#I feel obligated to tag everyone due to the last little part | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hellfirehaley · 2 years

Text

Strange Love Chapter 3

CW: drug use (marijuana), language, angst, memory of infidelity.

Word Count: 5.1K

AN: Shoutout to @mvnsoneddie86 for being an amazing human being who supported me throughout my entire writer's block last week.

A few things:

This chapter was originally twice as long but after discussing it with my showrunner (aka my husband); I made the executive decision to cut it in two and edit the second half a little more diligently. So let me know what you think and what you'd like to see. I'll try to have the next part out on time next week (I promise).

I'm not sure who has seen it but I do mini updates throughout the week on my progress under the tag 'Strange Love An Eddie Fic' so it'll be easier to find my ramblings as opposed to digging around for it. There's also a masterlist pinned to my blog if you ever get lost. If there was anything you wanted to tell me you liked or disliked, message me. My DMs are ALWAYS open.

September 21, 1985

School had been in session for a month and you were already stressed from homework and pressure from Mom to participate. You went to one game last night to support Ali and Robin to prove a point. Your mom, temporarily pacified, let you have the girls over today for a girls day/sleepover. You felt you had barely seen them due to band, debate and photo obligations.

You got up around 10 and called both girls asking what they wanted to do today and you all decided on a spa day: deep conditioning or masking your hair, mud facial masks, cucumbers (for the eye bags) . Upon ending the call, you ran up to your room and got dressed in a pair of tights, your Runaways shirt, a red and black flannel that was a little too big for you, grabbed your keys and put on your Converse before running to the grocery store (grabbing cookies, cupcakes, chips, assorted candies and the latest Tiger Beat and Cosmopolitan issues. You also grabbed a new vial of nail polish, wanting to try the new blood red color from Revlon, a green for Robin and another bottle of dye for Ali’s color touchup.

By the time you arrived back at your house, Ali’s Buick was parked out front of your house. You waved at them as you pulled in the driveway, putting it in park. They walked up to the car, pulling up their sleeves ready to help.

“Hey Y/N. Ready for some gossip and girls day?” Robin said chipperly. You giggled and nodded, closing the door behind you. They grabbed the bags and followed you into the house as you unlocked the door.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever. How have you been? Tell me everything!” Ali gushed, walking in and going straight to the kitchen, Norm on her heels. Robin followed behind as you closed the door behind you. You got out all of the bowels as Ali set out the candy and Robin fixed everyone a drink. You really loved having such an unspoken bond with the girls. Not having many friends made you appreciate the ones you did have.

“So Vickie noticed my hair in the band yesterday and I almost choked on my own tongue. She said and I quote “Hey did you do something different to your hair? It looks shinier than normal.” THAN NORMAL? Does that mean that she noticed it before? That she was aware of what my hair normally looks like so she can tell when I do something different?” Robin said, handing each of you a glass of New Coke before pacing the kitchen while she went on.

“I mean do you wanna do something different to it? Wanna tease it or crimp it next time?” you offer trying to help as you took a sip of your own soda

“No, maybe next time I can get some highlights done before the weather drops. I’m sure we will figure out something ladies cause I wanna keep this streak up of Vickie noticing me.” Robin gushed, thinking about her red-haired amore.

“Plus we need to update Ali’s color so that pink really pops for Steeeeeve.” you tease, poking Ali in the side as she swats you away.

“Oh my god stop. You already know he is never gonna see me like that. I’m doing this for myself.” Ali said powerfully as you and Robin applauded her, hyping her up.

“Now we need music.” Robin said, going to the record collection in the dining room. She immediately chose the Escape album from Journey, the sounds of Don’t Stop Believing blasting through your house.

“Just a small town girl living in a lonely world; she took the midnight train going anywhere.” Robin sang as she started dancing towards you two

“Just a city boy, born and raised in South Detroit. Took a midnight train going anywhere” Ali sang, holding Robin’s hand dramatically.

“A singer in a smoky room, a smell of wine and cheap perfume. For a smile, they can share the night. It goes on…” you sang as the other two girls joined in singing the rest in harmony (loudly) while getting the mud mask materials mixed together and cutting up some cucumber slices. It was a cooler day so it was perfect for your masks. You applied Robin’s first since she was always antsy and couldn’t sit still, then Ali’s. Cucumbers in hand, you opened the screen door letting Norm come hang out with you, the sounds of Journey playing faintly on your patio. You set a timer to 15 minutes before you wash off the masks.

“So I like Vickie, Ali likes Steve so that leaves you Y/N. Who do you like this year? Any potential suitors?” Robin asked as you were applying the goopy mess to your face.

“I don’t do crushes ladies, you know that.” you state spreading the thick mix around your nose.

“Yeah yeah we know but we’re talking hypothetical” Ali urged, really curious. You told her everything and she knew your type but wanted to hear it from you.

“Well hypothetically it would be someone who challenges me. Someone who makes me feel like a better person without relying on them constantly. Someone who can make me laugh but also talk to for hours about nothing. Someone who I don’t have to hide who I am from” you admit.

“That sounds amazing Y/N” Robin gushed, taking a drink of her soda.

“Yeah too bad he doesn’t exist in Hawkins so I guess I’ll settle for Patrick Swayze” you say laughing

“You never know, I mean look at how Joyce Byers was with Chief Hopper. They were in the same town for years and then BAM! I mean you saw them holding hands at the 4th of July bash before the Mind Flayer shit happened.” Ali said, recalling a few months ago when Hawkins was (once again) almost destroyed by an interdimensional creature trying to go after your friend. You could only think now of Joyce, who lost the love of her life twice. Once back in November of 1984 when she lost Bob and now losing Jim a few months ago. You don’t blame her at all for packing up the kids and getting the hell out of Hawkins.

“As your best friend, I must say that I approve of whatever is going on with Eddie Munson.” Ali stated, her hand up like a Scout’s Honor.

“Nothing is going on Ali. We’re friends who happen to both be really into music,” you say shrugging.

“That explains why you’ve been listening to a lot more metal than normal.” Ali noted, remembering you picking her up to school listening to Metallica.

“Or I just like metal as you should be aware of” you say laughing.

“Yeah. You like Motley Crue more but you’re going old school and discovering like the foundations” Ali said.

“Maybe but on the other hand ladies, I’ve got Eddie Munson listening to everything but metal and personally that’s a win for everyone,” you say, taking a drink of your soda in satisfaction.

“How the hell did this unorthodox friendship start? It feels like suddenly you guys are thick as thieves, he walks you to your locker after class; you say hi in the halls and lunch. He asks how your day is,” Robin rambles, her inner detective coming out.

“Honestly it was O’Donnell’s class. He was assigned to be my peer editor and he caught me singing ``Smokin In The Boys Room,” you say, remembering back to how his curls moved back and forth with his rhythm, those damned rings, his fingers tapping to the beat. The surprised smirk on his face, maybe a little pride behind it too.

The sound of the alarm startled you from your thoughts of the metalhead as you three headed inside washing off the dried mud mixes off your faces in the tub, using the shower head. Once all three of you were fresh faced, you changed the record over and got started with mixing the color for Ali’s hair. You could hear Ali and Robin arguing about Ali’s feelings for Steve and it was to the point you were about to step in and start matchmaking the hell out of it.

“I give it til Prom and they’ll be together,” you yell, stirring the chemicals trying to get a nice shade of pink.

“Fuck off L/N. We weren’t asking you,” Ali said, appearing before you in an old shirt, stained from previous color sessions.

“You know what Roberts, for that comment, I take it back. I give it til Winter Formal, hell make it Christmas. Final answer.” you state, putting on some rubber gloves as Ali sits down.

“You’re horrible Y/N” Ali whined as Robin started to section out Ali’s hair.

“Duh that’s why I’m your best friend Ali” you laugh, satisfied with the pink bowl before you.

“Plus it’s cute how you don’t see how Steve is when you’re not around” Robin said, smirking like a madwoman

“WHAT” Ali yelped, trying to face Robin

“He’s a mess dude. Always wondering what you’re doing or what you’d think of a new release at work. He’s in DEEP. Like way worse than he was with Wheeler” Robin said, remembering him freaking out over his picks for Movie Night last month. Ali couldn't fight the blush on her cheeks.

“Yeah and he’s always asking me what you prefer- I mean remember when we went to the Sunrise Diner last week and he sent your food back because it had condiments on it and he knows you HATE that” you said.

“Okay smartass. Then how do I break that barrier if you two single bitches have it ALL figured out,” Ali said, frustrated by her conflicting feelings.

“Well he likes your boobies so you could start by showing them off next time we hang out,” Robin said giggling as she put some pink on Ali’s roots.

“What?!” Ali said, surprised.

“Oh yeah! Wear that striped off the shoulder sweater you have. Your boobs like AHMAYZING in that” you say, working on your own section of her hair.

“It’s like 2 sizes too small Y/N” Ali says.

“Exactly!” you say, twisting the strand up with your other finished strands “Robin back me up here as our resident Boob Expert” Before she had the chance, your doorbell rang. The girls looked at you confused since you weren’t expecting company.

“You invite anyone over?” Ali said, confused as the three of you looked at each other like confused chickens.

“Not that I can remember,’ you say as the doorbell goes off again. You take off your gloves, tossing them into the trash. Norm was barking his ass off by the time you got to the door, petting him gently, soothing the dog as you opened the door.

To say you were surprised to see Eddie Munson was an understatement. He was wearing a stressed out Iron Maiden shirt, ripped jeans and his Reeboks. His hair was wind blown and damn…he looked good.

“Eddie…hi…” you say, surprised. What was he doing here? You didn’t remember making plans with him.

“Hey Y/N.” Eddie said, smiling as he took in your appearance. You looked so comfortable and at home.

“What are you uh…doing here? Not to be rude but I wasn’t expecting more company,” you say nervously. You then realize your outfit and blush.

“Well, according to my schedule, you ordered a delivery m’lady.” Eddie said smiling. You felt like a ton of bricks dropped on your head. You DID make plans with Eddie today and completely forgot. You’re never one to double book yourself.

“Oh god Eddie I'm so sorry I forgot. Ali and Robin came over for a girls day and I totally spaced it. Here come on in,” you say, opening the door to let him in. Eddie followed you but not far as Norm jumped up on him, tail wagging.

“Aw this must be Norm. Hey buddy,” Eddie said, getting down to Norm’s level, indulging the dog in pets and rubs. You look over at the girls who are watching the ENTIRE thing with Robin mouthing “Oh My God” slowly.

“Yep, that's Norm. He’s the best boy,” you coo at him while his tail thumps harder at the sound of your voice.

“Told you I’d meet him someday” he teased, scratching the dog’s belly, earning a round of quick foot kicking. It was amazing how Norm was so happy with Eddie; it took Norm months to warm up to men.

“Guess you were right Munson” you say, looking over at the girls for help on what to do as you went to get the money for Eddie.

“So what are your plans today Eddie?” Robin yelled, taking your cue. Eddie’s head snapped up at Robin’s voice, temporarily forgetting they weren’t alone.

“Uh…was just gonna drop off this delivery for Y/N then probably go back home,” Eddie admitted, shrugging.

“You should join us!” Robin yelled from her spot above Ali.

“Yeah we’re having a beauty day and no offense, Munson, but those curls NEED a deep condition,” Ali gushed, already thinking about getting her hands on those curls and the look on Y/N’s face when she spends time with Eddie.

“Oh no no no, I couldn’t impose on your day ladies,” Eddie said, trying to protest but they were having none of it. Y/N had changed over the last few weeks and it was nice to see the old her back. If Eddie was the source of it, they weren’t about to let him leave.

“Oh no Munson, we insist,” Ali stated, her tone similar to the one you had used during the photo shoot. Eddie knew he was stuck. It was 2 against 1 but he didn’t wanna make it weird for you in your own home.

“I don’t wanna make it awkward for you girls. You don’t have to worry about me,” Eddie tried again.

“Oh please. Y/N would love to have you join us. Besides, Steve is coming after his shift so you won’t be the only guy for too long,” Robin added. Eddie pondered it; I mean he didn’t have any other plans for the day and he did like hanging out with Y/N.

“Sure I’m in. How can I be of assistance?” Eddie asks, standing up and walking towards the kitchen.

“Y/N and I were putting color in Ali’s hair so grab some gloves,” Robin tries

“Ohhhh no. Noooo way. I’ve got a better idea. Eddie can DJ for us but no super heavy metal Munson. Plus he can roll for us while we do your nails.” Ali stated matter of factly.

“Aye aye Captain,” Eddie saluted, sitting himself at the counter by the kitchen. You returned downstairs and found them all seated.

“So here’s the $20 for the sack,” you say, walking over to him.

“Oh it’s $15 cause the ladies over here offered me a sweet deal I couldn’t pass up,” Eddie said, winking at Robin and Ali. You were so confused like you had missed something.

“Oh? Well I’ve only got a 20 so call it a tip for the delivery fee and an apology for me neglecting our scheduled appointment,” you say, still missing something; like why Eddie wasn’t already almost out the door. Not that you were complaining but you were definitely out of the loop.

“Much appreciated L/N but unnecessary. I’ll get you back tomorrow,” Eddie said, opening his black pail just like he had 2 weeks prior. At this point, you weren’t gonna question it and grabbed a fresh pair of gloves.

“Thanks Eddie” you say anything as you get more dye on the brush once again going back to your task.

“No problem and again, ladies, thank you for the invitation and let me apologize for crashing your day,” Eddie said, grabbing two papers from his pack.

“Oh please Eddie, Steve usually ends up crashing anyways so don’t sweat it.” Robin said.

So THAT’S why. Those sneaky little minxes playing Cupid, you thought.

“So ladies. What’s the first album you’d like to hear? What are we feeling?” Eddie asked, grinding up some bud between his fingers.

“Ooh that mixtape Y/N made last month. Oh it was so good,” Ali said, already hype.

“Oh? And where might that be?” Eddie inquired, feeling out of his element here.

“In the cassette player by the record player in the dining room. Just make sure you turn off the record player before you turn on the cassette player,” you say, working on Ali’s hair, not able to move.

Eddie got up and went to the indicated spot. He did as instructed, turning off the record player before going to the cassette player. He opened it and checked the tape. Sure enough, it was a tape labeled “Girls Night Remix💙🦋🦋 “ decorated in hearts and blue butterflies. He rewound it until he heard the click and pressed play. The house immediately flooded with the flourish of a piano and vocals. You three immediately yelled in excitement, harmonizing before breaking into Dancing Queen. Eddie took his seat and watched as you girls danced and sang, completely free. He tried to focus on rolling those joints but his eyes were trained on Y/N, how she moved when a certain lyric hit, how concentrated she was on making sure Ali’s hair looked good. How you giggle at Robin’s joke. Sure he had moments with you but this was like seeing you at your fullest potential.

“What do you think Eddie?” Ali asked, breaking his concentration. He hadn’t been paying attention and he was caught.

“Uh sorry what? I uh got super into the song and zoned out,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. They all laughed at his response “What was the question?”

“Nothing, nothing, never mind.” Robin laughed. Clearly he had missed something; probably some inside joke they had between them. They finished up Ali’s hair into a grocery bag (which Eddie thought was the weirdest shit he had seen in a minute)

“So would you ladies like a break?” He says,offering up a joint he had ready to go.

“God yes,” Ali said, feeling the restlessness from sitting for over 30 minutes.

“We can go to my room but we have to–” you started to say

“Light the incense and candles. We know Y/N.” Robin said, rolling her eyes. They know you too well but you didn’t need Eddie knowing your micro mannerisms.

“Lead the way,” Eddie said, grabbing the joint and his lunch pail. You led them upstairs to your room, the second to the right. Your room was clean apart from a thing or two out of place like yesterday’s sleepwear. Robin and Ali got right to work opening the windows and lighting the candles, which gave Eddie time to look around your room. Immediately when you walk in, you’re greeted by a gigantic poster of luscious red lips with a man in lingerie sitting on them with the title Rocky Horror Picture Show in bloody print. By it were posters of Motley Crue, Kiss, AC/DC, Led Zeppelin and a few bands Eddie didn’t recognize. On the opposing wall was a poster of Stevie Nicks, holding her tambourine to her face, fabric falling in front of her face. There was a vanity mirror below the poster with a dark haired celebrity posing like he was mysterious. For some reason, Eddie felt a pang of jealousy. But why? You were friends. So what? He had Heavy Metal magazines out when you were over and you said nothing (Thank God!). There was a pale delicate fabric draping over your dresser, your vanity and bookshelf, which fit Eddie’s “ethereal” theory about you.

“Shit; my lighter’s out. Hey Eddie, can I borrow yours?” Y/N asked, standing on the opposite side of the room. Eddie made his way over, fishing out his lighter as he crossed to her.

“Of course m’lady. Here you are,” Eddie said, without even thinking. It had become his little name for you but you didn’t mind honestly. You take it from him, fingers touching. It sent an electric current through you, like nothing you had felt before. It makes your heart beat faster, your breath hitch slightly. Your touch lingered a few seconds before you pulled away.

“Thanks Eds,” you say smiling before turning towards your dresser. He noted that you had a lot of different types of crystals there but they were more shiny; more clean and colorful. You lit the incense and waited a moment for the end to cherry before blowing it out.

Robin and Ali watched the entire interaction from their spots on your desk chair and bean bag chair, looking between the two of you and each other.

“M’lady?” Robin mouthed, shocked

“Eds?” Ali retorted.

“We have to do something,” Robin said as Ali gave her a thumbs up. Y/N sat on the bed as Eddie followed her. He lit the joint and took his turn.

“What should we watch tonight?” Robin asked after a minute, taking her hit before passing it to Ali.

“Hmmm good question. I definitely wanna watch Sixteen Candles again” Ali said, taking the joint and bringing it to her lips.

“Steve will probably wanna see some Tom Cruise movie so buckle up for that shocker,” Robin said to Eddie.

“We could go see Back to the Future and watch Robin and Steve try to explain the plot AGAIN,” you say laughing.

“What about you Eddie? What kind of movies are you into?” Robin asked as he inhaled.

“I’m more of a horror fan or like science fiction or fantasy,” Eddie admitted as he passed the joint to Y/N.

“Would we completely reject the idea of Rocky Horror tonight?” Y/N asked, blowing out her hit.

“You saying you wanna Time Warp again Y/N” Ali asked laughing.

“Absolutely!” Y/N said, joining in.

“Have you seen it before Eddie?” Ali asked, curiously.

“Nope. I’ve only recently heard of it,” Eddie said, smiling as he looked at Y/N for a moment.

“Alright that settles it. Sixteen Candles, Rocky Horror, Steve’s choice and whatever our guest would like to watch,” Robin stated as they finished the joint.

“Why don’t you and Y/N go get the movies while I do Robin’s manicure?” Ali offered “I don’t want you to get bored out of your mind.”

“Yeah? Sure if that’s alright with Y/N” Eddie said, looking at you as you nodded.

“Excellent, so meet back up in like 45 minutes.” Robin said, getting up with Ali following suit.

“I just need to grab some cash then we can go,” Y/N said, going to her bookshelf. Eddie looked at the titles from afar and recognized some Tolkien, King, most of the “required” reads from the curriculum and some of those sappy romance novels. That immediately piqued Eddie’s interest. Part of him was dying to know what you looked like reading one; getting sheepish at a particularly steamy scene.

Eddie shook his head, not wanting to go there NOW. He stood up, putting his hands in his pockets. “Do we need anything else while we are out?” Eddie asked.

