a very warranted fear. She and Bertrand could easily find themselves on the outside of their social group for this. Or rather, Savannah could. Bertrand might face some snide comments, but at the end of the day he was a man and he was one of them. Savannah had neither of those advantages. And while Riley and Drake had left that whole world behind for a lot of reasons, the fact remained that Savannah didn’t want to have to give that life up. 

Lost in her thoughts, both her memories of her own proposal and her sympathy for Savannah, she was only half-listening to Drake and Savannah’s conversation, but when she heard her name and Drake’s tone turn suddenly angry, she snapped her head over, attempting to figure out what she’d missed.

“...Riley and I are getting married then! That’s our fucking wedding day, Sav. What the actual fuck are-”

“I know, Drake! If there was any other time that-”

“I’m not asking Riley that, Savannah. It’s not happening. You’re the one who wants a last minute wedding, you pick out a different day!”

“The Social Season already has events set for the next two months. The only exception is June 8th.”

“Yeah, because Liam blocked that weekend so he could come to our wedding! You’re just going to have to wait a couple of months.”

“I just want it to be believable that this is a honeymoon baby. People are already going to suspect, Drake. But if we just have a civil ceremony with none of court in attendance, people will know for sure.”

“Again, who the fuck cares?” Drake was clearly agitated now, pacing the kitchen and gesturing wildly.

“Bertrand’s a duke. We have to keep up appearances, at least a little. You don’t have to like it to know it’s true.”

Drake dragged a hand through his hair and let out a massive sigh, “What am I supposed to do here, Savannah? You realized this is an insane ask, right? I’m getting married in four weeks.”

“I know. If I could think of any other solution, I would. Just, talk to Riley about this, please? All I’m asking is that you two talk about it, okay?”

“Fine, Sav. But this is so out of line.”

“I know, I know.”

Drake ended the call without even saying goodbye to his sister. He slapped his hand over his eyes and let out a little growl.

“Soooooo,” started Riley, “Savannah and Bertrand are having another baby?”

He dropped his hand down and looked at her, just shaking his head. “I’m sorry you had to hear that. But you don’t need to worry about it. I’ll figure out how to tell Savannah she can’t just have our wedding weekend. How was your exam?”

“Fine, but Drake, we need to talk about your sister.”

“No, this is your day. You don’t need to worry about her drama. We’re celebrating you being a college graduate, and that’s all we need to do tonight.”

Riley shook her head, “Celebrating can wait a half hour while we figure this out.”

Drake gave her a frown and came to join her at the table. “What’s to figure out?”

“Drake, she’s pregnant, hormonal, and scared that she’s about to become a social pariah.”

“Yeah, but that’s not… I wouldn’t ask you to do what she’s asking. I wouldn’t expect you to postpone the wedding for that.”

She tilted her head forward, reaching out and grabbing his hand before she continued, “If this was just your event, if I wasn’t involved, you would agree wouldn’t you?”

“Well, yeah. But it’s not just my event.”

Riley stared at Drake for a few moments, running things through in her head. “How are you going to enjoy our wedding, knowing that it’s going to strain things between you and Savannah?”

“That’s the thing - it shouldn’t strain things between us. She’s being unreasonable here. We wouldn’t be doing anything wrong to get married as planned.”

“Oh, I completely agree. Savannah never should have called to ask you this. But the fact is that she did. And I don’t think you’re going to be able to just act like she didn’t.”

Drake sagged forward, propping one elbow on the table and catching his head with that hand as he squeezed her hand with his other. “I know I should just tell her ‘Hell no,” so that’s what I’m going to do. It’ll suck for a while, but she’ll get over it.”

Riley looked at Drake, trying so hard to steel himself, bracing to disappoint his baby sister. And a large part of her wanted him to do just that. Draw a clear line in the sand when it came to this. He already let her get away with so much. But a bigger part of her just felt for the woman that was going to be her family soon, who just felt scared and alone and was pregnant when she didn’t expect to be. And the biggest part of her just didn’t want Drake to be in this position, where he felt like he had to choose between her and his sister, even if his sister was mad out of line here.

“Drake, I think we should postpone our wedding.”

His head jerked up at that, fear and anxiety clear across his wrinkled brow and deep frown. Riley stood up and climbed into his lap, wrapping her arms around him and stroking the back of the neck and she worked to undo the worry and fears she knew her statement unleashed.

“And you know this has nothing to do with you or us or the way I feel about you. But you are a protector when it comes to those you love. And right now, you are trying to protect me from seeing how much you wish you could help your sister. And I appreciate that, but I know you, and if we get married on June 8th, I know that you are going to stew and feel guilty the entire time, even if you know you shouldn’t. And that’s not how our wedding should be.”

“Riley, I....” he sighed into her neck as his hands clutched at her waist. He didn’t say anything else, and Riley knew he was trying to find a way to contradict her. But he wasn’t going to be able to do that.

“It’s okay, Drake. I will be thrilled on our wedding day whether it’s in four weeks, four months, or four years. But your sister chose to be a part of a world that will judge her heavily if she gets married in four months or four years. We can help her by giving her the chance to get married in four weeks, and I don’t mind doing that, alright?”

Drake tipped his head back, sliding his hand up to comb through her hair. “I don’t know what to say, Riley.”

She leaned over and kissed his forehead. “Call your sister. Tell her she better start planning a wedding.”

“We’re going to lose a bunch of deposits.”

“I know. We’ll save up again. The benefit of a small, simple wedding is that it isn’t obscenely expensive.”

“I would never ask you to do this, Liu.”

“I know, because you take care of everyone whenever you can. But that mean you also want to take care of your sister, and I love that about you. So, let me take care of you here. This is my call. We are postponing.”

Drake crushed her against his chest as he hugged her tightly. Riley knew he was trying to convey a lot of things with his embrace that he couldn’t quite put into words. It just cemented her decision in her mind as the right call. As much as it would suck to postpone, starting out their marriage by making Drake do something that would hurt his sister was not the way to go about things. It didn’t matter that Savannah’s ask was way out of line. She and Drake could just afford to be flexible in ways that Savannah and Bertrand couldn’t.

“I love you,” Drake muttered into the skin of her shoulder before he loosened his grip on her, leaning back and looking up into her eyes, a clear mix of love, adoration, and regret present in his.

“I know. I love you, too. And I’ll love you whenever our time to get married comes.”

He kissed her gently. “It’ll be our time soon. I promise, Liu.”

Riley smiled, climbing off his lap and tugging him up after her, leading him by the hand into the kitchen, eager to get on with celebrating the end of her exams and to sample some of whatever Drake was in the midst of making. She wasn’t worried. They had a lifetime together. The when of their wedding didn’t matter as much as that fact.

Permatag:  @walkerswhiskeygirl   @riley--walker​  @bebepac​ @ravenpuff02​ @oofchoices​ @octobereighth​ @drakewalker04​ @kimmiedoo5​  @mfackenthal​  @thequeenofcronuts​  

The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir: @ao719​ @mskaneko​ @katedrakeohd​ @jovialyouthmusic​ @marshmallowsandfire​ @axwalker​ @kingliam2019​ @sirbeepsalot​ @texaskitten30​ @princessleac1​ @ladyangel70​ @dcbbw​ @yaushie​

Drake x MC: @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria​  @iplaydrake​ @gibbles82​ @drakewalkerisreal​ @notoriouscs​  @drakesensworld​ @drake-colt-lover-99​​

It Couldn’t Wait Another Moment:   @thequeenchoices​  @sunnyxdazed​​

[hieludoboi]

Take the Cookie, Do the Time

Pairing- Dabi/Fem! Reader

Summary- Dabi knew you would find out soon enough. He just didn’t expect it to be so soon. Trigger warning- cheating, yelling, cursing, mentions of sex, depictions of sexual acts,slight violence, angst, mentions and depictions of drug and alcohol use, some domestic violence, mental breakdowns Word Count- 3,025 A/n- I loooooove angst and I looooooove J. Cole. This lul fic is based off of Kevin’s Heart by J. Cole. It’s not required but I suggest you listen to Kevin’s Heart before reading this!  A/n- I’m pretty surprised with how decent this turned out to be! It’s a bit dark and a little (pretty suggestive) but i’m overall happy with how it turned out, and I hope you enjoy it as well! -Hieludo 🤟🏽😔🤟🏽

Dabi watched her with cold, blue eyes as she fit the blunt between her plush and pretty lips. The smell of pungent marijuana filled the room while half emptied bottles of liquor littered the floor. Her eyes were bright red, a dopey smirk on her face as she blew puffs of smoke from her lips, adding to the growing cloud that sat above and below them. It seemed like only yesterday their little arrangement had started. Their little arrangement... Dabi was a toxic person, he knew that, he warned her even. Yet she refused to listen, she instead smiled with lidded eyes while puffing clouds of bliss into Dabi’s tobacco filled skies. 

He would wander into her home through an open window, smiling as he caught her with ruby red eyes, watering as she coughed after each drag. They would sit at the kitchen table, passing the blunt back and forth until the haze of bud took over, until she was sat on his lap, hips pressed flush, grinding lazily while he sucked on her neck. He would watch as she bounced atop him, his hand wrapped around her waist, lazily smirking before he took a hit from a freshly rolled blunt. Like most things, Dabi was hands off, happy to watch as other people worked for him. 

He’d feed her pretty lies, stroke her hair with one hand while another left burns and bruises on her hip. She was all his, belonged only to him, saved herself for him and him only. She waited day and night for him to hop in through her window, waited for him to lazily stroke her before leaving. Waited for him so she could feel wanted. Dabi was toxic, and they both knew. They both knew that he would come for a quick fuck and leave, send her messages and pictures to keep her waiting. He had her wrapped around his finger, seated right atop his lap. While she waited for him, waited for him to come home if only for a night, he would roam the city in search of the next.

Tonight, he had returned. Afterer being away for about a week, he figured he should come check in on his favorite toy. He had found her on the couch wearing one of his shirts and nothing else. As with most of their encounters, she was smoking a freshly rolled joint, her eyes slowly fading away into glassy tapestries of e/c and wispy clouds of smoke. With a huff, he closed the window behind him and plopped onto the couch, staring at her lazily. 

She was giggly, bright and pearly teeth on display as she smiled around rolled bud. Dabi leaned forward, grinning as he plucked the blunt from her lips, placing it snug between his lips. He watched as she stood with a huff, turning around, her back facing him. Dabi grinned, his hand reaching out to lightly smack her hip. With a little giggle, she walked away, hips swaying seductively from side to side. It was at times like these that Dabi remembered why she was his favorite. 

It was a shame really, how much she adored him. It was a shame how much he had led her on. Made her feel special, claimed her all for himself, when he himself belonged to the outside world. He huffed, shrugging as he put out the nub of the blunt that remained. 

        She knew, lord, she knew. After all, she wasn’t stupid. Y/n had graduated from a prestigious college, she had a degree, she was anything but stupid. Y/n was young, she was naive, she was a woman with a past and with trauma, and unfortunately she had met Dabi before she knew what it was like to be loved and treasured by herself or others. She would always enjoy their time together, at least while they were together, but as soon as he would leave... It was almost as if reality would smack her as soon as he left through her window. To Dabi, she was just another toy, and she knew that, but she so desperately wanted to change him. She believed she could fix him, make him the man she thought he could be. Dabi wasn’t a feral cat though, he couldn’t be coaxed with treats and affection. If only she had forced herself to understand that sooner. Yet she hoped, yearned that he would one day want her, want her and not her body. 

Delusional, she thought to herself as she walked into the living room, a bottle of half empty mescal in her hand. Y/n gently sat atop the armrest closest to Dabi, who had managed to fall asleep, pressing the round opening of the mescal to her lips. She drank from it like a nursing calf, guzzling the bitter and burning alcohol, hoping that it could nurse her mind or heart, hoping it would make her leave. Naive. She would never leave, and she knew that.

She stared at him with piercing e/c eyes, glaring a hole into his forehead. She hated him, yet, she couldn’t live without him. She keened at his touch, practically fell apart when he finally came to her. She would wait for him, staring longingly at the window like some lost kitten waiting for her owner. To him, she was nothing more than a brass pawn in his game of wooden chess. Something shiny and pretty to stare at, something smooth to touch and rub, a piece to carry from place to place. She meant nothing more to him, maybe even less. 

“You’ve been staring for quite some time... Did ya miss me?” His voice was raspy, cold and scathing against her eardrums, yet prickling pleasantly against her skin. Dabi tilted his head in amusement, chuckling as he watched her squirm in place. She didn’t move, her gaze locked on him. With a huff, Dabi sat up, leaning forward until his lips were only centimetres away from hers. As close as he was, he could see her pupils dilate, could see the way her chest shakily sprung up and down, could see the way her lips practically bathed in alcohol. They shone in the dim light, somehow appearing sticky, wafting in a mixture of smoke and pungent liquor. 

For a woman who graduated from such a prestigious college, she was quite stupid. Without waiting for him, she pressed her lips to his, practically melting as soon as his hands reached for her body, pulling her from the armrest to him, placing her in his lap, his tongue and lips tainted by the liquor on her lips. 

Things continued as they always did. Dabi would trail kisses down her neck, rub at her hips and let his finger linger teasingly close to her unsatisfied needs. She would lazily swivel her hips against his, her face buried in the crook of her neck. He would roll another blunt, press it between his lips and watch as she did all the work. Only, it wasn’t like that this time.

Even he could admit that all the time they had spent together made something inside his chest feel different. Even he could admit that he had in some sort of twisted way caught feeling for his favorite toy. So much so that he had picked her up from the couch, pressing his lips to hers in an uncharacteristic, tender way. Her eyes opened wide as his fluttered shut. Y/n couldn’t tell if it was all the marijuana and liquor making her feel things, or if it was all true. 

Nonetheless, she shut her eyes, her hands on his shoulders, her body relaxed. This was different. different from any other time and she could feel that. Maybe that was why she let him take her to her room, let him gently place her on her bed, let him make love to her for once instead of hooking up. Maybe that was why she agreed when he asked her to be his and only his, to be his lover.

  When Y/n woke up she found herself in bed with Dabi. He had one arm wrapped around her while her head rested on his chest. He looked at peace, his head on a pillow, still a bit damp from his shower the night before. It felt all too good to be true, Y/n knew that. At this point they were nearing almost a year of being officially together, a year of tender kisses and rough sex, a year of believing he actually only belonged to her, a year of pretty lies that had somehow seemed to become truths. 

It was all too good to be true, and she knew that. Sooner or later things would change, sooner or later a message would be found, a secret unveiled, sooner or later it would all unfold, it would all blow up in her face and things would go back to how they were. Still, she sat up and smiled, sat up and watched as he peacefully slept. How she hoped that the universe wasn’t fucking with her, hoped that it was the truth... How she hoped...

“It’s early, go back to sleep...” Dabi grumbled, his arm reaching out to Y/n, his hand wrapping around her arm, tugging it lazily. Y/n looked back at Dabi and gave him a tired smile, he had a point, but there was something writhing and churning in the pit of her stomach. Something was telling her to stay awake. 

“In a bit, I think I gotta pee.” Her voice was raspy, eyes swollen with sleep, hair tangled and awry. Dabi grunted something of a response. Letting go of her arm he turned to his side, burrowing himself into the blankets in an attempt to hopefully fall back asleep. While he busied himself on getting comfortable, Y/n got up, stretching her arms above her head, shivering as she stretched her limbs. 

Once in the bathroom she locked herself in and proceeded to stare at herself in the mirror for a solid five minutes. What am I thinking? She thought to herself, burrowing her face in her palms. Of course it was all too good to be true, she knew she wasn’t the only one, nothing had changed since that night, nothing except for her title. Angrily she grabbed her toothbrush and began to practically sand down her teeth. That was when the universe had decided to give her the slap in the face she needed.

The buzzing was almost silent, but she could hear it. Somewhere in the bathroom she could hear a phone buzzing. A phone that wasn’t hers. It was during times like these that she was thankful for her quirk, and thankful that he knew nothing of it. Her eyes scanned the counter, searching for just one strand of black hair, just one strand. It was as if the universe wanted to be her friend today. 

Without a single of hesitation, she plucked the strand from the counter and placed it on her tongue. It would take a moment or two, but it was all she needed. In those brief moments, she tore apart the bathroom, looking in cabinets, behind shampoo bottles, and finally on the floor right next to the tub. 

His phone, and an unsaved number. Shakily, she picked up the phone and stood before the mirror. She stared at the burnt skin and piercing blue eyes before her and shivered. Did she really want to do this? Did she really want to ruin the little nest of woven lies that he had built for her?

With a deep breath, she pressed her thumb to the home button, watching as it opened. Situations like these made her realize how incredible her quirk really was. With a single strand of hair she could shift into that person, appearance, prints, voice and all. Y/n braced herself, ready for her little world to crumble around her.

She had found exactly what she was looking for. Dozens of messages from other women wondering when he would come back, if he was in town, if he wanted a round two. They’re just messages from other girls, doesn’t mean he actually cheated on me... Delusional. She was delusional. She knew that, she knew she was delusional.

