#technically the class it was needed for was only this semester but I started last spring | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rafeandonlyrafe · 7 months

Text

locked in

words: 1.7k

warnings: getting grounded as an adult lol, rafe sneaking in to your house, struggling in school

“dad, this is so unfair!” you shout. “i’m an adult, you can’t ground me!”

“as long as you live under this roof i can do whatever i want.” your dad says, taking your phone and locking it in the safe before shoving they key in his pocket. “you’re lucky that your professor agreed to let you redo your exam. now go up to your room and study for it. i don’t want to see you again until morning.”

“at least let me text rafe-” you begin, but the glare your father gives you says it all. “ugh!” you shout, throwing your hands up and stomping up to your room, slamming the door hard shut. you shove your textbooks off your bed and flop down, letting your angry tears spill.

you knew taking college classes on the mainland was a mistake, but you wanted to make your father proud by being the first one in your family to graduate from college, even if it was just an associates degree from a community college.

you tried to argue that while your dad didn’t have a degree, he still made it, living in a big house on an island, but he argued back that he only made it because he put in hours and hours of manual labor into construction before he moved up the ladder to own his own company.

“so fucking stupid.” you mumble to yourself, rubbing your eyes that are now sore from the tears. you look around your room. maybe your dad was right when he said you’ve been too distracted lately. it was just that things were so good with you and rafe that you wanted to spend all your time with him.

you pick up your textbook and grab your notebook. there’s nothing else better to do and you really do want to pass this exam. you’re only one more semester away from getting your degree, it would be silly to give up now that you’re so close.

you find it slightly easier to concentrate without your phone, but you’re distracted by thoughts of rafe. you wonder how bad he’s worrying about you right now. you didn’t have anything specific planned for tonight, but you always spent as much time together as you could, so it was natural that you saw each other every night.

you get through the couple chapters you need to before setting your textbook to the side, knowing you now have to go through and actually do the assignments that you rushed through and therefore didn’t understand when you were tested on them. you don’t realize how long you’ve been studying until the sun from your window doesn’t illuminate the room enough for you to read the words. you hop up and flick on your light before going to the window, opening it to get some fresh air, feeling trapped in this one box, even though you can technically leave, your dad would just be pissed.

“y/n!”

you look out the window, feeling tears well up in your eyes at rafe standing in your side yard. you wonder how long he’s been waiting. he probably came right over when you didn’t respond within five minutes to one of his texts.

“i got my phone taken away.” you tell rafe.

“fuck, i knew something must have happened and that you weren’t just ignoring me.”

you can’t help but let out a giggle. “never.”

“can i come up?” rafe asks, and you quickly shake your head no. “my dad won’t let you in, plus i have… stuff to do.” “i can help.” rafe says, looking at the lattice leading up to your second story. “and your dad doesn’t have to know.” “rafe, you’ll fall!” you say, but you know once he has an idea in his head that they’re no swaying him. you rush away from the window to lock your door and by the time you return, rafe has already started to climb up. you slide your screen out of the way so once he’s up he can climb in.

“be careful.” you say as rafe’s hands reach your window. he climbs up some more and you help him all the way in, and the second his feet hit your floor, you’re in his arms, his lips against yours. you melt into the kiss, feeling all the stress, anger and anxiety of the last couple hours leave your body. you kiss back, bringing your hands up to his chest, feeling his strong muscles underneath your palms.

“what happened, baby?” rafe asks as he puts the screen of the window back in place for you.

you realize in that moment how embarrassed you are to tell rafe what happened. you avoid talking with him about your studies at all, wanting him to think that you’re smart and sailing through them, when in reality it’s been a struggle.

“i, um… i failed my exam.” you say, moving to sit on your bed to avoid looking rafe in the eye.

“oh, baby, i’m sorry.” rafe says, coming to sit next to you. he wraps an arm around your shoulders, letting you lean against him. he gives you a minute to just be in his presence before he continues, “why didn’t you tell me, love? i could have helped you study.” you let out a sarcastic laugh, “you don’t want to help me study rafe! it’s boring.”

rafe frowns. he takes his arm away and tries to get you to turn and look at him, but you just can’t, you’re too upset, so you keep your head down. rafe slides onto the floor, kneeling in front of you and taking your face in his hands so you have no choice but to look at him.

“i want to help you study, y/n, if that’s what you need to be doing. don’t skip out on school work just for me. i’ll do anything as long as it’s with you, okay?” “i love you.” you tell rafe, relief flooding through your body as you pitch forward, kissing him intensely. your hands slide over his neck, feeling the cords of muscles that run down it, but before you can deepen the kiss further, rafe pulls away.

“i love you too, and that’s why i’m going to help you study.”

you groan and fall back on your bed, but rafe grabs your assignments anyways. you work well as a team, and you find everything so much easier now that rafes here. it makes you regret not letting him help you over the past year when you were silently struggling. you finish up your last homework assignment as rafe makes flashcards for you.

once you’re done you lay down on the bed together, your head in rafes lap as he quizzes you. you struggle at first but keep going through the set of cards until you know the answer before rafe even finishes reading the question.

your flow is suddenly broken by a loud knock on the door. “y/n.” your father says, and your wide eyes meet rafes. “don’t bother. i know he’s in there.”

you sit up and kiss rafe, probably the last time you’ll be able to before he’s kicked out, and head to unlock the door. “he’s helping me study, dad!” you say, not even letting him lecture you. “and i was doing really bad before he got here so please don’t be mad!”

“mr. y/l/n, can i talk to you in the hallway?” rafe asks, and you can tell that your dad is taken aback. he nods in agreement, probably partly in shock at the request, and probably part because your dad is often contracted out by ward cameron, so your dad can’t be that mean to his son.

you look at rafe in confusion as he walks out of your room. he presses a kiss to your forehead and then shuts the door behind him.

you pace your room for a minute before realizing they probably didn’t move too far away, and you press your ear against the wood of the door to just barely make out the conversation.

“you know how much i care about your daughter, mr. y/l/n. i only came here because i was concerned about her. she didn’t tell me she was struggling in school. i hope you believe me when i say that, because if i had any clue that she was going to fail an exam, i would have been the one locking her in her room to study.” rafe says.

“i figured you were the one encouraging her not to.” your dad admits.

“i would never. i can understand now looking back why you would think that though. i love her, sir. i want the best for her, i want her to graduate. i am incredibly serious about our future together and would do everything for my future wife.”

you pull your ear away from the door, covering up your gasp with your hand. future wife. rafe never referred to you as that before. sure, you talked about a future together after you graduated, but nothing like that. you go to sit on your bed, no longer feeling good about listening to the conversation as it feels too personal, even if it is all about you.

it’s only another minute or so before your door opens, and rafe steps inside, shutting it gently behind him as you sit there and wait for him to say something.

“you’re not in trouble anymore.” rafe says, coming over and stroking a hand over your hair, “as long as you pass your exam tomorrow. i’ll drive you that way you can study your flashcards on the way there.” “thank you rafe.” you say, accepting his kiss when he leans down to press one against your lips. “i heard a little bit of your conversation.” you feel weird keeping it a secret.

“oh, yeah?” rafe smirks, “did you hear the part about how i want to marry you one day?”

you nod, a blush coming to your cheeks.

rafe leans down again so you’re face to face, “then you know how serious i am about us, about you. no more keeping your struggles from me. we are in this together.”

342 notes · View notes

skelebellie · 9 months

Text

MIGUELITO

[miguel o’hara x reader drabbles]

[SFW]

warning: slightly saucy? not NSFW but miguel is down bad.

—————————

r/n: am i late to the party? technically, no. i saw atsv opening night and another time. but i’ve just been *hyperfixating* for soooo long that i just now got out of my hole. also, i survived summer semester and the scheduale of college classes is regulating me (i work hard but autism works harder).

anyways im feral for this man in a way concerning to feminism. but its less of a sexual thing and that fact that he is so me fr. anyways, enjoy. (i can’t fix him but i can fuck him)

—————————

miguel o’hara is not a lover into PDA. the last thing he wants is to have jess and peter b. breathing down his neck, teasing him about how hes getting ‘soft’. but in the quaint moments of the night or the rare moments the two of you are in his office together, he can’t help but touch you. a lingering brush against your arm turns incessant, craving the feeling of your soft flesh under his hand. if he could describe you, it would be “home”, and your skin is his hearth. more often than not, you find yourselves both working on separate things, only connected by the grasp miguel has on your hand.

that twink (affectionately) is the worst to sleep with. unconsciously, he wraps his whole body around you, encasing you into a koala-like grip with no room for wiggling. its the way his brain runs while he sleeps, subconsciously afraid that when he wakes up you will be gone. relishing the way your plush body feels against his skin like a cloud.

w/ latine!reader, you try making tamales with him. you wanted to bring some to a group dinner with jess, peter b., and ben. you for sure thought he would be good at it, but he keeps ripping the husks with his claws as he tries to hold it down, ending up in him getting frustrated. you relish him to the duty of watching over the fillings so that they don’t overcook. nonetheless, he sulks until he can get a bite of your cooking.