“Umm just tell Steve he’s getting dinner” Ali said

“Yes! Pizza!” Robin chirped.

“Any requests ladies? Cheese? Pepperoni?”

“Both!” the girls said in unison

“Alright I’ve got everything. Are you ready?” you ask, grabbing your denim shoulder bag, slinging it over your shoulder.

“Yep. I’ll drive since you let me so graciously crash your day,” Eddie said, extending his arm for you to lead which you did.

“45 minutes KIDS!” Robin yelled as you and Eddie exited the door.

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

The drive to Family Video was full of you and Eddie jamming out to his mixtape, even getting an exclusive haunting cover of Fever out of him. You felt so free with Eddie; like all the barriers you had built had shattered when he came around. You could be your full self around him without having to filter a part here and there because it didn’t fit his “scene”. Eddie accepted you for you.

He parked right next to Steve’s car burgundy BMW, the sounds of a Motley Crue chorus blasting as he shut the car off. You got out of the van and Eddie raced to the door, opening it for you.

“Why thank you kind sir,” you say walking in. Eddie followed suit, the bell ringing behind him. Steve was with another customer, trying to help her choose between two movies so you immediately made your way to the Comedy section, trying to get to the S portion.

“So how did you and Harrington become friends?” Eddie asked. He kept trying to picture it but it was too weird.

“It was a little before his breakup with Nance. He uh–gave me some really good advice at a party last year and helped me when I felt lower than dirt. Been friends ever since. When he and Nancy were donezo and he stopped caring about the King Steve reputation, he and Ali got close because of the kids we all look after,” you explain, grabbing Sixteen Candles, “He and I really became close, close friends because of Dustin. We’re both hyper parental over the shitheads and try our best to keep them in linee. It was actually Steve’s terrible Ewok impression,” you recall laughing.

“You mean AWESOME” a voice said to the side of you. There stood Steve Harrington, hands crossed over his chest in defense, his striped polo under his dark green vest crinkled slightly by this action.

“Absolutely not. 0 out of 10 stars Steve.” you joke.

“I thought you were having a girls day since I’m covering Robin’s shift today.” Steve said, looking between you and Eddie, wondering what he was missing. He was told by Ali last week that they would be doing this and even gave Steve the week off from picking up/dropping off the shitheads. So why was Y/N here with Eddie Munson?

“Robin and Ali are working on Robin’s manicure so they sent us to the store to grab movies. Speaking of which, we need Rocky Horror.” you say as Steve groaned.

“Again Y/N? You know how I feel about musicals” Steve said, going to the drama section.

“Shut it Harrington. You’re lucky we’re letting you choose a movie at all tonight,” you warned laughing.He returned successfully with the tape in hand, turning towards Eddie.

“So how did you get roped into this?” Steve quizzed, curious about Eddie’s presence still as the longer haired boy was browsing the horror films.

“Came to deliver a package to Miss Y/N but the ladies insisted I stay for movie night and help play music while they do their thing” Eddie recalled. Steve had no idea what Robin and Ali had up their sleeves but he did know that he wanted nothing to do with it but he did wanna know what you were doing with Eddie.

“Alright then,” Steve said, now wondering what they were up to.

“Also you’re buying pizza tonight,” Y/N said, browsing for a copy of Animal House.

“Wait what? Who?” Steve said, not in the mood to be roped into any shenanigans.

“Aliiiiiii. Consider it a part of your payback for babysitting duties,” you say grabbing the desired VHS tape. You knew Steve liked Ali but was too bruised to try anything and you were sick of it.

“Ugh fine. The usual?” Steve said, rubbing between his eyebrows to mask the blush at her name. But when he looked up, he noticed something else. You and Eddie walked up to the counter and you were eying the candies, putting your nail between your lips. Eddie watched you pick up one candy before going to another, taking time to really debate your choice of sweets. Eddie sat the tapes on the counter and waited, grabbing the $20 you gave him earlier and sliding it on the counter towards Steve.

“Movies and candy are on me Harrington.” Eddie said, smiling as you decided on M&Ms and Reese’s Pieces “Couldn’t decide?” he pondered at you.

“It’s so hard to choose between a classic chocolate or the best combo of peanut butter and chocolate.” you whine while putting the candy on the counter. Eddie laughed at your childish reaction, finding it adorable.

Steve gave back his change and watched them, noting Y/N brushing her hair behind her ear shyly and Eddie watching over her like a hawk. Steve had always felt protective over Y/N. She really helped him come out of his breakup with Nancy and he did the same for her last year when she got her heart shattered by Rob: the douchebag who used to hang out with him during his King Steve days. Rob worshipped Steve so Steve thought nothing of it when Rob and Y/N started dating. They were together a year until Halloween 1984. There was a big party; Steve was at the end of his relationship with Nancy but Y/N and Ali were there too. You were both dressed up like slutty witches and were fine at first. After Nancy got wasted and fought with Steve that night, he went to find you and Ali to talk about everything but that wasn’t what he found. Instead, he found you crying by the bonfire alone. He sat next to you and learned everything, How you found Rob balls deep in his chemistry partner Misty Norwood after swearing for months they were friends. Apparently he had been going on the entire time and you felt so blind, so stupid, foolish even. You punched him in the face then and there; Steve noted your bloodied knuckles. He took you and Ali back to his house and you guys had been friends ever since, Steve becoming the real big brother you need.

“I’m off at 5 tonight so I’ll be over after I pick up the pizzas okay Y/N?” Steve asked, looking at Eddie still, watching his every move.

“Yeah of course Steve. You know you’re always welcome.” Y/N said, smiling as she gathered up her goodies, putting them in her bag.

“Alright. I’ll see you guys later then,” Steve said as Eddie grabbed the stack of tapes. Steve watched as Eddie raced to the door to open it for you, thanking him and going to the GMC G2500 Gaucho with Eddie opening your door yet again, waiting on you to get comfortable before going to his side, a little more pep in his step. Steve could already tell he would be seeing more of Eddie Munson with his dear friend.

So what do we think? I know it’s not as long as promised but I am working on chapter four right now so I’m curious: what movie did Eddie choose? How will that play out? Send me what movies you think😉

Taglist: @realeddiemunsonstandup @eddies-blunt @scooprtroopr @sharkbaitouhaha @bobbiewritesstuff @eveieforeve02 @awkwardlioness @apublicnotebook @madaboutmunson2 @grungegrrrl @riffcrusader @stardustworlds @sunflowerharrington

#strange love an eddie fic #haley talks shit #haley writes shit #haley writes fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson slow burn #fic recs

36 notes · View notes

melishade · 1 year

Note

So before their reunion with Optimus, I would like to hear your thoughts on Wheeljack and Arcee. What made you choose them for Attack on Prime?

Oh boy, this is going to be a long one.

Because the world was expanding for the people of Paradis, and me adding the energon serum as a powerful factor, I knew that I wanted to introduce other Cybertronians to help even the odds. I was a little hesitant to do so after Megatron until I knew what was in the basement. Now I do and here we are.

One part of the decision making came to who was still around by the end of TFP. So Dreadwing, Breakdown, Cliffjumper were off the table. Airachnid, I intentionally had Megatron kill her off in my story to tie up that loose end.

Soundwave would have been an interesting one. He definitely would have been a 3rd party trying to screw everyone over, but I had no idea how to get him out of another dimension on a different planet to Earth. Shockwave...I don't know, that psycho kind of just dipped. I don't even know where he went, and he was only in the series for 12 episodes I think. He was a stock villain; he served his purpose.

Now part two of the decision making, this was ultimately the most important one: who would be the most likely to leave Cybertron? Cybertron is in a state of peace. The war is over; survivors can go home. So the question is now: who'd want to leave a life of peace?

Ultra Magnus was off the table simply due to his position. Even after he recovered from his injuries from the Predacons, he's still the highest ranking Autobot there. He has to help lead Cybertron into a new age.

Ratchet is also off the table due to more emotional reasons. Ratchet loves Cybertron. He loves his home. To see him want to stay on Earth in Deadlock was surprising. But after the events of Unicron and Optimus dying, Ratchet would no doubt feel more obligated to stay on Cybertron to aide with morale and process his grief.

Bumblebee is also a no. I don't know if this is canon or fanon, but it is said that Bumblebee was the last spark out of the Well before Primus completely shut down due to the war. Bumblebee has known war all his life, and I think he would want to know what peace on Cybertron is like. (Also his characterization in RID2015 was horrid).

Bulkhead would have to help with reconstruction efforts, so he wouldn't be able to leave due to his role in helping rebuild Cybertron.

Knockout is quite vain, and does what he must to survive. If he stays with the winning team, he'll have safety and security. So he's out. (Also, he'd probably stay just to find a way to honor his conjux, Breakdown.)

And Smokescreen I feel would be a similar case to Bumblebee, as in he's quite young and would like to go back to a life of peace.

I guess the Predacons would have a reason to leave, simply because they wouldn't be welcomed and instead feared. But I'd think that the Predacons would stay on Cybertron due to basic animal instincts: they have shelter and food. Why would they leave to scavenge across the starts.

I've mentioned before that I was scrapping the RID2015, because the writing was bad and Starscream killing the Predacons was such bullshit. Speaking of Starscream, he would definitely have the biggest reason to leave, but since I'm scrapping RID2015, and the last we saw of Starscream was him being cornered by the Predacons...well...you can do the math.

Which leaves us with Wheeljack and Arcee. Wheeljack throughout the show has never been known to stay in one location for too long. He has a habit of drifting, leaving, going off on his own. I'd think he'd leave Cybertron to see what was out there and also aid in guiding Autobots and Decepticons back home to Cybertron.

As to why Arcee tagged along, well I personally think that Arcee wouldn't be able to handle a life of peace on Cybertron due to how long she's been at war. Sure, she received substantial character development in the show, but that was during a war, and her character development was about taking revenge. Now that she's settled on Cybertron, I think a life of peace would...bother her to say the least for multiple reasons, and that would ultimately cause her to go with Wheeljack off-world.

Now, as to the full reason as to why Arcee and Wheeljack left, and what exactly is going on on Cybertron, that will be an OVA, published way later. That OVA is in the PM529 Environmental Health Doc. And that was the document I just finished a month or two ago. But again, if you have any other questions, I'd be more than happy to answer them.

#asks #send me asks #attack on prime #attack on titan #aot #snk #transformers #tf #tfp #transformers prime #crossover #ao3 #fanfic #author thoughts

10 notes · View notes

warsmith-38 · 3 years

Link

I now put an end to my thoughts on this matter. Hope everyone who read it enjoyed it and if you didn’t I honestly don’t care. I hope this made you think at least a little about story elements and what does and doesn’t work. And if you’re upset that I said mean words then accept that fact that people might not like your comfort brand.

1 note · View note

rkived · 3 years

Text

━ CHASING PAVEMENTS 04 │ JJK

↳ PAIRING: dad!jk/married!jk/bff!jk x reader

↳ GENRE/TAGS: f2l, angst, unrequited feelings, cheating, future smut

↳ WARNINGS: (for this chapter) angst as per usual what’s new, jk is sad, reader is sad, sunhi is sad, everyone’s just SAD

↳ RATING: (for this chapter) PG

↳ WORD COUNT: 4k

↳ SYNOPSIS: Jungkook’s been feeling a little weird lately. Maybe it’s got something to do with his crumbling marriage and the way you seem to care for his daughter more than his own wife.

↳ A/N: ehem let’s pretend like i didn’t ghost this story for like half a year aha i’ve written more than this for cp but i decided to just divide it and leave the juicy stuff for the last chapter !! sorry for making u wait so long </3 anyway hope u enjoy still n i’ll see u in a couple months for the final chapter of cp!! (i’m jking…..or am i?)

01 02 03 04 05 (coming soon)

Minji thinks you’re starting to get better.

Well, she hopes you are because it’s been two months since you broke the news on her and anyone would think that’d it be long forgotten by now. She tries to stop as often as she can to check up on you, even though you assure her that you’re fine and that a simple text would suffice instead of having her come over every day in between.

Which is why she’s unsure if giving you the invitation Jungkook had handed her about two weeks ago was a good idea, considering that it’s been a few days since you had last even mentioned him to her like you usually did before. In fact, today you look like you’re at peace for the very first time.

‘‘I did yoga!’’ You explain when she mentions that you look different, ‘‘I still can’t face going back to Namjoon’s class, but I remember a ton of positions he taught us!’’

Minji has to force herself to smile, her hand lingers inside the purse she’s carrying as her fingers fiddle with the cardstock paper waiting patiently to be handed.

‘‘And then I stopped for some yogurt at the place down the─’’

‘‘I need to give this to you,’’ Minji stops your ramble and you’re taken aback by how urgent her voice sounds, very unlike her. ‘‘I promised I’d get this to you, so…’’

You’re about to ask her what she’s on about when she abruptly hands what you could make out to be a colorful piece of paper. Your eyebrows furrowed at the sight, completely confused until it suddenly hit you what it is that your friend’s talking about.

‘‘How did you─?’’

Minji gives you half a smile and shakes her hand so you can take the card instead of just staring at it, ‘‘Just─take it.’’

Your hand reaches out to grab it from her and your eyes quickly focus on the unicorn and sparkles themed birthday invite. It reads that it’s Sunhi’s birthday and that you are invited! You recognize the handwriting that filled the party’s information details, you always thought he had really nice penmanship.

‘‘I think you should go,’’ Minji’s voice sounds like she’s faraway, but she’s just a few feet away from you, ‘‘for Sunhi.’’

You’re still staring at the invitation, memorizing every single detail. There’s so many unicorns, when did she start liking the mythical creature? She had never mentioned a liking towards them to you ever. You assume it must’ve happened during these few months of your absence.

How many moments have you missed? How many unanswered questions must Sunhi have by now? How many new toys has she had to wait to show you? How many kindergarten stories has she been saving to tell you?

You’ve been counting. Sixty days have passed since you last saw Sunhi. It’s been seven Fridays since you last had her in your arms.

Sixty days and seven Fridays since you kissed Jungkook. Fifty-nine days since you blocked him.

Minji is still waiting for any sort of reaction from you. You’re stoically analyzing the piece of paper and she wonders what is it that you’re thinking or feeling. Is it good, bad or all in one? Whatever it is, her small deed is done.

‘‘Y/N?’’ She calls out, you slowly nod and take your eyes from the invitation from the first time since she gave it to you. ‘‘Do you mind if I go? I have some stuff to─’’

A small gasp escapes your lips, ‘‘Yes Minji, of course!’’ Your friend smiles slightly and you proceed to escort her out your apartment. She actually doesn’t have anything to do, but she thinks it’s best if you get some space to take everything in.

Minji notices how you’re still holding on to the birthday invite and she has to suppress a chuckle because she knows you’re most likely doing this absentmindedly.

Before you’re able to thank her for coming, she stops you to say one last thing. ‘‘If you don’t want to go, then don’t,’’ she begins and your eyebrows raise at your friend’s comment. ‘‘Whatever it is that you decide on doing, I’ll support you either way,’’ Minji offers you a genuine smile and you can’t help but hug her tightly.

You’re alone again. Loneliness has come in waves as of lately. You’ve lived alone for years now, you’re used to being the only person present in your apartment ─ but that fact hasn’t felt more obvious than since you shunned Jungkook out.

Good days eventually turn sour. The times where it seems like you can go on about your life without thinking about him and what he might be up to quickly change because your mind makes you feel bad about feeling good.

Why did you cut him off knowing his daughter idolizes you like no other? Why did you selfishly decide to block him when you could’ve just talked it out? Why didn’t you stop him that night if you knew things would change between you two? Why did you let him kiss you knowing it was going to hurt in the end?

You know Sunhi’s fourth birthday is coming up. It’s one of those dates you can’t simply forget, it comes naturally to you. You had settled with the idea that you weren’t going to be invited this time around, it would’ve been okay since you think it’s what you deserve anyway. If Jungkook had taken you off the guest list, he was in his total right to do so.

You want to be mad at him right now.

Why would he invite you? Why couldn’t he just leave things the way they were? You wish you were angry, but you’re not. You feel slightly comforted with the fact that he had decided to include you even with everything that went down. In fact, not inviting you would’ve been selfish knowing that Sunhi must want you there.

And if the invitation wasn’t enough of a sign that you should go, two days ago you got an email that the gift you had preordered for Sunhi some time ago was on its way to your place. Just in time for her birthday party.

That’s life for you.

You’re quick to remind yourself of Minji’s last words to you. You’re not obligated to go and if you don’t want to, then you don’t have to. But you’d be lying if you said that because you really want to go, but there’s still some things that are holding you back. Your brain starts breaking down the pros and cons of going.

The pros: You’d get to see Sunhi again, who you missed terribly and a tiny part of you was wishing that she didn’t hate you for suddenly leaving. It’s too much to ask for, but you do hope that Jungkook had come up with something instead of telling her upfront that you had left.

The cons: You’d have to see Jungkook. Having to face the awkwardness of knowing you had blocked his number, prohibiting him from contacting you and discussing what happened like adults would do.

Oh, and you’d see Jiwoo too and pretend like you didn’t have any romantic feelings for her husband.

Whatever decision it is, you’d only have two days to decide.

Jungkook smiled warmly as he looked at Sunhi twirling in her green and purple dress in front of the long length mirror in his bedroom. Ever since he got the garment in the mail, he had to hide it from her curious hands because if it were up to her she’d be wearing it day and night.

‘‘Daddy, I look so cute!’’ Sunhi said with an excited tone, hopping in her place. The tull of her skirt followed her movements, making the glittery details sparkle brightly caused by the natural sunlight slipping through the curtain cracks.

He chuckled, ‘‘You do, Pumpkin, but you need to settle down.’’ Jungkook placed his hands on her tiny shoulders, making his daughter’s bouncing cease. ‘‘You gotta be fully energized for the party, alright?’’ She nodded quickly, but he could still feel the excitement radiate from her.

‘‘Gramma will do my braid, daddy.’’ Sunhi let him know once she noticed her father take a brush in his hand. The little girl much rather have her hair tangled in knots than having him attempt to do any sort of hairstyles on her.

Jungkook pouts, but nods understanding. He’s thankful that his parents had made the trip from Busan this year. He knows his mother knew he would have a hard time setting everything up by himself this time around. His parents would normally miss Sunhi’s parties due to the distance, but he’d make it up to them by visiting the following weekend and doing a smaller gathering at their house instead.

Things feel different. One could say that this time, everything is exactly where it should be. Sunhi’s growing older, his parents are here and not far away like usual, Jiwoo’s no longer in the picture, he’s picking back up the things that used to make him happy. There’s just a missing piece that doesn’t allow him to declare the puzzle’s finished.

And his daughter hasn’t really been helpful in allowing him to forget about it either.

‘‘Daddy, is Auntie Y/N going to come?’’ She asked for what seemed the thousandth time that week alone. The younger girl only wanted to make sure you’re coming even though her father had reassured her that you might be making an appearance.

Jungkook hummed, pursing his lips together, ‘‘Well, I don’t know if Auntie Y/N will manage to catch her flight in time for your party, but hopefully she’ll come,’’ he painfully lied and Sunhi nodded with a pout, she was hoping she’d get a different answer this time around, but still settles with her father’s explanation.