She could feel the tears pool in her eyes, could feel her blood boiling. He had told her, promised her, fooled her, lulled her into a false sense of safety and security. Yet she knew, she knew from the beginning that this would happen. SO maybe it wasn’t his fault... But he had changed, she could see it, feel it. Fell it in the way he would hold her in bed, feel it in the way he would so gently massage her hips while they made love... She could feel it, he had said he loved her... 

For such a smart woman, she had truly made a fool of herself, let him make a fool of her... But maybe I deserved it, she thought to herself.

Maybe she had deserved it, and maybe she had known all along, maybe she had gone searching, but she thought that finally knowing would make her feel different. She thought that if she could figure him out, she would feel proud, yet here she stood. He was all figured out, and she wasn’t proud, just hurt. 

There was something feral bubbling in her chest, something that made her skin crawl, something that made all rhyme and reason go straight out the window. Y/n gripped onto the phone tightly, looking up to the mirror to stare straight into lying and cold blue eyes. How could he? 

What could she possibly be doing in there? Dabi thought to himself. She had said she needed to pee almost thirty minutes ago. Whatever, he thought to himself, shrugging before reaching to grab his phone from the nightstand. 

“My phone.” Dabi sat up, he knew she would find out. He knew, he just didn’t realize she would find out so soon. It’s not like he didn’t love Y/n, he did. She was different, made him feel different, but she knew as well as he did the type of man he was. Maybe he would change for someone one day, but he just didn’t love her enough to change for her. 

Dabi stood, relaxed and ready for the brunt of her blow. What he didn’t expect was for himself to slam the bathroom door open. He didn’t expect to find himself staring right back at him, trembling with an opened phone in his hand.

“I knew... I knew you would never change, but I wanted so desperately to believe you would.” The voice was cold and raspy, sending chills down Dabi’s back. He had never seen himself look so broken. 

“You told me you loved me... You dirty- lying- piece of shit- bastard!” With each word, she would slam her palms against his shoulders, and with each hit she slowly began to lose his traits and looks. One by one it all fell before revealing a shaking, sobbing, angry mess of a woman. 

“You went through my phone?” Dabi growled, taking a step towards Y/n. She looked up, glaring straight into the blazing and angry blue spitfires he had for eyes. 

“That’s what you care about!? That I looked through your phone!? Ugh! I can’t fucking believe you, you- you piece of shit bastard!” She was gasping at this point, and Dabi was convinced she would knock out at any moment, but she didn’t. He watched as she picked up an empty bottle of Modelo from the floor. He watched with a smirk as she ran at him, ready to smash it over his head.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Dabi growled, holding a blue flame in front of her face, ready to set her and her home on fire. Yet she didn’t stop, maybe she stopped in her tracks, but she stared him down, threw the bottle at him and glared straight into the glittering and beautiful flame the danced around his wretched palm. 

“Do. It.” She spat, her eyes wide and wild. At this point, she had lost it. Felt like she lost everything, her sanity, her security, any ounce of trust in her soul. It was all gone, and maybe it was her fault, but she had lost too much of herself to care.

“Fucking do it! Burn me and this place to the ground! You don’t care! So do it! Do it Dabi! Hurt me, kill me, I. Don’t. Care.” Her voice had tapered off by the end and her stance had grown small. She had been reduced to a whimpering and scared shell of a woman. 

He couldn’t help but stare at her with pity. She was scared, she was done. For so long she had devoted her life to him, and he had gone and taken advantage of it. Y/n watched as he slowly walked up to her, she watched through glassy eyes as he pulled her towards him. Dabi sigh, pressing a kiss to the top of her head and watched as she practically melted against his body, her shoulder shaking violently as her hands balled into the fabric of his shirt. She was broken. He had broken her. 

“Maybe at one point I loved you, but you knew what you were getting into, Y/n” Dabi pulled away and stared pitifully at Y/n as she shook and bathed in her own tears. 

He left her there as she stood in the middle of a room that had become their’s, left her in the mess of bud and liquor that had fooled her into loving him. 

Normally, he would leave the window open when he would leave, leaving her with the hope that he would come back, but when he left, he made sure to slam the window shut behind him. He stood there for a moment, sighing as he heard her cries worsen. He looked back one last time at the window, his smile somber as he finally left.

“Ignorance was bliss, wasn’t it, darling?”

[softboywriting]

Welcome To The Pack | Mendes Triplets Series | Part Four

Summary: You’re a human who has moved in with the Mendes triplets as their newest housemate. You’ll have to learn to navigate life with werewolves, college classes, and your feelings for each guy. [fluff] 

Word Count: 1.5k

|Masterlist In Bio|

"Hey sweetheart," Raul says as he wraps his arm around your shoulders. You're on your way out of your math class that you absolutely hate but are required to take at least one semester of a year for your degree. "Hungry?"

"I had a granola bar in class. So, not really?"

"When's your next class start?"

"An hour. I was going to go to the library."

Raul scoffs. "Nope, you're coming with me to get lunch."

"But I don't have any money."

He stares at you blankly. "I'll pay. I'm not going to make you pay for lunch when it's my idea. What am I? An animal?"

"Well..."

"Ah! Don't even go there." He grins and you can't help but crack a smile that turns into a little laugh. He's literally showing off his prominent fangs as he smiles. The irony. "What? Stop laughing."

"No." You push his lip up and he playfully bites your finger in retaliation. "Wolf boy."

Raul bares his teeth and you giggle. He's obviously not serious like he had been while fighting with Shawn the other day. While he looks terrifying, you aren't scared at the moment. Raul drops his facade and stares at you blankly. "You're weird."

"Nuh uh, you're weird. I'm just standing here, you're showing off your fangs to the world."

"And you're giggling at it!"

You raise your eyebrows and tilt your head a bit. "Would you rather I cry? Or run away?"

"N-no." He stammers. It's strange seeing him a little caught off guard like this. "You're like whiplash. One moment you're scared of us, the next you're giggling. I don't understand you."

You grab his hand and he slides his fingers between yours as if it were completely natural. Your heartbeat picks up a bit, not expecting him to do that. "Maybe you should try harder? I am your newest pack mate after all."

Raul narrows his eyes as if he were going to deny that statement, but he doesn't. He won’t. "Whatever, let's go to lunch."

"My choice?"

"No, mine."

"Well that's not fair."

He tugs you along gently, hand still in yours. "Life's not fair. I'm paying, I pick."

"Fine. Jerk."

"You know it, sweetheart.”

_____________________

Shawn's first hockey game of the season is on Saturday and you're all bundled up, ready to sit in the cold arena for a few hours. Shawn had invited you to go on Monday and you couldn't say no. He was so cute about it, giving you his jersey from last year to wear over your hoodie and everything. He even made you some cookies in sort of hockey stick shape. Honestly the world doesn't deserve him.

"You made it!" Shawn says excitedly as he wraps his arms around you. You’re in the hall outside the locker and storage rooms for the ice rink on campus. Hockey is sort of a big deal at your school. "We're just getting ready, do you wanna see the locker rooms?"

"I think I'll pass."

"Okay, okay, yeah locker rooms are kind of gross." Shawn laughs, he almost sounds nervous though you can’t imagine why he would be. First game jitters most likely. "You wore my jersey I see."

"Mmhmm. It's huge even over my sweatshirt." You pull out the silky jersey material from your chest. "I guess that's good though, wouldn’t want it to squeeze me to death or something."

Shawn smiles. "I love it. Did Raul and Peter come with you?"

"Yeah, they're getting snacks at the concessions. You guys eat too much."

"Fast metabolisms." Shawn pats his padded stomach. "Wolves gotta eat baby."

"Yeah, and they eat everything in sight. Speaking of food, I'm making dinner tonight, so you better be home after the game."

Shawn groans in delight. "I get to have you watch me play and I get dinner? Is it my birthday?"

"It's Saturday." You chuckle, rolling your eyes at his theatrics. "I always make dinner on Saturday, the game is just a bonus."

From the locker rooms a few doors down the hallway you can hear the coach yelling for Shawn.

"I gotta go. I promise I'll be home for dinner. I’m riding back with you guys anyway."

"Good."

Shawn turns to go and you grab his hand. He turns back and you lean up on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "What was that?" He asks, touching the place where your lips had been.

"For good luck.” Your heart races and he squeezes your hand, telling you that he can feel it too. “Go, before the coach hunts you down."

Shawn flushes and clears his throat. "Thanks. I'll meet up with you after?”

"Mmmhmm. Good luck!"

____________________

Your team wins the game, even though Shawn kept gawking at you every couple of minutes. As team captain he really should be paying more attention. There were several shots he should have made with ease had he not been totally distracted. You can’t blame him though, he must be thinking about the cheek kiss. You know you were.

Post game you wait with Peter in the entryway to the ice complex. Peter gave you his jean jacket to keep warm even though you have on a hoodie and shawn’s jersey. Raul went to get Shawn's jeep to pick everyone up out front. Shawn had carpooled with one of the other guys on the team so you and the guys could bring his jeep and everyone could ride comfortably.

Shawn walks out of the doors to the rink and he’s got on his sunglasses and a long sleeve blue henley, bag of gear slung over his shoulder. He looks so good, like a professional hockey player coming out to meet fans. He pushes up his sunglasses and smiles, picking up the pace when he sees you and Peter at the doors.

"Did you see that shot I landed from halfway across the ice? It went sailing past their goalie so fast he didn’t stand a chance. I've never done that before." Shawn says excitedly. "I played so well.” He puts his free arm around your shoulders. “I think you're my good luck charm."

"Oh please, I think you were too distracted personally." You say and he raises his eyebrows, leaning back to look down at you. "What? Like I couldn't tell you kept searching for me in the seats? I know you missed that shot that was passed to you because you were looking for me when I moved to get a better view.”

"I just-"

"Shawn! Shawn!" A group of three girls comes running over, giggling and making a lot of noise between them. "You were amazing out there!" “So good!” “I loved the game!”

"Oh, thanks." Shawn says softly, breaking away from you for a moment. "Can I help you ladies?"

"We wanted to see if you were available tonight." One of the girls, a tall blonde, says playfully. "We're hosting a party at our place. Our frat actually."

Shawn looks at the three girls and then over to you and Peter. "I..."

You catch his eye and just sigh, assuming he's not going to be home for dinner now. You were even going to make his favorite, spaghetti and meatballs.

"I have dinner plans."

Your stomach flip flops. He’s going to go home with you and not these girls? Wild.

"Oh...that's lame. You could stop by after. We really want you to come over. You are the captain after all." One girl says with a little pout.

Shawn shakes his head. "I need to rest up." He steps away from the girls and puts his arm around your shoulders. "Thanks for the offer ladies, maybe another time."

Peter looks up from his phone and points to the glass doors. "Raul's here with the car."

"Gotta go," Shawn says, waving and walking you toward the doors.

"You don't have to stay home if you want to go," You say and glance back at the girls who are now talking among themselves. "I can save you some dinner or something."

Shawn presses his nose into your hair as he walks behind you now, arm around your chest. "I promised I'd be home for dinner. I can go to a party whenever. I don't get your spaghetti and meatballs all the time."

"How'd you know I was going to make that?"

"I saw the ingredients on the counter this morning. I realized when you said you were making dinner that was what it was going to be." Shawn opens the back door for you and hot air pours out. Raul's got the heater on high just for you. "I'm staying home."

"Alright, alright." You climb in the back seat and Peter gets in opposite you. He pockets his phone and scoots closer to you, leaning his head on your shoulder. You put your hand in his hair and he sighs contently. "Are you guys ready for dinner?"

Shawn throws his gear in the back before getting settled in the passenger seat and they all answer in a chorus of yes as Raul pulls out onto the street. You smile, feeling so at home with them. Being a part of a pack is pretty damn good.

———–

End Part Four

———-

Thank you for reading! Please reblog if you enjoyed this and reblog to support and encourage myself and fellow writers. Next part coming soon! - A

Custom header per part made by the incredible delicateshawn

*****Note: none of my works should be posted anywhere outside of my linked accounts. I do not give permission to repost with or without credit to my accounts. Please notify me of any reposted fics.*****

[lightanddarklove]

Connverse Week Drabbles - Day 1: Exploration

Explore Your Options

Rated: Gen  | Words:1631 | No Archive Warnings Apply

Connie Maheswaran/Steven Universe | Connie Maheswaran & Steven Universe Read on Archive of Our Own | Day 2 prompt | Day 3 Prompt | Day 4 prompt | Day 5 prompt | Day 6 Prompt | Day 7 prompt | My Writing Masterpost

I don't know if I'm be able to do all the days of Converse Week but I was thinking about giving this a try. I have ideas for at least 2 more days, but since this one is on the longer side, if I cop out before day 7 I'll say this counted for Future as well as Exploration.

I’m more than halfway done with prompt 2. Here’s hoping I can just edit the link in when I’m done.

Quick note: These are the state names Connie’s talking about (because everyone should get Keystone and Jersey):

Buckeye - Ohio

Empire State - New York

Lone Star - Texas

Steven and Connie are trying to figure out where they're going to be spending the next few years. New exciting things seem on the horizon for Connie, but Steven needs a bit of encouragement after Little Graduation. Mostly platonic with a side of romantic pining. Steven Centric. 

Jam bud conversations on the phone were nice, but Steven missed seeing Connie in person. This as one of those weeks where a call was the only way she could fit him into her busy schedule. He draped himself over the bed, lying on his back, trying to relax as she told him about her plans and projects.

“Have you given it much thought where you want to go to school?” Steven asked, trying to sound encouraging and avoid sounding clingy.

“Well, there’s lots of options, but I haven’t nailed down anything exactly,” she replied. “I really think I want to work at Nasa, or do science communication elsewhere in the engineering field. But I’m worried that I’ll get to a big expensive school somewhere and after taking a few classes I’ll want to change my major and should have gone somewhere else.” Steven hummed in thought. “Right now I’m thinking about an Engineering major and either minoring in Video Journalism, or double majoring and then maybe Political Science as a minor?”

“Well,” he responded, “I know that your parents will support you no matter what you want to do or where you go.”

“I’m not super worried about that,” she said. “It’s more about wasting time or money. I know that they have enough in my college fund for in-state schools, public or private. But if I broaden my search to out of state, I’ll need to secure good scholarships to leave school debt free, which they’ve stressed will really help me in my early adulthood. And in turn, if I need to get scholarships, I should really know what I’m going to school for, because some scholarships are dependent on majors.”

“What about a sport scholarship for tennis or fencing?”

“I haven’t dedicated the time into those to get the majority of my funding from that.”

“I don’t think you need to get most of it from the scholarship, you’ve got the college fund. Plus you’ve trained so hard for swordsmanship. And didn’t you go into a state competition for fencing this year?”

“I wasn’t in the top of them,” she replied dourly. “I placed 6th.”

“For a completion that was state wide, including seniors?” He responded with enthusiasm. “I think that’s got to count for something. If you place in the top 3 next year, you could probably go anywhere you want with at least half of your schooling payed for.”

“I wish fencing was a more recognized sport. But anyway, I have some in-state schools I was looking at, and only a few out of state. A couple in Keystone, one in Buckeye, and Jersey. The furthest ones are in the Empire City area. Well, except for the one in Lone Star that’s supposed to be one of the biggest pools that Nasa pulls from. But that one’s pretty hard to get into.”

“You’re smart enough, I think if you keep trying as hard as you have been, you can get there,” he said trying to keep his voice light. He paused for a moment. “I will miss you though, if you move so far away.”

“Well Lone Star does have a warp pad,” she replied. “I found out it’s a bike-able distance from the school. Forty minutes doesn’t sound that bad. Plus there’s Lion and planes and stuff. It won’t be too hard to see each other if we try.”

“Yeah,” he said, trying to keep the sadness from creeping into his voice. “But if you double major, would you have the time to see me, anyway?”

“You’re my best friend, Steven. I’ll make the time,” she responded confidently. He smiled wistfully, knowing she couldn’t see, but it encouraged him all the same. “There’s probably going to be heavy weeks where I can’t, but I feel like if I get into the Lone Star Aerospace University, I won’t need to impress as much by double majoring. So we can probably see each other most weekends. If you aren’t too busy, anyway. What do you think you’ll be doing next year? That would set you up for what you’re doing while I’m in school.”

“Now that Little Homeschool is done being set-up, and I’m not heading it anymore, I’m not sure.” He paused again. “I’ve been doing the gardening thing, but it’s just something to fill my time. I don’t think I’m becoming a botanist anytime soon.” Connie chuckled.

“Do you think you’ll want to teach again?”

“Even if I could become a teacher, what would I teach?”

“Why couldn’t you?” She sounded firm in her conviction. “I think if you wanted to, you could get your GED, and start school when I do. You’re organized and creative, plus you really seemed to enjoy helping the gems learn. I think you could do the same for music, or cooking, or anything creative, really.”