one more latine!reader, but you make him picadillo when he got sick once and he started sobbing into the soup.

i head cannon that miguel has a physical preference for someone with a little chub or muscle, just something his claws can dig into. so when you come to the training room to catch on some much needed strength training, he can’t look at you. the way your spandex shorts dig into your thighs, causing the fat to bend underneath them, haunts him for days. and dont even get him started when you move and your shorts roll up your thighs. (from a certified thunder thigh homie)

when he has late night missions or stays at HQ until the stars shine, he always feels bad for coming into your shared living quarters. but the alternative was getting yelled at by you for sleeping at HQ. so silently, he tries to sneak into bed and not wake you. but every time his heart blossoms when you roll over, calling for him. “hnng- miggy?” your voice comes out, cracking with exhaustion as you roll over, hand reaching out to search for your personal heater. “sí, mi vida, im right here.” miguel whispers, guiding your hand towards him as he gets under the covers. voice still soft as he tries not to completely wake you up the moment you find his body your scooting closer to him, wrapping your arms comfortably around his waist as you lean your head against his chest, the gentle thump of his heartbeat lulling you back to sleep. in moments like this, he wish he had his phone on him, adoring your sleeping face as his hands run through your scalp.

definitely one of those dads that are like “put that animal back from once it came, we are not keeping it” and then like two hours later you find miguel conked out on the couch with your new pet asleep on his chest.

loves taking photos of you, especially little polaroids. he likes having a reminder that your there, and that the moments between you two are ingrained in pictures.

you start copying his curses. one time you bumped into the corner of the table only to stutter out “hijo de chingada”, only to look up to miguel almost pissing himself with laughter.

miguel o’hara wears socks and slippers in his downtime dont @ me.

#goreguttdrabbles #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara #miguel x you #miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #atsv miguel #spiderman atsv #atsv miguel o’hara #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara x reader #im so delulu for this man he can tear me like ropa vieja

141 notes · View notes

skamenglishsubs · 1 year

Text

Young Royals, Season 3, Give me what I want!

Hopefully wWe're gonna get a third season FUCK YEAH GUYS WOOHOO, and since my predictions for last season were so awesome, here's my predictions for the next one, combined with my personal wishlist:

First up, what I don't want is Wilhelm and Simon having relationship issues. We're done with that, thank you very much. Let them be together the entire season, no reason to force them apart again. Will they/won't they? They will. Move on.

Time-wise, it makes perfect sense for the season to span the rest of the spring semester, culminating in graduation for the third-year students. Or, it could continue into the summer break, although that would remove us from the school setting. Maybe for something epilogue-ish?

Obviously, the show has to deal with the two main drama points that were setup; The fallout from Wilhelm coming out publicly, and the fallout from Sara reporting August to the police.

Wilhelm coming out is fodder for lots of drama, how will the Queen and the court react, how will the press react, how will the people react? I expect paparazzi, newspaper headlines, and more shouting matches over the phone.

If it becomes public knowledge that August leaked the sex tape, that's gonna have repercussions for him at school, and it throws a wrench in the court's plan to make him Wilhelm's backup. Aside from the possible criminal investigation and possible trial, of course. Maybe there's some redemption possible for him here? I wouldn't mind.

Simon is now going to start feeling the weight of royal duty and being in the public eye. Maybe he'll need to move to Hillerska for his own protection and become a boarder. Is he joining Forest Ridge? Can he maybe join a rival house like Sprucewood? That could be some fun drama. But the royal court is also going to want to plan his future, just like Wilhelm's is already planned, I want to see him deal with all those expectations. He might also find out that having a relationship in secret was the easier option.

And what about Rosh and Ayub? There's an excellent opportunity for some class journey drama here, is Simon going to leave them behind? Is he going to be forced to leave them behind? If he's still living at home, is he going to need a bodyguard when riding the bus from school with his friends? Who would win in a fight, Malin or Rosh?

I missed Linda and Micke in season 2. I know there's good reasons for it, but I want more of them in season 3. Both of them are going to be thrust into the public eye having to deal with that, and Micke isn't exactly clean-cut and representative. He might also be dragged into the drug circus because of August, so that's some excellent drama fuel right there.

I don't know what I wish for Sara. Can the show give her a little break perhaps, and not let her be that trigger for lots of drama, please? She deserves some peace and quiet. It would also be kinda funny if she and Simon trade places so that she'll move back home again, while Simon moves to Hillerska. Maybe have her realize how misguided her class aspirations have been?

I want Felice to have more of a plot of her own. She's only been on support duty in season 2, I want her plot from season 1 to come back, let's do something with her parents, her mom is wonderfully terrible!

Simon and Wilhelm have never really been publicly a couple at Hillerska. Everyone knows, sure, but it's always been gossipy and talked about behind their backs. How will everyone deal with it being out in the open? How will this clash with various shitty traditions at Forest Ridge like the on-the-table crap? Are they gonna make both boys get up and confess? That could actually be done in a good, affirming way. I would also love for the school to close ranks and protect the boys from outside prying eyes like paparazzi and shit. That could be an opportunity for the minor characters to shine. And what about the Society? Wilhelm is technically breaking the oath he made when he joined. Will they break or bend?

Alexander needs justice, just get out from under August's thumb, please! Henry can stick to comic relief, he's great at it. Have him interrupt the boys getting busy for once! Stedrika becoming an official item? Not sure if I want it, but maybe? Walter? Madison? Nils?Just keep carrying on, they're great as they are.

But the thing I want most is more Vincent. He is the worst, and I love every second of it. More. Give me more! Be terrible and hilarious all at once!

Finally, can we get some more cute shit with our main couple? I want Simon to sleep over at the castle. Can they wake up together in that big bed of Wilhelm's, please? And let's do a "meet the parents" while we're there. Have Simon join a private family dinner with the royals!

Now give me what I want! 🥰

#young royals #young royals meta #young royals season 3

339 notes · View notes

teaberrii · 1 year

Text

The President’s Delinquent

You and Cyno can’t be more different. He’s Akademiya’s perfect student council president. You’re a labelled, cursed delinquent who changes into a cat for eight hours when kissed. When Cyno gets a complaint about you, he’s forced to take action, only for it to lead to unexpected circumstances.

Cyno/You

Notes: Cross-posted on Ao3

Chapter One: The President's Problem

“Good morning, Cyno!”

“Hiya, prez!”

“Hello, Mr. President!”

No matter how many greetings he gets, Cyno’s expression remains stoic. Still, he gives a curt nod to the students who publicly recognize him as most keep their distance. He's heard the rumours. Some say he’s too intimidating and unapproachable. Others want to “admire from afar,” whatever that means.

Despite Cyno's popularity amongst the teachers and students, when he ran for student council president, no one expected him to win. He’s too quiet, mysterious, and serious, a huge contrast to the other candidates at the time who were charismatic but touting “ridiculous” ideas.

“Keep Akademiya great! Keep Akademiya on top!”

Akademiya has been ranked the top school in the nation for five consecutive years. Still, the empty slogans without any plan for real improvements are, as Cyno calls it, “brainless.”

“There’s something called smiling.” Tighnari, his childhood friend and now Vice-President, had said to him one day. “You should try it. It’ll do wonders for your reputation and campaign.”

But, Cyno never took that advice. Instead, he relied purely on skill and logic. Besides, Cyno's air of mystery adds to his charisma. Not that he would ever admit that out loud.

Just as Cyno turns the corner, an older graduate student bumps into him and says, “Hey. Watch where you’re going." Cyno keeps walking until he feels a hand on his shoulder. “I said to watch where you’re going.”

One of the other students attempts to calm the situation by saying, “... Hey, just leave him alone.”

“He’s the one who bumped into me!”

Cyno still doesn’t turn around. Instead, he brushes the student’s hand off his shoulder without a word. People like this aren’t worth the time. Just then, Cyno glares over his shoulder and dodges the punch that would’ve struck him if it weren’t for his fast reflexes. Cyno swiftly grabs the student's wrist and stops him with his foot.

Then, Cyno finally looks the student in the eyes and says, “Pick your battles wisely.”

It's one of the top-down problems he's noticed at Akademiya. Older students abuse their seniority over younger students, which is why Cyno's position is still controversial. He technically shouldn't be president as he's not in the ranks of the older students. He's not old or experienced enough. Yet, he still won, much to the dismay of the more senior students and teachers.

Cyno lets the student go, and he quickly scrambles to his feet. Then, with one last glare at Cyno, the student leaves with his friends. At least he knows when to back off.

Once Cyno reaches the student council meeting room, he sees his team seated around the table. “... Apologies for being late.”

One of the members smiles at him. “Oh, you’re not late, Mr. President.”

Candace, one of the class representatives, looks at the time. “You’re safe with only a few seconds to spare.”