Ever since you left, it had been part of her daily routine to ask about you and your whereabouts. Jungkook hated lying to his daughter, but he knew that even if he were to explain the ending of your friendship, she wouldn’t be able to understand. He had foolishly hoped that after telling her, repeatedly, that you had been out of the country because of your job, Sunhi would get the clue that you showing up at her birthday party was very unlikely.

He can’t blame her because he’s also been hoping that you’ll show up for whatever reason. Jungkook’s aware that Minji had made no promises of you attending, but that little bit of faith he still had, clung onto you tightly.

He’s let go of so many things recently, but he refuses to add you to that painful list.

‘‘I miss Auntie Y/N,’’ Sunhi mumbled to herself, but Jungkook heard her clearly and his heart shattered at the longing in his daughter’s voice.

That’s why he’s relieved that she’s now running around the yard with her friends from the kindergarten she attends, screaming in glee as they all chase each other around the grass. The PinkFong playlist he had put together earlier that week has been a hit with the children, who danced and sang along to the lyrics; although some parents might’ve gotten tired of hearing the infantile music after a while. Jungkook himself is part of the people who much rather listen to something else, but it’s worth it if it means he catches Sunhi humming along to the tunes every once in a while.

Having to entertain the parents has taken his mind off of knowing you’re not there. The party started two hours ago and you’re never late for anything, especially his daughter’s birthday celebrations. He’s settling with the idea that you’re no longer coming while he dabbles in serving food and refilling drinks, all the while having to make conversation with the parents of the invited kids.

He can feel just how bad they feel for him, the word’s gotten around the PTA committee that he’s in the process of divorcing while taking full custody of his daughter.

‘‘Jungkook, how are you doing?’’ One of the invited moms asked him with a tactful tone, accompanied by a gentle smile that made him feel like a child for a mere moment. With a smile that could put anyone’s worries at ease, Jungkook assured her ─and the rest of the worrying mothers─ that he was doing just fine.

It’s Sunhi’s day, it’s her party, a few more hours and you can cry all about it when she’s sleeping, had become his mantra as the party goes on.

‘‘What’s with the long face?’’ His mother suddenly asks him after he finishes placing the candles on Sunhi’s unicorn themed cake.

Jungkook furrows his brows, ‘‘The unicorn’s face looks pretty alright to me,’’ he comments looking at the fondant shaped mythical creature at the top of the cake.

Mrs. Jeon rolls her eyes, shaking her head slightly at his son’s obliviousness, ‘‘I’m talking about your long face. Is everything alright?’’ She asks in genuine concern, making him sigh as he scratches the back of his neck. ‘‘It’s not because of Jiwoo, right?’’ The woman cautiously asks, afraid the mention of her son’s ex partner might be too sensitive.

The news of the divorce had surprised his parents, but they weren’t completely heartbroken about it. They had known her for years, but it had never been a close relationship at that. His mother had made a couple of comments here and there before concerning his ex partner’s behavior, but were always overlooked by Jungkook.

Jungkook’s eyebrows raise in surprise and he quickly shakes his head no, ‘‘I’m fine, mom. I’m just kinda tired.’’

For someone who hates lying, he’s been doing it a lot recently.

His mother doesn’t seem so sure about his answer, but decides not to interrogate him any further since she knows her son has been dealing with too much recently and she didn’t want to add her nagging to the list.

Eventually the party guests all sing happy birthday to Sunhi as she sits behind her cake clapping alongside them, mumbling the famous song as she waits for everyone to finish so she can blow the four candles out and make a wish. She closes her eyes with force, putting her hands together as the guests watch her silently mouth words out.

‘‘What did you wish for, Sunhi?’’ One of the kids excitedly asks her, fingers curling around her arm as he waits for her to answer.

Sunhi hmphs and turns her face away from him, ‘‘If I say it out loud it won’t come true!’’

Jungkook can only hope his daughter had asked for something he’s able to buy. The newest Barbie doll, a trip to the zoo, that pretty tutu she saw at the store. Anything that is at arm’s reach from him to give her. But Jungkook knows his daughter all too well, those things don’t really matter to her right now.

Sunhi’s wish is something he can’t obtain ─ someone that’s no longer a call away from him. His daughter doesn’t know, but he’s wished for the same thing too.

You to come back.

The small pieces of confetti on the ground, paper decorations pasted on the wall and hanging from the ceiling of the house are enough to give away that a party had happened the day before, and that someone had been too tired by the end of it to even attempt to clean up.

Even the thought of having to deal with all of the mess that his living room currently looks like is already making Jungkook regret not accepting his mother’s willingness to help after the party had ended yesterday, assuring her that she had done enough that day and that it was only fair he took care of the cleaning.

Sunhi’s birthday had gone smoothly for the most part.

And as Jungkook scrolls through his phone’s gallery, smiling warmly at the small clips he managed to capture of his gleeful daughter running around the yard with her friends and the multitude of pictures his mother took of her blowing the candles of the cake out, granted, majority of them blurry, he is reminded that, although the party had been a success, the aftermath hadn’t been as pretty.

The party was over when he started hearing the first goodbyes and thankful comments of the parents for inviting them over, wishing Sunhi a final happy birthday before they took their sleepy kids in their arms. He had hoped his daughter would be drained too, despite the amount of sugar she had a few hours before.

‘‘Auntie Y/N didn’t come.’’ Sunhi had stated, a pout on her trembling lips as she looked up at her tired father. ‘‘Why didn’t she come?’’ She asked in genuine curiosity as her eyes started glossing with tears.

Jungkook sighed, ‘‘Pumpkin, I told you she’s not in town. I’m sorry she─’’ It didn’t matter what excuse he had given her, the waterworks had begun. He hadn’t seen his daughter cry like that in a long time and for a moment, he didn’t know what to do to get her to stop.

Even if he tried to coax her with distractions, like the number of gifts she had received from the guests or telling her he’d let her have another slice of cake if she stopped crying. He knew that what his daughter wanted wasn’t toys or food. She wanted you. And as much as Jungkook wants you just as much, he’s lost on ways to make you come back.

Sunhi cried for what seemed like hours, his parents had even tried to cheer the little girl up by promising to take her to their house the very next morning for the rest of the weekend, to which she merely nodded as she fell asleep from exhaustion on her father’s chest.

He envied her as he remained awake for most of the night, tears streaming down his face as guilt ate him away for his daughter’s heartbreak.

It’s his fault after all.

Jungkook isn’t upset you didn’t show up, you didn’t have to. Not even Sunhi could make you come back. Selfishly kissing you that night had changed the course of your relationship forever and that meant that his daughter would have to pay for his wrongdoings.

With the absence of Sunhi, he’s reminded of just how big his house feels when he’s by himself. Ever since Jiwoo moved out, the only company he’s had is that of his daughter and it’s more than enough. With her dancing around the hallways and singing songs to the top of her lungs, Jungkook doesn’t feel as lonely.

He must’ve missed the knocking at the door or the ringing doorbell ─if there even was one─ because of the earphones he had on while he swept the confetti paper scattered on the hardwood floor of his home because by the time he opens his door to get a run around the neighborhood, he notices there’s a gift placed in his front doorstep.

Jungkook’s brows furrow with confusion, unsure of why it was there in the first place. He’s sure Sunhi had opened all of her gifts last night, lazily and not very excited about them after her big cry, but she had made sure to leave them all unwrapped.

The medium-sized box is wrapped with a white and pink polka-dot paper, a cute golden ribbon placed right in the middle of it. Jungkook picks it up, bringing it closer for better inspection. Maybe it was from one of the kids that couldn’t make it? Although, they could’ve just gave it to Sunhi when they saw her at school again.

His eyes widen and his heartbeat races up when he reads the sticker tag with the name of the person responsible for the gift.

‘‘To: Sunhi ♡

From: Auntie Y/N’’

His eyes scan the tag over and over again, just to make sure he’s reading the name correctly. When he manages to take his attention away from it, he looks around the street in hopes that he’d find you.

How long has this been out here? Could he have caught a glimpse of you had he been less distracted?

Although it feels wrong to open his daughter’s gift without her consent, he feels the urgent need to peek at what’s inside. His mind even tries to reason with himself, telling him it’s probably only a doll or a clothing item, like the other gifts Sunhi had received from the birthday guests yesterday.

With a click of his tongue, he forgoes doing the right thing and tells himself that he’ll just wrap the gift again before Sunhi comes back from his parent’s house.

The cute wrapping paper is thrown over his shoulder carelessly as he quickly unveils a white cardboard box, tilting his head slightly at what could possibly be inside. When he takes the top off, a soft gasp escapes his lips.

A pink and white digital camera aimed for children lies inside, there’s decorative paper placed around it and a note inside. Jungkook swallows the lump in his throat, taking it delicately in his hand as he reads the words written in the familiar handwriting that hasn’t changed from all those years back in college.

‘‘Happy 4th birthday, Sunhi! Since you’re growing older, I wanted to gift you something different this year around. Your daddy loves taking videos and I thought you should start doing it too, maybe he’ll pick his camera back up again haha. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to see you blow your candles out, I hope all your wishes come true! I love you and miss you so much,

-Auntie Y/N’’

Jungkook blinks back the tears that had formed in the corners of his eyes. He places the note back inside the box and breathes in deeply, exhaling slowly as he stares at the gift. No one but you could come up with an idea like this. It hurts him, but he smiles slightly at your thoughtfulness.

A different feeling arises inside him as he holds the gift in his hand, looking at it like this is the sign he had been sent from above. The last thread of his string of faith. He doesn’t even think twice, placing the gift gently inside and rushing to step outside to close the door.

He’ll go on that run, just not around his neighborhood.

As he runs past rows of houses and stores, the voice inside his head tries to tell him that he should think rationally. There’s a reason why you didn’t show up yesterday and another for you dropping the gift in front of his house without a sound. You don’t want to see him and yet he’s running straight towards you even if he knows this is hopeless.

He manages to shut that voice off as he maintains his rapid pace, rushing past the rows of buildings he’s familiar with and the street names he’s memorized by now. It all feels so different when he’s not behind the wheel, he usually always has to depend on his GPS to help him reach places. Your address, though, is one he proudly knows by heart.

As Jungkook stands outside your apartment building, he stares at it with the sound of his heart drumming inside his ears. Catching his breath, he’s reminded of the many times these past few months he’s been here, with Sunhi fast asleep in her car seat at the back.

He always pictured going up, knocking at your door, and begging for forgiveness, all for you to turn him down in the end with a gut-wrenching I don’t want you in my life anymore and a door closing on his face. That’s why he always drove away, deciding that uncertainty is better than hearing you reject him.

This time, though, nervous and unsure as he usually is when he comes here, Jungkook breathes in deep and ignores the familiar knot formed inside his stomach.

He decides that uncertainty isn’t a feeling he wishes upon you.

#heartsforbts #bangtanhq #btswritingcafe #btswriterscollective #btsghostie #jungkook fic #jungkook angst #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook scenario #jungkook fluff #jungkook imagine

841 notes · View notes

vergess · 3 years

Text

@autismserenity said: Your tags are the most American thing I’ve ever read, we are truly so screwed here

May I interest you in a more complete, and more excruciating, explanation of what I spent the last 18 months doing?

It is, I need to emphasize, fucking nasty. Don’t feel obligated, especiallly if you’ve already had A Day(tm).

There’s a lot of disease, a lot of worker abuse including sexual and racial abuse, a fine portion of letting people die for not being white enough for real medical care, all leading to homelessness.

For NDA reasons, because my former employer was just as vile as any tech company has ever been, I cannot be super specific about who I worked for. However, I can say that we handled the records and patient contact for all COVID testing for several states, as well as 2 of the 5 largest metros in the US, and several dozen smaller ones ranging from the approximate population of San Francisco, down to little towns, as well as the testing for several public school systems and at least two government agencies that I am not at liberty to disclose.

I tell you this for a sense of scale. When I say shit like, “my boss was more than happy to let thousands or hundreds of thousands die” I am not exagerrating for effect. We handled hundreds of thousands of tests a week.

Again, I need to emphasize, government agencies. Ones you would know if I named them. Ones everyone in the country knows.

And we were in charge of getting their test results from the already over swamped labs back to the patients, who often were not allowed to quarantine while awaiting results.

The fastest we got our turnaround time to on any consistent basis was about 30 hours. Often it ballooned well into weeks.

There were a number of factors for this, but the big one was always understaffing.

The staff we did have were treated like trash. One of the big selling points of this company is how “trans friendly” it is to work there. That is a lie. Every trans employee on payroll had their dead name displayed to all other staff, and until I personally changed the system setup on my arrival, patient facing trans people’s dead names were displayed to patients.

Remember that thing about “hundreds of thousands of tests a week”?

I was able to change the way patient-facing names were displayed. I was not allowed or able to alter the way internal systems displayed trans people’s names. But I was assured that it’s fine, because once you get a legal name change, you’ll be given new system accounts with your new name!

Your old accounts with your dead name would still be displayed and associated with the new ones though.

This is the “trans friendly” working environment. We were allowed to be out of the closet, as long as we were willing to put up with that. And any attempts to get it altered were the result of those nasty little transgender ingrates not being thankful enough.

Meaning that by asking to use our own fucking names we were already in the disciplinary shitter.

Another big selling point is the ~racial diversity~. The CEO was a man of colour, and so were like four other people on staff!! Wow!!!!!!!

This, too, was laughable.

Once numbers started coming in about the care gap for COVID between English and Spanish speakers, and our Southwestern US service area began to have a separate and brutal backlog just of Spanish speaking patients, my employer encouraged me to interview potential hires who speak spanish.

Fair enough! We all wanted to do our part to help close the already massive mortality gap.

So, I found candidates, did interviews, hired them, trained them, etc. But I don’t speak Spanish. As a result, I appointed 2 assistant managers who do speak Spanish to assist me in managing, you know, like the job name.

So when my super contacted them directly, completely skipping me on the chain of command, and told them to stop all of our Spanish speakers from translating helpful simple messages to send to patients, and instead start translating medical and legal documents, they very reasonably assumed I was in the know and went ahead with it.

TO BE CLEAR, that could have ended my life, theirs, basically everyone involved. Everyone in the company would have been completely fucked. At that point, my subordinates, the people for whom I am wholly responsible, were doing everything from practicing medicine without licenses, to encouraging spanish speaking patients to enter contracts that no one on the fucking executive tier could even read.

The moment I found that out, I and the A.M.s immediately started trying to get actual medical translation services to do our documents. We collected them in a neat folder. We queried translation services. We got quotes. We contacted my super and the CEO, about this over and over again for months. In the late autumn, we received approval for one of the translation services.

The CEO decided at the last minute that having people with no medical or legal training draft medical and legal forms was fine and good actually, and refused to sign the contract or send the documents for translation.

The excuse I received was that the COVID emergency HIPAA relaxations would protect us.

That’s not how that works.

Throughout all of this, Spanish speaking employees were told to either keep doing medical and legal translation work, or lose their jobs.

Oh, did I mention everyone was working between 30 and 80 hours a week, and all of us were marked as “contractors” so the employer could tax evade? Don’t worry, we filed complaints with the labour bureau.

So the entire department was let go, and “rehired” as temps through a temp agency, which because it was a temp agency could keep them marked as contractors regardless of the facts.

This change was presented to all of us, myself included, as the company getting a new accountant to handle payroll.

So if you’re keeping score, we’ve covered racism, queerphobia, medical negligence, fraud, and a frankly uncountable number of deaths.

Let’s talk about the sheer negligence towards employees ourselves. If you’ve worked in near-death medical care before, or any number of emergency services really, you know that the standard benefit suite includes either a dedicated therapist for your staff, or access to peer support groups with other emergency and medical servants through your employer’s benefits program.

Do you know what our mental health benefits were for this company?

The CEO got on a fucking zoom call with us all one (1) time, and said that if we were feeling suicidal or traumatized by the work, to talk to him about it, and he would be our therapist.

Do you know how many people per fucking day we had to contact only to be told they had already died because our understaffing delays killed them? He doesn’t. He never listened when we told him.

But let me put the cherry on the “Oh baby, you can talk to me, oooh” sundae.

Anyone who “looked” or “sounded” female, regardless of actual or assigned gender, was subject to constant flirtations and slimy, overly personal compliments about our appearances. Fortunately, at 3 levels removed from the CEO (Executives > Department heads > Managers > Employees), most of the people under my management had relatively little contact with him.

I was not nearly so lucky.

The CEO of this company has a watersports (urination) fetish. I know this, because he told me so and attempted to get me to join him in it. I have no idea how many other people in the company he did this to. I mean, what the fuck was I supposed to do, risk losing my job to find out? I have a fucking family to support, people.

Not that it mattered.

Eventually, all of these abuses became too much for my subordinates. Productivity fell off a cliff. Delays were getting worse and worse. In a medical emergency like this, delays=deaths.

So, like a fucking idiot, when the department heads reached out to me to ask what they could do to improve productivity, I shot down their frankly insulting suggestion of raffling a $20 amazon gift card to patient facing employees, and instead suggested a very simple, “enroll us with a peer support group, every single person in this department has PTSD from working in this pandemic.”

They were confused by my assertion of PTSD. I was asked to compile a document of complaints, concerns, and weaknesses in our patient facing services.

I and the A.M.s did so. It was roughly 40 pages long, with each page given a known problem, the reasons why it was a problem, and some potential solutions that might inspire further solutions or be able to be implemented. We submitted it. There was no response.

A week passed.

I had been working 80 hour weeks for most of a year. I hadn’t even been able to take weekends. I took my first sick day, in a company with “unlimited vacation days.”

I received a call at 3PM.

I had been fired for “differences in communitcation.” If you’ve ever seen that “Problem Women of Color in the workplace” chart? Yeah.

So had most of my department, including every transgender member of the department, and several of our extremely limited in supply Spanish speakers, who were presumed to be “on my side.”

Some of them, I barely even knew beyond the formalities of the job, and they were punished anyway.

I lost my insurance, and as a result I lost access to my medications.

But the real problem? I lost my house. And not due to lack of payment.

I lost my house, because when I got the job we waited 6 months for stability’s sake, and then readied to move out of the area. I got a mortgage on the basis of my employer’s written guarantee to the bank that I would continue to be employed for the next year at a minimum.

With the mortgage approval in hand, we entered a sales contract on our existing home.

We got and accepted an offer just days before I was fired. To keep our house meant paying a 25,000 dollar broken contract fine. We didn’t have that. We had a 10% down payment for a modest fucking place in a cheaper area, which is less than half that.

But without a job, my mortgage approval was also voided, meaning we couldn’t buy a house either.

All of a sudden, we were homeless during the plague, because my employer wrote and signed a letter to a bank guaranteeing my future employ, and then changed his mind when too many people died due to his own negligence.

Oh yeah, one last thing: the job paid less than Pandemic unemployment Assistance.

...After that, well, it’s homelessness until just last month. I... if you’ve never been homeless it’s.

It blurs. Everything is happening constantly, except for all the ways in which you are endlessly, mind breakingly bored. Bored, overloaded, and always uncomfortable.

Obviously my health would have declined regardless. Malnutrition, stress, everything.

But I was also unmedicated.

It was hell. I was in hell. I don’t know if I can recover from it, to be honest.

I bounced back from being homeless as a child. Children are as resilient as they are stupid, and the monstrosity of homelessness was little more than a vaguely remembered loathing and a panicky fear that it would ever happen again.

A child who is dying is worthy of sympathy, even if it is meaningless coos from passers by. If they have family, they may be able to rely on them too.