“I wasn’t as good as I wanted to be,” he replied solemnly. “I’ve had a hard time letting go, and I was so busy I let a lot of things get pushed to the wayside that I should have been better with.”

“Learning about being a teacher from professionals would help you get those kind of skills,” she rebutted.

“I don’t think I have what it takes,” he said sadly. “My dad never finished Community College, I don’t think I could get a four year degree, let alone a teaching degree.”

“That’s bull and you know it,” she replied. “You’re smart and very hardworking. That’s all it takes.”

“You think so?” he asked, hope inching back into his voice.

“I think you’d do well as a music teacher. You could also do design, you learned Illustrator in like 2 months to design those pamphlets for Little Homeschool. You’re a good cook, and you also have make-up skills, if you wanted something that doesn’t take as long to learn, those are good options.”

“Dad helped with the pamphlets,” he replied. “Also, I haven’t done much in terms of music in about 3 years, I’m probably pretty rusty.”

“You learned how many instruments before you were 14?”

“Uke, guitar, bass, drums, piano and vocals. So 6.” He counted on his fingers.

“Plus a few percussion instruments,” she responded.

“The cymbals and triangle barely count.” He rebutted, slightly disdainful. “And I learned harmonica while in space since it was easy to keep in my pockets for when I had too much downtime.”

“That’s something musical you did in the past 3 years. Plus, you have perfect pitch, you’ve taught Peridot about music when you guys were working on the drill, so you have some experience there. Why not share your talents with young musicians?”

“I haven’t been writing songs lately, not since Spinel-“

“So? Learning new instruments could be what brings that spark to make something new. You don’t have to focus on Music Theory, unless you find that’s where your driving energy is pushing you.”

“Other than figuring out what GED requirements are to see if it’s feasible for me to finish in year or two, where would I even start? If I want to teach music, don’t I have to learn like, all the instruments?”

“Start with orchestra instruments, there’s only 4 of them, so it’s more manageable. You already have experience with other stringed instruments. And since you know what the notes on electric bass are, a stand-up base wouldn’t be too different. They’re also the same strings on a violin. The main thing is learning how to grip the bow so you get a clear sound.” Connie paused. “Don’t you think you’d look good playing bass?”

His voice lowered to a mutter as he spoke, “aren’t I too short for that?”

“You aren’t shorter than the senior girl in my school who plays a full-size bass,” she teased. She paused thoughtfully and her tone changed, seeking to uplift Steven. “You don’t need to keep putting yourself down where you feel like you haven’t measured up, especially when it comes to music. You’ve done a lot of great things, and you can still find ways to improve, if you’re willing to learn.”

“Sorry,” he replied. “I just haven’t figured out where I’m going from here. You’ve got a plan, and I’ve…” He trailed off, considering his words carefully. “I’ve been looking for a fresh start, but haven’t found one yet.”

“Steven, comparing yourself to others isn’t helpful, especially since nobody has done the things you’ve done. You have so much to be proud of, you know that? It’s amazing what you’ve accomplished in just a few years.”

“You’ve done amazing things too, Connie,” he said pensively. There was a moment neither of them spoke, and he blushed, taking in all she had said.

“I, your knight, haven’t toppled an empire through Charisma and conviction,” she rebutted.

“Uh, well-“

“Just think about the music teaching, or culinary school, or beauty college, ok? You should have things to look forward to. You deserve that, I promise.”

“Thanks, Connie,” he replied admiringly, trying not to be overwhelmed with her praise. He heard her chair scoot back and she moved to stand.

“I gotta go, Steven. Mom just called for dinner and then I have to finish my paper for History tonight. I’ll text you when I take a break, ok?”

“Ok, talk to you later.”

“Bye!” she said, hanging up. He waited a moment as the call ended, phone still in hand.

“I love you,” he said, knowing the call was over. He hadn’t been able to say it with words to her, not since he had said it when leaving her behind to head for his trial on Homeworld. He hoped that the presents and gestures he had made for her spoke what he couldn’t say aloud. Someday, he could tell her, but not yet.

[serendipitioussurvival]

Be Still Their Hearts

It was very likely that she was not conventionally ‘sane’, or so Peter Hale - an investigator for the California Supernatural Investigation Unit - surmised. He’d seen a lot of ‘insane’ suspects in his years but never one quite like this. She was small, almost pixie-like - though they had checked and rechecked the DNA pulled from her and found no traces of Fae or Supernatural DNA - and got along easily enough with the other detectives and scientists on his team. 

That, truly, had been the first clue that she wasn’t exactly sane. She seemed put together, too put together for someone they found knee-high in a literal silo of human corpses. 

‘Dad was a Sheriff,’ she explained with an enticing gleam to her whiskey amber eyes, ‘kind of got used to death when I was too young to form any other opinion on it.’ he guessed she was talking about the death of her mother, another case that was sitting on his desk back at the office. It reeked of Supernatural interference and a hasty cover-up, and if this clever girl - and oh, she was clever, there was no mistaking that - had figured that much out too it would make sense to have been the final, driving chip into her splintering sanity. 

No one started out as ‘insane’, he sure hadn’t, despite his sisters - Talia Hale, current Director of the California Branch of the SI - firm beliefs of the opposite. Still, she’d been completely honest and compliant throughout the majority of the process, another indication that she was either uncaring of the outcome or firmly sound in her decisions that she didn’t think she’d be caught. Peter never once questioned if she had killed those people, a tally of which he’d yet to receive on just how many had been killed, despite the wavering doubts of some of his team. 

“Hale,” he answered his phone before sliding his Bluetooth in. 

“It’s Erica, sir.” ah, his favorite science nerd turned to muscle. “We’ve gotten the official tally on the body count, as well as the background check we ran on our suspect.” she never beat around the bush and dropped potential suspects with her Kanima venom quicker than they could fire a gun or shift. He never regretted turning her, despite her questionable fight with her inner traumas, and because he hadn’t - because that bond was pure enough - she existed on a very rare, very fine line between Kanima and Werewolf, a hybrid with brains as well as brawn. She was easily his favorite. 

“Go ahead,” she always waited to see if he were in a position to hear the specific information too, something he greatly appreciated. Most of the others on his team rarely took a second to care if he were in the company of others and would blurt out details over the phone. 

“Twenty four have been identified as various missing persons through California, all different ethnicities, ages, and genders. The only thing they have in common is that they used to be Emissaries for various packs that are no longer active.” so she was killing emissaries? Why, and how come their departments hadn’t been made aware that many emissaries were missing?

“You said used to,” he mused, pulling into the parking lot. “I assume you mean that as before their deaths, and not after.” 

“Yes, sir. We’re still looking into the packs but so far eight out of the twenty-four never existed. Two of the associated addresses were county Police departments, one was a Walmart, and another belonged to the home of a Druid with protection wards that made my skin itch.” ouch indeed. 

“I enjoy a good bet so I’m going to go out on a limb and say that the two that registered the police station as the Pack Center were mutilated heavily.” it would be an emotional reaction, after all, a crime of passion, and yet another link connected her to the case. 

“Yes sir, we had to run dentals on both. We’re suspecting that the four other bodies that were strung up on the sides of the Silo were also using police headquarters as a pack center, it would give us a pattern.” 

“Any insight on why our perp decided to make a pond of carcasses?” a thoughtful hum on her end and a loud PA for Boyd - her fiance and the other muscle on his team. 

“We thought Preta at first, they’re more East Asia oriented though.”

“Why Preta and why did cast it aside?” his shoulders dropped just slightly once he started down the familiar hall to his office. 

“Preta’s are beings of insatiable hunger,” she began, “mainly for something humiliating and/or unconventional. Cadavers, Feces, infection, you name it. It would’ve explained the body pile up and the literal pond of bodily fluids but no remaining tissue was found in her stomach or in her teeth. Most of the bodies were too decomposed to see if any organs had been taken out or for a legitimate cause of death to be ruled. Some were mutilated, some had their eyes and hearts gauged out, others had their heads twisted all the way around until they were decapitated.” and that required a strength that their current suspect didn’t seem to have. 

“Any word back on her DNA check?” another sigh, this one just a tad more honest than the last. Erica, despite her being his favorite, didn’t suspect the young woman any more than the rest of his team did - though Whittemore was on his side, strangely enough. 

“Yes, very faint traces of witch DNA, too few to grant her access to magic but just enough that she can see the resulting aura’s of the supernatural.” not uncommon in this day and age either, almost everyone had some traces of supernatural DNA, if they didn’t they were either part of the old Hunter clans or the Purists families. “Her background check confirmed her story as well. Mother died when she was six, Father was KIA when she was fourteen. Stanford graduate with a Bachelor's in Physiology, then a Major in Mythology and Supernatural societies from  Berkley.” 

“What information have you gathered about the father?” a slight pause on her end followed by shuffling papers. It gave him enough time to get his keys in the door before she absolutely floored him with her next words. 

“Jeorek Stilinski, former Sheriff of Beacon County. They caught his murderer but the name was stricken from the records.” a few clever taps onto her keyboard - no doubt overriding the clearance by using his - and then sucked in a sharp breath. “His murderer was Theo Raeken.” 

He broke his key off in his office door and stared at it for a solid minute. Theo Raeken was a notorious serial killer with a body count in the upper fifties, he had been six at the time of his first murder - his sister, she had been pushed, spine broken and-

And her heart had been gauged out. 

“Erica, pull up the file on Theo Raeken.” Theo Raeken who had been found strung up, split in two, with his eyes and heart gouged out. He barely heard her faint ‘got it’ before he twisted his doorknob and broke the lock, forcibly opening the damned thing. “Are there any schools listed under any of his aliases, I want colleges - community or otherwise.” 

“He had a year of being an undecided major at Beacon Hills community under his alias Theodore Cander,” a pause followed by a muttered curse, “two months before his death he attended the Supernatural societies course at Berkeley.” that connection, the one class they shared and the fact that he had killed her father was what had him in front of her cell not even seven hours later. 

“You look tired, Detective,” he rose a perfect brow at her otherwise well-rested appearance. No conscience and no worry for her current predicament - even more boxes checked against her innocence. “Though I’m not opposed to the eye candy you are in a tux and your confidence in it I’ve gotta ask, what brings you to visit me?” she batted her eyelashes and put her palm flat against her chin, posing. “Have I caught your heart?” 

“You killed Theo Raeken,” he expected her to trip up, freeze, or even show some hint that he was right in her gaze, her scent, her heartbeat. 

“I did? Wish I could’ve cherished it, he killed my dad after all.” she shrugged and plopped down on the floor of her cell, staring expectantly at him through the glass wall separating them. “How’d you draw that conclusion.” 

“Quite a few of your victims had their hearts and eyes gauged out, the same way Theo Raeken was killed.” he really shouldn’t find a suspect so intriguing and yet he did. She put herself literally below him - something that either indicated she didn’t see him or the situation as a threat - she was complacent and honest - to a point, certainly - but didn’t seem remorseful of the deaths she caused. She didn’t seem righteous or angry either, so that particular complex was thrown out the window. 

“I like your gut instincts,” she praised, moonglow skin looking particularly ethereal under the fluorescent glow of the overhead lights. “So you think, what, that I killed Theo Raeken, got a taste for it, went on a murder spree, and -?” she motioned with both palms up at her situation, “lead you to the bodies so you could catch me?” he hated and adored how careful she was with what she said. Always hypotheticals, always vague answers or clever half-truths. It’d been a long time since he had an actual challenge and this twenty-something young woman was proving the most enticing one yet. 

“I think you got bored,” that caused a warm glow to ignite behind her amber eyes, glossing them up attractively. “I think,” he began again, tamping down the desire to impress the darkness in her that called so temptingly to the darkness in him that he’d buried so long ago. “that you were trying to be normal, and then you saw Theo in your Supernatural Societies class in Berkeley, recognized him, and gave up on being normal for vengeance.” the smile that was curling at the edges of her lips made his blood sing, “After him you finished your degrees and sat out to get rid of people just like him. Not other serial killers, but people who were false to society while endangering others. It’s why they’re all former Emissaries to non-existent packs, and why those that used police stations for pack centers were strung up. They were a message,” 

“What’d they say?” her scent remained amused, her tone was husky and borderline wanton. 

“That they didn’t deserve any kind of afterlife, that they deserved to exist in agony.” maybe he said that with just a bit too much conviction, a little too much understanding because the moment the words left his mouth her scent bled a sliver of arousal that smelled like sandalwood. He couldn’t very well use that as a sign of her guilt when his own arousal had begun to answer back, he was just in control enough to not let it. 

“An interesting assessment,” her words were slow as her scent slowly righted once again, “one which I’m sure the killer would agree with.” 

“The killer, not-” before he could finish Erica was opening the door at the end of the hall and practically sprinting to him. Suspect forgotten in the face of Erica’s worry, something that hadn’t shown since-

“The Argent’s are here, Talia signed her release to them due to lack of convincing evidence.” he gave a singular glance backward, caught the vicious curl of her lips, and began marching down the hallway with his cellphone in hand. 

“Talia, I need you to negate that transfer-” his sister sighed heavily on the other end, patronizing even without words. 

“Peter, you’ve no concrete evidence that this very human girl has killed twenty-four Emissaries, most of which were bigger than her. There’s no suspected partner, and she’s been compliant with all our tests and questions. While I do not like Gerard nor do I trust the Argents it is now in their jurisdiction to clean everything up.” he glared darkly at the wall of the lab and pressed his thumb and pointer to the bridge of his nose.

“Talia, she’s guilty. I know she’s guilty, and she’s not just human she’s-” a pause, then a snort of derision from his sister over the line. 

“Exactly, you’ve no evidence for any of these accusations. My decision is final,” before he could question why the North American East Region head hunter Gerard Argent was here to pick up someone so plain and banal she hung up, ending their discussion. 

“Why do you think she’s guilty,” Isaac - his lead interrogator - asked, cherubic features pinched in confusion.

“You’re questioning my judgment too?” he raised his hands in mock surrender, drawing another irritated sigh from Peter. “I know she’s guilty because my gut tells me she is.” 

“Okay,” the relent was not what he had expected, he was so used to everyone - read sister, boss (also sister), her emissary, and a good portion of his family for the last couple years - second-guessing him or questioning him. “You’re a self-serving, sarcastic jackass most of the time,” his alarm must’ve shown because now Isaac was explaining, “you also have a terrible - if it costs me my life then why bother? Mentality, but whenever you tell us to follow a lead because it’s your gut instinct we always find a connection.” 

“Sarcastic, self-serving jackass?” Erica clapped him roughly on his shoulder with a burst of laughter. 

“The sassiest, kind of makes what she said a little more confusing. I’ll be waiting? Thought it meant she’d be waiting to be found innocent, makes things a little confusing.” that joy, that relief, it was all short-lived when they watched the Argent’s wheel - yes, wheel, because they apparently saw fit to have her in a straight jacket with a muzzle, tied to a wheelchair, with her ankles chained together - their suspect down the ramp into the back of their armored vehicle. It, as well as the fact that Gerard Argent himself got into the same van with her, told Peter all he needed to know. 

They knew her, they knew what she was, and they knew she was guilty. More than that they had specifically wanted her, but why?

“Talia, you’re not listening!” his shout shut his sister up, even if she did flash her alpha reds at him in annoyance. “You don’t restrain a human like that unless they’re not human!” 

“As much as I hate it, Alpha Hale, Peter may be on to something.” Lydia Martin, head of the forensics department of their building, groused. “I only met her twice. The first time to gather the DNA samples she had death coating her like a second skin. I thought it was just because she had been in that vat,” a shiver of disgust, “but just now, when I sedated her for the transfer, it was still there.” she tapped perfectly manicured blood-red nails against her throat and grimaced. “I’ve had a scream itching at the back of my throat all day but it’s slowly getting worse.” a glare his way followed by a softer smile to Talia - who was finally looking like she may have regretted her choice. “I’m a Banshee, I predict death, but I’m smart too, Alpha Hale.” She bowed her head slightly and cleared her throat. “There’s something off about her, if you don’t trust my intuition then trust my word as a Banshee.” 

“The tests came back negative of supernatural-” Talia began, shoulders slumping just so. 

“There are ways to fake them,” Lydia cut in, “But it could also be that whatever she is isn’t yet registered.” hazel green eyes narrowed on Peter, “Just like we had to do with Reyes, her hybridization was rare and hadn’t yet been recorded. Her DNA analysis came back regular with no known secondary strain. Since we have we’ve registered only two other Kanima Hybrids. Whatever Stilinski is we don’t have it registered, meaning she’s either rare-” she trailed off, head tilting to the side. 

“Or it’s not a DNA thing.” now both of them were looking at him, “Derek’s serial killer girlfriend, the one Deucalion had to put down, what was she again?” anger flashed across his sister expression before it was quickly replaced with horror. 

“A demon,” she cursed and sat back down to put her head in her hands. “She was a Demon.” With a sigh, she picked up her phone and dialed the one number he knew she really hated to call. 