Tighnari laughs softly. “Do we need to be so picky, Candace?”

“Of course.”

Cyno sits at the front and looks through the agenda. “Let’s get started.”

Soon, ideas about school events and activities are tossed around the room. The conversation eventually leads to a discussion about student and teacher concerns about the school. While the council has already taken care of most of them, one gets Cyno's full attention.

Candace says your name. “Have you heard of her before?”

“She’s in your class, isn’t she, Cyno?” Tighnari asks.

Of course. You’re an infamous figure at the school, after all. After a video of you punching an older student went viral last semester, you’ve been labelled as Akademiya’s black sheep. How did you—someone with a tempter and an attitude like that—get into such a prestigious school? Connections? Bribery? Everyone questioned you, and they're still questioning you.

Everyone except Cyno.

Your name is familiar, but while he's been curious about you, he's never approached you. He has no reason to. Besides, whatever happened in that video is none of his business.

“One of the students has a problem with her,” Candace says.

“How?" Tighnari asks. "She’s, like, never here.”

That’s also one of your greatest mysteries. Cyno’s seen you around but only during exam season. What’s even more baffling is how you score in the top ten every time.

“That’s the problem,” Candace deadpans. “The complaint is how a student like her can attend this school after what happened last semester. Students complain it’s unfair that she gets to"—she does air quotations with her hands as she says—‘show up whenever she likes while everyone else slaves away.'”

“... Sounds more of a personal complaint than anything else,” Tighnari mumbles.

Candace sighs. “Look, I don’t want to deal with this any more than you guys do. But it’s not just one or two people, so we should do something before it gets out of control. It can’t be good for her either.”

Everyone slowly turns to Cyno.

“But...” Tighnari begins, tapping his pen against the table, “What are we supposed to do? We’re also students.”

Candace crosses one leg over the other. “Some want her kicked out.”

“... That’s a little harsh.”

“Er, didn’t she put that guy in the hospital?”

“I thought he died.”

“Okay,” Candace says, stopping all conjectures. “First, I can confirm that the kid didn’t die. He just transferred to another school. And… no one knows what really happened.”

“What about the teachers?” Tighnari asks. “I heard they got involved, but nothing came out of it.”

Cyno doesn't like the sound of this. But is there really no other way to solve this without getting involved? Candace has a point. There are too many unknowns that aren't good for anyone. The students. The school. You. And… him. As much as Cyno wants to, he can't turn a blind eye. It's part of his job to resolve student complaints, no matter how ridiculous they are. And, well, this mystery isn't entirely absurd. At least to Cyno. Something lies sleeping beneath the surface, and maybe Akademiya can make a real change if the beast awakens.

“... I’ll get in touch with her.”

Everyone turns to Cyno again. “Are you sure, Cyno?”

There's a reason why this isn't resolved. Someone has something to hide. And, Cyno has a feeling that it isn't you. Besides, what's the worst that can happen?

“Are you afraid of her, Tighnari?” Cyno asks.

Tighnari and Candance glance at each other. “Well, she did punch someone.”

“I don’t know if she had guts or was just dumb, really,” someone says. “She could’ve gotten hurt if that student fought back. He was twice her size!”

“Let’s refrain from judging, shall we?” Candace asks. Then, she looks at Cyno. “I guess we’ll leave it to you.”

After the meeting ends, Cyno walks toward his next class, but he's coming up with possibilities of how to find you. Then, suddenly, he stops and looks to his right. Maybe it's worth a shot. Cyno slides the door open and enters the teacher's lounge.

“Ah, Cyno, what brings you here?”

“I was hoping you could help me, professor,” Cyno says.

“What do you need?”

“... Information on a student.”

The professor raises a brow. “What kind of information?”

Oh, you know. Her phone number… Maybe an address? Personal information that you won't give out to another student. Cyno clears his throat and says, "The Council's been receiving complaints on a specific student. I've been asked to take care of it."

“Ah… you must be talking about her.” Then, the professor says your name. “Am I right?”

“Yes, that’s her.”

“Is she not at school… again?”

“Well, I haven’t seen her."

The professor sighs. “Honestly, I don’t see why the school keeps her around. Not even taking her studies seriously. What a bad look on the school.”

“To be fair….” Cyno and the professor turn to the male voice that Cyno instantly recognizes. Kaveh, an architect who’s a stand-in for one of the absent teachers this year, walks towards the two. “The student she punched was apparently harassing the juniors.” Oh? Well, this is news to Cyno. “So, maybe she did the school a favour.”

“But it certainly didn’t help her in any way,” the professor says. “Anyway”—he turns to Cyno—“if she’s not at school, I’m afraid I can’t help you.” Then, he glances at his watch. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a class to teach.”

Once he’s out the door, Kaveh looks at Cyno and smiles. “Digging around for a student’s personal information? Not like you at all, Cyno.”

“Save your breath, Kaveh. If you can’t help me.”

“Oh, but maybe I can.” Cyno narrows his eyes as Kaveh continues, “... But for something in return, of course.”

“... Better make this worth my while.”

“I’m substituting for an evening class today, but I have to pick up my dry-cleaning… See what I’m getting at?”

Cyno rolls his eyes. “Dry-cleaning… really?”

Kaveh sighs loudly. “Blame Haitham for breaking the washing machine. Honestly. I’m surprised he managed to live this long without knowing much about how to do daily house chores.”

“Maybe that’s why he allowed you to room with him. It makes sense, after all.”

“... Are you saying his hospitality was a disguise for me to become his housemaid?”

Cyno shrugs. “... Anyway, my answer will depend on how useful your information is.”

“Haitham’s rubbing off on you.” Cyno raises a brow. Kaveh frowns. “Or, maybe it runs in the family.”

“Are you going to give me an answer or not?”

“Okay, okay! Yeesh.” Then, quietly, “At least Haitham’s more patient.” Cyno isn’t amused. He’s not a stranger to people comparing him to his older cousin. They are alike, but perhaps too much so that people are starting to forget Cyno isn’t Alhaitham. “The Red Sand. I’m sure you’ve heard of that place.”

Everyone knows of The Red Sand, but very few step into that area as it’s where gangs frequent. Surprisingly, there hasn’t been any trouble over the last few years. Now, Cyno’s even more curious. What’s a student like you doing in a place like that?

"Saw her with a few big guys over there," Kaveh continues. "Not sure what they're doing, but yeah."

Well, that's not suspicious at all. But, Cyno has to ask, "What were you doing there?"

“Used it as a shortcut, but the most I got were just a few suspicious stares.” Cyno looks at his watch. He’s going to be late for class. “... You’re not really going to go, are you?”

Cyno hasn’t decided. But why does it seem like things are suddenly getting more complicated? “I’ll see.”

As he slides open the door, he’s visibly surprised to see a student on the other side. But it’s not just any student. It’s one he recognizes… as your friend. At least she’s the one who tried to stop the fight between you and that student.

“H-hello, Mr. President!”

“... Cyno is fine.”

“Ah… okay. Hello, Cyno.”

Cyno steps aside to let the female student inside. She steps over the threshold, then turns to him and asks, “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop… but were you talking about Y/N?”

“Oh? Do you know her?” Kaveh asks.

“She’s my friend.”

“Do you know where I might find her?” Cyno asks.

She smiles slightly. “... May I ask why you’re looking for her?”

“There’s something I wish to check with her,” Cyno says.

She slowly nods and says, “Well… I could give you her address.”

“I would appreciate that.”

“Um, let me text you!” Cyno is hesitant, as he doesn’t like to give his number to anybody. But, he reluctantly agrees as it’s the only solid lead he has on you. “Don’t hesitate to ask me anything else!”

Cyno doesn’t answer and walks to class.

◆◆◆

“You got her address? Already?”

“I guess I was lucky,” Cyno says, looking at Tighnari. “... Her friend happened to show up at the teacher’s lounge.”

“Her friend? Who?” That’s a good question. Who is she again? Tighnari scoffs quietly. “Wait. Don’t tell me you don’t even know her name.”

Cyno stops at an intersection. “I’m going this way.”

Tighnari looks in the unfamiliar direction behind his friend. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you? What if she’s actually dangerous?”

"Since when did you offer to come with me?" Tighnari coughs once as Cyno deadpans, "She's a student."

"... A student who hangs out at The Red Sand." Tighnari crosses his arms. "What if—"

"Look, enough with the what-ifs."

To Cyno's surprise, Tighnari smiles. "Y'know, this is the first time I'm seeing you go so far for someone."

"... Excuse me?"

Tighnari shrugs. "You could've asked Candace to handle it. There's always another way, but you accepted it without question." Then, he chuckles. "Don't tell me you're... curious about her?"

"Would you like to handle this then?" Cyno asks. Tighnari quickly shakes his head. "... Yeah, I thought so."

Tighnari smiles sheepishly. “Well, good luck. Let me know how things go!”

And then he’s off.