An adult with the indignity to die homeless and crippled, according to the average passer by, is worthy only of disgust and perhaps even punishment for being such a worthless waste.

My reward for nearly killing myself in a desperate bid to help stem the tide of COVID was the destruction of not only my life, not only my entire family’s lives, but the lives of every single family of every single employee who worked with me.

And you know what’s worse?

Each one of us still did more to limit the lethal impact of COVID than the entire united states government.

It breaks something in you, going through that.

It makes you realize that hope is a fool’s game.

But, I have ever been a fool, and so, I continue to play.

26 notes · View notes

beyond-the-mirror · 4 years

Text

The Blue Eyed King’s Gift

Welcome back to another chapter of this story! Have you already guessed which fairy tales is it inspired by? You can find one of the answers in the tags below.

Tagging @v-vic, if you wish to be tagged you can let me know at any moment.

I also want to give special thanks to @thottyonmainsquid for beta reading and offering her great and brilliant advice, as well as our discord server for their support and inspiring shenanigans.

Pairings: Vergil x Fem Reader

Warnings: War and violence. Mild gory descriptions, nothing too explicit.

Part One - Part Three - Part Four

……………………..

Part Two

Once upon a time, there existed a vast kingdom ruled by a great and powerful demon who possessed a heart as merciful and gentle as that of a human.

At the beginning of his reign, the Demon King bestowed upon all the humans of his land the ancient magic of his kind, quite unlike his predecessors that kept said magic to themselves selfishly alongside a few nobles of demonic heritage. With this wonderful gift, the inhabitants were able to access greater knowledge, developing more advanced technologies that greatly improved their lives. Soon enough the kingdom grew larger than ever before, making alliances with neighboring countries in order to selflessly share their magic and science with those who needed it most. Such was the will of the Demon King, who reigned over the peaceful land for centuries.

One day, the king fell in love with a human woman, and took the ultimate decision to renounce his immortality in order to spend the rest of his days with her as his beloved queen. From this union, two children were born, twin little boys with pristine white hair and blue eyes. The entire kingdom was overjoyed at the news, a long lasting celebration was held in honor of the newborn princes. As time passed, the twins grew up to become well respected nobles among the people, as well as skilled swordsmen just like their father. The younger one had a spirit like the sun, warm and vibrant; the older one had a spirit like the moon, calm and piercing.

……………………..

Many years later, the Demon King and his beloved queen passed away at their shared bed due to old age, both with a peaceful smile on their faces at the fulfilling lives they had shared with each other. At their passing, the elder brother was crowned as king of Fortuna in a most luscious ceremony which hosted many representatives of their allied countries. The Blue Eyed King was able to reign as benevolently and wisely as his late father; however, he would often question his trust in some of Fortuna’s allies, concerns that he kept even after his crowning.

During a festival at the town square, someone caught the monarch’s attention, a beautiful maiden with a heart of gold lively dancing and twirling to the cheery music. At the end of the song, their eyes locked for a few moments that seemed almost eternal, and he knew he just had to meet her. Love blossomed between them, which some time later led to a joyful marriage between the two. The king and queen lived together with great happiness, their love as profound as the immensity of the universe.

Such happiness wouldn’t last long.

……………………..

After a medical checkup, the couple was informed that the young queen could not bear any children. The news absolutely devastated her, driving her into a severe depression that kept her isolated in her private chambers for months to come. In his despair to help his wife, the king did everything in his power to aid her in her malady. Every single medic was summoned to the palace, doctors, healers, therapists… the young king prayed every day and night for the recovery of his beloved, always tending to her side and holding her close as many times as she allowed him too.

One day, after many painful months, the queen finally gathered some energy and emerged from her chambers, much to the relief of all the servants and the young king himself. She made one single request to her husband.

She showed him a small bag of seeds “My beloved. Allow me to plant these seeds in our royal garden, and tend to them with my very own hands. I don’t wish to be helped by our servants and gardeners, who have already done so much for me these past months. Please, let me be the only one to nurture these seeds.”

As much as he wanted to protest her decision to work despite her health condition, the king obliged. Whatever it took to make his love recover her lost happiness, he would gladly accept.

The next months, the queen would be seen tending to the seeds she planted in the garden, which eventually grew into many exquisite blue roses thanks to her love and dedication. The king was filled with joy knowing that his wife had finally started to smile again, little by little did she recover and soon she was back into her usual cheery self.

None of them would have expected the tragedy that was about to fall upon the kingdom.

……………………..

They attacked at midnight while everyone slumbered. Loud explosions from their cannons shattered the calm atmosphere of the night, reducing buildings and homes to rubble and dust.

Nobody would have expected that this particular allied country would ever consider the benefits given by Fortuna as simply not enough for them. Envious and greedy, they wanted the great kingdom’s power and riches all for themselves.

As his twin rushed to take care of the siege engines surrounding the city, the Blue Eyed King and his army fought valiantly against the enemy who planned to infiltrate the grand palace. He had struck down another group of soldiers with a graceful cut from his demon sword Yamato when an all too familiar scream made his blood run cold. Looking around frantically, he spotted through the corner of his eye the queen running towards the royal garden. The king immediately bolted after his beloved, only to stop dead in his tracks at what he saw once he reached her.

The queen laid lifeless on the exact same roses she had planted months ago, the blooms now crushed and their petals painted red with her blood. Towering before her, the very own general that commanded such an act of treason against Fortuna, standing victoriously arrogant at the murder he had commited.

At that moment something broke inside the king. Everything happening around him became mere white noise as pure rage and sorrow drowned his rationality. A blaze of blue fire enveloped the king as he embraced his demonic heritage, and with a mighty roar that shattered the night skies above and the earth below, he unleashed his fury at the ones that took his love away.

……………………..

Everyone watched in horror as a dark atmosphere consumed the entire city, even the soldiers stopped fighting and froze on their sports as the heavy darkness wrapped around everything it could touch.

And then, it happened.

It was strangely beautiful, the way thousands of light beams shot instantaneously through the air like fractals of blue energy, followed shortly by a delicate hum that resonated everywhere, not unlike the chirping of birds at breaking dawn. The lights illuminated the streets as if it were a sunny day despite being in the dead of the night. All who bore witness to the otherworldly display found themselves hypnotized by its beauty, the sight so alluring, so alluring...

And just as it had begun, it ended, like a lightning breaking through the storm in a matter of seconds. During that time nobody dared make a move, too stunned at what they had just witnessed.

The Blue Eyed King sheathed his sword.

One by one, every single soldier from the enemy country fell to the ground in unrecognizable pieces, a sickening sound as their remains sploshed and bloodied the streets. It was a nightmarish sight, how an entire army was eradicated in just an instant and in such a grotesque manner.

Silence reigned over the ruined kingdom once more, as if a war had never happened in the first place.

……………………..

The prince rushed to the palace, knowing something must have happened to his older brother after realization had hit him. His imposing red wings pierced the sky as he flew, a twisted feeling that tugged at his heart telling him that something must have gone terribly wrong.

As he landed at the now rundown garden, he saw his brother’s true demon form thrashing around in torment.

Overwhelmed by his grief, the king kept ripping and tearing down the now mangled body of the opposing general. Even his own demon sword laid forgotten on the ground as he preferred to discharge his wrath with his very own claws.

The prince immediately seized him, trying his best to calm down his brother. However, the beast inside him had completely consumed him, leaving only a primal creature thirsty for blood and revenge.

Suddenly, an unexpected cry resonated through the garden, interrupting the fight between the twin brothers.

Both demons stood bewildered as the high pitched wailing continued, breaking the silence that permeated the garden. The Blue Demon quickly scanned the area, looking for the source of the strange noise, his breaths slowly evening out as he started to recover some of his lost clarity.

His blue fiery eyes widened as he noticed the sound was coming just next to the corpse of his long lost queen.

Without losing a minute the beast prowled towards her body. Upon closer inspection, her arms seemed to be enclosed around something, as if protecting it and keeping it safe until her very last breath. Ever so carefully, the Blue Demon pried her arms open, minding the sharp talons that had replaced his human nails.

In her embrace, a single intact blue rose laid. The bud was abnormally bigger than the rest of the blooms that laid broken around her, gigantic even. As the king focused on the bizarre flower, he realized that the cries were coming from inside it, just as he too observed a few slight movements on its soft inner petals

In the most gentle and careful manner, the beast opened the rose bud. What he found inside brought tears to his eyes.

Two newborn babies were cuddled inside the unnatural flower, flailing their tiny limbs and crying in distress. The infants had pale rosy skin, soft white tufts of hair crowned atop of their heads.

The king turned beast stood astonished at the sight, not expecting to find such innocent lives at the now crumbled ruins that were once his and his wife’s garden.

Scales turned into flesh, talons transformed into lithe fingers. The king slowly reached for the children with shaky arms, pulling them out of the rose and cradling them against his chest. The babies nuzzled after the warmth he exuded, one that soothed their alarmed cries little by little. It was then that they finally fluttered their eyes open, and the king let out a startled gasp.

One had light blue eyes like an endless ocean at peace, very much like the kings’ own. The other had mesmerizing green eyes like a lively forest, very much like… His heart swelled with both joy and melancholy. The child’s eyes were very much like his beloved queens’.

What the monarch failed to realize at that moment was that this was his beloved’s last gift. Unbeknownst to him, amidst the doctors that had been summoned to treat her infertility, there was an elderly woman who was praised for her unique medicinal practices involving a combination of magic and science. Knowing this, the queen begged for her help as soon as she had recognized her presence in her chambers.

The elderly woman gifted her a small satchel full of magic-imbued seeds, instructing her to add a drop of her own blood as well as one of the king’s into the satchel before planting them, warning that the seeds would only grow by the hands of the queen herself. According to her words, one of the roses would bear a child after 9 months, an heir with the same blood used to soak the seeds at the beginning.

After offering her heartfelt gratitude to the healer, the queen set to work as soon as possible, one night even pricking her husband’s finger while he slept in order to follow those same instructions. She worked day and night, tending to the roses while ignoring the worrying looks of the servitude and those of the king himself. Above all, the queen prayed to the gods every morning she would get up to keep gardening. When she noticed one of the roses growing much more than the others, the smile she thought long lost had finally returned.

The infants stared at the man holding them before raising their small hands, reaching for his face as they giggled ever so sweetly.

For the first time in his life, the Blue Eyed King broke into tears, now understanding why his beloved was in such a rush making her way to the garden.

These children were his sons, his and his queen’s very own flesh and blood.

She had given her life to save their children.

The king hugged the little boys in his arms tightly, tears after tears cascaded down his face. His younger brother, now back into his human self, fell to his knees and embraced his brother, hoping to alleviate some of his brother’s pain as he too broke down.

He could barely hear his brother’s words as he spoke between heartbreaking sobs. “No mortal shall ever cause you pain, my beautiful children. I am your father, and until my very last breath, I shall protect you.”

……………………..

As dawn broke, all the surviving Fortunians were gathered in front of the palace gates. By order of the king, every single inhabitant of the kingdom had been relocated to the citadel which will later be rebuilt and occupied.

Before everyone, the Blue Eyed King vowed and swore to protect his people by all means necessary. And if it meant cutting ties with the rest of the world, then so shall be his will and command. Fortuna had been betrayed by who they considered an ally, and he will make sure a tragedy like this one would never happen again.

For the sake of his people. For the sake of his sons.

The king unsheathed his sword, and with an all-powerful cut, he split the land around the great citadel and the surrounding villages, severing all cuts with the outside world and enveloping it in a magical barrier.

In the blink of an eye, the Great Kingdom of Fortuna was gone.

……………………..

Once upon a time, there existed a vast kingdom ruled by a great and powerful demon. However, every remnant of its existence vanished without leaving any trace behind. As ages went by, nature grew and reclaimed the unoccupied land, eventually forming a thick forest where all kinds of wild creatures lived in harmony.

For the rest of humanity, Fortuna had been long lost. This, however, couldn’t be further than the truth.

The great kingdom still stood proud and prosperous, albeit in another plane of existence cut off from all mundane ties to our world. A plane of existence where even time itself behaved in the most different and unexpected ways possible.

It was a bit difficult at the beginning, but the inhabitants soon adapted to their environment without any more trouble. In no time they managed to rebuild their homes and return to their normal lifestyles, now convinced that the decision made by the Blue Eyed King was the best for everyone.

Peace once again reigned over the kingdom. And as long as its existence remained a secret to the outside world, nothing shall ever take it away.

#devil may cry #fairy tale au #fairy tale inspired #thumbelina #Vergil Sparda #vergil x reader #vergil x you #dadgil #Papa Vergil #fanfiction #fanfic #reader insert

85 notes · View notes

punkpoemprose · 3 years

Text

December 2nd- Jumping for “Joy”sticks

Universe: 1980′s Arcade AU Rating: G (General, Fluff, Meetcute) Length: 4752 Words

A/N: I was not alive in the 80′s, I barely remember any of the 90′s, y’all can start picking on my era generalizations when I hit the 00′s. I had a lot of fun with this, I’m sorry for the pun title, it was all I had. Thanks for all the comments and tags on yesterday’s fic. Everyone’s engagement is what keeps me going!

Working as an arcade attendant wasn’t exactly Kristoff’s dream job, but college was pricey, he hated the idea of making his parents help him out, and the work wasn’t exactly difficult for the pay. It was relatively simple as his main duties were emptying coins out of the game machines, dumping them into the change machine, and keeping kids from climbing to jumping on the game cabinets or anything else. Once he got past the sound of kids screams and shouts mingling with Duran Duran and Wham!, the blinking lights, the smell of teens who needed a lecture about deodorant and hygiene, and the uncomfortable sensation of wiping down whatever sticky substance coated half the games it was actually a pretty cushy job.

Most days he spent more time sitting behind the front counter working on classwork and reading his textbooks than doing anything in his job description because it just wasn’t necessary. He had the good fortune to work mostly morning or afternoon into evening shifts on weekdays, so other than the occasional interruption of a truancy officer looking for a kid playing hooky from school there wasn’t much for him to bother with. When he didn’t have homework or classwork to keep himself preoccupied, he found himself, a tried and true introvert, bored enough to people watch. Mostly it was teens and tweens trying to beat each other’s scores on Pac-Man or Donkey Kong Jr., but every now and then there’s be someone a bit more interesting to watch. A father who would sometimes come in with his young son to play Burgertime, an older woman in her 50’s who liked to kick kids off the Tetris machine, and a small company of mall goths all made the grade for entertainment where his entertainment was concerned. There was one standout though, a young woman who would come alone on Wednesday nights.

Wednesday was the only day he worked where he was consistently scheduled to close. It was one of his few days without evening classes or labs and it was usually the quietest night of the week with kids on tight curfews for school and most everyone else just wanting to get home after a long day. The girl though, for some reason he still couldn’t glean, would come in exactly an hour before closing to play Ms. Pac-Man.

She always seemed a bit out of place despite appearing to be just a bit older than the high school kids who usually haunted the place, and being consequently, just a bit younger than he was. He thought that maybe she always stood out to him because of how she was dressed. Not many women spent much time in the arcade, much less alone, but of the small handful she was the only one who came in wearing L.L. Bean sweaters over a perfectly pressed white blouse with a similarly blindingly white skirt and tennis shoes. Her fire red hair was always held in place by a headband that matched her sweater, though he often noted that despite the clear effort put into her image, on a second glance her hair was a bit wild like she didn’t bother much with it.

The overall impression he had of her was that she’d taken a wrong turn on her way to a nearby country club’s squash court. He really wasn’t even sure what squash was, but he thought that it was something like tennis and was generally the kind of sport rich girls would play. Pretty young women dressed as nicely as she did had to have hobbies he couldn’t understand. He supposed that it might be one of those biases he’d built since starting college that his Ma would chew him out over, and as it ended up whoever the redhead was, she was much more interested in getting a little yellow circle to eat round things than she was in hitting them with a racquet.

Every Wednesday evening like clockwork she’d come in at nine, give him a shy smile like she knew she didn’t belong there, and then would proceed to spend an hour and a pocketful of quarters on Ms. Pac-Man. She was quiet as she played, like she was afraid to make a sound, but sometimes when he’d switch off the music early and start turning machines off, he’d hear the “wokka-wokka” of her machine and the occasional almost inaudible huff when she lost followed shortly by the clink of another coin hitting the slot and dropping down into the coin box.

Their only real interaction beyond the shy smile she’d always give him on her way in and out was the brief exchange of him letting her know that he was getting ready to close up for the night. She’d always thank him quietly for letting her know, and he noticed how red she would get on the nights she apologized for staying so long. He’d been annoyed by that at first, the fact that she would come in not long before close and play right up until he was ready to lock up for the evening. He supposed that it was easy to lose track of time in the arcade if you weren’t always waiting for your shift to be over given the distinct lack of clocks in the space, but it was always bothersome to have to be held up by a customer.

He remembered wanting to tell her the first few times she’d overstayed that she should check her fancy watch if she was going to wear it. It probably cost more than he made in a year, and yet despite the fact he was certain it kept time well, she always seemed to be surprised by the hour passing. However, the annoyance quickly passed when she would apologize for getting caught up and leave promptly after he let her know they were closing.

It was impossible for him to stay annoyed at her, despite his best efforts to not pay attention to anyone at his job more than strictly necessary, the red head with her love for Ms. Pac-Man often were the subject of his idle thoughts. She was polite and she was pretty, and he was a grumpy “old bastard”, but he was a man and he could appreciate polite and pretty when he hadn’t dated anyone in a very very long time.

In fact, he started to look forward to Wednesdays. Even knowing that her arrival would keep him from a early night, he felt strangely like she needed to be there. He didn’t know her, but there was something in her manner that told him that maybe this was where she came to breathe. He would never call himself on expert in communication or understanding others, but there was something about the shyness of her entrance and exit and the way she just relaxed when she played that made him glad she came, that the space was safe for her. She always looked so sad when she left.

It was a particularly slow day when he was informed by a coworker who had been on the shift before his that several machines were out of commission due to what they assumed to be a power surge. On the line of downed machines were Galaga, Frogger, a few other semi-popular games, and most unfortunately, both Pac-Man and Ms. Pac-Man. He’d also been informed that the repair shop had been called, but there was no word on when, or if they would arrive before the end of the week let along the end of the day.

Kristoff knew that it shouldn’t bother him. They were just games after all, and he barely if ever played any of them himself. Kids would find something else to play and the cabinets would get fixed when they got fixed. He did care though, he spent his whole shift pacing behind the counter, watching the door, waiting for the phone to ring, and generally hoping that someone would come and fix something. He cared because it was Wednesday and she was going to be coming in to play Ms. Pac-Man and he, strange as it may be, liked her quiet company. He liked the idea that one of these days he might ask her for her name and maybe talk with her for a little while.

Hours passed, and he only gave up hope when he knew that it had to be past time for the repair shop to close. His anticipant pacing then turned to nervous heel rocking as the last few customers filtered out for the evening and the time of her arrival neared. He wondered what he should say to her when she walked in, or if he should say anything at all. She’d find out that the game was down either way, but he didn’t want her to go right after she found out either. Maybe, he thought, she might stay if he just said the right thing.

He held his breath when he heard the door open, and while he wasn’t exactly surprised when she walked through the door, he was thrown off to be greeted with, not her shy smile, but instead with her rushing past the counter, not looking his way at all. That, he decided, took the cake for the oddest part of an already strange day.