“Alpha Hale,” Deucalion greeted, tone pleased. “To what do I owe this rare honor?”

“The Jennifer Blake, the Demon you put down, how did you know she was a Demon?” he hummed in thought before he, too, put her on speaker. 

“Because I could see her aura, back when I was blind.” when he had his eyes impaled by Gerard Argent’s arrows, he means. “I assume you’ve run into yet another one, is it yet another inspiring lover for the young Derek?”

“No. Can they pass DNA tests as human?” a deep sigh followed by a brief call for Kali - his head researcher. 

“Demons are human, essentially. They’re born, but a Demon is born in the human when an absolute corruption of their soul happens. It’s harder than stories and television makes it seem and it has to be completely willing on the human's end. They don’t die, they don’t become emotionally mute or psychotic, but they do have the abilities of whatever level Demon they become.” 

“It’s not a possession? What do you mean by the level of the demon, and how do you know all this?” a condescending chuckle in the background had Peter’s hackles rising. He didn’t like his sister at times, but she was his sister and only he could badmouth her to her face. 

“No, it’s like - ugh, human terms. It’s like when a Caterpillar forms a chrysalis and turns into a butterfly. It’s still the caterpillar, but it has a different name and a different form, only now it can fly. Same thing with Demons, they’re still mortal, but now they have extra abilities. So far only four Demons have been registered by our team. A level one is a basic grunt, they seem to come to the weaker willed ones, basic added strength but low intellect. Level two seems to frequently appear from average prey. They have the strength of a beta wolf and can see auras, they know at a glance whether you’re human or not and what kind of supernatural you are. Level three’s are not so common but not rare, they can tap into magic use and pass as a witch or Druid, have the strength and speed of a Beta wolf, but they’re highly susceptible to Iron. Level fours are… difficult. They have a strength that rivals an Alpha and all the abilities of a Darach. They don’t need any sacrifices but they hunt,” a pause then an ascending grunt from Deucalion. “We captured one who called themselves the Huntsmen, they’re the ones who take other damned souls. They don’t hunt other Demons but they will fight with them regularly. They don’t have a social structure or pack sense but they are loyal to a singular partner. The one we had wouldn’t talk until we threatened his mother, so it seems the partner can be platonic.” 

Okay, well she hadn’t expressed any abilities so he could almost rule out a level four except…

Except something about her still struck him. She wasn’t of basic intellect and she definitely was not average prey. If she had been able to see Auras then she would’ve reacted to seeing Erica for the first time, she hadn’t. ‘But they hunt,’ Kali had said, they hunt and they take other damned souls, souls like Emissaries who weren’t but were reaping the rewards. 

“Kali,” he was very aware that his sister was back to glaring at him, “The souls they take, what do they do with them?” the pleased rumble over the line made the predator inside him curl up in joy. 

“They burn them, apparently only a few of the damned souls make the cut to be an actual demon.” a pause, “You have a Demon you’re hunting, don’t you? I told Duke we had to go back to California when Theo Raeken showed up dead, but we were busy.” 

“Why do you say that?” there had been nothing - aside from the grisly remains of his corpse left behind - that signified supernatural occurrence. 

“Because it’s the first Demon on Demon killing I’ve ever seen, whatever predator you’re hunting is going to be a challenge.” she sounded wistful and wanting. It was no secret that Deucalion’s pack, who he made into his entire mobile branch of the SI, was of the brutal sort. Every one of his pack were fighters and THEN they were geniuses. Ennis, the main muscle, was also a former surgeon. Kali, his fiance, had a black belt in nine different martial arts with a masters in forensics and criminology - she was also a tad insane. Deucalion had been formerly blind, yet even then he retained his fighting capabilities and had extended the knowledge of werewolf senses tenfold. He, currently, had too many degrees to ever need worry about what he would do for the rest of his life - though he need not worry, as he currently was filthy rich thanks to proper investments. The twins could combine into a giant, invincible fucking werewolf and were currently getting their Doctorates. If they were saying that level fours could be difficult then perhaps he should bring Erica along when he followed the Argent Convoy. 

“-ause,” his sister had clearly asked how they knew it was Demon on Demon murder. “Xander, our level four we’ve got under quarantine, has been searching for the demon responsible for his death. The Demons were born at the same time, Raeken’s was stronger ‘cause of all his murders and yet this little fledgling Demon manages to kill him like that. I’d applaud the one responsible before gauging their-” anything else was cut off by an ashen Scott McCall, Talia’s secretary. 

“Ma’am, it’s the Argent convoy, it’s been attacked.” 

“What?!” she barked, angry and panicked - no doubt because Peter had been right. He’d rejoice and rub it in her face if his wolf weren’t currently prowling under his skin. 

“You had the Demon and let it go,” Deucalion mused from the phone, “do you need our assistance, Alpha Hale?”

“No.” Peter snapped, glaring at his sister. “You didn’t listen to me before, listen to me now.” his wolf, something he’d been so out of tune from, something that had been a part of him and then muted by his sister, was making itself known for some reason and it had all started with her. He needed to know why, he needed to catch her. 

“No, Alpha Blackwood, thank you for your information.” by the time the phone was hung up Scott already had a GPS signal blinking away on a map, almost as if it were waving. 

“Play the recording,” thank god for Peter’s suspicious ass for insisting that they record every Tip - anonymous or not - that was sent into their building. 

‘My name is Mieczysława Angelika Stilinski, but you can call me Stiles. It wasn’t very nice to sign me away, Talia, but thank you for the opportunity regardless. Gerard Argent met a gruesome, slow death that I took great pleasure in. His convoy is also dead, well, except for three of them. By now you have most likely called Deucalion and got the whole shebang about Demons, so you’ll know that these three were spared ‘cause they were pure. Good on them too, surrounded by so many dickbags.’ the clink of metal cufflinks told them all that she had gotten rid of the shackles around her legs. ‘I’m using one of their cell phones so you can pinpoint it and come save them.’ a muffled, female grunt followed by a slight pop, ‘Nice wallpaper, by the way, don’t worry I’m patient.’ a chuckle and then the line went dead. Peter wasn’t listening to whatever his sister had to say, too focused on trying to figure out what she had meant by that last line. 

‘Nice wallpaper, by the way, I’m patient?’ she was definitely a level four then, he’d known of a single Darach to be able to teleport. I’m patient, ‘I’ll be waiting’, Erica had said. She would be waiting for… for him? Why, more importantly, where-

‘Nice wallpaper,’ oh she was not ballsy enough to go to his house. She had sent that message for him, she wanted him to come to her and had set it up so they’d be alone. So he sent Erica and his team to the convoy knowing full well they wouldn’t find her. She could’ve collected his damned soul the first time she saw him, despite that something told him that she didn’t want to kill him. He wanted his own answers too. 

Such as why his wolf responded so savagely to wanting to be near her when Talia had nearly disconnected the connection between them after he went on a revenge killing spree on a purist family that had nearly burned Cora alive. She spent a year in a medically induced coma so her body could heal itself and Talia, her mother, had told him to calm down. Did Stiles know something about that night, did she know something about him that Talia might’ve made him forget? 

No, no he couldn’t be questioning his sister right now, not with a Demon present. 

So why wouldn’t the thought leave his mind until he was staring at his front door?

“You can come in, I promise I’ll only bite if you ask me too!~” she singsonged from inside his home, proving his thoughts true. He just wasn’t expecting to see her with a frilly bright orange apron on while moving around his kitchen, making some kind of delicious smelling stir fry. Even more was the fact that the Kate Argent sat at the head of his table, glaring heatedly at Stiles’s back, struggling against barbed wire that wrapped completely around her, tying her to the chair. “I brought you a present,” Stiles cooed, “Do you like it?” 

“Love it,” he replied immediately, confusion and agitation rising even as his wolf preened under his skin. “Why?”

“Because you don’t remember, I had to be sure that you didn’t and weren’t just yanking my chain.” she moved the pan off the heat and stepped directly in front of him, watching with warm amber eyes as he struggled with what he wanted to do. Crush her, kind of, against him or against the floor? He wasn’t sure. “Talia took from you,” her hand reached out to brush her fingertips against his breast pocket, the resounding slap of his hand encasing her wrist drowned out both their shocked gasps. 

Her skin lit him like fire, though not literally, it made every muscle up to his shoulder clench in heady anticipation. It felt familiar though he’d never touched her before. Talia took from him, how would she know? 

“Peter,” his gaze snapped to her eyes and watched in fascinated horror as her iris swirled like the milky way before the once amber was now cloudy white. “remember.”

And he did, god he did, and how he burned. Talia had taken his memories, his wolf, she had fabricated his very nature. He was not a nine to five guy, he was vengeful, protective, and by god he was hedonistic. What’s more is that this beautiful, bloodthirsty little thing had been his, just as he had been hers, they had hunted and slaughtered and enjoyed the finer things in life together. 

“Cora wasn’t almost killed by purists,” he mumbled, calloused fingers brushing ever so gently against her mole and freckle dotted cheek. “She was burned by you.” and then beta blues were blazing as they centered on Kate Argent. “I had killed all of your little accomplices and then my sister,” it was said as a curse, “My sister made me forget so she wouldn’t have to go to war with your family.” he couldn’t help the way his shoulders sagged in relief as her nimble fingers work to undo his tie and the first two buttons of his shirt. “She sent you to them,” he murmured, unknowing of when his arm wrapped around her waist to draw her near and uncaring because she was plastered against his side with a pliant hand resting over his heart. “knowing who you were.”

“No, your wolf protected me from his alpha.” more preening. That darkness that had rested at the back of his mind, the sudden connection of his wolf after near three years of silence -

Three years. She had waited three years for him. “You knew me, even when you didn’t.” he was able to profile her so easily because he had known her. “She would’ve killed me if she had known,” rough fingertips brushed over his cheekbones and his slicked-back hair, ruffling it just so that it was no longer slicked back. “You care about your family and you finally have that bond with them,” her thick brows furrowed, milky white bleeding back to expose the sad amber hues. “If you want to forget again, forget everything-”

He silenced her with a sound kiss, devouring the whimper she gave before she melded her body against his. He had forgotten what kissing her felt like, the fire that she was, the raw yearning she evoked with him. It had been that way since she came across him killing Kate’s henchmen and offered to join, wolf howling mate - then he had her screaming it all night. They’d been together a week - a single, blissful week of not having to hide their natures, of belonging - and in that week he found she was his true mate and he was her soul bonded, the one she’d be loyal to no matter what - out of choice. 

“This gift,” he breathed, uncaring for their current witness to their heated makeout. “Marks our new beginning.” his relationships with his team had been built on lies, his relationship with his sister was fabricated, none of them would want him how he was - and he honestly didn’t want them. “Care to go to war with the Argents with me, darling?” Her smile was absolutely savage and spoke to his wolf on levels the moment he saw her gleaming teeth. 

It took twenty-four hours, sixteen missed calls and nearly thirty unanswered texts before Talia went to her brother's listed address, fearing the worst. Whatever she had imagined did not prepare her for the reality of the situation. Kate Argent hung from an empty living room with gauges in her throat, stripes of skin under her fingernails, and the bottom half of her body in the fireplace, charred beyond recognition. 

‘JUST IN, ALPHA TALIA HALE OF HALE PACK WILL BE STEPPING DOWN AS DIRECTION OF THE CALIFORNIA SUPERNATURAL INVESTIGATION UNIT PENDING INVESTIGATIONS OF FRAUD, EMBEZZLEMENT, AND NEEDLESS ENDANGERMENT. NEXT UP; NEW SERIAL KILLERS ON THE LOOSE?! STAY TUNED FOR INFORMATION ON THE DEATHS OF OVER A DOZEN HUNTER’S ASSOCIATION HUNTERS AND HOW THE HUNTER’S ASSOCIATION ITSELF IS IMPROVING WITH THE LOSS! THIS IS AMELIA GADES WITH YOUR CNN NEWS,’

[flowerpowell]

The Boy Next Door (Colt x MC / Logan x MC ?)

PART TWELVE

A/N: We’re slowly coming to an end with this series! When I first started writing it I thought it would take me like 5 chapters but... here we are lmao. I hope yall like this one, it’s quite wordy and dialogue heavy but hopefully still enjoyable! As always, I’d love you hear your feedback! Characters belong to Pixelberry.

Rating: PG-16

Word count: ~2950 (I know it’s long, sorry for that!)

Tagging: @brightpinkpeppercorn @lovehugsandcandy @desiree-0816 @walkerduchess @liamzigmichael4ever @emceesynonymroll @emichelle @hellomynameisdevi @client-327 @badchoicesposts @blackcatkita @pixel-thirsty @drakeismyweakness @donutsgirl36 @miss-raleigh-carrera @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @lovemychoices @mrskaneko  @missameliep ♥

“Professor Kaneko?” Ellie asked in disbelief.

Was it Colt’s mom? Did I really just meet Colt’s mother?

“Yes. Have you heard about me?”

“No!”

I just live with your son. And I almost slept with him. And I thought I was pregnant with your grandchild for a hot second.

“So... do you have family here?” She asked trying to establish if the woman in front of her was really Colt Kaneko’s mother. It could be a total stranger, right? Kaneko is a pretty popular name. 

Well... Not really.

“Yes... No... Not quite. I lived here when I was younger but my parents moved to North Carolina many years ago.”

“And your husband? Kids perhaps?”

Seriously Ellie? Do you not know when to shut up?

Annya raised an eyebrow at Ellie but quickly composed herself. “Don’t you have class to get to?”

“Technically yes. But I’d rather get to know a new professor better!”

“Between the two of us, I’d do anything to skip Ashton’s classes too!” She winked at Ellie. “My husband died some time ago. And as for kids... I have a son but we don’t keep in touch.”

“Oh no! Why?” Because she left her own son, Ellie, don’t pretend you don’t know it.

“It’s a long story,” Annya waved her hand dismissively.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me, I’m sorry if I was too nosy!”

You don’t know when to quit, do you, Ellie?

Ellie ignored her inner voice in her head.

“It’s okay, Ellie. I was young and after giving birth I wanted to go back to college. My husband didn’t support this, his job required him to travel across the States and I wanted to stay here. We had an agreement, I’d stay here and study and he’d take our son and raise him wherever he was. He wrote letters, sent photos, I always replied because I missed them so much. After I gratuated I pretty much lost contact with them. I got offered a job at Cambridge and wrote to him about it. He said I should go. My parents told me to leave them behind and go to London. So I did. I had a house here and I signed it over to my son so he could live here if he wanted to. I went there a few days ago to see if he’s there but I don’t think he lives here. I saw woman’s clothes drying in the garden so I assume he sold it. I sent him many letters but he never replied. I don’t even know how he’s holding up after his father died.” Annya shrugged and looked away. She looked really sad and Ellie wanted to hug her. How crazy to think Colt’s mother saw MY clothes.

“Anyway, you have a class to get to, young lady. Here,” she wrote a short note and handed it to her, “give this to professor Ashton, you’ll be excused for being so late.”

Before Ellie could thank her, Annya already disappeared in the dean’s office. Without thinking about it any more, she headed to her class.

~~~~

When Ellie got home, she couldn’t stop thinking about Annya. From her perspective it didn’t sound like she left Colt. And she also knew Teppei a lot from Colt’s stories. And she really seemed to miss her son. And--

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Ellie jumped at the sound of Colt’s voice.

“Whoaa, why are you so jumpy today, are you okay?”

“Me?” Ellie said in squeaky voice as always when she tried to hide something. “I’m fine! Absolutely, one hundred percent okay, nothing bad is happening, I can promise that. Like what? Why are you even asking? Do you think something is wrong with me? Do you think something is happening cause I can assure you nothing is going on, everything is pefectly fine just like it always is so I don’t understad why you’d ask such a ridiculous question especially that you already know the answer!”

“Okay... You sure you okay? You said that whole thing on one breath.” Colt raised an eyebrow.

“Yes! Tottaly fine! Super duper fine! Super duper trouper fine! And I gotta go do my homework! Cause that’s what you do if you don’t have a mother to help you. Okay, bye!” She ran to her room as fast as she could before Colt could react. That was too close. She closed the door behind her and Logan raised his head.

“Is Cordonia far away?”

“What?” Logan looked puzzled. “Why are you asking? What happened?”

“Nothing,” she shrugged and snuggled closer to her boyfriend. “Just curious.” Just in case.

~~~~

Ellie couldn’t sleep at night. Everywhere she turned she saw Annya and Colt. When her alarm went off she got dressed, drank coffee and ran out of the house in only fifteen minutes. She didn’t even have classes at that time, she needed to talk to someone first.

“I LIED I’M SORRY!” Ellie cried out when she opened the door to Annya’s office. The professor almost jumped in her chair and looked very confused.

“Ellie? What are you--”

“I know your son. I know Colt. I almost slept with him and I thought I was pregnant with him. But I didn’t because he stopped which is good cause I broke up with my boyfriend only hours before it happened. I live with him in your house. My boyfriend lives here too and--”

“Ellie, Ellie, stop.” Annya stood up and placed her hand on Ellie’s shoulder. “Breathe. Sit down. And WHAT?”