As Cyno continues on his way alone, he starts getting curious and suspicious stares. The longer Cyno walks, the more he's aware he's getting closer to The Red Sand. Maybe he should turn back. Maybe he should wait for you to show up at school. Maybe—

Then, he stops.

The sound of laughter makes him look toward a small park. A young boy runs up to you and takes your hand. Then, he starts dragging you to the swings, where Cyno overhears him urging you to push him.

“Okay, okay! I’m coming,” you say, smiling.

Once the boy gets comfortable, you give him a hard push, and the boy tells you to push him higher. Dangerous is the last word that comes to mind when Cyno looks at you. Then, he hears someone call your name and watches a burly man approach you.

“Jebrael!”

You stop the swing, and the young boy quickly climbs off into a tall man's arms. Jebrael picks up the young boy and asks, "Miss me, kid?"

“No,” he says cheekily. “I had the best company!”

Jebrael looks at you. “... Thanks for looking after him.”

“What can I say?” you say, ruffling the kid’s hair. “Nothing beats babysitting.”

“Hey! I’m a good kid.”

"Yes, very good," you say as he pouts and narrows his eyes. Then, you lean in to kiss his head, but the young boy gives you an unexpected peck on the cheek.

Cyno's eyes widen as you're suddenly shrouded in smoke, and he almost drops his bag when he sees a silhouette that's nothing close to human. He steps back, almost running into an incoming cyclist who starts ringing his bell like crazy.

Cyno dodges him, but once he turns back, he sees Jebrael, the young boy, and… a small, white cat sitting in the pile of clothes you had just been wearing. Your eyes meet his, and it’s as if your gaze freezes him in place.

What. Just. Happened.

Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four Chapter Twenty-Five Chapter Twenty-Six

Tag List: @suoshiii @lordbugs @lxry-chxn

#cyno x you #cyno x reader #genshin impact #cyno fluff #cyno genshin impact

198 notes · View notes

dkakapizzaboy · 2 years

Text

1:30pm

Category: Fluff (au!office setting!)

Pairing: Seungcheol x fem!reader

Trope: College Rivals Reunited!

Words: 590

Warnings: None I think (please lmk if otherwise!)

A/N: Inspired by the ever so competitive coups we saw in e- triathlon GoSe

As usual, there is no power dynamic, both characters are at the same office level :)

Feedback always helps!

You were really happy when your manager told you that they had hired another person to take off some of your ever increasing workload. He informed you, however, that you'll have to train him for the coming couple of months as his previous company followed different accounting rules than yours so he'll need some help at the start. Your company had just acquired another business. Auditing one company 's books was difficult enough but as your company started expanding through acquisitions, the workload had increased tremendously. So you were really happy with the new hire, because this meant you'll probably start to get off at more reasonable hours soon.

"Funnily enough, he went to the same university as you," your manager mentioned offhandedly.

You thought it would probably someone from a different class but alas, when were gods ever in your favour.

Choi Seungcheol walked in confidently, in a navy blue suit and a deep maroon tie, hair parted sideways.

"Hi, the HR told me you wanted to see me before I start tomorrow." He shook your manager's hand firmly and then turned to you with the intention of shaking your hand as well, didn't really expecting to see a familiar face.

You and Seungcheol were both in the same class. Number 1 and Number 1. Rivals to death. Both of you had topped consistently throughout the semesters, and every time you tied, you'd both feel a tinge of disappointment since you couldn't best the other one. After college, Seungcheol had taken a job abroad, wanting to explore the world whereas you ended up in the top firm of your country.

And now here he stood, in all his suave, time working in his favour as even years later, he only looked more handsome(god really was in his favor).

You plastered the nicest smile you could muster as you greeted him.

"Hi Seungcheol, long time. Didn't know you were back in the country."

Seungcheol couldn't believe his eyes. You were here, in the flesh, his arch rival. He had to admit, over the years abroad, he had gotten bored, with not much competition in the workplace. He used to reminisce the times where he had to pull all nighters and strategically plan his schedule so that you don't leave him behind. He also sometimes remembered some of your bickering fondly , like the time after the last semester ended and you were both in a party, playing beer pong and you were sure he was cheating (it was his teammate Jeonghan actually, so technically he didn't cheat). He had found you so hot that day, clad in a black dress and getting closer and closer to him as you argued. In the end, you had received a call and the argument had ended there, and that was the last time you both saw each other until today.

You explained to your manager how you knew Seungcheol from back in the day as you proceeded to shake his hand, his eyes never leaving your face.

"Great! Then maybe you should join us too, I'm taking him to lunch to welcome him in our team" you manager invited.

"Absolutely sir, never one to refuse free lunch", you joked.

Your manager went to his office to gather his things while you and Seungcheol waited for him as you put your coat back on and took out your purse from the drawer.

"I'll be your trainer for the next couple of months, try not slowing me down too much", you warned, with a fake sweet smile.

Oh how much Seungcheol had missed this fire!

He smirked. The game was on.

#svt fic #svt fluff #scoups x reader #scoups x you #scoups #seventeen #seungcheol fluff #seungcheol drabble #seungcheol scenarios #seungcheol x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen drabbles #choi seungcheol #scoups x y/n #scheduled #svt office romance setting #sam writes svt

148 notes · View notes

aromanticbuck · 9 months

Text

petals, ink, and oil grease... (part 1 of 3)

this is technically part of my august contribution for @yearoftheotpevent, but I don't know when I'll have the other two moodboards up, so enjoy this one for now!

warnings: homophobia, drug use and addiction, depression, attempted suicide

The first time Gregory Gerwitz ever lived away from home was for a sad attempt at furthering his education. He lasted almost two semesters in seemingly endless business courses before the pressure weighed too heavily on his shoulders and he rethought the decision. After dropping out, he stumbled back a few steps, moved back into his childhood bedroom, allowed his mother to drag him to all of the important parties, pretended to be interested in all of her friends' daughters that were marched in front of him as a suitable partner...

He'd already failed at being the perfect son once, and he didn't want to do it again.

But he couldn't keep lying forever, and the truth really did have to come out eventually. Everyone would find out, eventually, that he failed the classes necessary to follow in his father's footsteps, that he didn't have any real interest in the potential wives shown to him every other weekend, that he didn't want to provide a small army of heirs to carry the legacy he was already fumbling. The Gerwitz family business would go to some executive his father had known for years, and the name that had been passed to him wouldn't be passed to anyone else.

Greg thought it would be easy. He could sit down at the breakfast table, the dishes from their meal of pancakes and eggs already cleared away. He could say the words and they'd discuss what that meant, for him, for the family. Maybe he couldn't tell all of Chicago yet, that would create a scandal that no one needed, but he could tell his parents, he could tell the people who loved him the most in the world.

At least, he thought they loved him.

He'd ended up completely alone, pushed out of the only home he'd ever really known, without his parents and their bank accounts to catch him if he fell. He didn't dare touch his own account, not when he didn't know what kind of reaction it would get, and it felt like a pit opened up.

Somehow, he turned to old habits, found someone who could get him the same kinds of pills he used to get through those two semesters of classes. It started so harmlessly, just a few Adderall or a painkiller only slightly stronger than what he might get over the counter at any corner store. It wasn’t supposed to go beyond that at all. But the old ways of coping stopped working, soon enough, and he turned to stronger things. He worked a minimum wage job for the sole purpose of spending every spare penny he had on the next corner, plying himself with anything that might take some of the ache away - but it went so deep, burrowing in his chest and making a home there, so far in that even the strongest stuff couldn’t reach it.

When he took too much, maybe it wasn't quite as accidental as he made it out to be to the doctors in the emergency room. He didn't even really remember how he got there. One minute, he was taking all of the pills still in the bottle he'd bought with the last of his cash, the next, he was surrounded by beeping monitors and bright lights and faces he didn't recognize. It was jarring, and he didn't know how to react when the woman who found him decided to stay and make sure he made it out of the hospital in one piece, or when she told him to meet her at the same drug den she'd found him in a week later.

After three days locked up in Gaffney's psychiatric wing, and a few days getting just enough pills to take the edge off his withdrawals, he did exactly that.

Greg showed up at the same address, silently followed every order to help clean up and distribute fresh soil. She, the woman who had saved his life, Trudy, as he'd been told to call her, not that he had the voice to call her anything at all, mentioned something about fixing up the property. It was going to change from a drug den to a community garden, a place for people to come and tend to their own plants, for children to play safely, they just had to get rid of all the needles and graffiti first. It took time, almost a month of weekends just to make sure all of the sharp things on the ground weren't a danger to any small feet, but they got it cleaned up, and ready to go, and it took until the last of the gravel was laid out for him to realize he'd been clean for over a week.

Not only that, but he'd been sleeping in an actual bed, getting to shower in an actual bathroom, and eating food at an actual dinner table. It was just a temporary thing, or so he'd been told about once a day since Trudy first let him through the front door, and he was going to be out on his own again once he saved up enough money to rent his own apartment. The house, and helping set up the community garden, was just to keep him on his feet until he could get there.