There was of course no obligation for her to interact with him, but there was something in the way that she rushed by that had him feeling uneasy. He really wasn’t a people person in any sense of the word. He preferred the company of family or his dog over any interaction with strangers, but he had an odd sense that even having not spoken to her much, she wasn’t a stranger.

“I’m sorry your game is down,” he said quickly before she got far enough away that he’d have to raise his voice to relay the information, “I’ve been waiting for the repair guy my whole shift but it looks like he couldn’t make it.”

She stopped dead in her tracks, and though she didn’t turn to him, he noticed her shoulders slump. He felt guilty despite it being out of his control. There was something about her that made him want to please her, and while he knew that his sisters would tease and tell him that it was just because she was pretty, he knew that there was more to it than that. She was nice, and despite his initial misgivings about her, she’d never given him any reason to believe that she was the kind of person who deserved karma had knocked out her favorite game and the best possible alternative at the same time.

“Oh,” she said, so softly he almost couldn’t hear it over the music.

It was a defeated sort of sound that made him wonder why she really came in to play the game every Wednesday. Maybe it was more than just a game or needing a break for her. She did always come in like clockwork after all.

“I…” he didn’t really know what to say. It wasn’t as if he were the one who broke the games or something, an apology didn’t really make sense, and he wasn’t sure why it meant so much to her in the first place.

“I just thought you should know, before you got over there and saw it.”

She sniffled and he froze on the spot. He wasn’t unused to seeing crying. Little kids threw temper tantrums when their parents made them leave, some kids cried in frustration when they couldn’t beat a level or a high score, but usually that was confined to people under the age of ten and there was someone else around to deal with it.

“Thanks for letting me know,” she choked out, and he could hear the tightness of her throat in the tone of her voice. She was crying. He couldn’t see it, but he wasn’t so dense that he couldn’t tell. He felt his face heat, not sure of what to do and feeling like every second that ticked past were an hour.

“Are you okay?”

It was all he could think to ask. It was obvious to him that she wasn’t, and in fact he figured that she probably wasn’t okay when she walked in and that it was the reason she hadn’t looked at him in the first place when it was so routine for her to do so.

“Not really, no.”

He walked around the counter slowly, his legs on autopilot. His mother would be proud, he thought absently as he walked over to her, she’d been training him to be a proper gentleman for years. It wasn’t her fault he was so inept with girls, she’d done her best, and his sisters had tried to help. He just considered himself mostly a lost cause.

“Do you, uh… want to talk about it?”

She turned to look at him and he could see for the first time how red her eyes were, how her usual put-togetherness was marred by her hair being even more wild than usual, by the wet splotch on her cuff where she’d been wiping her eyes.

He also noticed for the first time just how much smaller she was than him. He was a big guy, not excessively so, but still taller and bigger than most of the people he knew. He was miles taller than his parents and sisters, and while that had everything to do with adopted, it had taught him how to make himself small at times, when he was bandaging his littlest sister’s knee or when he needed to fit into the frame in family photos.

He put his hands into his pockets and slumped a bit, trying to keep his expression as neutral as possible even though his head was spinning with half-thoughts on how exactly he could even attempt to be helpful. The last thing she needed was for him to panic on her. He was sure that she was panicked enough for them both.

“I couldn’t… you don’t even…”

She was crying harder now, the words hardly coming out right as she tried to hold a conversation with him. He felt awful. He thought that maybe he should have just let her see the game was out of order and leave instead of making her talk about it. He wasn’t sure what he would have wanted if the roles were reversed. He wasn’t exactly a “talk about it” guy, and when he needed to talk something out, it was always to his dog. He kind of wished that Sven was with him, girls liked dogs, or at least his sisters did.

“You can, if you want.”

She shook her head but seemed to calm down a little bit, taking breaths slowly. He wasn’t sure whether or not she was going to tell him what was going on until she opened her mouth and started in telling her story, still tearful and hiccupping, but at least with the ability to get all the words out.

“It’s just… the straw that broke the camels back? That’s been every straw today. I failed an exam, my ex-boyfriend showed up at my dorm even though he’s not supposed to know where I live, my sister is out of the country on business and I feel so alone.”

He nodded as she talked, “And you just needed a break?”

The shy smile he was so used to appeared again, her lips turning up slightly, making him feel like he could really breathe for the first time since she walked through the door. He hadn’t really noticed how close together they’d become since he walked around the counter, but now that they were just a bit more than a foot apart, he was noticing other things about her that weren’t immediately evident from the distance. She had freckles.

He didn’t even know he liked freckles, he’d never thought about it, but there was a dusting on her nose and across her flushed cheeks and he realized that yes, he really did like them.

“Yeah. I just… I really need a break.”

He’d like to offer to listen some more, to do something else for her, but he wasn’t really sure where the line was when a stranger unloads their emotions on you. He didn’t want to push, but he also wanted to help. It was making his head spin, and all he could focus on was her eyes, and her freckles, and her mussed hair.

“Well I mean, I don’t really know you very well, but uh, you’re welcome to play something else, I guess Tetris isn’t really as fun as Ms. Pac-Man, but it’s kind of soothing. I’ll close up while you’re playing, I promise no one else is going to bother you today. I’m not really good company or anything, but I’ll hang around if you don’t want to be alone.”

It felt like a lot. He put the ball in her court, she could decide whether she wanted him around, or whether she wanted him to go sit behind the counter until she was done, but even the offer felt like an overstep.

“That would be nice Kristoff,” she said, her hiccupping had stopped, but there was an edge of uncertainty to her tone. “Maybe show me how to play?”

“I uh… didn’t think you knew my name.”

She flushed again, her face going even redder than it had when she was crying.

“It’s… uh… on your nametag.”

It was his turn to blush then. He felt like a bumbling idiot.

“Oh, yeah. It is, isn’t it.”

He could practically hear his sisters laughing at him, like they could telepathically tell he was being a disaster from miles away. He was sure that he’d never hear the end of it if they ever found out just how “smooth” he had been trying to talk to a pretty girl. He only had to hope that she wouldn’t ever tell them. The odds, he thought, were slim to none on that, but nothing was ever impossible.

“I’m Anna, by the way. I thought you should know, you know, with me sobbing in front of you and everything.”

He was glad she told him, he wasn’t sure if he should ask, and he wanted to know. He’d been wanting to know, because now he could tie all the thoughts, he’d been having in his head about her to a name, something solid.

Anna.

***

The only sound in the arcade was the Tetris theme music, the clicking of the mechanical buttons on the cabinet and the chatting of two new friends. Kristoff had been surprised by how quickly he’d warmed up to Anna and in return how quickly she seemed to warm up to him. He really wasn’t used to people wanting to hang around him for awfully long. He blamed it a bit on his gruffness, he knew that he needed to relax a little more around others, but he always found it hard.

Anna made it easy.

She’d told him a lot about her, how she’d split up with a guy a few months ago for lying and cheating on her and how he kept trying to weasel his way back in, how she was trying to get her degree in art history so that she could run her family’s gallery, how her sister ran their family’s importing business and how it kept her away often enough that Anna often didn’t see her for months at a time. She’d told him that she was lonely, and that she came to the arcade because she hadn’t been allowed to go as a child, and now that her parents were passed she didn’t mind being a little disobedient because she knew they would forgive her.

He hadn’t said much about himself, except for when she asked. He told her how he was studying environmental science at community college. They didn’t go to the same school, she was a freshman at the university he was planning on transferring into after he finished his associates in a few months, and she told him how much she loved it there, encouraging him to follow through with his plans to transfer in. He’d told her how his family had adopted him because she asked whether he had any siblings, and it wasn’t exactly a secret. She hadn’t reacted like it was some kind of tragedy like other people sometimes did, which was a comfort to him because he believed that his parents adopting him was the best thing that had ever happened to him. He didn’t even remember his birthparents anyway.

“Oh my gosh, I think I’m beating you! Am I beating you! Oh crap, I shouldn’t have looked, now I messed up my lines.”

Kristoff couldn’t help but laugh. Anna had been the one to suggest they play two player mode on the game, and while Kristoff hadn’t really played it before other than a couple occasions on his lunchbreak on truly boring Monday shifts, he was doing a decent job of beating her at the game.

“I thought all your Ms. Pac-Man skills would have you in the lead,” he teased.

“Completely different set of skills,” she replied, “besides, I just played that one because it looked the easiest. Also, I like that it’s a romance. It’s cute.”

“A romance?” he asked with a laugh, watching as her blocks stacked up on the opposite side of the screen, almost to the top. He wasn’t intentionally trying to distract her; he was honestly curious. But that it meant he was going to win was just a bonus.

“Yeah it’s all about how they… oh damn it.”

He watched as her screen filled completely with blocks and the game informed him that he had, for the third time, won.

“Sorry,” he offered, “You were really close that time.”

She shrugged, gave him a look that was more mock annoyance than irritation, and then laughed. He laughed with her. He hadn’t had so much fun in a very long time, and he was dreading the fact that he could feel that it would be over soon.

“I wasn’t, but thanks for pretending,” she said, leaning over to bump him with her hip playfully, “You really cheered me up tonight. I owe you a lot.”

He opened his mouth to tell her that she didn’t owe him anything, and that he was happy he could help, but she put a hand up to stop him.

“No, really, I mean it. You were so nice to me tonight, and all the other nights. That’s why I kept coming back, even when you were miffed about me overstaying you were always nice about it and I just needed someone nice. I’m sorry I probably made you run late so many nights, but I guess I just needed the company, even if we didn’t talk. I owe you.”

He shook his head, “It wasn’t a big deal Anna. You were really polite and… I guess I started looking forward to you coming in. This is usually a pretty boring job and you were something different for me to think about. Not that I was… not that I was thinking about you all the time or anything, I just was wondering why you’d come in but…”

He wondered if he should just bend down and eat his shoe, speed up the process a little bit.

“You should have asked,” she said with a brighter version of the shy smile he’d come to expect from her, “I kept waiting for you to talk to me. I didn’t want to bug you at work, but I’ve been dying to talk to you for weeks now. I didn’t just keep coming back for the games you know?”

“You didn’t?”

“No,” she said, leaning into him again but this time less to bump him, and more to support her frame against his much larger one.

Kristoff could feel his pulse quicken. He wasn’t sure why, but his hand itched to reach out to hers. He hadn’t wanted to hold hands with a girl since middle school. He felt like he was thirteen again, awkward and just trying to figure out how to get a girl’s attention.

He already had it though, Anna was only focused on him and he could feel the weight of her gaze even though he wasn’t meeting it.

“I thought you were cute. I kept coming in hoping that maybe you’d talk to me and then maybe you know… if you weren’t seeing someone…”

“Oh.”

He didn’t know why he said that of all things. It was all he could think to say.

“Oh… are you? Seeing someone that is?”

She sounded a bit defeated, and as he felt her leaning away from his side, trying to step to the side, he panicked. He let his hand grab hers loosely, not letting her get too far away from his side unless she really wanted to as he turned to face her. Her freckled nose was illuminated blue by the light from the cabinet and her eyes held an uncertainty that he wanted to chase away.

“No, no I’m not. I just… I’m not used to anyone wanting to… I mean, no one’s ever been…”

“Well, if you want to… I mean, if you’re interested, because I do owe you after all… maybe we could catch a movie sometime, or we could grab dinner? My treat.”

He felt tongue tied, but he managed to nod his head at least. He wondered if she could tell how nervous he was. He was sure that she could because her smile and her eyes held an amusement that had quickly replaced her trepidation. Surely, he thought, she must realize that he had no idea what he was doing. But strangely she wasn’t rescinding her offer or leaving, just smiling at him warmly so he thought that it must count for something.

“How about Friday? I only have classes until noon so depending on your schedule we could grab dinner or coffee or something if dinner is too much?”

“Dinner would be fine,” he managed, “Or coffee if you prefer, I get done at three so if you want I can come pick you up after that… somewhere? It can be someplace neutral if you don’t want me to come to your dorm.”

She grinned, “Dinner then. We can work out the details later… Do you have a pen?”

He nodded, reaching into the pocket of the work vest he’d discarded to the side, and realizing in the same moment that he hadn’t yet let go of her hand.

When he slipped his fingers from between hers, someplace he hadn’t even noticed they’d slotted themselves, he felt a vague sense of loss. He tried not to hold onto it, thrilled by the prospect that soon he’d see her again. To that end he handed her the pen, and was surprised to feel her fingers wrap around his wrist.

They were cool from playing the game, and in stark contrast to his sweating palms. He opened his hand in response to the touch, which was evidently exactly what she wanted as she took the pen to his skin and quickly wrote her number.

“You can call anytime after four,” she said quietly, as if it were a secret even though no one else was there, “Or whenever and leave a message. Whatever works for you just…”

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice breathless even to his own ears.

“Don’t forget to call, okay?”

She handed him the pen, stood up on her tip toes, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. He didn’t have time to react before she was grabbing her purse from the foot of the cabinet and heading out the door. Left alone in the empty arcade, one game to switch off and a door to lock up, he let his fingers reach up to brush the place she’d just pecked. If it weren’t for the fact that he knew his imagination wasn’t nearly so creative, he could have believed he dreamed the whole thing.

He looked down at his palm and saw in black ink, perfectly printed, her number, her name, and a small heart.

Anna.

He had never been so grateful for a dead-end minimum wage job in his life.

#kristannaadvent2020 #kristanna #frozen fanfiction #1980's AU #Arcade AU #Meetcute #Fluff

23 notes · View notes

pickalilywrites · 3 years

Text

hi everyone!!! here’s the eretra au that a few of you might remember from my wip posts a few months (?) ago! i’m really excited about it, so i hope you guys like it. it’s very loosely based off a kdrama called big, although there aren’t very many similarities. i hope you guys enjoy it :)

-----------------------------

My First Love Come Back to Me

Eretra. Big AU.

I’ll Love You in the Rain or Shine Series: Chapter 1

12788 words.

Read on Ao3!

Eren stands in the deli section of the grocery store staring down at the premade sandwiches that have, judging by the wilting lettuce and stiff-looking squares of cheese stuffed between dry bread buns, been sitting there all day after being passed over by other customers for more enticing premade meals like the colorful, little sushis in their plastic containers or the burritos so stuffed with filling that beans are practically spilling out of the tortilla wraps meant to contain them. He looks at one particularly sad-looking sandwich. Turkey chunks and droopy lettuce leaves are shoved inside a stale bread loaf. Tomato juice from the poor fruit that was cut to make this depressing sub bleeds out from the bun, dripping onto the plastic wrap that can hardly hold the thing together. A strange assortment of veggies also poke out from the bread - bright yellow bell peppers, chunky strips of carrots, and slices of onions - but they look as though someone has carelessly dropped them into the sandwich because they’re not even evenly dispersed through the sub. It is, Eren thinks, the most wretched sandwich he’d ever laid eyes on.

It’s a little sad, the fact that Eren is spending so much time picking out something to bring to a family dinner that he would claim, if anyone bothered to ask, to not give a single shit about. And, really, he doesn’t, but it makes him feel slightly better about going to those miserable gatherings if he’s able to bring something he knows his stepmom will hate. Except she’s not really his stepmom. To be more precise, the woman is his father’s first and only wife - the bastard having never married Eren’s mother - and his half-brother’s mother. In all honesty, Eren can completely understand why the woman hates him. He is, after all, a constant reminder of his father’s infidelity. It’s not like Eren likes her either and, with all of the snide comments about his upbringing and disappointing career path (although Eren has no idea why that is any of her business), she hasn’t given Eren any reason to.

Eren looks down at the sandwich again, leaning towards not getting it. As much as he would love to purchase it and slap it down on the dinner table with a cheerful smile, there are only so many times he can buy disgusting sandwiches for his family dinners. He really outdid himself last time with a self-made sandwich with all sorts of odd ingredients (blue cheese, coriander, tuna, onions, cherry tomatoes, the works) that had no business being slapped between the same two buns. He even remembered not to toast the bread buns. Apparently, the only thing his father’s wife hates more than sandwiches are untoasted sandwiches, but not everyone can afford a $300 panini press like she can. Apparently, any panini press with a smaller price tag can’t be called a real panini press. Eren only half-regretted his decision to bring the disgusting thing to his father’s house an hour later when he sprinted out of the house and biked half a block away to empty the contents of his stomach on the edge of a poor neighbor's sidewalk. No, a normal deli sandwich would be a step down from his previous contribution to family dinner, Eren decides.

He walks up and down the aisle of the grocery store, taking his time even though he’s already a half-hour late for dinner. (He’s doing them a favor. Nobody in their right mind should be having dinner at five when the sun is still high in the sky.) His green eyes glaze over tubs of soup and plastic bins filled with salad. For a moment, he wonders if he should walk through the shelves of chips on the other side or maybe into the frozen food section so he can haul a tub of melting ice cream to his father’s house, but he wonders if that’s too petty. It’s probably best not to, Eren thinks with a grimace. He doesn’t want to ruin junk food for himself forever.

In the end, Eren purchases a little tub of potato salad, hoping that it’ll be enough to piss off his Disney-esque sort-of stepmother. It’s not perfect, but he supposes it will do. It’s probably not as grotesque as the stuff he’s brought before, but he likes how simple it is. That woman’s definitely going to be miffed that Eren bought potato salad as if he cared so little that he couldn’t be bothered to spend a few minutes in the kitchen to make the same dish. He’s really going to enjoy seeing the vein on her forehead pulse when she sees him standing at the door with the potato salad.

Eren thanks the cashier for ringing up his purchase, sliding two dollars into the charity box next to the register, and walks away with his tub of potato salad, whistling as he practically skips out of the grocery store. He hadn’t taken as long as he would have liked; there are still fifteen minutes before six and he had hoped he would burn enough time to arrive at six-thirty, but maybe he can take a roundabout way to his dad’s house, Eren thinks as he drops the tub carelessly into the front basket of his bicycle. He unlocks his bike with a click and pulls it off the bike rack before mounting it and pedaling away.

Taking the direct route would be too quick. Eren quickly pedals across the road as soon as the road is clear and finds his way to the creek that cuts across the suburbs. It’s the same creek Eren used to play beside when he was a child. He fell in there once trying to catch a frog and his mom scolded him for being so reckless. It’s also the same creek that he frequented during the spring of his sophomore year of highschool when he was assigned to do a bug project, which Eren hated especially when the same project was no longer mandatory after his school cut the science department’s funding the year after. Eren doesn’t think he’s visited the creek ever since he graduated from high school. He blames it on college and summer internships taking up all his time and never really allowing him to return to his youth, but the truth is that Eren wouldn’t have sought out his childhood even if he had the time.

It’s not that Eren had a terrible childhood. In fact, Eren would say that he had a fairly happy childhood. True, he grew up in a (mostly) single-parent household, but his mother was always patient and attentive to him even though he was a pain the ass about 75 percent of the time. Nothing incredibly significant happened. He didn’t win any awards and he never made the honor roll, but his mother was fine with it as long as he did his best. It was strange, but he got a lot more shit about his grades from his sort-of stepmom than he did from his own mother. He’s not particularly sure what his father thought about it. Eren’s father never said much of anything to defend him, but his father hardly said anything to him at all. It was kind of like not having a father at all, so it wasn’t really that surprising when Eren found a way to avoid his old neighborhood completely after his mother passed away after his senior year of high school.