“Colt lives here. I knew you were his mother but he told me many things, not nice things, about you and I wanted to get to know you a bit better so I kept asking these personal questions and I’m so sorry, I know I should go to Cordonia, I even checked the tickets and they’re available but--”

“Ellie, stop. What Cordonia, what tickets, what are you talking about?”

“I-- I don’t know really, I talk a lot when I’m panicking, for which I am so terribly sorry and I’m also sorry I invaded your space like this I know I should’ve at least knocked but--”

“Ellie!” Annya raised her voice and Ellie went silent. She took a few deep breaths and Annya motioned her to sit down.

“You know Colt? You live with him in my house?”

“Yes, my boyfriend is his friend and Colt agreed for me to rent a room while I’m studying here.”

“Your boyfriend? You just said you two almost slept together...?”

“Can we just... forget I said that? Please?” Ellie’s cheeks reddened. She couldn’t believe she said something like this in front of Colt’s mother. In front of a professor.

Cordonia’s awaiting...

“Well then, thank you for telling me. I’ll visit my soon after I’m done with the lectures today.” Annya nodded and took a few papers from a huge pile of documents on her desk.

“You can’t!” Ellie quickly said earning a surprised look on Mrs Kaneko’s face.

“And why is that?”

“Because Colt... he... kinda... hates you. And I think he doesn’t know the whole truth and if you show up there all of the sudden he’ll run away. Trust me, he will,” Ellie smiled apologetically as the woman rubbed her temples.

“I don’t understand... Why would he hate me? It was them who didn’t want to keep in touch...”

“Maybe... I know I’m a stranger but... if you told me the whole story... I could... prepare him for meeting you?” Ellie suggested.

“You’re not a stranger if you’re close with my son,” Annya smiled sadly at her. “I suppose you’re right. First I need to tell you that I married young. I got married just because I got pregnant and my parents were very strict and would never treat my child as their family if I wasn’t married. My husband, Teppei, was older than me but when I told him I was pregnant he wasn’t scared or angry. He was happy. And he promised to take care of me, of us. We got married very soon, I wasn’t even showing at this point. I was doing my master’s degree here but I had to take a year off, I felt very sick and wasn’t able to function normally. When Colt was born my parents didn’t even bother to visit. They hated me for marrying Teppei, they hated him too. But I loved him,” Annya shrugged and blushed. “He was a very good father to Colt. Very protective and loving, he was so in love with his son.”

Well, that doesn’t sound like Teppei I know.

“I got offered a scholarship to continue my master’s. Being a teacher has always been my dream but Teppei didn’t understand it. He needed to leave the state and I couldn’t stay home with Colt because I spent most of my days on campus. Eventually, Teppei decided he would take Colt with him so I could stay here and get my degree. I trusted him, he was a far better father than I was a mother. I guess I was too young for that. And they left. I knew Teppei’s job wasn’t the safest but I trusted him. He knew how to take care of my son. He wrote letters, he sent photos. He told me how proud he was when Colt said his first word. When Colt started walking. I missed them every day but I knew we’d be reunited once I graduate. I was wrong,” she sighed and Ellie wanted to hug her again. Her story was so different from what Colt told her but she seemed very sincere.

“It was my last year when the letters became very rare. My husband said he had some problems at work and he needed to ‘take care of them’. And then he stopped writing at all. When I graduated no one was there to celebrate with me. Not my parents, not my husband, not my son. I tried to get in touch with him, I sent him letters, called him but nothing. My parents said it was my karma for marrying him. But I know something must have happened. I got offered a job at Cambridge and I wrote to him about it. He said I was ‘free to go.’ That’s all he said. So I went but before I did that, I decided to leave my house for Colt. I sent all the documents to them and left for England. I wrote letters to Colt ever since but he never replied. When I found out Teppei died I looked for a job here, I desperatly needed to know what happened to Colt. And now I know, thanks to you.”

“Wow...” Ellie let out a breath she didn’t even realize she was holding. “That’s so different from what Colt told me!”

“And what did he tell  you?” Annya frowned.

“That you left them when he was little. And you never looked back. I guess that’s what his father told him. Colt had a tough childhood, his father never really cared about him, he said that Teppei was just ‘tolerating’ the fact that Colt was around. And never showed him any affection. He would disappear for days not caring what could happen to Colt.”

“That’s... I... But... That’s not... Are you sure... I...” Annya’s eyes widened as she struggled to catch a breath. “That’s impossible, Teppei was a good father, I-I trusted him, he must have cared for Colt, I’m sure of it, I--” she took a deep breath to calm down. “Oh my God, what have I done?”

“Hey, if it’s true then it’s not your fault! Maybe Teppei was a good father before and then something changed? It’s not your fault, I’m sure Colt would agree with me!”

“My poor baby...” Annya looked terrible.

“Mrs. Kaneko... Can I have the copies of Teppei’s letters to you? Especially the ones he said he was proud of Colt? I think I know how to prepare him for this but I need the letters.”

Annya nodded slighly. “I will bring them or send you via email. I just... Can you please leave me alone now? I need... a moment. I-I’m still not sure what to think...”