"You know, you will have to talk to me eventually." ... "You have to at least tell me your name. People have to know what to call you." ... "If you're living in my home, I have to call you something. What about Brandon? That's a nice name." ... "Don't make that face at me. You look like a mouse whose cheese just got stolen." ... "Well, until you tell me your name, I guess I'll just have to call you Mouse."

It occurred to him, after a few months, that he never had to hear the name Gregory Gerwitz IV again. He never had to hear his mother scold him for being late or untidy, and he never had to hear his father complain that his decision to drop out of college was going to ruin the family business. He was free of that, and them, and all of the expectations that had been set on his shoulders and since fallen to the wayside. He could do whatever he wanted to do.

By the time summer came around, Mouse, the name he'd happily taken on even after he was comfortable enough to use his words again, was still living in the spare bedroom and accepting homecooked meals every evening, but he was closer to where he wanted to be. He'd gotten to help with the garden more as the weather got nicer, planting berries and vegetables and flowers so that the entire space could spring to life with color. He loved it more than any stupid fundraiser appearance or business meeting he followed his parents into when he was younger, and he was making enough in tips at his job waiting tables to put quite a bit of money in a savings account, and he'd taken business courses, he knew the basics...

…and the little shops down the street were fairly new, with plenty of open spaces. There was even one with an apartment upstairs, with a back room and windows to let in light. It was the perfect first step toward making sure he could surround himself with the things he loved so much forever.

#one chicago #mouse gerwitz #greg gerwitz #greg mouse gerwitz #cpd #chicago pd #alex does moodboards #piaog*#florist!mouse my beloved #i just think he's neat #yotp wip #yotp 2023

18 notes · View notes

0nlythrowharrybeaux · 1 year

Note

Can i send you a request? I’m a classical music student and the end of uni semester is hard 😪 what if Harry was y/n’s instrument teacher (individual classes) and they have a good relationship but he’s really a perfectionist and she’s putting a lot of pressure on herself and one day he tells her a criticism about her piece and she takes it the wrong way and starts crying and have a panic attack in her class ☹️

(Lets make it sweet and fluffy though 😂)

Of course! I actually majored in vocal performance my Freshman year and the pressure got to me and I switched majors lol. It was just so competitive and stressful and a lot of work outside of classes and lessons and sectionals and juries! ANYWAY! I know how hard end of term can be so I'm wishing you all the best! 🫶

After midterms everything just sort of becomes a blur in university, students are frantic to catch up or improve or maintain their grades, professors are suddenly starting to grade all assignments in bulk, and for Y/N particularly, this meant very inconvenient practice times for her end of the year jury practice. The practice rooms were constantly busy and it was hard to find a reasonable time between her other classes to put in some practice. She was really pushing herself to show fast improvement because during her last semester jury she was told that her nerves were coming through. She was only nervous because she was scared she would forget how to play or read music or count. Just normal thoughts from an anxious and panicked brain.

After that feedback though she brainstormed and decided that the only way none of those things would happen would be if she memorized her next jury piece. It had to be a piece that was at least 5 minutes in length, which wasn't a hard feat. She and her faculty advisor, who was also her assigned instrument teacher, Prof. Styles, well he liked to be called Harry, but they had chosen Chopin's Berceuse Op. 57. She had started to learn that piece the year before but for one reason or another they just stopped practicing it for her repertoire, but he suggested it was time to bring it back. It was an opportunity for her to be able to show off her technical skills while also showcasing how freely she could play. Chopin was all about movement and expression, it gave a lot of wiggle room for the pianist's own artistic expression and based on the previous semester's criticism, her own expression was severely lacking.

It was the week before juries now and due to the hectic schedules and end of term assignments Y/N was running on 4 hours of sleep, burnt coffee, and stale pop-tarts as she was rationing her meal points at this point. She was blazing through the campus to make it to her lesson on time and she just made it in, Harry hated tardiness more than anything.

"Just in time. How's it going." he asked as Y/N walked in panting.

"It's going." she huffed as she set her backpack down and dug out her sheet music, though by this point she really didn't need it.

"How's practice been going?" he asked as she settled herself onto the bench.

"Alright, been going 2 to 2 and half hours." she said as stretched her hands back and wiggled her fingers around. She was still breathing heavily, "I warmed up at my dorm before I came over, s'why I was rushing." she said, "I just need to your honest opinion on how this is sounding."

"S'why I'm here, my dear." he assured and she smiled, "Also, please take a minute to catch your breath." he chuckled and she swallowed down thickly and nodded. She closed her eyes and rolled her shoulders back before exhaling slowly, "There you go, nice and relaxed." he encouraged.

Harry was attractive, there was no denying that. He was practically a musical prodigy and his talent was extraordinary. He was the youngest faculty member, he actually started on her first year, so naturally, she got assigned to him for her lessons, a lot of the new kids did. He was stern and serious, but he also let his kindness seep through - he was just so balanced and it made her feel really comfortable around him. He was an excellent instructor and just within a year of them working together for individual lessons her abilities had improved to the point where she was made second chair to accompany the ensembles as her second year. Obviously, there was a senior as first chair, but her being that much younger and being offered second chair was a big deal. She was Harry's best student and that also came with it's own pressure. With him being who he was, it made people scrutinize his pupils even more as they were his living legacy! Y/N stared at the black and white keys before her for a moment before she put her hands in position and the piece took off.

Harry didn't interrupt her once, he let her play it how she had been rehearsing. But he noticed that her gaze was set down at the keys and her eyes were a bit narrowed. Her shoulders tense and it was causing her posture to worsen as time progressed. Yes, she was hitting all of the right notes but what she was displaying visually and emoting was not matching the easy and fluid feeling of the piece she was playing. As soon as she started to wrap up she relaxed a bit more and finished nicely, holding the last note for a few beats before slowly stepping off of the reverb petal.

Y/N exhaled d and turned to him with a big smile. This was the first time she had made it through the whole piece without a little mistake that she noticed or a feeling that her performance was lacking in some capacity. She couldn't really decipher the look on his face, but she just knew it had to be good feedback. She waited eagerly as he stood there, waiting for a few moments, taking it in. Usually speechless meant good - like there were no words.

"Well, I mean you certainly learned the piece." he said and she chuckled.

"I just wanted to make sure that I didn't miss anything. That I just knew when and where things are supposed to happen so that I'm not freaking out like last time." she explained and he hummed.

"How do you think you did?" he asked and she shrugged with some humility.

"I'd say maybe 8.9 or 9 out of 10." she said and his eyebrows raised.

"Oh, OK." he said with some surprise in his voice and immediately her stomach sank. It couldn't be good that he looked shocked at her self-evaluation.

"Was it not that good?" she asked and he licked over his lips.

"It was and it wasn't, technically you're perfect-"

"So then what?" she asked as she started to feel her hands prick with nerves. She swallowed down that awful burning in her chest, that kind when your breath is short.

"You're literally playing it exactly as it's written there in the sheet music. Where's the feeling?"

"Well I'm playing the dynamics like it says there to give it some movement!" she said and he shook his head and sighed.

"Y/N, you're so focused on making it perfect that you've completely thrown out the entire purpose of music. Yes, you would definitely impress any audience with your skill but if you just keep focusing on perfection you'll never be able to move an audience with your music." he said and she doesn't know why that hurt so much coming from him but it did, "Yes, the dynamics there are a guide for the overall tone of the piece, but you're not being vulnerable and showing us what this feels like for you." he critiqued, "The arpeggios should give me the visual of...let's say a butterfly, fluttering it's wings, right now they feel like a wounded bird, you're dragging the tempo and pressing the keys too hard in trying to ensure that you don't miss a note. And you're glissando is also dragged. You know how to do this, Y/N-" he stopped talking when he heard her gasp, almost as if she was about to cry, "Y/N?" he asked and she glanced up to him with tears rolling down her face and her mouth slightly parted and he could see her chest was rising and falling quickly with how shallow her breathing was. "Oh my god." he said grabbing her hands, "Y/N, it's alright." he said as her shallow breathing started to worsen.

"I-Ican'tbreathe." she slurred and he looked into her panicked and tearful eyes trying to decide how he could help.

"Fuck." he whispered as he took in her demeanor, "Y/N, I-i'm gonna hold you, OK." he warned before he just pulled her into his chest and nestled her face into his neck. Her tears and puffs of air were heating and dampening his skin and surely the collar of his shirt but he just wanted her to be OK. Harry had a huge soft spot for Y/N. He's known her since she started here and he'd been able to help her cultivate her gift and she had a talent that he admired. Maybe in wanting to make her the best he pushed her too far? "I'm sorry if I've been pressuring you too much. I just believe in you and your gift so much. I don't want to push you to the point where I'm taking away your feelings for the music. I'm sorry if I have." he said softly as he rubbed at her back. She was starting to calm down, "There you go, darling. Breathe in and out, it's alright." he comforted her, "Breathe with me." he said and she slowly started to sync up her breathing with his own, "That's it." He encouraged her until she had calmed down.