Eren hadn’t planned on returning so soon. Actually, he hadn’t planned on returning at all after he had left for college. He only came back the summer after freshman year, but he bummed it at his best friend Armin’s house and only ventured as far as Armin’s front lawn. The following summers he crashed at his ex-boyfriend’s house - an art student-turned-tattoo artist who somehow ended up setting up a shop in the city Eren and Armin grew up in - or Armin’s dorm when they were both working at their internships. Somehow, they ended up landing jobs back in their hometown because evidently the big city did not want them and they were too young and broke to go up against the universe. Maybe another day.

It’s not that bad. Despite renting an apartment near his neighborhood, Eren hasn’t run into any childhood friends that might still remember all the embarrassing things he did as a teenager. He’s bumped into a few parents at the grocery store that would smile up at him and talk about how nicely he’s grown while reaching up to ruffle his hair. Other than a few childhood friends and the “family” he feels obligated to meet due to the biological bond he unwillingly shares with his father, Eren has successfully avoided most of his past.

He pedals past his old middle school, zooming past the gates and grimacing as he remembers the less pleasant parts of his past - struggling with algebra, running a mile at seven AM, and the terrible school uniforms they forced on everyone in a strange attempt to boost standardized test scores. He’s happier when he crosses the street and is greeted with the lit-up shops - the convenience store where he’d happily slurp down slushies with Armin after school, the Chinese restaurant that his class would frequent every year for Lunar New Year’s, and the bakery store that always smelled of freshly baked tarts and pies. Eren’s pedaling slows as he approaches the bakery and he inhales deeply, his lungs filling with the scent of buttery baguettes and chocolate tarts. The aroma is so distractingly sweet. His mouth begins to water at just the thought of them, and Eren wonders why he hadn’t bothered stepping foot in the bakery since coming back. He’s about to stop his bike and pop in for a brownie or a lemon bar only to realize that he’s biking far too fast and about to crash into someone.

“Shit!” Eren’s bike screeches as he swerves out of the way and he crashes into a pole so hard that he can feel his teeth rattle. He topples to the ground with a hard thud, groaning as he rolls over onto his side that didn’t get smashed violently against a pole. When he opens his eyes, he sees stars as well as the face of an old man that he had last seen a decade ago. Eren tries to sit up, but his side is throbbing and he can only clutch at his side, trying his best to suppress a groan so as to not startle the man he had nearly collided with. He gives the man a weak smile. “Hey, Mr. Ral. I haven’t seen you in a while.”

The old man’s mouth, which was already open to begin with after seeing Eren’s embarrassing bicycle collision, falls open a bit wider. “A-are you … okay?” he asks after a while, squinting a bit as he looks at Eren’s face and tries to place a name to it. Eren doesn’t really blame him for not remembering who he is. It’s been quite a while since they’ve seen each other and Eren has grown up a lot since then.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little bump,” Eren says, laughing it off. He manages to sit up and pushes himself off the ground, standing up and brushing off the little pebbles that have managed to stick to his face and clothing. He picks up his bike, leaning it against the pole before turning to the man again. “It’s Eren, by the way.” He pauses, observing Mr. Ral’s expression. When he sees that the man doesn’t recognize him, Eren politely adds, “Eren Kruger. I’m Zeke Jaeger’s younger brother.”

A spark of recognition finally lights up in the old man’s eyes at the mention of Zeke’s name. Eren’s not going to lie, but it kind of hurts. “Ah, Zeke,” Mr. Ral says fondly. Eren shifts from feeling hurt to feeling slightly jealous. “How could I ever forget him? And you, of course. You two used to play with my dear Petra back in the day.”

Petra, a name that Eren hasn’t heard in years, and yet hearing it still makes him blush like a young schoolboy. He ducks his head, his hand rubbing at the back of his neck, and he prays that Mr. Ral doesn’t notice the sudden flush of his cheeks. “Yeah, it’s been a while. How is, ah, Petra doing?” he asks. He had meant to ask the question casually, but he stumbles over the words a little too quickly.

“Petra? She’s well,” Mr. Ral answers with a smile. The corners of his eyes crinkle and his laughter lines deepen. He doesn’t seem to notice how flustered Eren is. “She just started teaching at the same university that Zeke is teaching at.”

That’s certainly news to Eren. Zeke hadn’t mentioned that at any of the family dinners Eren had attended recently. It could just be because Zeke hadn’t run into her yet or it had simply slipped his mind, but Eren kind of doubts it. If Petra’s father knew, then it’s highly unlikely that Zeke didn’t know. As much as Eren wants to frown, he fights the urge to turn the edges of his mouth downward and gives Mr. Ral a thin but polite smile. “That’s great to hear. What does she teach?”

“English,” Mr. Ral replies, his chest puffed out proudly. It’s endearing how much he adores his daughter. “She teaches some upper-division classes on creative writing and a few classes for freshmen on critical reading and writing.”

Eren’s smile is more genuine now, more fond as he listens to Mr. Ral speak about his daughter. “Yeah, that sounds like her. She was always really good with words.” He remembers lazy summer afternoons lying underneath the shade of a tree and pretending he was sleeping so that he could listen to Petra talk to Zeke on the front porch. It wasn’t even that he wanted to eavesdrop. He just liked the sound of her voice. Eren wonders if it’s still as wonderfully soothing and soft as he remembers.

“And what about you?” Mr. Ral asks, snapping Eren out of his reverie. The old man seems to ask out of polite obligation. It figures that he isn’t really interested in Eren’s life. After all, he hadn’t remembered that Eren existed until five minutes ago.

“I just graduated a few months ago. I majored in child education,” Eren replies. He looks down feeling slightly embarrassed although he’s not sure why. It feels like a step down from Petra’s accomplishments. His sort-of stepmom would certainly agree. She enjoys rubbing Zeke’s doctorate in Eren’s face whenever she gets the chance. Eren clears his throat and adds, “I’ve been working at Liberio Daycare. It’s near Shiganshina Elementary.”

It’s unclear whether or not Mr. Ral recognizes the name but he nods and reaches over to give Eren a pat on the arm, a grin on his face as if the old man is actually proud of him. “That’s good! Your parents must be proud.” He doesn’t notice the way Eren flinches and carries on. “It’s good to hear that you’ve been well.”

“Likewise,” Eren says. His eyes wander towards the bakery. It hadn’t occurred to him to look for Petra before, but now that he knows she’s back in town he can’t imagine doing anything else. He half hopes that she’ll be inside, maybe clearing the display for the night or wiping down the countertops, but all he sees is a girl his age at the register munching on some lavender bars that hadn’t sold. Before he can stop himself, Eren finds himself asking, “Is Petra in?”

“Petra?” Mr. Ral asks with his eyebrows raised. Maybe it does seem out of the blue that Eren’s asking. Petra was always more Zeke’s friend than Eren’s. Mr. Ral gives Eren an apologetic smile and a shake of his head. “I’m afraid not. She told me she was eating dinner at a friend’s house. I’ll let her know you stopped by. Maybe you two can catch up sometime.”

Eren shouldn’t feel so disappointed, but he can feel himself deflating at Mr. Ral’s words. He really doubts Petra would want to meet up with him. It’s not as if they were incredibly close before. Still, he gives Mr. Ral a gracious smile and says, “That would be great! I should probably get going. I have to, ah, eat dinner…” His voice trails off and he looks to bike only to find the front basket empty. Eyes straying further, he finds that his tub of potato salad had rolled out of his bike basket and onto the ground where it lay pitifully. Thankfully, the tub hasn’t broken and the potato salad hasn’t spilled out, but somehow the salad looks even more pathetic than it did when Eren purchased it. It’s something Eren would have been happy about fifteen minutes ago, but it’s embarrassing now. Quickly, he goes to pick it up and drop it into his bike basket with the slim hope that Mr. Ral wouldn’t think much about it, but Eren has never been that lucky.

Mr. Ral must find him pitiful because he asks, “Why don’t you take some dessert home?” He’s already heading back into the bakery, gesturing for Eren to follow him despite Eren’s protests. “If you don’t, they’ll just go to waste. Or into my employee’s stomach, and goodness knows that she’s already eaten enough desserts today already.”

“Thank you so much, sir,” Eren says, humbly bowing his head.

“Sasha,” Mr. Ral calls the girl at the register. “Could you ring up a few things for Eren?”

The girl’s head snaps up at the call of her name, her cheeks filled with pastry and crumbs all over her mouth. “Sure thing,” Sasha says, gulping down the last of her lavender bar and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She walks over to the side, Eren following her on the other side of the counter, and washes her hands hastily. As she wipes her hands dry with the hand towel, she looks at Eren brightly and asks in a chipper voice, “Do you have anything you want in particular?”

Eren’s eyes scan over the display, but he doesn’t really look at anything in particular. He just wants to get out of this situation as quickly as possible. He’s embarrassed himself quite enough for today. “Just … whatever you’d recommend,”

“Alright-y,” the girl hums, taking a bag and stuffing it full with little tarts and tea cakes and croissants. Eren looks at her briefly, realizing that he doesn’t recognize her. She must have moved here sometime during the past six years when he wasn’t around.

As Sasha finishes preparing the bag, Eren walks over to the register and gets ready to pull his wallet out but Mr. Ral walks over, shaking his head. “No need to pay for it,” Mr. Ral says. He reaches over the counter and takes the bag from Sasha, presenting it to Eren with a smile. “Consider it a treat. Really, you’d be doing me a favor just taking it. They would have gone to waste otherwise.”

“Ah, thank you,” Eren says, his face flushing once more. He takes the bag from Mr. Ral with a small bow of his head. “It was great seeing you again, Mr. Ral.”

“Likewise,” Mr. Ral says with that same crinkly smile. He walks Eren to the door, watching as Eren packs the desserts alongside his potato salad. “Take good care of yourself, Eren, and tell your brother I said hi.” He waves as Eren assures him he’ll do just that, returning to the shop only once Eren has biked away.

This is not how the night was supposed to go. Eren was supposed to be wandering around the neighborhood with his potato salad before waltzing into his father’s house an hour late, his sort-of stepmother silently fuming at the dinner table while the family sat and waited for him. He hadn’t planned on bumping into his childhood crush’s father, and he certainly hadn’t planned on looking so incredibly pathetic in front of Mr. Ral. He can only imagine what Mr. Ral will tell Petra when she sees her dad tonight. Maybe something about how he grew up to be such a loser even though his half-brother managed to graduate with a Ph.D. and is now a successful anthropology professor at the local university. It’s not something that usually gets Eren down, but thinking about it now is making him feel especially miserable.

Eren’s not sure why the thought of Petra knowing how his life is so embarrassing. He hasn’t spoken to her in years, so her opinion of him shouldn’t matter. And even if she did have an opinion of him, he’s sure it wouldn’t be unkind. Petra had always been nice to him even when he was a kid and just being an annoying third wheel to her and Zeke. When his childish admiration of her turned into puppy love and eventually evolved into a full-fledged crush, she never brushed him off or thought him annoying, although there was a chance that she just never noticed. He couldn’t blame her for that when Zeke, honor roll student and valedictorian Zeke, was always standing right in front of her. He wasn’t even surprised when they started dating. It was inevitable. And when they eventually broke up for some reason that Eren still isn’t quite sure about, Eren knew he’d never be able to compare so he never tried to pursue her. It’s not surprising that he and Petra ended up losing touch.

As much as he would love to blame Zeke for it (and it would be incredibly easy for him to blame Zeke), he can’t. Maybe it’s strange that he doesn’t harbor a deep hatred for his half-brother. Their relationship has all the makings of a classic sibling rivalry - a complicated family history, stark differences in accomplishments, and affections for the same girl - but Eren could never bring himself to hate Zeke. Even if Zeke’s mother liked to hold all of her son’s accomplishments over Eren’s head, Zeke himself never bragged about them. In fact, he was quite humble and would even offer to help his younger half-brother if he was struggling with something in school. Oftentimes he would invite Eren to hang out with his friends even though their age gap made it a little awkward. He even remembered Eren’s favorite snacks and would make sure they were in supply whenever Eren came over to visit. If Zeke’s mother was an evil Disney stepmother come to life, Zeke was that one fairytale sibling that was kind to the tragic main character, so Eren had no choice but to like Zeke. Even when Zeke broke up with Petra and Eren couldn’t understand why, when Zeke told Eren that it “just happened,” Eren kind of left it at that and accepted that because he couldn’t imagine Zeke doing anything wrong.

Could Eren be classified with an inferiority complex with regards to his brother? Probably, but most siblings can. Eren would have to challenge whether or not someone with inferiority complexes would admire their brother as much as he does, but they might in a weird way. Eren’s sure that he and Zeke’s relationship would still be complicated even if they didn’t have all the weird history with Eren and Zeke’s parents.

Eren sighs as he flies down a dip in the road, letting gravity carry him down instead of pedaling. He really doesn’t feel like he’s in the right headspace for this family dinner. Usually, he lets all of that woman’s snide comments ricochet, but his armor has grown weak and he can just imagine her landing the right thinly-veiled insult, her words burying into his skin and hitting right where it hurts. For a moment, Eren considers calling the dinner off with an excuse that will be sure to piss his stepmother off — probably something about how he has to restructure his lesson plan for the upcoming week — but he glances down at the potato salad and bag of baked goods in his bike basket and realizes that he really doesn’t want to eat them all by himself. If he’s going to suffer, he might as well make the rest of his family suffer alongside him. And besides, he’s pretty much already at their house anyway.

His bike slows as he approaches the white-picket fenced house. He takes the potato salad tub and the bag of baked goods before leaving his bike on the driveway, not bothering to chain it to the fence because nobody would want to steal the old thing he bought from a garage sale anyway. The sight of it lying in front of the house instead of properly locked up will be sure to piss off that woman too, which is just an added bonus. With a sigh, Eren marches up the front steps, shifting the food all on one arm so he can ring the doorbell. The familiar chime rings out, muted from behind the wooden door. A muffled voice mumbles something Eren can’t hear, but he already knows that the speaker has nothing good to say about him.

The door is thrown open and Eren looks down to see his stepmother glowering up at him, blue eyes a raging storm. “You’re late,” she hisses. She doesn’t even give him a greeting; she just stands there in front of him silently fuming. Behind her stands Eren’s father. As expected, he says nothing to defend his son’s tardiness. The man just stands there, uncomfortable as he quietly observes.

“Sorry, Dina,” Eren says, squeezing past his stepmother who makes an indignant noise. He dangles the food he brought in front of her face, rolling his eyes when she snatches the bag from him only to wrinkle her nose in disgust when she sees the potato salad. “I brought dessert, too. Do you want me to put it somewhere …?”

Dina snatches the bag of desserts from him too, still huffing. “We have a guest tonight too. Do you know how rude you’re being?” she says, continuing to nag at him even though Eren has stopped listening to her years ago.

Eren’s father gently grabs Eren by the elbow, subtly ushering him inside to avoid any more conflict but Eren yanks his arm away.

“Well, maybe if you told me we were having a guest beforehand I would have showed up on time,” Eren snaps. He sounds angry as he says it, but he really does mean it. It’s one thing to be rude to his stepmother, but it’s another thing entirely to be rude to a guest he doesn’t know. He’d at least wait for introductions before deciding whether or not to show any manners.

Before his stepmother can say anything more, Eren stomps off into the dining room where Zeke and the guest are waiting. He keeps his head down, cheeks burning, as he pulls out his chair - the one furthest from everyone - and slumps down into it. “Sorry, I’m late,” Eren mumbles, still looking down.

“Eren,” says a deep voice that Eren recognizes as Zeke’s. Hearing the voice of someone other than his stepmother’s makes Eren relax a bit and he rests with his back against his chair, a little more at ease now. He can hear Zeke’s small smile as his half-brother asks, “Aren’t you going to say hi to our guest?”

“Uh, yeah. Hi,” Eren says. His eyes flicker upward, first at Zeke who sits across from him, and then at the guest. He looks so quickly at first that he doesn’t register exactly who he’s seeing until he does a double-take, his green eyes widening as they take in the woman sitting there. It’s someone he hadn’t expected to see ever again, much less sitting at his family’s dining table, and he’s so surprised that he almost chokes. For a moment, he thinks it might just be a doppelganger, but there’s no mistaking the soft dimples that appear in her cheeks as her lips curl in a smile. “...Petra?”

“Hi, Eren.” Petra’s voice is still as gentle and soothing as Eren remembers, the sound of it so honey-sweet that he feels his cheeks bloom a soft pink. There’s so much about her that’s different, but there’s so much more that’s the same. Her hair is shorter now, no longer falling right at her shoulder, but curling right under her chin in a short bob. It’s the same shade of ginger it was when he was a kid. If it’s under the right light, it would probably burn a fiery gold. Her doe eyes are the same pretty amber, sweet and dangerously entrancing at the same time. She’s even dressed differently, her button-up blouse and slick gray trousers such a departure from the casual jeans and t-shirts she wore ten years ago when Eren was still in high school. Eren feels horribly underdressed - his ratty university sweatshirt over a thin cotton tee and his ripped jeans are so shabby in comparison - but a glimmer of silver on Petra’s wrist attracts Eren’s attention to the charm bracelet she wears, jangling with charms that Eren remembers her collecting in her high school days, and he feels a little less like he’s meeting a stranger and more like he’s reuniting with an old friend.

“How are you?” Eren asks shyly, his smile bashful.

“I’m well,” she answers, and Eren feels himself melting into her voice the same way he did when he was thirteen. When she smiles, her head tilts ever so slightly to the right just the way it did when he first met her and her dimples deepen into her cheeks. “How are you?”

“Good,” Eren answers because he doesn’t trust himself to string together more than a word or two at a time. He wonders if she realizes how he’s unraveling at the sound of her voice or if she’s as oblivious as she was the last time.

“I’m glad,” Petra says, and the warm look Petra gives Eren reignites a flame in the pit of his belly that he had thought he extinguished long ago. Her head tilts a little bit more to the side, her eyes twinkling. “I missed you,” Petra tells him, and Eren finds himself in love once more.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

There are rules to dealing with your ex-boyfriend after you’ve broken up, Petra knows, but it’s been ten years and she figures that these rules can be bent. So what if the last time she saw Zeke she was broken-hearted, crying in the rain as he turned his back on her? She was younger then, her feelings out of control for someone who didn’t care for her nearly as much as she cared for him. And, sure, maybe it’s terrible that she never received the closure that she deserves, but she can’t hold a grudge against him forever. They work in the same university and cowering behind the nearest trashcan every time they meet doesn’t seem to be a viable option. Petra’s older now and so is Zeke. They’re mature. They can be friends like adults are after they’ve broken up, so the universe should be able to understand her accepting Zeke’s dinner request that evening even if her friends couldn’t.

She only started to regret her decision when Zeke offered to drive her there after his classes ended - saving gas and the planet, he explained - and she agreed. Although Petra repeatedly told herself that it was a simple family dinner and that such an invitation was extended to Zeke’s other friends on occasion, she found herself sitting impatiently in her office, biting her nails down so close to the quick that her fingers started to bleed. Having to bandage her fingers as she waited did absolutely nothing to soothe her nerves.

“I don’t see why you’re so nervous,” Levi tells her over the phone. He taught in the mathematics department, but they had met after Petra had nervously stumbled into the wrong building and into his office on her first day at the university. The man has a perpetual scowl on his face, and that very same expression had nearly sent Petra running until she weakly explained that she must have gotten lost and he kindly redirected her to the building her office was located in. She thought that was going to be the end of their interaction until he emailed her shortly after asking if she had gotten to her office alright. Finding him a kindred spirit, he had become her first (and sadly only) companion at the university aside from Zeke. “If you’re friends with him, it shouldn’t be that big of a deal.”