“Of course. I’m sorry,” Ellie said before leaving her office.

~~~~

“Earth to Ellie, are you okay?” Detective Wheeler waved his hand in front of Ellie’s face.

“Yes, yes, I’m sorry,” Ellie smiled at her father and asked Logan to pass her the potatoes. A week passed between her heart to heart coversation with Mrs Kaneko but Ellie couldn’t think about anything else. The two talked about Colt and his childhood and in the meantime, Ellie really grew to like Colt’s mother. And she was sure he would like her too. She also read Teppei’s letters at least ten times each. Annya didn’t lie. He was proud of him. He repeated this in almost every letter.

My dearest Annya,

our son just said his first word - “Dada” and I couldn’t be prouder! I’m teaching him the word “Mamma” now but he’s so smart I’m sure he’ll learn it in no time!

My dearest Annya,

I’m sending you a few photos I took while Colt was walking – on his own! I’m so proud of our little boy!

Ellie realized something must have happened along the way because she didn’t believe that Colt or Annya were lying to her. But no matter how badly she wanted to talk to Colt, the moment never seemed good enough.

“She’s probably thinking about her thesis already! She’s a little workaholic!” Logan joked as he smiled warmly at his girlfriend.

“Yes, I have so many things to do, I can’t wait to go home and work on it.”

“Home?” Her father chuckled. “This is your home, Ellie. California.”

“Ah yes,” she faked a chuckle, “of course it is!” She pretended she didn’t see Logan’s eyes on her as she took a bite of her food. Logan and Ellie went home to California for a Thanksgiving, and even though they arrived only yesterday, Ellie already missed Colt.

After dinner she excused herself from playing games and drinking wine and she went upstairs to her room to read Teppei’s letters once again. She was reading them when Colt called.

“Hello?”

“Ellie? Hi, how’s your Thanksgiving?” Ellie smiled at the sound of his voice.

“It’s good, nothing special but ok. How’s yours?”

“Eh, it’s fine.” He said and there was a moment of silence. “Ellie?”

“Yes?”

“Nevermind,” Colt murmured.

“No, tell me!” 

“It’s nothing.” He coughed awkwardly.

“Cooooolt. What did you want to tell me?”

He sighed, “I guess I wanted to tell you that I miss you. Just a little. The house seems very empty without you being annoying here.”

Ellie bit her lip as if to contain her happiness. “I miss you too, Colt.”

“Next year you should stay here, I’m sure Thanksgiving would be much more entertaining here.”

“Oh yeah? And what would we do if I was there?” She raised her eyebrow even though Colt couldn’t see her.

“I’d make coffee because I can’t cook.”

“I know you’re lying, I saw you cooking something the other day.”

“It was not cooking but rather defrosting.” He corrected.

“Okay so frozen food and coffee. I’m not conviced. What else would we do?”

“We’d watch TV.”

“What exactly?”

“If you’re waiting for me to say a romcom then think again.”

“Aww, come on!”

“...Fine but it can only have a teeny tiny but of romance and a lot of action.”

“Sounds good to me. So, coffee, food, movie. What’s next?” She teased.

“Geez, you’re hard to please. I guess I’d kick your ass in pool that Toby has in his autoshop.”

“Ha! I’d kick your ass!”

“I doubt that.”

“Okay, so then I’d kick your ass in running faster to the apartment and I’d lock the door.” She smiled and lied down on her bed.

“Then I’d go in through the window”

“Then I’d lock every single room so you wouldn’t find me.”

“Then I’d kick every single door.”

“Then I’d hide somewhere.”

“Then I’d find you and I’d ki--” he stopped and cleared his throat awkwardly. She felt as if her heart stopped for a moment.

“Then I’d kick your ass I everything else,” he finished and Ellie was sure it wasn’t what he wanted to say at first.

“Sounds perfect,” she replied hoarsely, her heart beating like crazy now. He didn’t say anything back and they stayed like this for a couple of minutes, the sound of their breaths filling the silence but it was strangely comforting. She was lying on her bed with a phone next to her ear, listening to her own heartbeat and Colt’s steady breaths. And suddently, she felt at peace. She felt at... home. Her heart started beating faster at the realization.

Colt was her home. Not California, not her Dad, not even Logan... Colt was her home.

Shit...

I’m in love with Colt Kaneko.

[seminalstudy]

Hi everyone! I’m currently in the process of transferring to a new university and one of the biggest parts of that has been planning out and scheduling which classes to take my first semester, in hopes that I can graduate at the same time as people my age :’) As someone who’s planned how to graduate in three years not once but twice now, I figured I could share my experience and/or advice with anyone looking to maximize their college academics!

1. Establish a timeline: Ask yourself how many years you’re giving yourself to complete your degree as this will help you figure out how heavy your course loads will have to be to graduate at your expected time (this could be anywhere from 2 years to 5 or more). At my first college, I planned to graduate in three years in order to save money and because the school had easier academics, so I was confident I could handle the extra work. My new plan to graduate in three years is so I can graduate with other students my age, set your goal!

2. Now that you’ve established a broad timeline, it’s time to start looking at potential majors/minors and career tracks: Hopefully, this is something you’ve started looking at before applying to college, but don’t worry - it’s not too late! As someone going into college with the knowledge that I’d be taking out max loans each year, I tried to figure out what I wanted to do early on so I could maximize my credits ie take as many required classes as possible and not ‘waste’ credits on classes that wouldn’t really contribute to my degree (ofc I ended up changing my mind 3/4 of the way thru the year but that’s life). I narrowed my options down to 3 or 4 majors and managed to eliminate 2 of them pretty early on.

3. With at least one track in mind, research all the requirements to earn a degree in that area: Universities often have “general education requirements” regardless of your major, so you take classes in multiple disciplines and broaden your perspective. Course catalogs/general bulletins/college websites are where you can find info about your gen-eds and major-specific required courses. It’s really helpful to map this out by hand or in a spreadsheet program (I did it both by hand and with Excel to stay uber-organized). This is also where you can narrow down the majors you’re interested in by looking at the required courses and course descriptions. I considered a Data Analytics major early on, but after seeing how much coding was required (not a strong suit or interest for me) I could comfortably eliminate it.

4. Reach out to your advisor/navigator/registrar to clarify any questions: If you’re confused by any of the requirements for your major/gen-eds, talk to someone at the university. I feel bad for the numerous advisors I’ve had because I pestered them with questions so I could have a complete understanding of everything - it really helps in the scheduling process and I’ve never had a staff or faculty member be irritated by the questions - they love to help (plus it shows initiative and starts forming connections which is A+). Seriously, reach out if you’re confused, don’t just sit in the dark!

5. Map out required courses and pre-requisites: This is where Excel or Google Sheets can be your best friend - they make it really easy to keep track of what needs to be taken when. Some courses require a certain academic standing (sophomore, junior, senior) for you to take them, others require you to take several classes before you can register for it. Certain progressions of classes can really limit what your schedule looks like, so this step is incredibly important (and somewhat time-consuming).  

6. Generate a slightly less vague timeline: Based on pre-requisites and required class standings, begin to assign classes to fall and spring semesters. Let’s say you have to complete a senior capstone in order to graduate, and you can only take it senior year, write it into the timeline. Maybe you need to take Math123 and Math124 for your major, but Math124 requires you to complete Math123 first. Place 123 into a semester and 124 in the semester following that. This doesn’t have to be exact, but it’s good to be aware of what your future schedule will look like, and what classes you need to take sooner rather than later (this is also time-consuming because you’ll find numerous variations in potential schedules). 

7. Determine the courseload you’ll need to take: Some people luck out and have lots of AP/IB or like credits that will transfer into real college credit, helping to eliminate the number of classes you have to take (I was not such a person). You’ll generally receive a credit evaluation during the summer before the first semester so you can plan accordingly. Most advisors recommend taking 15-17 credits, but if you need to take more so you can graduate faster or less so you’re not overwhelmed, do what you need. I ended up taking the max credits allowed then over that, but that’s only because I was pushing so hard to graduate faster. This kind of ties into the last step, but you also need to evaluate your personal strengths and weaknesses.

8. Determine the courses that will maximize your first semester: Fun fact, your major requirements can often double-dip and count for your general education requirements too! Look at the pre-reqs for your higher-level classes and try to choose those that will open up the most classes, see which of your major required classes could count for gen-eds, such as humanities or science courses. If you’re between a few majors, look for classes that a required for them. For me, I was between a Business Administration or Sustainable Business major, so many of the requirements were the same. I took classes that could count for both, but if I wanted to go one way or the other, I wouldn’t be screwed over.

9. Try to balance the courses you NEED to take with those you WANT to take: I’m a humanities kind of gal (science has not been mon ami in the past) but both of my colleges require science and math classes. So, when I have to take a math and science course simultaneously, I try to add in some of the subjects I’m stronger in (history, english, etc) so that my GPA wouldn’t die. If you’re fortunate enough that affording college isn’t a concern, I’d personally say take as many courses that interest you as possible, but when financing a higher level education is more of an issue, complete your requirements but leave some space to explore your interests.

10. With a handful of courses in mind, look at actually scheduling your classes: With online registration, you can generally look at which classes are full, what times are available, etc. Are you really, definitely, for sure a morning person who can handle that 8am? Do you need a definite break for lunch? Will you be more productive in the mornings or evenings? Are there multiple profs for the class and does one have better ratings than the other? (ratemyprofessor.com is a lifesaver) Is there enough time outside of class to study/do extracurriculars/have a social life? Sometimes you’ll really need to take a class and it’ll be at some ungodly hour, but sometimes you gotta suck it up. Try not to overload one day with classes and make sure there’s enough time between classes to get to your next class, especially if your school has a large campus. This part is really based on personal preference, so enjoy it!

11. Give yourself time to do all of this: Especially for a first-year college student, there’s a lot already happening, and the opportunities are endless. It takes a lot of time to thoroughly research. This is a big process if you really care about being organized, and it can set you up for great success in college! All of these steps are really tied together but you’ll need more than one day (I took several weeks lol) to plan out a college career.

12. It gets easier: After doing this for just two semesters, I was much more comfortable making these big choices. For my new university, I managed to accomplish this in only a few days, but I was already familiar with the major I’m pursuing and how to lay everything out. For those of you continuing in college, consider mapping our the rest of your time if you haven’t already, and keep track of the courses you’ve taken and still need to take! This way, you won’t be thrown any loops when graduation comes.

Disclaimer: This advice is based purely off my own U.S. college experience which is undoubtedly very different from others! Ultimately, pursuing a higher-level education is your own personal journey, and do what you need to do to find success, this is just me trying to help out others!

If you have any questions about any of this, want to talk scheduling with me, or see my schedule planning notes and spreadsheets, just message me, I’m always willing to talk and even more willing to make friends!

-B

[apprenticebard]

How can I make more money like you?

An important question!!

So to start with, I am not a person who has Figured Things Out. I got lucky last year - my friend recommended me for a job in a very high-wage area (specifically, San Francisco’s tech industry) that I happened to be a really good fit for, and that happened to be willing to hire people on a trial basis if they were promising, even if they didn’t have college degrees (’cause I still don’t have one). And that was really good for a while, until some stuff happened and I kinda got eaten. Now I’m unemployed and looking for another job; I think I’ll find something comparatively good again, but I dunno how long it’ll be, and right now I’m looking at both moderately high-paying content-writing jobs and jobs that pay around minimum wage (which is a lot here; nothing pays less than $15 because the bay is lowkey insane), in case getting another really good job takes longer than I’d like it to.

But anyway! Obviously there isn’t a super easy way to make lots of money that’s going to apply to every anon who could possibly have shown up in my inbox, but here are some general pointers:

1) Even if things are going really well for you, you’re gonna tend to make less than most people while you’re early in your career. This is difficult but how it is. It doesn’t mean you’re doing anything wrong, and you might be on track for a great career in a few more years, once you gain more experience. If this is where you’re at, I think the best way to make more money is to work on leveling up at your current job, or looking for a different job of the same kind that either pays better now or will probably allow you to level up faster. It’s good to take on extra responsibilities when you have the time and energy to do so, especially if they use a lot of skills you do have, but also a few skills that you’ll need to figure out as you go along. 

Note that I do think that this advice is less actionable outside of the bay (which is full of startups that are growing rapidly and trying new things). I do think there’s still something to it. If you gain skills and responsibilities as well as you can, I think that even if your current job doesn’t recognize that and reward it, you’ll be building up skills that’ll make you more desirable the next time you change jobs.

2) Say you think you’re in a really good industry, and you know that other people in your industry make decent money, but for some reason, you’re not. Or, alternatively, say that you have a lot of skills and some work experience in a decent industry, but you can’t get anyone to call you back, and you’re beginning to wonder if maybe you’re secretly terrible and have zero Good Employee Qualities.

Getting a new job is hard, and leaving an old job is scary. I know; I just left my old job, and I spend lots of time being scared that nobody’s gonna hire me and I’m gonna have to go back to working at Kroger again, where I only made it through cashiering shifts by imagining that my characters were being tortured and that I could only save them by making it to the end of the next hour. 

But it really does pay to look at what else is out there. You can get some ideas by very casually looking at job sites like Glassdoor or Indeed; there might be nothing, or a bunch of job postings that you don’t understand, but I’ve found that it’s often good to get the lay of the land and figure out what recruiters are looking for in your industry. If you want better odds, and you have some successful friends, it can pay to ask them whether their companies are hiring for a position you can fill, and whether any of them might like to recommend you for it.

If you don’t have an easy way to get your foot in the door, you’re gonna be filling out a lot of applications. This sucks, but it doesn’t mean that you suck. If you really feel like you’re qualified for the sort of job you want, get someone to help you put together a good resume that shows off your skills, put together a portfolio or similar if you’re in the relevant industries, and resign yourself to applying to dozens or maybe hundreds of things. Recruiters are super arbitrary and will totally disqualify you based on things that have nothing to do with your ability to do the job. (This isn’t even because they’re bad people, it’s because they have a stack of resumes on their desk and have only the faintest idea how to tell which of the associated candidates are gonna be good at things.) It’s a numbers game. If you’re not doing something really ridiculous, like applying to every job with a resume that only lists completely unrelated kinds of work experience, then someone’ll probably talk to you eventually. It’ll just probably take way more applications than you’d think.

(Oh, also, all of the requirements in job postings tend to be pretty silly; as long as you think you’re genuinely capable of doing the work, I think you should apply to jobs where you meet maybe 75% of the stated requirements if the job sounds OK, and maybe 50% if it’s something you’d be really excited to get to do.)

3) If you’re not in a career sort of job at all - if you’re stuck behind the counter at Wendy’s right now, in which case my heart goes out to you, anon friend - or you’ve found yourself in a career that pays very badly or makes you unhappy, and you don’t think your skills will translate to anything you like doing, then you might want to look at changing careers entirely. Most people will tell you to go to college, if you haven’t already. I’m gonna tell you that college is a great thing for lots of people, but not always a good idea financially, and not always the best way forward, especially if you’re not very academically inclined. 

Think about what you’re good at, and think about what your dealbreakers are. You’re approaching this from thinking about money, not about passion, but you still don’t want to end up in a job that you’re a terrible fit for; you’ll get fired or be miserable all the time, and that’s no good for anyone. 

As a first line, if you feel that you’re reasonably flexible and talented, here are some very different jobs that make good money; you might want to consider whether you’re a good fit for any of these, and do more research as appropriate. (This is largely an exercise to get you thinking, not to say that these specific jobs are the ones you should definitely be looking at.)- Nursing. There’s a perpetual shortage of nurses, they have to exist everywhere in the country, and they make at least decent pay no matter where they live. For an RN, you’re looking at an average of about $55k per year in the cheapest states, and about $90k per year in the most expensive ones (although remember that this isn’t what you’ll make at the beginning of your career). I don’t recommend it if you really dislike people, long hours, college classes, heavy lifting, or bodily fluids, but I do think it’s a career that a lot more people should be willing to consider. If you think you can hack the education part, but not so much the heavy lifting, the bodily fluids, or the being around people who might be dying, dental hygienists make about the same amount, and their patients hardly ever need to be carried anywhere while possibly dying. I think.

- Software engineering. The pay rate here is kind of insane; if you have the interest and aptitude, then doing a coding bootcamp and getting a programming job in either NYC or San Francisco is a relatively attainable way of making a genuinely six-figure salary within a few years of starting, even if you don’t have a college degree. It’s not for everyone - I’ve tried to learn, a little, but I’ve bounced off pretty hard so far - but it’s a great opportunity for people who can hack it, so to speak. Like nursing, there’s a shortage here, mostly because software is a rapidly expanding industry that has only existed for, like, forty years tops.

- The skilled trades. We’re talking about electricians, mechanics, plumbers, carpenters, and other people in this space. It’s hard in different ways than an office job, but there are a lot of people who these are a good fit for. While they’re not as highly paid as nurses or engineers, people in the skilled trades do OK; reaching $50k per year is totally feasible, and people who are both skilled and lucky can break $80k. These jobs tend to go by apprenticeship systems, so if you don’t have a family member or friend to vouch for you, it’s a good idea to look at trade schools in your area to get you started, and then expect to spend several years in a junior position until you know what’s what.

- Flight Attendants. Not all flight attendants are particularly well-paid, but many are, and things like waitressing can be counted as relevant experience. The first flight attendant job I found on Indeed just now is $18 an hour and doesn’t require any experience or a degree, though the requirements do have a lot to say about your appearance, height (gotta be able to get luggage out of the overhead compartments, after all), and willingness to work really weird hours. The BLS reports that the median flight attendant ultimately makes about $56k per year. 

- Police officers. Obviously there are a ton of very legit reasons not to want to be a police officer, but I am of the opinion that someone’s gotta do it, and it’s better if the people involved wanna do it right, right? (I guess I don’t know if you want to do it right. Please don’t become a police officer purely for the money and then shoot someone, anon.) The median police officer makes about $60k, and it doesn’t require a college education, which is honestly a pretty good deal even if you’re not as passionate as Judy Hopps. I don’t recommend it as a job unless you’re not scared of people, even the creepy ones, ‘cause scared people make mistakes, and when police officers make mistakes, sometimes people end up dead.

If you read that list and were like, “Bard, there’s a reason I’m at Wendy’s, can you lower your expectations here a little,” you might want to look into stuff like warehousing, groundskeeping, janitorial work, sales, garbage collection, or construction work. Job sites are your friends; it’s useful to browse them and see what sorts of jobs pay the kinds of salaries you’re looking for. I also think you might be well-served by considering whether you can move in with friends or family in a part of the country where wages are higher. The big cost of living difference in other places is rent, so if you have a housing situation figured out or can split that cost with a friend, you can make a lot more money just by doing the same thing somewhere else. For example, before I got super lucky and became a Real Content Writer, my plan was to hang out on my friend’s couch for six months rent-free, work at some supermarket in SF, and then take my wages back home to Indiana to pay for the rest of my degree. And honestly, if I hadn’t fallen in love with this ridiculous place and hadn’t immediately gotten a much better job, I think it very well might have worked.

There’s a lot more that I could say here, but this is already pretty long. The main things are to think about where you’re headed, to look around at all of the different possible lucrative directions to head in if you don’t like where you are, and to figure out what steps you’d have to take to get there. You’re welcome to come to my inbox with more questions about this - my last job was all about helping people find jobs themselves, so I guess I should know something about it by now - but you might need to be a little more specific if I didn’t hit on the thing you’re stuck on in this post.

[prorevenge]

Professor attempts to destroy my education!

Disclaimer:

It was my first time (when I posted this first in r\MaliciousCompliance) in Reddit altogether. Did not even know about ProRevenge. They have mentioned that my story might belong here. So please do let me know if it does not. I will remove it.  