“I’m sorry.” She stammered as she hiccuped on her tears.

“Hey, it’s alright, you don’t have to apologize.” He assured.

“I’ve just been trying so hard and I don’t want to disappoint you or myself or anyone and-“

“Y/N, I’m not disappointed in you. I just want you to remember that being great at something doesn’t mean you have to stop showing your love for it. Show that you’re passionate about your playing! That’s what we want to see, that’s all.” He said with a soft smile and she nodded into his chest before he released her and reared back to look into her eyes, they were already fixed on his own. “You alright?” He asked and she nodded, “Good.” He smiled as he scooted down the bench to give her sufficient space, “I’ll be right here beside you. Again from the top.”

#harry styles #writing #Harry styles Drabble #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot #professor!harry #0nlythrowharrybeaux #harry styles fan fic

27 notes · View notes

mongooseblues · 2 years

Text

Stuffy As In Congested, Not As In Boring

Continuing a joke from a year old drabble. Honestly sometimes I just need to watch Cal be sneezy and a professor simultaneously.

- — - — - — - — - — - — - — - — - — - — - — - —

He’s taken measures to prepare, one of which is sixteen ounces of steaming tea in a reusable cup, another is a ream of tissues in his blazer pocket. It’s visible on him still, the last vestiges of his cold, but only if one were to really look through the perky professionalism, the genuine joy he takes in lecturing. Optimism and excitement do a pretty good job of obscuring the physical details.

But they're there if you look. The skin around his nose bears still the traces of frustration from when he couldn’t help but to swipe or to scratch—a bitter rouge that has yet to fully forgive him his mistreatment. He's technically well rested, but his dark circles are darker than usual, the creases below his eyes more pronounced. Leftover sniffles are easily provoked, so he’s drinking this particular cup of tea as slowly as possible.

He starts the lecture with his usual, “Gooooooood… morning!” wherein the ‘Good,’ is drawn out as long as students are still talking, and the ‘morning’ is an inflection change to cheekiness.

“I hope you all had a nice little break Monday. Apologies if my voice sounds kinda funny—I’m still getting over this cold. That was the main reason I canceled class actually. I didn’t feel too bad, but I sounded ridiculous. My partner was making fun of me for being unable to say…” He clicks a button on a very small remote controlling the projector on the ceiling, and the opening slide of his lecture appears against the massive white wall behind him:

Moral Non-Naturalism, it says.

“Wayyy too many nasal consonants in this particular lecture topic. Didn’t feel like making you all listen to seventy-five minutes of me talking about ‘boral dod-daturalism.’”

Cal pauses while students laugh, and starts again with a smile that’s spread further. “I’m still a liiittle bit congested but I’m gonna do my best to enunciate through it. Moral non-naturalism. Ooh that was pretty good! Way better than yesterday, okay here we go.”

A few minutes into the lecture before he starts to feel like he wants to sneeze, distinguishing between naturalism and reductionism with every intention of keeping it together as long as he can, but the gymnastics of his eyebrows are theatrical enough to be seen from any seat, inconveniently expressive and never affording him anything less than complete transparency. A sudden hike, an inward furrow—he knows he couldn’t hide it even if he wanted to, so Cal will have to be transparent as well.

A thought concludes but doesn’t transition. Instead it trails off as he brings a fist under his nose, and winces against a ticklish breath, but the feeling fades after a moment and he sighs a grateful exhale. “Sorry, thought I was about to sneeze for a second there. That wouldn’t have been good with this thing,” he says, indicating the sound-sensitive lav mic clipped to his shirt collar. “Blow out the speakers, snf! Deafen you guys.”

Cal generally tries not to laugh at his own jokes, but sometimes when they go over well he can’t resist joining in with a quick chuckle. He is particularly fond of this Monday/Wednesday class this semester. There’s been an especially joke-receptive energy here since day one, and it gives him the freedom to get sillier with them.

Only about a paragraph and a half further before the feeling is plaguing him again—a distracting, tickly electricity he knows is rearranging his features into a ridiculous expression somewhere between frustration and dismay.

“What Moore is saying is that any definition of morality put in terms of some natural property is a failure, because naht…”

A question, silently posed by a single twitch of nostrils, meets his executive decision that no he’s good it’s under control keep going, but his even cadence quickly becomes anything but—his voice wavering a little as he speaks, words inflating and floating away from him as he loses his grip on a sentence.

“Because natural properties—rightness, goodness, pleasurableness, et cetera—are halways liable to an oh-hoh—an open question and hokay actually I amabouttosneeze-excuseme—!”

He utters this last part in a speedy, rising panic and hurries to pull the mic from his collar and leave it dangling by the cord—a gasping breath is the last thing it relays before there’s a soft thud of static as it settles farther down his shirt, and Cal throws an arm over his face and lurches into his elbow with such vigor that he stumbles a few steps sideways with the entropy of it.

“DJIISSHHH’hu! Hh-! HehhdJESSHHhue!”

Harsh and percussive and probably still audible even without the assistance of the sound system, and there’s a chorus of bless yous after them both. It’s not the first time he’s been blessed by a class of three hundred and it won’t be the last, but it never fails to find him extremely touched by this synchronized demonstration of their attention and kindness.

“Hoo, thank you thank you,” he says when he picks up the dangling mic, about to clip it back into place when his breath falters (“uh-hih-?”) and his grip on his shirt collar does too, in favor of signaling his class with a shake of his head and the flash of a raised finger and then holding himself in place while he collapses into the other arm to muffle another exclamation.

“Huh-JEHHSHHhoo!”

More chorused blessings afterwards as he emerges from his sleeve with only a hint of sheepishness and a rake of fingers through his hair to untousle the locks he’s tousled loose.

“Thank you!” he says again, committing to clipping the mic back on this time. “I think I’m dwindling down to the final sneezes of this cuh— of this cold, and I’m… I’m trying not to do that agaih-hin, um…” A couple of blinks as he wills himself not to, but it’s on the horizon and blinding him into a forced squint, and that fist-pressed-under-the-nose thing rarely actually works for longer than a few seconds, after which Cal can only shake his head again with a guilty smile and append his sentence; “and failing, sorryonemoretime—”

He wastes too much time with this warning to have a chance to take the mic back off again, so all he can do is put his hand over it, which does quiet him somewhat, in conjunction with burying his nose into the now somewhat dampened fabric of his blazer sleeve—to conspire anew with secret droplets hidden within the weaves of houndstooth—though a desperate vocalization still finds its way through the speakers.

“HAH-DZZIISSSHhyue!”

It seems to get funnier every time, to both Cal and his class, but he does feel his cheeks warm when he hears himself echo through the lecture hall. “Wow excuse me, I am so sorry,” he laughs. “Thank you for your blessings, and your patience. I’m definitely—snff!—I’m almost definitely done now.” A tissue is fished from his pocket and politely employed in a casual swipe beneath his nostrils, resisting how impolitely he’d love to perform this action and issuing a couple of unavoidable, staticky sniffles.

“Now, snffh! back to non-naturalism… oh, uh-oh, that sounds not so great again, hang on,” he says, sniffling sharply and clearing his throat, recalibrating to try again in earnest. “Moral non-nat-goddamnit.”

They laugh, he laughs.

“Moore’s theory is sometimes also referred to as intuitionism… but that’s not much better is it?” he asks, with a chuckle that crackles pointedly toward a cough.

He probably could have used another day to recover, but this won’t set him back any. Cal isn’t the medical kind of doctor, but he has a personal theory that returning to his life, the way it usually is, lends itself to speedier recovery. Maybe it’s because he’s an extrovert, or, admittedly, a little bit addicted to his work. Maybe it’s because he’s fortunate enough to do something he loves for a living. All he knows is that the energy of being here, with his class and their kind patience and their good-natured laughter, has curative properties of its own.

“Okay I think what I might do is give you all a five minute break, snffh! while I go blow my nose a bunch of times or something to try to remedy this. If that doesn’t work, unfortunately you’re just gonna have to listen to a very stuffy lecture—as in congested, I mean! Stuffy as in congested, not as in boring.”

#mongoose writes sometimes #Cal #Cal As Professor #which is a tag I have recently made #I spend more time exploring Cal as person than as professor but #this IS the purpose for which I originally created him ;)#also I have two asks in my inbox I’m not ignoring! I’ll answer asap :)

100 notes · View notes

rosalesbeausderholle · 11 months

Text

I genuinely don't know what's wrong with me, I don't know if it's due to being too much on That Damn Phone TM or some type of ADHD or both or neither but I've been suffering for so many years. At first I thought it was just my depression which made it hard to keep focused (which coincided with my final years in highschool which were the only ones where I really had to spend any extended period of time studying, before that I had enough with half an hour of studying) but then I got better and I still couldn't pay attention to anything anymore.