“Well, it’s just that I haven’t really seen him since we, you know, broke up,” Petra explains, but she doubts that Levi understands. She had told him her history with Zeke a few weeks ago after he asked her why she was so jittery at the faculty luncheon, but he didn’t have much of a reaction. It was sort of nice having someone to talk to that wasn’t as hyperbolically reactive as the rest of her friends, but it was also painfully difficult when Levi didn’t show her any sympathy.

“You saw him last week when you were at the library to look for reference books,” he reminds her as if it were the same thing. “I don’t know why this dinner has you in a panic. You left me nearly a hundred messages while I was teaching class.” He hadn’t even replied to her texts, the bastard. He had simply left her on read until midnight before sending her a thumbs-up emoji to let her know that he had read her messages, which was not exactly the response Petra was waiting for.

“This is different!” Petra insists, but she knows Levi will never see it that way.

“You’re making this a much bigger deal than it needs to be,” Levi says. She can hear him scribbling something on the other end, probably correcting exams for his differential equations classes and marking a poor student’s paper in an abundance of red. “Either cancel or just go to dinner with him. You’ve had family dinners with him even before you guys got together right?”

“Yeah, but that was back when we were kids,” Petra mumbles, fiddling with the hem of her shirt.

“Then you’ll be fine,” he tells her.

“You’re horribly unsympathetic sometimes,” she sighs.

“If you wanted sympathy, you shouldn’t have called me,” Levi says with a cluck of his tongue, but he chuckles when he hears her groan on the other end. “Really, it’ll be fine. You’re just overthinking it. I’m sure it’ll be fine. And you said the kid will be there, right? His brother, so it’s not as if you’ll be alone with Zeke and his parents.”

Petra lays with her head on her desk, her phone pressed against her cheek. “Yeah, you’re right,” she mumbles, but her lower lip still sticks out in a pout. The thought of Eren being there, sweet little Eren with his eager puppy eyes and wide smile, does make her feel better if only a little. She probably hasn’t seen him since she broke up with Zeke. She wonders if he’s changed very much. He’d be in college now? Or maybe he graduated. “I haven’t seen him in awhile though. What if he hates me now?”

“You’re overthinking again,” Levi says. He sighs on the other end. If Petra didn’t know him very well, she would think she was bothering him, but he’s always like this. “Are you going to be okay?”

“Yes. No. Maybe,” Petra sniffs. She looks sadly at her bandaged fingers and picks at the ends of one of them. “Should I just cancel? Maybe I can tell him I fell down the stairs and had to go to the hospital or something -” Someone knocks at the door and Petra lets out a startled yelp, nearly falling out of her chair because she’s so surprised. When she looks at the door, she sees Zeke’s silhouette against the frosted glass pane. The sight of it makes her want to hide behind her desk. “God, he’s here already!”

“Too late for you to run then,” Levi says, not even bothering to hide his snickering. He’s such a sadist that Petra doesn’t even know why she’s friends with him sometimes. “Have fun at your absolutely normal dinner with your friend and his family.” Click!

“Asshole,” Petra mutters under her breath before shoving her phone in her bag. There’s another knock at the door — the same long, slow knocks that are a signature of Zeke’s — and she hastily shouts, “I’ll be right there!” before shoving her papers in her bag and stumbling out of the door, nearly tripping over her own feet in the process. She must look like a mess because Zeke raises an eyebrow at her when she emerges from her office. Petra catches a glimpse of her reflection in the window and winces at her frumpled shirt and the hair falling out of her bun. She mumbles an apology as she pulls the hair ties out of her bun, her hair falling in loose curls around her face.

“Did I catch you at a bad time?” Zeke asks.

“No! God, no,” Petra says, inwardly cringing at every word that comes out of her mouth. Even she can tell how awkward her responses sound, a little too quick and desperate. What is she being so anxious for? It’s just dinner with a friend — an ex-boyfriend, but a friend nonetheless. Petra clears her throat and asks as casually as she can manage, “How are your parents?”

“Hmm? They’re well, I suppose,” he answers. Everything about him is familiar. He’s grown just a bit taller since Petra last saw him, his shoulders a bit broader and his jawline a bit sharper, but he still wears the same double-bridge glasses and the right corner of his mouth still quirks upward just the slightest bit when he speaks. He even walks the same way, his strides a little too long and quick, and Petra finds that she still has to struggle a bit to keep up. If Zeke notices the same thing about her - how she still wears the same shade of lipstick, how she still has that habit of wrapping her hair around her finger when she’s nervous like she’s doing now, how she bites her lip when she’s not sure what to say next - he doesn’t mention it. “My father’s still working at the hospital with my grandfather. He’s been promoted to director of the orthopedics department.”

“Oh, congrats!”

“And you know my mother has been at the hospital now that she doesn’t have to worry about me anymore,” Zeke says. It’s strange how casually he says this, as if he doesn’t remember that the last time he spoke about his mother to Petra was when they were still together. “She really missed being in the OR. Says she’d rather be doing surgeries all day than taking care of me.”

“It’s nice that she can go back to it.” She nearly stumbles over a step but catches the railing before she can. When she looks up again, Zeke is already on the sidewalk and she hurries after him, a little breathless. “And Eren?”

“Eren?” Zeke seems a little surprised by the question although Petra doesn’t know why. He leads her to a car - a slick Mercedes with a shining blue exterior and tinted windows that don’t quite match Zeke’s academic profession — and opens the car doors with a click.

“Your brother,” she clarifies as Zeke walks over to the driver’s side and slips into the car. She opens the passenger car and slides into the seat beside Zeke, setting her bag down next to her feet. The door swings shut behind her. “He’s coming to the dinner too, right?”

Zeke turns on the engine and the car comes to life with a pleasant hum. “Most likely,” Zeke says as he checks the side and rearview mirrors before pulling out of the parking space. He even drives the same way, his arm resting on the side with his hand tapping against the door while one hand is on the wheel. Just watching him makes Petra’s chest feel tight.

“Ah, that’s good. I haven’t seen him in so long,” Petra says. For some reason, knowing that Eren will also be there makes her feel a little more relaxed about the dinner. “Is he still in college? I think he should have graduated by now.”

“He graduated a little while ago. He’s teaching now. Still on probation, but he says his colleagues like him so he’s not too worried about getting tenure after the probationary period is over.” He slows the car to a stop at an intersection and leans over, fiddling with the radio dial. He sets it to the jazz station and the sound of smooth brass and relaxed percussion fills the car.

Somehow, driving down the streets with Zeke is far more nostalgic than it ever was when Petra drove on her own. Some nights Petra drove home by herself, and all it ever felt was lonely. Maybe it’s the familiarity of having Zeke beside her like when they were teenagers, driving back home after watching a movie downtown or returning from a basketball game at their high school.

Petra doesn’t ask any more questions about Zeke’s family. She figures she can catch up with the rest of the Jaegers when she sees them at dinner. Instead, she asks Zeke about his classes and finds that conversation with him comes more easily after she stops stumbling over her words. He tells her a little bit about teaching anthropology (“Far less painful than you think it would be, at least when the kids aren’t just taking it to fulfill their core classes,” he says), his plans for the upcoming week (“It’s midterms, but the students should be fine if they actually look at the study guide.”), and the butterfly exhibit opening up at the museum downtown (“I’m thinking of putting it up as extra credit. Who knows, they might actually look at the other exhibits while they’re wandering around.”). Petra also fills him in on her own life, mumbling about how she still has to make the answer key to her own midterm and expressing interest in the butterfly exhibit Zeke mentions.

They pull up next to Zeke’s house, the very same one he grew up with. Not much has changed from the outside. The white picket fence is a little worn and the rose bushes have been replaced with peonies. The house is still the same shade of cream, but Petra is sure that the Jaegers had it repainted over the summer like they usually do. She looks up at the second-story window where Zeke’s room should be and vaguely wonders if it’s still his room or if he’s moved out and hasn’t mentioned it yet.

Walking up the brick steps to the door is a bit surreal. Petra doesn’t realize just how silent she’s been until the chime of the doorbell startles her and Mrs. Jaeger opens the door. As with most of Zeke’s family members, Petra hasn’t seen Mrs. Jaeger since she broke up with Zeke, but she had an amicable relationship with her. She can’t recall Mrs. Jaeger ever being angry, so she’s surprised when Zeke’s mother opens the door with a terrible scowl on her face.

“Mom, you remember Petra,” Zeke says, moving aside so that Petra can enter first.

The scowl quickly slips from Mrs. Jaeger’s face, replaced with a smile that Petra is more familiar with. “Petra, of course! I haven’t seen you in ages,” Mrs. Jaeger says, her voice strained. She waves Petra and Zeke in, shutting the door gently behind them. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“Likewise,” Petra mumbles. She looks at the kitchen doorway where Zeke’s father leans and gives him an awkward wave. The man, just as silent as he was when Petra was young, gives her a polite smile and a nod in acknowledgment.

“Sorry, we’re a bit late,” Zeke apologizes as he shrugs off his coat. He walks over to the dining room, Petra and his mother trailing behind him. “A student wanted to talk to me and it took a bit longer than I thought it would.”

“No need to apologize! Eren hasn’t arrived yet anyway. He’ll probably be late. Again.” There’s a harsh tone in Mrs. Jaeger’s voice that Petra hasn't heard before. When she looks up, she sees Zeke’s mother hovering around the table and arranging dishes, the same polite smile on her face as she does so. “Your brother, of course, didn’t bother to send a text to notify us that he’d be late.”

Petra wonders if Mrs. Jaeger usually speaks about Eren with such disappointment in her voice. Maybe she had always spoken about Eren like this and Petra had never been around to witness it or maybe it’s something that developed while Petra was away. Whatever it is, Zeke and his father seem used to it. Zeke merely shrugs, pulling out his phone to flip through his phone while his mother continues to mutter about how disrespectful her stepson is. Mr. Jaeger continues to stand at the doorway, not bothering to join them at the dining table, his eyes fixed on the carpet. He doesn’t bother to defend his son.

“Maybe he’s busy,” Petra says, interrupting Mrs. Jaeger mid-rant. She feels rude for speaking while Mrs. Jaeger is talking, but sitting in silence while Zeke’s mother speaks ill of Eren doesn’t feel right either. All eyes are on her now - Mrs. Jaeger a little surprised, Zeke with an eyebrow quirked upward as if in amusement, and his father with a look that’s almost relieved. Petra clears her throat and continues. “He’s a teacher, right? It must be difficult teaching so many children every day — making the lesson plan and everything. Maybe texting slipped his mind. He’ll probably be here soon.”

God, she hopes Eren will be here soon. Her cheeks are starting to burn bright red and she’s thinking that perhaps speaking up might not have been the best decision.

“Ah, you’re probably right.” Mrs. Jaeger seems a little more composed now, perhaps remembering that they have company over. She settles down in the chair across from Zeke and flashes a pleasant smile at Petra. “He can be quite forgetful of these things. Of course, you’d never worry your father like this. You’ve always been so responsible.”

Has talking with Zeke’s mother always been this difficult? Petra’s head is starting to spin, unsure of what response would be appropriate. She feels as if she should defend Eren, but she doesn’t want to make things awkward either. In the end, she smiles awkwardly at Mrs. Jaeger as if accepting the woman’s compliment and reaches out for the glass of water in front of her, raising it to her lips before she can say anything else that she might regret.

“Dear, come sit next to me,” Mrs. Jaeger calls. She gestures for her husband to join them at the table and Mr. Jaeger stiffly walks over from the doorway before taking a seat at the head of the table. Mrs. Jaeger folds her hands on the table, her gaze still on Petra. “How have you been, Petra? We haven’t heard from you in a while. How long have you been back?”

The series of questions leave Petra tongue-tied and unsure of how to answer. It’s so strange how casual the Jaegers can be about asking after her, like she hadn’t been such a large part of their lives — or at least Zeke’s life — ten years ago before disappearing completely. As if they didn’t know the real reason she hadn’t kept in touch. She’s not sure if she’ll ever be able to act as oblivious as them.

“Er, I’ve been back for a while now,” she replies. She bites her lip when she sees the look of surprise on Mrs. Jaeger’s face. When she glances over at Zeke, he doesn’t look back at her. He’s returned his gaze to his phone screen, ignoring her. Nervously, she laughs. “I guess Zeke didn’t tell you, but I’m teaching at the same university he is. A few undergraduate English classes and then a graduate course on nature and romantic poetry.” Petra doesn’t know why she feels a lump at the back of her throat or the sting of tears at the corner of her eyes. She nibbles at her lip again, looking down at her lap so that she doesn’t have to look at Zeke or his family. She doesn’t have a reason to feel hurt or upset. Maybe Zeke was busy and didn’t have the chance to mention it to his parents or maybe it just slipped his mind. It isn’t a big deal.

“Oh, that must be nice! Who knew you two would be working together after all these years?” Mrs. Jaeger says. She subtly pushes the cheese plate on the table towards Petra, gesturing for her to take one.

“Mmm,” Petra says, nodding as if she agrees with Mrs. Jaeger. It’s not as if she’s wrong. Petra certainly didn’t know any of this would happen. She knew some of it would — getting her degree, teaching at a university, eating dinner with Zeke’s parents — she just hadn’t predicted other things like Zeke breaking up with her, not speaking with him for ten years after knowing him her entire life, or having to pretend that she’s okay.

Petra reaches for a cracker and a spread of raspberry goat cheese and shoves the entire thing in her mouth, hoping that she won’t have to answer any more questions.

“The university is nice,” Zeke’s father murmurs. It’s the first time he’s spoken all night. The sound of his voice startles Petra, but the other Jaegers don’t seem too surprised. “It’s near the museum too. Very convenient.”

“Ah, the museum!” Mrs. Jaeger clasps her hands together and looks at Petra expectantly. Petra nearly chokes on her cracker out of nervousness. “Have you been there yet?”

“Er, not yet,” Petra says hastily, wincing at the pain in her throat. She takes a quick sip of her water to relieve it. “I haven’t really found the time, I guess.”

“Oh, you should absolutely go!” says Mrs. Jaeger brightly. Petra had never thought Mrs. Jaeger was one to love museums, but there’s probably a lot about the woman that Petra doesn’t know now. All Petra really remembers about the woman is that she stayed at home during the daytime and worked at the hospital at night. She’s bound to have found other ways to occupy her time now that she doesn’t have to worry about Zeke anymore.

“You sound as if you really enjoy it.” Petra nibbles at another cracker. She feels as if she should smile right now, but she’s not sure if she’s able to. “Are there any exhibits you would recommend?”

“Oh, they’re all good! The staff especially …,” Mrs. Jaeger gushes, but her voice begins to trail off. Her eyes flicker over to Zeke as if waiting for a sign to proceed, but her son pays no attention to her. He simply reaches over for an almond on the cheese plate and pops it into his mouth. His mother’s smile tightens and she continues, “The butterfly exhibit that’s opening soon should be exquisite!”

Petra looks from Zeke to Mrs. Jaeger. Aside from Mrs. Jaeger’s forced smile, Petra really can’t tell what’s wrong, so she puts on a false smile of her own and nods. “I know. Zeke was telling me about it on the ride here.”

There’s a long and awkward silence. Zeke puts no effort in speaking and neither does his father, who still sits and stares at his lap. Only Mrs. Jaeger and Petra seem to be putting in any effort to pick up the conversation, both trying to appear calm as they search for some common ground to work with. Instead, the doorbell rings and Petra swears she hears a sigh of relief escape Mrs. Jaeger’s lips.

“It seems Eren has finally arrived,” Mrs. Jaeger says, her chair scraping across the floor as she gets up from the table. As she turns to leave, she flashes Petra an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry you had to wait so long.” Petra is about to tell her that it wasn’t a problem, that she didn’t mind waiting (even if it was a lie), but Zeke’s mother has already disappeared into the next room with Zeke’s father following silently behind her.

For a moment, Petra wonders if she should try to talk to Zeke so more. It’s not that the quiet bothers her, but she’s never felt comfortable sitting silently next to others unless she was completely comfortable with them. Ten years ago this would have been fine, but now sitting with Zeke beside her without saying a word is making her skin crawl and her throat dry. She glances at him from the corner of her eye, trying to gauge his interest.

Zeke doesn’t seem to be bothered by the silence at all. He’s still scrolling through his phone, occasionally reaching out to pluck a cracker or another almond from the cheese plate. If he’s fine without any conversation, Petra figures she shouldn’t bother him. She settles down with her back against her chair rather unhappily and tries to occupy herself another way.

Petra tries not to eavesdrop on the conversation going on in the other room. First, she stares down at the lace tablecloth, gazing at the delicate pattern until the floral designs are burned into her corneas. Mrs. Jaeger’s voice begins to drift into the dining room, her tone just as cold and harsh as it was when she spoke about Eren earlier this evening. Another voice floats into the room as well, a voice like Eren’s but a bit deeper and rougher than Petra remembers. As the two continue to talk, Petra finds herself straining to listen to the conversation, but she can’t quite make out the words. The words exchanged don’t sound incredibly pleasant though.

“...if you told me we were having a guest beforehand I would have shown up on time,” Eren hisses as he walks into the room. He’s taller than he was when Petra had seen him last — probably as tall as his brother if not taller — but he walks with his head down and doesn’t seem to notice Petra seated at the table even as he pulls out a chair to sit down. Without looking up, Eren mumbles, “Sorry, I’m late.”

Zeke looks up, his expression amused. “Eren,” he says, setting down his phone for once. He rests his chin in his hand, mouth quirked upward in a smile. “Aren’t you going to say hi to our guest?”

“Uh, yeah. Hi,” Eren says, mumbling into his lap. His eyes flicker upward, first at Zeke and then Petra, but he doesn’t really register who Petra is until he takes another glance. His eyes are huge like a doe’s. He’s always had big eyes even when he was a child, large and green like gemstones. He’s grown into them more since the last time Petra has seen him, but they’re still enormous, growing wider as he recognizes her. His mouth falls open in surprise. “... Petra?”

She can feel her lips curling in a smile. “Hi, Eren.”

Eren smiles back at her, a little nervous but a lot more relaxed than he was when he first arrived. He’s still shy when he smiles, looking up at her before glancing down at his lap again. “How are you?” He sits up straighter in his seat, no longer slouching.

“I’m well. How are you?”

“Good,” Eren answers.

“I’m glad. I missed you,” Petra tells him, and she means it.

His smile is a little wider now and Petra feels the most relaxed than she’s been the entire night. It’s nice to know that, despite everything, at least Eren hasn’t changed and she feels less awkward being at a Jaeger family dinner after ten years of estrangement.

Mrs. Jaeger puts down a tub of what looks like a potato salad on the table, opening the container with a frown. “At least you didn’t come empty-handed,” she comments wryly.

Eren winces but doesn’t say anything.

Petra sits up. “It looks, um, delicious.” It doesn’t. It looks like a pile of mush and not at all like anything edible, but Petra begins to spoon some on her plate anyway out of politeness despite the look of alarm on Eren’s face. “Eren, your brother told me you started teaching recently. Where do you teach?”