English is my second language and I am a IT Professional, which means I do not get to practice writing in English all that much. So any punctuation, grammatical or any other errors, including overuse of exclamation mark can hopefully be forgiven.

TL;DR at the bottom.  

In my adopted motherland, I am a religious minority. I am a proud citizen now of this land who immigrated here. And stereotyping while not very common, but not uncommon here. And this story is from my college life.

It was one of my programming course that college hired a new professor for. Although I am a religious minority and the professor was from a different religion (which also, technically a religious minority in this land) that did not really mesh up well, I did not (as I still do not) care at all! You see, I myself am not much religious and my point of view about religion is from the prospective of (social) science. I believe my first religion is Humanity! Everything else is just a label!

So, back to the story, This professor was teaching us the basics of C++ (as the course was the Intro to C++) and during the final, he gave us a Final project that either counted as the entire final or a major portion of the final exam (can't recall the exact details since it was about 13 years ago). Once the project was done, we email it to him and he grades it. I do that and wait for my grade. It was Spring semester and Summer brake/session is about to begin.

Now, another bit of info here, if in a course, you get an "F" (for Failing), the following semester, you can take the course back again and if you pass, that "F" gets erased from your record and you are on your merry way toward your degree. BUT for some reason, (like if you do not submit your final project), you get an "I" (Incomplete) and now you have "X amount of time to Complete that work" so that "I" can be transformed into a grade. I am not too sure now, but I believe if you retake the entire course again, you get a grade but that "I" stays with you and goes to your Transcript/Diploma. It is extremely frowned upon and may hinder your graduation!

So, after waiting a few weeks for the semesters' result, I see I got an "I"! Immediately I emailed the professor asking why I got an I! No response! I call his office number... No response! I go to the department, they tells me that the professor have notated in my record (as I guess it was customary to do so)  that I have not submitted my Final project and hence the "I". To which I fumed up and stated that I had indeed sent my final project using our College email system. But the department states since I am within "Y" days of that "X amount of Days" (before I need to take care of that "I") and since the professor went back to his motherland for a month, I should wait for him to return and he is the only one that can reverse the "I" from my grade! They mentioned that He probably somehow missed my email containing my final project. The department assured me that once he is back from his country, they will instruct him to fix this and notify me of it.  

I waited for his return till the very last week of that "X amount of Days". He did not come back! So that week, I went back to the department and stated my case. They mentioned that since he was not back, they will email him to get some form of "OK.. I received his email with the project and I see that either he passed or failed, he gets a grade!" The Comp Sci department CC's me on that email. To my utter disbelief, that professor emails back the department chair (I am still CC'ed on it) that he went back to the email and checked! And he got NOTHING from me! So that "I" stays! He explicitly states that "I" (for Incomplete) stays!

At this point I began to fume so much so that I went back to my Department chair and the department chair now wants me to prove that I sent him that on THAT particular time (right before the end of Final). I login to the email account and I dig through and find the email; showing it in the "Sent" box. Department chair replies to that professor that the chairman concurs that I indeed sent that email to the professor. To which then, the professor replies "It may very well be, but you know how sometimes although the email is sent, it does not arrive at the recipients inbox! so I did not get it!" And right after that email, the professor now goes silent and does not respond back to the chairs' emails! every time I send an email, especially when as important as the college final project (since we are supposed to only use the email address that the college provided) when I sent the project from the college email, I also CC'ed my personal email on that! I show the receipt email from my personal email and department chair agrees that the email was indeed sent!  

By this point, I am extremely desperate to overturn that "I". I will take an "F" if needed, but that "I" will hurt my education.

I was extremely popular in our college circuit; so much so that (our college was under a "Chain Education" system  and I will not mention any names here; that had more than 20 different Colleges/Universities all across this city!) I knew the head honcho, the Chancellor and the college president very much and very well!

Now, on the last day, I go to the College president as well as the Chancellor! show them the proof and state my case (I might have mentioned to them that I am in the process of getting a Lawyer as I feel that this is a clear, blatant and extreme prejudice against me and may very well be racially motivated!)! They agrees that the professors' behavior contained a negative intent toward me by giving me an "I" and not a grade that can be the either of "A, B, C, D or F". I also lodge a formal complaint against the professor right then and there! They immediately instructs my department chair to take my project and grade it and then change that "I". Now you gotta understand that this was not a norm! The Chair does that and I end up getting an "A".

When someone becomes a professor for the first time, the first year or so are their Probationary period and if they do not make much splash, they can become permanent. And now, the Chancellor and the President of my college decides that it's  in the University's best interest not to retain that professor any longer! Simply put, they FIRED his ASS!!!

I get my grade, I am happy! Summer ends. A new "Winter Session" is about to begin and I get an email in my personal as well as college email account from that very same professor! Lo and behold! He apologizes to me for his behavior without directly admitting his prejudiced action toward me and asks me to withdraw my complaint so he can attempt to get his Job back!!!!  

I CC that email to the department chair, the college president and the Chancellor  and reply to him that "I will not withdraw my complaint at all and he is lucky that I did not involve my lawyer for the serious harm that he intended to cause me! And I wish and pray that he never gets another chance to teach again; in the event that he might try to ruin another students' life!"

I graduated from that institution so long ago... but of all the great memories, the few sad ones, this sticks out to me!

TL;DR: Professor tries to ruin my education life due to the religious differences; ends up ruining his own career!

EDIT:

Many asked the question Why do I think it was due to religious differences?

Answer: I am damn good at computers and maths. So it certainly was not for the lack of my education! I was the only one from my faith. Now I have to admit, that professor didn't say anything directly negative toward me while in class (as far as I can recall ; it's been more than 13 years since that class). But why only me getting an "I" from the entire class?! Because even if he counted the other grades and ignored the final project, I still wouldn't have failed). But what else could be the reason?! Maybe I didn't pay enough attention to his daughter (joking here! I don't even know if he had one)?!

Now some context of the grading: 99.99 percent of the students gets a grade like A, B, C, D, or F. But the ones that gets an "I" for incomplete it turns into an "I F". Means Incomplete Failure. When you finish your curriculum, you get your transcript, and when you Complete the entire degree requirement, you get your diploma and get to Graduate! That "I" and then "I F" would probably have denied me my Diploma! What good does a transcript do in job interviews without the physical diploma?!

(source) (story by bebgaltiger18)

[you-a-southpaw-doll]

Graduation ~ A Negan!AU One-Shot

Summary: It’s graduation day for Negan...but the one person, Leigh, that he wants to be there. Or is she? He thinks she’s overseas, serving in the United States Navy, but little does he know, she has a surprise for him for graduation.

Warning(s): Fluff. Language. Angst. Explicit Smut - masturbation - male, oral - female receiving. 

Word Count: 8,014.

Author’s Note(s): This is set from Negan’s point-of-view. It is also for the Reader too, but the Reader’s name in this story is Leigh. @mychemicalimagines and I tag-teamed this story over Christmas break. 

Relationship(s): Negan x Leigh [Reader] (boyfriend/girlfriend)

Characters: Negan. Leigh (OFC). Reader.

Taglist: @negans-network @thamberlina @prettyboynegan  @mychemicalimagines

Story Time:

Negan’s Point of View

“Class dismissed! It’s great to say that for the last time.” My college professor says, closing his book. “Have a great Graduation tomorrow!”

He’s still talking, but I ignore him as I jump out of my seat, and run out of the classroom. Today is Thursday which means I get to see you, my beautiful fuckin’ girl, Leigh. We’ve been dating for almost nine years. We met for the first time way back in fuckin’ sixth grade, and by time eighth grade came ‘round, I knew I was in love with you.

I finally got the fuckin’ courage to ask you out. When you said yes, I knew I was a fuckin’ goner. After high school. You encouraged me to go to college, and I did, on a baseball scholarship. You decided to join the United States Navy since you’d always dreamt ‘bout being a Navy SEAL, since you were five years old.

I encouraged you, kept you motivated throughout your basic training, and now, here we are. Nearly nine years of being together. You coming up for re-enlistment, and me ‘bout to graduate fuckin’ college with two degrees - one in history and another in business. 

You've been deployed in another country overseas for the last seven months so I haven’t seen you in a hot minute. It fuckin’ hurts that I can’t see you every day. We used to see each other every damn day in middle school and high school, but since then it’s been a wee bit hard to see one another every day. 

That’s why I love our one day a week where I can talk to you for a few hours. I’m pushing through all the other classmates, trying to get to my dorm so I can answer your first video message. If you miss the first call then there’s a chance you might not be able to call again. 

I had to miss last week’s call because of the stupid, fuckin’ finals we had in the class beforehand. I make it to my dorm room and I push open the door. The door flings open so hard that it hits the wall. I slam it behind me. I run over to my laptop and start it up. 

My legs start bouncing, waiting for the screen to start loading. When I finally get the laptop up and running, I quickly log in to Skype. I see the little green dot next to your military account. I notice that you didn’t call yet so I didn’t fuckin’ miss it.

Thank god!

Suddenly, my computer starts to ding and your military photo pops up. I quickly fix my appearance and push accept on the computer. Your beautiful face appears on the screen. You have the biggest smile on.

“Hey, doll.” I say, smiling at you.

“Hey, sweetie. I missed you so much.” You say, as your eyes start filling up with tears.

“I missed you so fuckin’ much too, baby.” My smile never falters.

“Today was your last day right? Graduation is next week?” You ask me, wiping the few tears.

“No, they fuckin’ changed it to tomorrow.” I answer, putting my head down a little.

“What?!? I got my leave approved for next week!” You say, as your eyes widen.

“I know, sweetheart.”

“So I can’t even see you graduate!” You say, putting your hand in your hair.

Your hair’s finally down. The only time you’re allowed to put your hair down is off hours but usually, you keep it up in the tight bun that the military requires. I love when your hair’s down and free. It’s always so soft.

“Don’t fuckin’ worry about it, doll, we can celebrate when you get home,” I smile through the computer at you.

You frown, “But, Negan-“

“No buts, Le. I’ll be fuckin’ fine as long as I get to see your sexy ass next week” I smirk at you. “I’m a big boy.”

“Yes. Yes you are,” You smirk right back.

We talk for another half hour until you have to get off. This is always my least favorite part. I fuckin’ hate saying goodbye.

“I’ll see you next week, doll. You’ll finally be able to see the house I got us.” I say, smiling, thinking about the house we saved up for three years to pay for.

You gave me specific things you wanted in a house and I wrote them down. I went to 4 houses before I found one that had everything you wanted in it. I can already tell this house will be one we stay in until we're old and grey. The beautiful house has 4 bedrooms, 2.5 baths, a huge space you can use as a studio for your photography.

I know how badly you want a space that you can use for your photos. In that studio, there’re some wooden shelves for books so we can also use it as alibrary, since we’re both always fuckin’ reading. I even made sure that in that room, there is the window seat you’ve been begging me to find.

It looks out over a huge bay window at this fuckin’ amazing view of the lake behind the house that has a willow tree resting at the top of a small hill. I can just picture the two of us out there, cuddling and reading under that tree. Or, us chasing little kids ‘round. 

This was the kinda house I’d always dreamed ‘bout having one day, and I know you do too.

“I’m not gonna tell you much ‘bout the house, babe, but I will tell you ‘bout this amazin’ fuckin’ view. Outta this huge window, you can see the lake. It’s so fuckin’ pretty - not as beautiful as you, but still pretty. It even has a willow tree where we can sit under and cuddle.” As I tell you this, your eyes light up.

The smile on your face just makes my heart swell. I love seeing your beautiful fuckin’ smile, and I’d do anything and every-fuckin’-thing I could to make sure that you always smile at least three times a day. I wish you could have seen the house before I put down the down payment on it.

But, I know you’d love it. It’s what you’ve always wanted in a house. It really is fuckin’ perfect for us. After a few seconds of thinking ‘bout the house, I notice your smile gets smaller and smaller until it actually drops. My heart suddenly cracks at the sight of you frowning. 

I have always, and will always, hated the sight of you being even the littlest bit sad.

“What’s wrong, baby?” I ask, looking confused into the laptop camera.

“I’ve gotta go...” You whisper back to me.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. As I’ve said you’ll be back here in a fuckin’ week, and I’ve already got a huge plan waitin’ here for you,” I say, winking at you.

“Bye, babe. Don’t forget what airport I’ll be at.” You say, smiling brightly at me, thinking about my plan.

“I would never forget that, babygirl. See you later,” I kiss the tips of my fingers and put them toward the camera on my laptop.

You wink and kiss your fingers doing the same thing. When the screen goes black I stare at my reflection, my smile fading quickly. I now have to wait another week before I get to see your face, but at least this time it will be in person. I hesitate, but finally close my laptop. 

I lean back in my seat, bringing my hands up to cover my face. Letting out a deep sigh, I run my hand over my slight five o’clock shadow. I can’t believe I’m fuckin’ graduating tomorrow. I was planning on it being next week, which is what you were planning on too.

But, the college had to go and fuck everything up by moving the graduation date up a week earlier. Don’t get me wrong, I’m excited to finally get the hell outta here and get a start on my future. The future I see with you. But, at the same time, since the date’s been moved, it means you won’t be there at my graduation.

And, we were both looking forward to you being there. You’ve told me, countless times, how proud of me you are. For sticking with the whole fuckin’ schooling thing, and whatnot. But...since you won’t able to be there tomorrow, I ain’t got no one else who will be. 

I ain’t got any family left.

Ma died when I was ten years old, from a drug overdose. Since my old man was never ‘round, and I had no other kin, I was put into the United States government’s care. I bounced ‘round from foster home to foster home until I finally aged out of the system. 

I was a hellyun, growing up.

Until I met you. 

You changed that ‘bout me. Made me see the good in life. Made me realize that maybe there was something to this whole living thing. That’s why last month I began to think about making you mine, officially. I was at the mall and passed by this really fuckin’ expensive ring store.

I just went inside to look around, get some kind of idea of a present to give you when you came home. Passing by this counter something caught my eye. After taking a look inside at the rings, I found this beautiful fuckin’ engagement ring, the diamond was huge. 

It wasn’t flashy and gaudy like other rings in this store. It was just the right size for you. It was simple, yet stunning, perfect for a simple, but oh-so-fuckin’ beautiful girl. I could already picture this ring being on your small finger. I checked the price, and holy-fuckin’-shit was it super expensive, but it will be worth it, seeing the smile on your face.

I take another look at my closed laptop and sigh. The next week will kill me but I can do it. I stand up out of my computer chair and take a look around my room. It’s pretty much already packed up except for my computer stuff and some of my clothes. 

My graduation gown and cap is hanging up on the backside of my door, with my Phi Theta Kappa cords hanging with them. I grab my last pair of pajama bottoms and walk toward the bathroom connected to my dorm room. I put my clothes down on the sink and turn the water on in the shower. 

After testing for the right temperature, I quickly undress. I step into the shower and put my head under the water. The hot water feels amazing against my cold skin. I lean my head against the wall, just letting the water fall all around me. Tomorrow is going to be the best and worst day ever. 

Best because I’m finally getting out of this fuckin’ hell hole, but worst because I don’t have you, my personal fuckin’ cheerleader, cheering me on as I get the diploma put into my hand. After letting the water fall around me for a few minutes, I finally bring my head up off the wall and grab a wash rag and my body wash. 

I wash the more important parts of my body and grab my shampoo/conditioner combo and wash my hair. It’s getting too long for my liking but you always say you love when my hair gets longer. I rinse my hair and decide I’ve spent too much time in here. 

I turn off the water and grab the towel I have hanging on the wall beside the shower. I wrap it around my waist and step out, looking into the mirror. I rub my stubbly chin, turning my head side to side. You’ve said before you love when I grow out my beard, but should I shave for graduation?

Fuck it. I’m leaving it to grow for when you come next week. I quickly dry off and put on my pjs, hanging up the towel again. I leave the bathroom, turning both the bathroom and bedroom lights off. I grab my phone from my side table as I just flop onto my bed. 

I push the power button on the phone, a picture from Halloween last year popping up on my screen. Wanting to feel like kids again, you made me dress up as a fuckin’ vampire, while you were a witch. We have huge fuckin’ smiles on our faces as your mother took the photo. 

I remember when she took that photo. I’d just put the vampire teeth in after they fell out for the hundredth time, when she said ‘Smile!’. We both looked up and saw her camera and couldn’t help but laugh. When we first started dating, you made me meet your parents since we were really young and couldn’t do much alone yet. 

From that day on, they’ve treated me like one of the family. Always making sure I had something to eat before I went home. Got me Christmas presents our first Christmas together. Even let me sleep over a couple of times when it got super cold out. In separate rooms, of course. 

I unlock my phone and go straight to my photo app. Before you left, you made an album of just pictures of us. Scrolling through I find a photo from our 7th anniversary. We went to the beach for the weekend and you wanted to go straight to the water as soon as we got there. 

I didn’t mind. I just wanted to see the smile on your face. When we got to the beach, you ran straight to the water. Standing at the edge, you stared toward the never-ending water toward the setting sun. Water washing over your ankles, you glanced over your shoulder at me. 

That just so happened to be the exact moment I decided to take the photo. It was breathtaking then, just as it is at this exact moment I’m lookin’ at it now. I keep scrolling through the photos, laughing at all the dumb ones you’ve taken over the years.

Smirking at all the sexy photos I’ve taken behind your back, but there is one photo that really caught my eye. Toward the end of the album, there’s a photo I have never seen before. It looks like it was taken the day you left for deployment. 

I can see the airport in the background so that could have been the only day it was taken. I’m standing in front of you while you’re wearing your uniform, and since I’m so much taller than you, I’m looking right down at you. Your hair is up in its bun and my hands are on your cheeks. 

I can tell I’m wiping away the tears that wouldn’t stop falling that day. We’re looking directly into each others eyes. From the angle of the photo, I can see the love that was in your eyes that day. I remember whispering ‘I love you. I fuckin’ promise I’ll be right here waiting for you. 

Nothing will fuckin’ stop me.’ I leaned down and softly kissed your lips. I never wanted to let you go but I knew that day I had to. I wrapped my arms around you and held you to my chest as your plane was called over the intercom. You looked up at me and whispered, ‘I’ll see you soon.’ 

You said that every time and it was never soon enough. I kissed you again and you had to walk away from me. I watched you go and I never left that spot until you were fully out of my sight. That’s when I walked out. I sigh to myself. Your mom must have taken that photo because I found my phone in my car after I dropped her off. 

I look through the album once more before my eyes get too heavy for me to keep open. I stare at that photo once more as I fall into a deep sleep.

I wake up to the double vibration of my phone letting me know that I have a text message. With my eyes still shut, I reach ‘round for my phone. The moment my fingers curl ‘round the edges of the small device, I pull it towards me. I roll over onto my left side and crack one eye open.

The notification that I see first makes my heart beat ten times faster, and I quickly rub the sleep outta my eyes. I sit up on the small, twin-sized, college issued mattress and prop myself up against the wall. Letting my finger hover over the notification for a moment, I finally swipe to the right to open it.

It pauses for a moment, and I press my thumb against the home button, so that it can recognize my thumbprint and unlock my phone. The moment it does, the app opens, and I can’t help but smile when I see the message.

“Good mornin’, honey. I can’t talk long, but I just wanted to say that I’m super proud of you. Today’s gonna be great. Even though I’m not able to be there, I’m still there with you, babe. I’m always with you. I can’t wait to see you next week. Then! You can show me your degrees! Both of ‘em! Alright. I’ve got to go now. I love you, Negan. See you soon, honey.”

A tear or two falls down my face and catches in the scruff lining my chin. I reread your message to me. I had downloaded the Skype app on my phone during your last deployment. I realized that sometimes you’d be able to send me a text, and I didn’t want to miss it, in case I didn’t have my laptop on me, so I downloaded the app.

Seeing that you’re still active on Skype, I quickly type out a quick text to you.

“I love you too, sweetheart. I can’t wait to fuckin’ see you. Please be careful and come home to me, safe and sound. I know you’re always with me. But, just know that as soon as I fuckin’ see you again, I’m pullin’ you into my arms and not lettin’ you fuckin’ go for a long time.”