I am unable to start studying for any subject until it was 10 pm the previous night. It takes two pages to lose my concentration. I am unable to finish a project until 6 a-fucking-m the day it is due. How did I make it through uni with relatively good grades? Who the fuck knows? I spend hours and hours and hours working but 80% of that time is lost because first I have to fight against myself to not let my mind wander. I end up in a panic whenever I have three tasks at the same time. I've tried everything under the sun, every app, every method, every reward system.

This year wasn't the first year I had a job, but it was the first year where I had a job AND studied AND had an internship thing at the same time. I feel like I haven't had a single moment of rest since October. I had to do extra hours to finish my work tasks because I couldn't concentrate on them during work hours, which took time from my university homework hours which took time from my internship hours on and on and on. The last two weeks of last semester I was sleeping 3 hours a night. Working on finishing my papers from 6 am to 3 am, only to barely write anything the whole day because again 80% of the battle is against my brain.

I thought this semester would be different, I only have two classes, my job and my thesis, how bad can it be? Well, here I am, 40 days to handing my thesis in. I still only have 10 pages out of 60 (aiming for 30 this weekend though because I'm delusional and my mom will pay me cash money for it).

And I've gone to different therapists and psychiatrists and they're all like "well it technically can't be ADHD because the difficulties started when you were 16" and yeah technically and I'm sure social media addiction did not help at all but like the only reason the difficulties started when I was 16 was because I never needed to actually study before. Like I could learn everything from one reading because it was easy to me. As for homework, if I could get away with it I did wait until the very last day to do it. The days in which I didn't do that was when I did my homework while my mom (who is a teacher) tutored my cousins so we did all our homework together. Even now I need her to help me stay focused by setting me challenges to finish on time.

I don't know, I hope desperately that with some medicine this would be better, but I'm tired I'm so tired of this being my life, I'm convinced I'll end up having a heart attack just from sheer stress. I don't know what to do anymore.

#liveblogging my life

19 notes · View notes

angelasscribbles · 1 year

Text

Irreparable Choices

Series: American Girl

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairing: Drake x Riley

Rating: MA

Warnings for this chapter: Mature themes, unplanned/unwanted pregnancy. Abortion discussed

Word Count: 2,710

A/N: This is a follow-up to Home for Christmas, which makes it technically a two-shot, not a one-shot. Full disclosure, I have another chapter written which makes it a three-shot well on its way to being another series. What the fuck is wrong with me, I don't need another series.

While the first one explored Riley and Liam's relationship and the ending of it, this one explores Riley and Drake's. This is complete AU, they are normal people living in north Texas. They grew up together and are now trying to navigate adult life and college, but having a hard time severing those ties.

Special shout out to @karahalloway for prereading this and encouraging me to actually post it.

My other stuff: Master List.

Drake Walker was living his dream.

He had left the bowling alley and gone to work for North Texas Auto Repair after finishing his first year of automotive technology classes at the local community college.

He had just started the last semester of his degree program and already had a solid offer of full-time employment from the owner of the auto shop. The guy had given him the part-time job as an apprentice mechanic as a favor to his father, but the offer of a full-time position as a certified automotive technician had been extended because he was good with cars, reliable, and worked his ass off.

Drake had a plan and so far things were right on track.

The only thing missing was her.

“Hey, kid! Walker!”

Drake looked up from under the hood of a 1972 Dodge Charger at the sound of his name.

His boss gestured toward the bay doors of the auto shop, “You have a visitor.”

Drake’s eyes followed the gesture and his heart skipped a beat. He quickly wiped his hands clean and hurried over to her, “Riley? What are you doing here?”

“I need to talk to you.” She chewed her lip nervously.

“Okay, yeah,” he knew something was wrong because it was the middle of January and she was supposed to be at school in California.

“Hey, Bas!” He called across the bay to his boss, “Mind if I take off early tonight?”

“Sure, kid, just don’t make a habit of it.” Bastien didn’t actually mind. It was only thirty minutes early and Drake had never called in sick, asked for a day off or so much as been late in the nine months he’d worked there.

“I won’t!” Drake called over his shoulder as he ushed Riley from the open-air bay into the heated office, “What are you doing here? What’s wrong?”

She shook her head, “I need to talk to you in private!”

Drake glanced at the woman behind the counter, “Meg, would it be all right if we used the break room for a little bit?”

“Sure, no one else is going to need it again today. It’s almost closing time.”

“Thank you, you’re the best!” He told her as he pulled Riley down a hallway and through the breakroom door.

He closed the door behind them then turned to Riley in concern, “Okay, what is it? What’s wrong? Spill!”

Riley paced across the room, twisting her hair around a finger as her mind whirled with all the different variations she’d rehearsed inside her head over the last few days. Finally, she simply blurted out, “I’m pregnant!”

He froze as he struggled to process her words, “Are you sure?”

Frustration pinged through her, “I didn’t just drive for two days across four states on a fucking whim, Drake! I’ve taken six tests! I’m sure!”

“I thought you were on the pill!”

“I was! It obviously failed!”

He slid a hand down his face, “Shit…”

“Yeah, shit!” She agreed.

“Don’t take this the wrong way but…is it mine?”

“Yes, Drake, it’s yours! Again, why the fuck else do you think I drove across four states to get to you?”

“Moral support,” he replied instantly, “which I would give either way.”

“I know it’s yours because I had my period right before I came home for Christmas and I haven’t been with anyone else since and-“

He held his hands up in front of him, “Hey, hey, hey! I believe you! You don’t have to convince me!”

“Are you sure? Because-“

“I’m sure!” he asserted, his voice going softer, “I know you wouldn’t lie to me about something like that.”

“Okay, good,” her anger quelled but she was still in panic mode, “because my whole fucking life is falling apart right now and I don’t know what to do!”

“Okay, okay, it’s going to be okay!” He started pacing as he ran a hand through his hair, his mind spinning looking for solutions.

“How? How the fuck is this going to be okay?” her voice trembled.

He stopped pacing and turned to face her, “I can increase my hours here, or get a second job, I could easily go back to the bowling alley! You could move back home and have the baby!”

“Where are we going to live? Your parent’s garage?” she scoffed.

He held a finger up, “First of all, it’s not a garage anymore, it was converted into a second master suite and it has its own entrance so that is a valid option,” he held up another finger, “Second, I’m only living there while I’m in school so I don’t have to work full time, but I could!”

“Working full time would interfere with your schoolwork, I can’t ask you-“

“You’re not asking, I’m telling you that I only live at home to save money, but-“

“Right, because we’re both broke ass college students, what’s your point?”

“My point is, I can take care of you, Riley!” So many different emotions flooded into his chest that he could barely breathe. But nothing in him wanted to run away from this. From her.

“I’m not asking you to take care of me, Drake and I can’t just drop out of school!”

“Why not?”

“Why not?” she glared at him, “Because if I miss a semester, I’ll lose my scholarship, and if I lose my scholarship I lose my only chance to go to college and get a degree, that’s why not!”

“You don’t need it!” his voice rose, “I’m graduating in three months and I have a full-time job waiting for me here making good money!”

“Drake-“

“I mean it, Riley! My starting salary is almost as much as my dad is making now after twenty-five years on the force!”

“I know, Drake but I don’t want to depend on someone else’s salary!” Angry tears stung her eyes, “I want to finish my degree! I want a career of my own! I want to do things, travel, see the world a little before I settle down!”

“You can still do all those things!” He yelled.

“How?” She yelled back.

He stared into the face of the girl that held his heart in her hands, wondering how she seemed to be so oblivious to that fact.

He drew in a deep breath and tried for calm and reasonable as he said, “You can still follow all your dreams, Riley. They’ll just be delayed a little, that’s all! We can get married, have the baby and when you’re ready, you can enroll in a school closer to home.”

“School costs money-“

“I’ll pay for it!” He insisted.

“We’ve never even talked about a future together, Drake! Marriage…kids…. I don’t even know if you want that! Hell, I don’t even know if I want that! And we sure as hell shouldn’t be getting married just because I got knocked up! That’s no basis for a lasting relationship!”

“Lasting relationship?” he stared at her incredulously, “We’ve known each other our whole lives, Riley!”

“Yeah, as neighbors and friends!”

He was angry and shocked, “You think we’re just friends?”

His anger made her unsure, “Yeah, friends with benefits….”

His mouth fell open in disbelief, “Seriously?”

“Seriously what, Drake?” She exploded, “We get together over Christmas or spring break, hang out, get drunk, have sex, then go back to our respective lives! With very little communication in between, I might add! What am I supposed to think we’re doing here?”

All his resolve to remain calm and collected flew right out the window at that complete mischaracterization of their relationship, “It’s not my fault you spent last summer in fucking Europe with that study abroad program! And don’t think I don’t know that Liam was in Italy at the same time as you!”

“What’s your point?” She snapped.

“My point is that Christmas and spring break aren’t the only times that I bother to see you, they’re the only times that I get to see you, Riley, and I look forward to both of them all year long! Or have you forgotten that I drove all the way to fucking California to spend spring break with you last year?”

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” she relented. Dropping onto the black faux leather couch in the corner of the breakroom she let her head fall into her hands, “I’m just spiraling right now. I know you’re trying to help but we don’t have an actual relationship, Drake. We’re not officially dating, we’ve never discussed a future together and this certainly wasn’t planned!”

His jaw clenched as he considered her words. Nothing she said was untrue. They hadn’t discussed a future together, and they weren’t a couple, but he was in love with her.

Not that he’d ever told her that.

He crossed the room as he spoke, “All of that is true and if you don’t want to have this baby, then I’ll support you but…”

She lifted her head to look at him, “But?”

“But I don’t want you to make a decision without all the facts.” He sat down next to her with a sigh as he skimmed a hand through his hair before confessing, “I’ve never brought up the future or asked you to be official because I’m afraid of the answer.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…You've been very clear about wanting to be free to immerse yourself in the college experience and all the commensurate shenanigans that entails.”

“That was actually Liam’s idea,” she reminded him with a slight smile.

He bumped his shoulder into hers gently, “Yeah, well, you seem to have fully and enthusiastically embraced the concept.”

A small laugh escaped her, “Thanks in part to you.”

“What?” Surprise pulled through him.

“I was heartbroken when he broke up with me you know.” She shifted so her body was facing his.

“I remember…” he unconsciously turned his body a little more toward her.

She placed a hand on his arm, “You helped me through that! If not for you I’d probably still be sulking about it.”

“Great. I was your rebound guy. I knew it!” He joked.

“Ha ha, but yes, you really were. You made me feel something again.” She dropped her hand from his arm and started to turn away.

He reached out and grabbed her hand in both of his, “I’m glad I was able to be there for you, but that’s the other reason I haven’t brought up the future…”

Her eyes searched his, “What do you mean?”

“I mean…I know you’re not over Liam. I know you two still have unfinished business and I know you’ve been with other guys in California,” he released her hand and looked away as he admitted, “I… I didn’t think you wanted anything official, or to talk about a future with me.”

Riley was stunned, “Are you saying you do?”

He shrugged as he met her eyes quickly then looked away again, “Yes, Riley, I do. But I didn’t want to push you. I want kids someday. This is sooner than expected, and if it was any other girl, I’d probably be freaking out right now, but the idea of raising a baby with you isn’t the worst one in the world.”

She felt an unexpected frisson of jealousy coil around her heart, “But there are other girls.”

He turned his gaze back to her with a disbelieving shake of his head, “That’s the part you want to focus on right now? Yes, there have been other girls! Are you telling me you haven’t slept with anyone at Berkeley?”

Her eyes dropped to her lap. She didn’t answer.

“That’s what I thought. But listen,” he put a finger under her chin and tipped her head up, “those girls are friends with benefits. You are so much more to me than that! If you want to have this baby, then I am all in! I’ll do whatever you need me to do to support that, including marrying you and it won’t be just because of the baby. I’ve wanted to marry you since preschool. Remember?”

She laughed as she leaned into him, “You proposed with a ring pop!”

“Damn right I did!” he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer, “It was cherry too, my favorite! I gave you my favorite flavor ring pop, Riley. If that’s not love, I don’t know what is!”

She let herself relax into his embrace, “I’m sorry if I’m being a raging bitch but-“

“You’re fine. I get it. It’s a lot to take in.”

“You may be willing to sacrifice your grades and future, but I’m not. I can’t let you do that for me.”

“It wouldn’t be for you, baby, it would be for us!” His grip around her tightened.

The intensity of emotion in his voice both thrilled and terrified her.

She wasn’t ready.

For any of it.

“I’m sorry, Drake,” she whispered, “I can’t.”

He went completely still for a moment, “Are you sure? Have you thought through every consideration?”

“I’ve had nothing but time to think while I drove across the country.”

His head fell back against the wall as relief and disappointment both crashed through him, “Okay.”

“Okay? You don’t hate me for it?” she asked as her fingers fidgeted with the placket of his shirt.

“I could never hate you,” he leaned forward to place a soft kiss on the top of her head, “for any reason.”

“Okay, good,” her voice hitched a little as tears pooled in her eyes, “I’ll make the appointment when I get back to Berkeley.”

He swallowed back his own tears as he stroked her hair, “Okay. Just tell me when and I’ll be there.”

“What?” She pulled away from him startled, “Oh, no, you don’t have to-“

He shook his head as he reached for her and pulled her back into his chest, “Yes, I do! You didn’t get into this situation alone and you’re not going to deal with the repercussions alone, okay?”

Fresh tears flooded her eyes, this time from relief, gratitude, and the overwhelming feeling of being loved when she felt completely unlovable. She nodded her head, “Okay, I’ll let you know.”

“Good.”

They held each other for a while in silence as they each tried to process the enormity of the situation.

When he finally spoke, his voice was light, his tone teasing, “So, did you drive across four states just to tell me that you don’t want to marry me?”

She laughed through her tears, as she looked up at him, “Stop it!”

He smiled sadly as he wiped the wetness from her cheeks, “Come on, Brooks. Let me buy you dinner and get you home. You must be exhausted.”

“I…can’t go home. What will I tell my parents about why I drove all the way here just to turn around and drive back?”

She hadn’t wanted to tell him on the phone. She had needed to see him, needed to confide in the only other person this affected.

“Okay, leave your car here. We’ll pull it around back, no one will see it. You can come home with me. No one ever comes in my room. You’ll get a good night’s sleep and I’ll take you to breakfast before you head back.”

She knew in that moment that she’d been right to come.

He always made everything better. From scraped knees in preschool to beating up her fifth-grade bully to helping her pick up the broken pieces of her heart after graduation.

“That sounds good, Drake. Thank you… for everything.”

“I don’t know what the hell I did except get you into this predicament,” he scoffed, “but you know I always have your back, right?”

“We got into this predicament together,” she corrected him, “But yeah, I do know, so thank you.”

“Come on,” he stood up and held his hand out to her, “the least I can do is feed you.”

The feel of his hand clasped around hers calmed the raging anxiety that had been gnawing at her since she first suspected she might be pregnant.

She followed him out of the breakroom and out of the shop, hand in hand, feeling more at peace than she had in days.

#trr au #drake walker #college au #the royal romance #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week #angelasscribbles #drake x riley #drake x mc

35 notes · View notes

danidoesntdie · 8 months

Text

One Year On Levothyroxine: Retrospective

Last year in October, I finally went to an endocrinologist and had my hypothyroidism officially diagnosed and was put on a small dose of levothyroxine. Two days later I cried because I could finally feel something other than empty and depressed. Now it's been almost one year since I started this life-changing medicine and I wanted to think back on all the ways it has impacted me in the long term.

During my Junior fall semester of college, I was barely able to move. I was not attending class, not doing my homework, and unable to concentrate. I was basically living with some of my friends in their dorm (which technically wasn't allowed) because I didn't think that I would be able to stay alive if I was on my own for so long (I did not tell them this). At this point, I had been diagnosed with MDD for 8 years. I was tired of good days meaning that I ate and bad days meaning that I'd stand on the side of the road.

Now I've been on medicine that works for a year and I feel like a completely different person. In fact, I feel like I never knew who I was before then. When I was younger, I assumed that I was going to die young and so had no ambitions. Now I can reasonably see myself living for another several years. This was so startling for me. I had all this time and I had no idea what I wanted to do with it. The past year has been a lot about self-discovery.

I started drawing comics last November as a way to cope with the several changes that were happening in my life: dropping out of college, moving into my first apartment alone, working two part-time jobs, and breaking up with my then-boyfriend. I know now that I love drawing comics, and that I don't want to stop anytime soon. I'm hoping that I can share my comics with more people to give them a sad chuckle when things are hard. I want to share what it is like to be depressed so that others can recognize it in themselves and in the ones close to them. This is the first aspiration that I have had for myself in a very long time.

I care more about my appearance. Granted, I'm still not the most hygienic. But I wear more than a T-shirt and khakis every day. I dress up for myself even when the only thing I'm doing that day is going to Walmart. I've learned that I love wearing bold and colorful eyeshadow.

I'm more likely to go out with friends. I'm more likely to make time for my friends. I'm more likely to care about my friends, what they like, their past, etc. That extends to my family as well. I have three different social circles which is way more than I've ever had in my entire life.

I don't shake as much at restaurants. Bright lights don't bother me as much. I eat when I'm hungry and have gained about fifteen pounds. I don't feel as lightheaded anymore. I poop every day (yeah, apparently you're supposed to? Didn't know that before). I have much more energy so I don't need to nap. I can count the number of days that I have spent in bed not moving on my fingers, whereas before I could go for weeks without leaving my room except for food.

I'm happier with myself and more forgiving. I'm moving forward with my life and am wondering still what I want out of it.

Thank you for being a part of it.

#motivation #major depression #hypothyroidism #endocrinology #mdd #retrospective #long post

7 notes · View notes