My heart swells as I see the three little dots bounce on your side to show that you’re typing something. I wasn’t expecting you to reply to me.

“I’ll be counting on it, Negan. ;) And, I’ll always come home to you. Now, go get ready for graduation. And, send me a photo of you all dressed up in your cap and gown, yeah? I wanna see.”

I chuckle. “Yes, ma’am!”

I send a kissy face emoji to you before I hop outta bed. I strip down to nothing, as I walk over to my duffle bag that has a few clothes in it, since everything else is already packed up. I grab a clean pair of boxers, put ‘em on, and then walk over to where I have my outfit hanging up for today.

Before I get dressed through, I decide to go ahead and brush my teeth. While I’m doing that, I hear my phone start chiming with the signature Skype ringtone. I rush outta the bathroom, toothbrush still in my mouth, and paste on my lips. I scoop my phone up, and swipe the notification to the right, to open it, without really reading it.

A moment later, your face appears on my phone. My mouth drops, making my toothbrush wobble, which has you giggling. I hurry back into the bathroom to spit out the toothpaste in my mouth. I glance at my phone. You have your camera close to your face so I can’t see your background, but that’s ok.

“Baby?” I ask, quietly. “What are you doin’? I thought you had to go?”

You tilt your head to the side in a mini shrug. “I managed to snag a few minutes away from everythin’, and I really wanted to see you today.”

I smile. “Well, I’m glad you called. Although, I’m getting dressed. You mind fuckin’ watchin’ and talkin’ to me while I get ready?”

You giggle. “I don’t mind one bit. What do you have on already?”

I pull the phone away from the area of my face and tilt it down so you can see what I have on, which is just a pair of boxers.

“Damn. I’m really glad I called.” I hear you say.

I chuckle. “Me fuckin’ too, sweetheart.”

I place the phone on the bathroom counter, propping it up so that I can still see you and you can see me while I get dressed. I go to pick my toothbrush up to finish brushing my teeth when I hear you say something.

“Either you just woke up, and that’s just your mornin’ wood, honey. Or, you really are excited that I called.”

I laugh and glance at you. “I did just wake up, and that is my mornin’ wood. But, trust me, I’m really fuckin’ excited that you called.”

You blush. “You gonna be that excited when I see you?”

I nod. “Hell, I’ll probably be more excited and bust a nut. You know how to get me worked up. Speaking of which, I gotta fuckin’ take care of this, doll.”

“Can I watch?”

I take a deep breath in. “Well, shit, sweetheart. I ain’t one to deny you. You know that. You really wanna watch?”

You nod, biting your bottom lip in that way you know gets me all hot and fuckin’ bothered. I drop my toothbrush on the counter, and settle down on the edge of the tub. I got lucky, being an RA for my dorm, that I got hooked up with a good room that had an attached bathroom with a tub.

I get my phone propped up on the toilet seat and tug my boxers down to my ankles. I keep my eyes on you as I curl my fingers ‘round myself. With you watching, and me thinking ‘bout all the things we’re gonna do when you get back, I jerk myself off. 

You can tell I’m getting close, ‘cause you make a little sound low in your throat that has me tugging harder.

“Cum, babe. Cum for me.” You whisper.

At your words, I do exactly as you ask. I shoot my load all over the bathroom floor, letting out a deep groan in the process. My body shakes as my orgasm tears through me. I have to grip the edge of the tub tightly so that I don’t fall. When my orgasm finally subsides, I glance at you, still on my phone, with my eyes drooping.

“Damn. I’ve missed seeing that.” You murmur. “That was hot as shit.”

I chuckle. “Yeah, well. You’re hot as shit.”

You blush. “You gonna do that again for me in person?”

I nod. “Mmhhmm. If you want.”

“Hell yes.”

I chuckle. “Alright. Let me clean up the mess you made me make real quick.”

You laugh. “Ok.”

I clean up the remnants of my orgasm. Once that’s done, I pull my boxers back up to my hips. I finish brushing my teeth and then grab my outfit for today. You stay on the phone with me as I get dressed. I put on a pair of nice blue jeans, and a black button up shirt. 

I roll the sleeves up to my elbows. I roll ‘em in the same way you have to roll your sleeves for your military uniform. After you taught me the way to do that, I liked it, so I started rolling my sleeves in that same manner. Once the shirt’s buttoned, I tuck it into my pants. 

I button those, zip ‘em up, and tighten my belt ‘round my waist. I loop my dark, heather grey tie, the one you got me a couple years ago, ‘round my neck and tie it properly. I fix the collar of my shirt before reaching for the light grey vest and putting it on. 

After it’s buttoned, I fix my hair. Normally, I’d go with bed head, but I’ve got you watching me at the moment, and it is graduation, so I wanna look kinda good. I run my fingers through my hair, making it look a little messy, but it’s a neat messy. 

I grab my chapstick and apply some to my lips. They’ve been really chapped here lately, and I don’t want ‘em to be all cracked and whatnot when I can finally kiss you again.

“Damn, honey. You sure do clean up nice!” You say.

I chuckle. “Thanks, sweetheart. I’m probably gonna wait and put my cap and gown on till I get over to the auditorium.”

“Oh. Well...you think you could put it on for me real quick? Just so I can see?”

I smile. “Anythin’ for you, doll. Any-fuckin’-thin’ for you.”

I do as you want, and once I’ve got the cap and gown on, you smile.

“There’s my man.” You say.

I pick the phone up, blushing slightly, and hold it so that you can see my face.

“Negan, I really am fuckin’ proud of you.” You say, your voice full of pride and love. “And, I know you said you didn’t want any gifts or anything for graduating, but I’ve got somethin’ for you. You’ll get it later. After the ceremony. Ok?”

“Yes, ma’am. But, all I want is you.” I mumble.

“I know, honey. And, you’ll have me soon ‘nough. I promise.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You give me a small smile. “I’ve got to go now, ok? But, you go out there, and you show ‘em who’s fuckin’ boss. Alright? Do that for me, yeah?”

I nod. “Yes, ma’am.”

“I love you, Negan Alexander Morgan.”

I blush at your use of my full name. “And I love you too, sweetheart. So fuckin’ much.”

You blow me a kiss and I repeat your actions. We say our goodbyes and I lock my phone, setting it on the counter. I place both my palms against the smooth surface, and try hard not to let the tears fall. I gotta be strong. I’ll be seeing you soon. 

I just gotta make it a few more days.

“Negan Alexander Morgan. Bachelor of Arts in Business. Bachelor of Arts in History. Magna Cum Laude. Phi Thetta Kappa.”

As soon as the Dean of the college calls my name, I take a few steps across the stage towards him. Just as I thought, only a few people started clapping for me. Since no one was here to watch me graduate, no one was obligated to clap. The stupid fuckin’ college just had to change the graduation date.

He hands me my diplomas; I grab it using my left hand like I was taught at our graduation meeting last week. I put my right hand out for the handshake I have to do with the Dean but he doesn’t grab my hand. I give him a confused look when his right hand goes up and points in a different direction than he did for everyone in front of me.

I look over in that direction to see something I never thought was possible. In the back of the stadium, I see a familiar Dark Blue color standing out from the rest of the students, who are wearing black and orange. I take a quick glance at the Dean. 

He’s smiling at me and nods toward the direction he pointed at. I slowly walk off the stage and towards that direction. Along with the dark blue Cracker Jacks, I see long beautiful brown hair that I would recognize anywhere.

“Le?” I whisper to myself trying to get a closer look at the figure.

The figure starts walking toward me and I knew in that moment, my love has come home.

“Leigh!” I yell, running in your direction.

We meet halfway down the aisle and I drop my diplomas, wrapping my arms around your waist lifting you in the air. In the background, I can hear everyone clapping but that is the last thing on my mind. I push my face into your neck as I feel a few tears escaping my eyes. 

I feel your arms go around my neck, knocking my cap off my head so it hits the ground with a tiny thud. Your legs wrap around my waist and I use one of my hands to steady you, putting it under your ass. I feel my neck get a little wet. Probably from the tears coming from your eyes, like they’re still coming from mine.

“I missed you so fuckin’ much,” I whisper into your neck, using my other hand to put in your hair.

Your cover falls off as well and I run my fingers through your hair. You pull your head up from my neck and press your lips against mine in a hard kiss.

“Leigh Marie Summers, Chief Petty Officer for the United States Navy, surprising Mr. Negan Morgan after seven months overseas,” The Dean says into his microphone.

I gently put your feet onto the ground and pull you even closer than you were before, if that is even possible. I pull away from the kiss and look deeply into your eyes.

“Surprise,” You whisper, smiling widely.

“You already knew,” I whisper smirking down at you.

“Of course I did, I had a little help.” You say looking over my shoulder at the Dean.

I turn my head and glance at him. He’s just grinning from ear to ear. He nods his head at us, and I can’t help but smile. He helped bring you home to me, and on today of all days. I look back at you.

“When’d you get in?” I ask.

You smirk. “Last night.”

“Last night?! And you didn’t fuckin’ come see me?”

You giggle. “Nope. I wanted to surprise you. I promised you that I’d be here to see you walk across the stage. The Dean called me two days ago and told me that the date had been changed, and offered to help me in anyway he could to make sure I made it here to see you graduate.”

“You certainly surprised me.” I grin, as another thought crosses my mind. “Wait. That’s why you fuckin’ called me this morning, isn’t it? You were already stateside?”

You blush. “Mmhhmm.”

“Well, then, where the hell were you when I gave you that special fuckin’ show?”

You giggle. “I was in our bedroom in our apartment.”

I smile. “That’s why you kept the phone close to your face. You knew I’d recognize our own damn bedroom.”

You nod. “Yep!”

I chuckle. Yes, I live on campus since I’m an RA, but you and I also have our own apartment off campus. When you’re home from deployment, you stay there, and I stay there with you on the nights that I don’t have to be on duty as an RA.

“Please give a round of applause for Leigh Summers, who successfully got her squad safe from active fire and back home where they belong.” The Dean says over the intercom.

I step back a little and look around the room. Everyone is standing up, clapping their hands. I look down at the ground and pick up your Navy issued cap. I step back and put it on your head the way that you taught me to do it, stepping back once more, clapping along with everyone else.

You stand up straight, putting your hands to your sides. You bring your right hand up and salute everyone in the stadium, bring your hand back down to your side. I step closer and kiss your lips once again.

“I’ll see you in a second, doll.” I whisper to you.

You nod and turn around, going to a seat. One of the gentlemen sitting in the front row stops you and offers you his seat. You smile at him and shake his hand, sitting down in said seat. I lean down and pick up my diplomas and my graduation cap and go to the Dean. 

He looks at me confused but I put my hand out to shake his hand. He smiles a little bit and shakes it. I walk back to my seat, putting my cap on my head. I smile to myself and look over my shoulder. You wink at me and I grin. I turn back toward the front. 

I fuckin’ can’t believe you surprised me today. I never thought in a million years that you would come surprise me during graduation. My day has gotten even better, now that I know you’re home safe and with me. Since I was closer to the back of the line, there weren’t many more people behind me.

After about twenty minutes of sitting in these uncomfortable chairs, the last person sits down in their chair.

“Now everyone, please move your tassel to the left side of your cap,” Everyone does so, “Now I want to congratulate everyone who has graduated today. Please stand up and give a round of applause to the Class of 2005!”

Everyone starts clapping and everyone, including me, cheers and throws our caps into the air. When they all fall back down, I hurry and grab mine. I turn quickly and look for you. I see you standing up at the chair you were offered. I walk quickly over to you, wrapping my arms around you once again, pulling you close

“Come on, Graduate. Let’s go get your stuff so we can go home.” You say into my ear.

I nod and I grab your hand, walking out of the stadium toward my dorm room. Along the way, a man walks up to us.

“Excuse me, ma’am.” We both turn to the gentleman. “I just want to say thank you so much for your service to this country.” He puts out his hand.

You just smile and shake his hand, “No thank you is needed, sir. I’m happy to do it.”

Suddenly a group of people walk over to us and start shaking your hand. I notice out of the corner of my eye, a guy I had Algebra with in high school, Rick Grimes. He walks over to us.

“Hello, Negan.” He says.

“Rick,” I say nodding toward him.

“I see you and Le are still together,” He says nodding toward you.

I nod and smirk, “Almost nine years. Whatcha doing here?”

“I’m here to watch Shane graduate today too.”

“Oh, that’s right, Walsh? Right?”

“That’s right,” He says as a little boy runs up to him. A woman following right behind.

“Daddy, I said hi to that nice Navy lady.” The boy says making Rick smile. “She let me take a photo with her! I want to be just like her!”

“Carl, Lori this is Negan. Le and him went to school with me.”

“Hi, Mr. Negan,” ‘Carl’ puts his hand out to me. “My names Carl and I’m 4,” He says putting 4 fingers up on his other hand. Lori just nods.

“Hi, Carl. It’s nice to meet you,” I say shaking his tiny hand.

You walk up and smile, “Hi, Rick. Hi again, Carl.”

You completely look past Rick’s wife.

Rick nods to her and looks back at me, “Nice to see you again.”

“You too,” I say grabbing your hand and we walk back toward my dorm.

When we finally make it there without any interruptions, you glance around the room. You walk to the boxes I have in the room, taking a quick peek. I start packing up the very last of my stuff.

“Hey, baby?” You ask after a few seconds.

I look over. “Mmmhmm?”

“Can I change? This uniform gets really hot.”

I bite my bottom lip as I look you up and down. When my eyes meet yours, a smirk spreads ‘cross my face. You raise an eyebrow at me, lifting your cover off your head, and setting it on the bed.

“What?” You ask.

“Honey, of course your uniform gets really hot. That’s ‘cause you’re wearing it. And, you, sweetheart, you are fuckin’ smokin’ hot.” I say.

You blush. “Oh hush.”

I stop packing and make my way over to you. I place both my hands on your hips and lean down to kiss you.

“I’m only speakin’ the fuckin’ truth, doll.” I murmur against your lips.

“You’re a smooth talker, honey.” You tease.

“You know you love me.”

“Damn straight I do.”

I grin, and help you take your uniform shirt off. I remind myself that I can’t be too rough in taking it off of you. All I wanna do is take your clothes off you, and make sweet love to you. I wanna take my time with you for at least the first time since it’s been so long. 

Once I have your uniform shirt off, I drape it over the edge of my bed. I turn back to you to see you lifting your white undershirt off. I go to say something, but the words get caught in my throat at the sight of you. You tug the shirt off and toss it on the bed. 

I let my eyes rake over your torso, from your belly button up to your collarbone. My gaze stops right above your heart. I take a step closer to you, and gently shove your bra strap to the side, and tug down the cup of the bra. I run my fingers over the skin there, tracing the design of the hammerhead shark you have inked in there. 

I lift my eyes up to look at you, keeping my fingers roaming over the ink.

“When’d you get this?” I ask, quietly.

You smile. “A couple months ago. We stopped off in Italy for a few days, and I decided to get it. I know it’s something we’ve talked ‘bout for a while.”

I grin. “It’s beautiful.”

I pull my hand away from your skin and loosen my tie a wee bit, unbutton the vest, and a few buttons of my shirt. I tug the left side of the fabric to the side. Your eyes drift down to my exposed skin, and you bring your hand up to trace over the ink I have just above my heart. 

You lift your eyes up to mine.

“It’s a penguin.” You whisper.

I smile. “It is. I know it’s your favorite animal, sweetheart. ‘Sides, when we always talked ‘bout getting matching tattoos, we decided we’d get each other’s favorite animals.”

You grin. “When did you get it?”

I pause. “Uh….two months after you got deployed.”

“It’s pretty. I’m surprised I didn’t notice it this mornin’ when we videochatted.”

I chuckle. “Well, if I fuckin’ remember correctly, doll, your eyes were focused on another part of my body.”

You blush. “Hey. Not my fault you put on one hell of a show.”

I laugh. “You started it.”

“Nah uh.”

“Yes uh.”

“Nah uh.”

“Mmhhmm.”

You giggle. “Nope.”

I lean down to kiss you. “Yes. You did.”

“Hmmm...you keep kissing me like that, and I’ll admit to startin’ it.”

I chuckle. “Is that a promise?”

“Don’t start somethin’ you ain’t plannin’ on finishin’.”

I playfully growl. “Oh, honey. I promise you, you’ll be finishin’ ‘fore we leave this damn room.”

“Promises. Promises.” You taunt.

“Oh. I’ll fuckin’ show you promises, sweetheart.”

I take your lips in a passionate kiss, causing you to cling to my shoulders as you moan into the kiss. I curl one arm ‘round your waist, and tug you closer to me as I deepen the kiss. You moan again, which gives my tongue a change to dart in and dance with yours. 

My free hand trails down between our bodies and shove your uniform pants down.

You pull back from the kiss, panting.

“Negan, honey. My boots.” You pant.

I chuckle before I scoop you up and plop you down on my bed. I drop to my knees and tug your boots off you feet. I set ‘em on the floor before I crawl over you on my bed. I place a hand on either side of your head. You shift your legs so that my lower body rests between ‘em. 

You hook a leg over my calves. I do a mock pushup as I lean down to kiss you. You wrap your arms ‘round my neck, and I feel your fingers tangle in my hair. I break the kiss and rest my forehead against yours.

“Did you cum this mornin’?” I ask.

You shake your head. “No. I didn’t have ‘nough time ‘fore I had to head over to the ceremony.”

I nod. “Ok.”

Before you can say another word, I start trailing open-mouthed kisses down your jaw, neck, between your breasts, and down your tummy. I let my tongue dip into your belly button. You arch up against me, and I can’t help but smirk. I tilt my head back so that my eyes meet yours, but I keep my mouth on your skin.

You reach down and tangle your fingers in my hair again and tug roughly. I don’t mind the pain one bit. Not when it means I get to see you like this. I chuckle as you let out another moan and arch your hips towards me.

“Negan. Honey. Please.” You beg.

“Please what, baby girl? Tell daddy what you want.” I tease.

You moan. “Somethin’. Anythin’. YOU!”

I chuckle. “Yes, ma’am.”

I trail one of my hands down your body and hook my fingers in your panties. I give ‘em a gentle tug and pull off your legs. I glance up at you as I nestle myself between your legs, hooking ‘em over my shoulders.

“You sure you want this, sweetheart?” I ask, in a serious tone.

I would never do something that you didn’t want or consent to. I don’t believe in rape or anything similar to it. Your eyes meet mine. You know how I am, so you know that while it may sound like I’m teasing you, I’m actually being completely fuckin’ serious.

“Yes, Negan! I want this.” You say. “Please!”

“Yes, ma’am.” I say before diving in.

I make love to you with my mouth. I alternate between licking, sucking, and kissing your core. You buck your hips against my face, repeatedly, as you pant and tug on my hair. I place one palm against your lower tummy and push you back down against the bed. 

I gently slide my index finger of my other hand inside you. I do so slowly ‘cause I know it’s been awhile for you, and the last thing I wanna do is hurt you. The moment you feel my finger in you, only to the first knuckle, you clench up. I pull my mouth from you and glance up at you.

“Relax, baby. Just relax. I got you.” I assure you.

You nod. “I forgot how big your fingers were, though.”

I chuckle. “I know it’s been a while. That’s why I gotta get you ready.”

You nod and moan as my finger slides in a little further. I latch back onto your clit and focus on making you feel good. Before too long, I’m able to add another finger. I move my fingers in a scissor like motion, and I feel my middle finger brush up against that special spot. 

You buck yours hips against my face, and tighten your grip on my hair the moment it does.

“Oh fuck!” You pant.

I chuckle against your lower lips which has you moaning loudly. It doesn’t take much longer ‘fore I feel you tighten ‘round my fingers, almost painfully. I lift my eyes to look at you again. You’ve got your eyes squeezed shut and your chest’s heaving.

“Let go, baby. Just fuckin’ let go. I got you.” I murmur.

Just like I did earlier with your words, you come undone ‘round my fingers at my words. I smile and keep lapping up your juices. When you finally manage to come down from your high, I push myself up to my knees and gaze down at you. I bring a hand up and wipe your juices from my beard.

You flop back on the mattress with a content look on your face. I chuckle as I lean forward, covering your body with mine. I gently brush my lips against yours and you moan into the kiss. I pull back after a moment and just look at you.

“I forgot what it’s like to taste myself on you.” You mumble.

I laugh. “You taste fuckin’ amazin’, doll.”

You grin. “So do you.”

I groan at your words. I know how much you fuckin’ love going down on me, and every single time, you swallow every last drop. I kiss you once more before pulling away and standing up. If I don’t, I’m liable to take you, right here, on my college mattress, and that’s not what I want at the moment.

I want to take my time with you and enjoy our first time together again in months. You look up at me, pouting, as I start to button my shirt back up and fix my tie. You prop yourself up on your elbows.

“What ‘bout you?” You ask.

“What ‘bout me, baby?” I reply.

“Don’t you wanna cum too?”

I smile. “Of course I do, but I came earlier. Remember?”

“But...after what you just did to me?”

I chuckle. “Sweetheart. You know my two for one rule.”

You blush and nod. “I get to cum twice for every time you do.”

I nod. “Exactly. So, I’ve still got one more time to make you cum to make up for mine this fuckin’ mornin’.”

You blush. I finish buttoning up my vest ‘fore I lean back down over you. I kiss your forehead.

“Besides, doll. I wanna take my fuckin’ time with you later. I don’t wanna fuckin’ rush our first time in months.” I whisper.

You giggle. “Ok.”

I smile as I stand up straight. “You bring any extra clothes with you today?”

Shaking your head you answer my question. I dig through my duffle bag and pull out my baseball jersey and a pair of my sweatpants. I hand ‘em to you as you sit up completely. You slip my jersey on first. It hangs halfway down your thighs once you stand up. 

I just take in the sight of you. My jersey looks damn good on you. All throughout high school, you always wore my jersey to my games; you refused to wear any other shirt to my games. You swore that in my jersey, you were my lucky charm. The one day you had to wear a shirt aside from my jersey, we ended up losing by six runs, and I got hit in the face with a wild pitch.

After that, you always made sure to wear my jersey, and I never argued with you when you said something ‘bout you in my shirt being my good luck charm. Plus, you always looked damned good in it. Lord have mercy. You thought I was sexy in my uniform, but honey, you put me to shame when it came to the sight of you in my baseball jersey.

I always had to pull you back into the bedroom right before we left, but somehow we were never late to any of the games. You made sure of that. I could make love to you before the game, but you made sure we were never late. You stand up and start pulling on the sweatpants. 

They go to fall down but I help you tighten them.

“You ready to go?” You ask, grabbing your uniform folding it, and putting it in my duffle bag.

“Yes, doll.” I smile over at you, putting your cover on your head.