“Just, um, down the street. Not really elementary … it’s a daycare,” he says distractedly as he watches her help herself to his potato salad. Eren hesitates for a moment before taking the spoon from Petra and switching their plates. He does it absentmindedly, almost as if he doesn’t realize what he’s doing until he notices everyone looking at him peculiarly. Flustered, he explains, “It’s not, ah, I don’t think it’s very good. So.” As if to prove his point, he puts a heaping spoonful of it into his mouth, gagging on it as he swallows it down, and scrunches his face up in disgust.

Mrs. Jaeger looks rather smug as Eren chokes. “I’ll just put this away then,” she says, removing the tub of potato salad from the table. She gestures for Petra to help herself to the other food on the table. “Help yourself to everything else, Petra.”

“Er, thank you,” Petra says. She does feel bad about not eating the potato salad, but Eren looks pretty relieved. Because she’s talked Zeke’s ear off in the car and doesn’t know how to carry on a conversation with the Jaeger parents, she decides to continue her conversation with Eren. “Daycare seems like it would suit you. I bet you’re great with kids.”

“I’m alright,” Eren mumbles as he pushes the potatoes back and forth on his plate, but he’s hiding a smile on his face, secretly pleased. He’s never been that good at hiding his emotions, which Petra thinks is an endearing trait. “Teaching at a university is probably harder.” He freezes for a moment and then hurriedly adds, “Your dad told me you work as a professor now. I ran into him before coming here. He mentioned that you taught English …?”

She doesn’t say anything for a moment, casting a side glance at Zeke. She thought Zeke would have mentioned that they were working at the same university, but maybe it never came up in conversation between the brothers or they just weren’t as close as they were before. Forcing a smile on her face, she nods, “Yeah, I teach English, but I wouldn’t say teaching university is more or less difficult than handling a daycare. They have their own challenges, right?”

“Yeah,” Eren replies, voice soft. His smile grows wider and, after Petra asks him about what it’s like teaching at the daycare, starts animatedly talking about his students. He seems very endeared towards a young girl named Gabi, a very mischievous but sweet troublemaker, and her companion Falco, a young boy that often has no choice but to be dragged into all of Gabi’s shenanigans.

Talking to Eren makes the rest of the dinner go by easily. He’s always been easy to talk to even when they were teenagers and she was dating Zeke. Sometimes she would wait at the Jaeger house and talk with Eren while they waited for Zeke to come back from baseball practice. Eren was always so animated when he talked, using his hands and sometimes bouncing up and down his seat when he got excited. He still does that now as he talks about his work at the daycare, listening intently whenever Petra or even Zeke exchange their own stories about teaching. It makes her feel as if the past ten years hadn’t really happened, like Zeke and Eren had been a part of her life the entire time.

“Oh, I brought dessert,” Eren says brightly. Before Mrs. Jaeger can say anything, he gets up to collect the paper bag on the kitchen counter and plops it on the dining table. He pushes it closer to Petra. “Your dad gave me some while he was closing up his shop.”

She laughs. “I eat too many of these as it is,” Petra says, but she plucks an almond cookie from the bag. Her teeth sink into the cookie, savoring its subtle nutty flavor on her tongue, and sighs. “Don’t tell my dad. He won’t let me eat anymore when I get home.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” Eren grins.

Petra peers into the bag. “Did he give you any chocolate croissants?” She looks over at Eren. “Those are still your favorites, right?”

Eren looks surprised. “Ah, yeah,” he replies, blinking. “You remember?”

“Of course, I remember,” she snorts. She manages to find a pain au chocolat and places it delicately on Eren’s plate. It’s a little smooshed from the ride here, chocolate spilling out of its side, but Eren still looks at it hungrily. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Zeke leans forward. “I like the lemon bars. Let me know if there are any in there.”

She laughs and actually does manage to find one, but it’s a lemon-lavender bar. Zeke assures her it’s fine, picking off the little bits of lavender that are on the top of the bar. They eat like that for a moment and Petra feels an overwhelming wave of nostalgia. It’s probably unhealthy to yearn for the past, but Petra wouldn’t mind if things somehow ended up the way they were before.

When their dishes are scraped clean and the conversations begin to fade away, Zeke pats down the corner of his mouth with a napkin before announcing that they should stop for the night. He has papers to grade tonight, he explains to his parents who nod understandingly. The wooden legs of his chair scrape against the carpet as he gets up from the table and Petra slides out of her own seat, ready to follow him.

“Ah, Petra,” Zeke says, pausing like he’s just remembered. He looks at her, head tilting slightly. He’s stopped by the door to the living room, his hand resting on the doorframe. “Do you mind calling an Uber to pick you up? I’d drive you home myself but …”

“I …” Petra blinks, feeling like a deer in headlights. If she looked around, she would see that the rest of the Jaeger family has a similar expression. She’s not sure why she feels so surprised. Maybe it’s because she had expected him to drive her home, but maybe that was too much to ask of him after he had taken the trouble to drive her here in the first place. It’s not even that far of a drive to her house, but it’s probably too cumbersome for Zeke, who’s busy with grading papers and preparing for tomorrow’s lectures. There’s an awful lump in her throat like she had swallowed an egg whole, but Petra forces a smile on her face as she begins, “Sure, let me just call my dad -”

“I’ll take you home,” a voice says suddenly. Everyone turns to see Eren standing up from his chair. At first glance he looks angry, but Petra blinks again and there’s only concern on his face as he collects his jacket and walks over to Petra. He shrugs it on and smiles down at her, his expression a little apologetic. “Er, you don’t mind riding on a bike, do you?”

Petra has to lift her head to look at Eren and she wonders when he had gotten so tall. It must have been after she left for college. “No, that’s fine,” she replies numbly, too shocked to really think about it. She shuffles silently after Eren, mumbling a brief “thank you” when he helps her into her coat.

“It was lovely having you over again, dear,” Mrs. Jaeger says to Petra, a smile pasted on the woman’s face as she saw the two out. She doesn’t say anything about Zeke not offering Petra a ride back. “Do come again sometime.”

“Of course,” Petra says, although the promise feels empty. She’s not sure if Mrs. Jaeger notices or even cares because the woman shuts the door in her face before Eren and Petra are even out in the driveway. It’s not a cold gesture, but it’s a change from the days when Mrs. Jaeger would wait until Petra was almost out of sight before shutting the door and disappearing into the house.

Petra shoves her hands into the pockets of her coat and follows Eren down the driveway, watching as he runs to the bike he had carelessly discarded on the ground before entering the house earlier. Embarrassed, Eren hastily picks up the bike, brushing it off and mumbling something about how he had been in too much of a hurry earlier to properly lock up his bike. Petra assures him it’s fine. She’s only half-listening anyway.

“You can just sit here,” Eren says, patting a padded seat on the back of his bike. He throws a leg over his bike easily and looks at Petra, waiting expectantly.

She hadn’t objected to the ride home before, but now she looks at Eren’s vehicle of choice skeptically. “Are you sure you’ll be able to pedal with me on it? I’m a whole other person.” Petra hovers beside the bike, but she doesn’t get on.

“Yeah, it’s fine. It was fine when my boyfriends were riding in the back, and they’re a lot heavier than you,” Eren replies. It takes him a moment to register what he just said and then his face begins to color, cheeks glowing pink even in the dim moonlight. “I mean my ex-boyfriends. I rode around with my ex-girlfriend too, but she was really tiny too. She was …” He probably would have babbled on and on if Petra hadn’t sat down.

“Your exes?” Petra asks, eyebrow raised. She hadn’t really thought about Eren dating, but it’s funny to think about now. She doesn’t remember if he ever dated anyone when he was in high school. She probably shouldn’t tease, but she can’t resist grinning at the boy and saying, “It looks like you were busy in college.”

“Not that busy. Just … probably as busy as your average college student,” Eren mumbles under his breath, face still flushed. He gestures at Petra’s hands and then makes a motion around his waist. “You can … around me if, you know, you’re comfortable with it.”

“Oh, right.” She leans forward and wraps her arms around Eren’s waist and wonders briefly how someone so tall can have such a thin waist. “Do you remember the way to my house?” she asks.

“Of course,” Eren says. “It’s not that far from here.”

For some reason, the way Eren answers makes Petra feel warm. Maybe it’s just the heat transfer from resting her cheek on his back. She closes her eyes, feeling the wind rush around her as Eren bikes her back home.

It feels so comfortable, clinging onto someone so familiar and breathing in Eren’s scent, something like pinewood and a little bit of peppermint. He feels strong too, sturdy like a redwood tree. Petra doesn’t know why she doubted his ability to bike with her additional weight. He’d probably be fine having someone twice her weight in tow. She experimentally gives Eren’s waist a little squeeze. It must have been too sudden of a squeeze because they come to a screeching stop, Petra’s face slamming against Eren’s back and the two of them nearly go flying.

“Oh, ouch,” Petra says. One arm is still wrapped around Eren’s lithe waist, but she raises a hand to rub her stinging face. “That hurts.”

“S-sorry!” Eren stammers. He twists around to get a good look at Petra, forehead wrinkling. “I didn’t mean to stop so suddenly I was just … surprised.” He brings his hand down to where Petra’s arm is hooked around his waist, but he snatches his hand away as soon as their skin brushes as if he’s been burned. “Sorry!”

“It’s fine,” Petra assures him. Her nose is throbbing dully, but it’s not bleeding. “It’s my fault anyway. I was just surprised. You’re a lot bigger than you were the last time I saw you.”

“I’m alright,” Eren says with a shy laugh. He pushes off on the bike and starts for home again, pedaling easily despite Petra’s weight. He doesn’t startle when Petra leans against him again, her cheek rubbing against the cotton of his hoodie. His breath hitches a little when Petra wraps her arms a little tighter around his waist, but it goes unnoticed by her.

“Were they nice?” she asks. Eren makes a confused noise, and she can’t help but smile. Clarifying, she says, “Your exes. Were they nice?”

Eren pedals in silence for a while before responding. “Yeah. They were nice.”

“That’s good.” Petra sighs against his back, not noticing the way he shivers as if he can feel her breath on his skin. “You deserve to date nice people.”

Petra might have imagined it, but she thinks she hears Eren say something in reply. He says it quietly, though, and the wind carries it away too quickly for her to hear. She straightens her back, lifting her head from where it rests against Eren’s back, but he doesn’t repeat himself and she doesn’t ask. Maybe it’s just one of those things that are meant to be spoken aloud but not heard by anyone.

They don’t speak much the rest of the way home. Petra figures Eren is having enough trouble biking with two people and holding a conversation would only tire him out more. She just lets herself rest against him, watching as they pass streetlight after streetlight. It probably would have been more convenient to call a Lyft or an Uber, but Petra thinks accepting Eren’s bike ride isn’t bad either. It saved her from having to wait awkwardly for her driver to find the house while Zeke’s parents waited for her to leave.

She wonders if she should have gone to dinner in the first place. Maybe Zeke had only invited her out of politeness, but she had taken it to mean more than it did. She’s stupid to think that arriving at the Jaeger house meant that things could go back to the way things were. It was noticeably tense in the house. At first, Petra thought it was because of the strained relationship between Mrs. Jaeger and Eren, but now she’s not so sure. It’s not as if Mr. and Mrs. Jaeger had met her with open arms. They hadn’t been hostile, but they were polite in the way that people were polite to house guests and not in the way they would be to a childhood friend of their son. God, she’s so stupid. She should have just declined Zeke’s offer politely and never spoken to him again since he was obviously content with not speaking with her for ten years.

Burying her face in Eren’s hoodie, Petra gives him another squeeze. Eren doesn’t brake this time. He just lets out a surprised “oh!” and falters for a bit, bike slowing, before picking his pace back up and continuing on their way.

“We’re almost there,” Eren tells her. As he approaches Petra’s house, the bike begins to slow before stopping completely in front of the driveway. When Petra lifts her head, Eren is looking at her, smiling. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Petra nods. She gets off the bike and pats down her windswept hair, brushing some stray locks out of her face. She manages to smile back at Eren. “Thanks for the ride back. I hope it wasn’t too out of your way.”

“It’s fine.” Eren sits at his bike, his smile a little lopsided. He looks as if he’s about to say something, but nothing comes. It’s only when Petra turns around towards her house that he opens his mouth. “Hey, Petra?”

Petra’s hand rests on the gate of her wooden fence, just about to open it. She looks at Eren, watching as he fidgets with the handle of his bike. “Yeah?”

“Did Zeke …?” His voice trails off and Eren’s looking everywhere except at her face. He nibbles on his bottom lip and Petra wonders what he’s so nervous about. His expression looks pained as if he’s scared whatever he has to say will hurt her, but Petra’s not sure why it would. After a moment, Eren swallows and forces a smile on his face. “Did Zeke tell you that … I work near your university?”

“You do?”

Eren nods. He looks a lot less nervous now, his shoulders relaxed. “Well, it’s not that far by bike.”

“Really?” Petra hums. “I should come visit you some time then.”

“Oh, you don’t have to -”

“Or you could visit me?” she suggests.

He blinks. “I can?” Eren asks. “Is that really okay?”

Petra almost laughs. “Of course. Why wouldn’t it be? You should just let me know beforehand if you’re coming,” she tells him. She walks over, pulling her phone out of her purse and handing it to him so he can add his number. “Text me or call me. I might not respond right away because I might have a faculty meeting or a lecture, but I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.”

“Oh, alright then,” Eren says. He types away on her phone, handing it back to her as soon as he’s finished. He watches with wide green eyes as Petra sends him an emoji — a simple “Hi, Eren! It’s Petra 😊” — and looks back at her with a grin. “I’ll come visit sometime.”

“That’d be great,” Petra says, and she really means it. “Thanks again for the ride, Eren. I really appreciate it.”

“It was no problem,” Eren tells her. He waves as walks through the gate and up the steps of her porch. He’s still waving when she opens the door and turns around, his smile a little goofy but cute at the same time. “Have a good night!”

“You too,” Petra says before shutting the door gently behind her. She takes a peek out the window and sees Eren still on the sidewalk with the bike. He stands there with a pensive look on his face before pushing off his bike and riding off into the night. Petra watches until he’s a tiny speck down the road. When she blinks, he’s gone.

Petra finds her dad waiting for her in the living room, sleeping because he can’t stay awake for very long after dinner. In his lap sits a half-finished crossword puzzle. Petra smiles affectionately at her father before pressing a soft kiss on the old man’s brow.

“I’m home,” she whispers as her father begins to stir.

“Ah, Petra,” says her father. He looks at her, eyes still bleary with sleep, and gives her a drowsy smile. With a hand, he pushes up the glasses that were slipping off his nose during sleep. “Did Zeke drive you home?”

Her lips press into a thin line. “No. He was busy,” Petra replies, trying to keep her voice as even as possible. “Eren took me home instead.”

“Eren?” her father repeats, not seeming to remember the name.

“Zeke’s younger brother,” Petra reminds him. She leans against the back of her father’s armchair as she tries to describe the half-brother. “He was a few years younger than me. Brown hair, big green eyes, kind of gangly.”

“Oh, Eren,” her father says, nodding. Petra’s not sure if he actually remembers or if he’s just being polite, but then he suddenly says, “I saw him earlier this evening before I was closing up shop. He’s very polite. He’s a nice boy.”

Petra leans over to rest her head on her father’s shoulder while her arms lay folded on the back of the armchair. She thinks about her ride home, how it could have been cold and miserable and lonely. And maybe her thoughts were all of those things, but the ride wasn’t. She can still feel the warmth Eren emanated from underneath his hoodie, how comforting it was to have someone to hold.

“Yeah. He’s a nice guy,” Petra says softly.

#eretra #petra ral #eren jaeger #zeke jaeger #big au #ilyitros #i'll love you in the rain or shine series #modern au #snk #damn i love food so much!!!

12 notes · View notes

l0chn3ss · 4 years

Text

l0chn3ss update

I feel like the last time I ever really active on tumblr was in the year 2016, so i want to address my absence between 2017-2020. Part of it is because I feel like I owe it to my friends and mutuals who I just basically left on read and another part is because I’ve always treated this blog as a personal blog that documents my life and my growth. I put off writing this for a long time but now that I have a huge paper due, now is definitely the time.

You are welcome to skip but I will address a few hard hitting questions I feel should be answered, especially since I feel like I departed like an anti-hero of a bad tv show.

Where I am currently: I am in grad school to obtain a master’s in library and information science. I have a full time job at different middle school libraries, though I work from home now. I also tutor kids on the side to pay for my tuition because I basically make minimum wage. Quarantine messed with my head at first, but now I’m feeling much better and I’m trying to reconnect with friends and close a lot of loose ends.

TLDR: I took an extended break because tumblr mobile sucks and my laptop needed serious repairs. I made a huge migration away from social media in 2018. I prioritized my education and in-person connections, which fell to shit because of my fandom involvement in the past. I did not like the direction of the main fandom I participated in and knew that many of the people I once respected did not respect me in return/ Us versus them mentality. I recognized that I treated my life on tumblr too seriously and took petty drama personally. I am sporadically on tumblr now because I genuinely enjoy the social connection and because I still like running fandom events.

Yes, you can reblog this. I’d love for this narrative to be heard.

Long version: To preface this, this post is being written to give myself closure and because I really am procrastinating on my final big paper of this semester. I’ll be tackling on the points in the tldr in a longer narrative that will appear to be in an expository fashion, which I recognize will be a source of contention, but my intentions are to throw it onto the table so that I can be freed. I can let it go and move on. I’m no longer a 20 years old who cared too much of what other people think and will think; I think differing perspectives are important and I want to give myself a chance to say my piece. That and I recognize that I lost the audience that I once had, so I doubt this will be an issue at all. It’s been 4 or what ever years, let’s just not.

Back in 2015-2016 there was a huge back and forth between three groups of people in the SE fandom. The reason why I’m not listing out the name is because I don’t want this to show up in the tags. I’d say that the three groups could be seen as quite literally the soma shippers (mostly white, demi sexual girls), lgbt centric bloggers (very kid or star oriented, very fed up with soma), and the people who were deemed as alright to soma shippers (c r ona, ste inm arie, jac k im centric people). There was a constant (and understandable) tension between the first two groups while the third was like the weird cousin that everyone in the social circles liked because they sprinkled in soma for the masses. Don’t argue with me on this-- this was literally how the fandom was in 2015 and you know it.

The main issue was that one group felt that they were being inclusive towards identities and sexualities while the other felt that they were not. I remember that one of the arguments was that soma WAS an LGBT ship because people headcanonned the members to be demisexual. However, the other side of the argument was that it wasn’t good representation of a gay pairing. Now that we can look back at this 5 years later, I have two things to say: 1, I now very much understand why the argument broke out because of how heated the topic is, and I do believe that I lean more towards the “other side” now that I’m not wearing rose tinted glasses, but 2, I need to make it clear that demi people are lgbt, but a headcanon is not fact and ship diversity was the main question at hand, not the ship itself. This argument lasted for weeks, destroyed my friendships, and no matter what I felt I did in the moment (which was to mend the fandom), it was taken as an insult.

(Side note: Somethings that I remember was being in someone’s DM’s to encourage them to participate in the large fandom events more, but once they twisted my intentions and rallied their friends, I became their enemy. I also became the mods’ enemy but then again, when was I not? I was made fun of for saying “queergender,” a term that is now currently being widely used, quite openly by someone I wanted desperately to be friends with. I was outwardly mocked by popular users who only apologized behind closed doors but didn’t bother to clear things up with their followers. Adults who were in their 30s quite literally attacked a 19 year old. It was in that moment that I realized I would never become friends with either side, and not because I didn’t want to.)

I bring this up because as I begun to stop writing soma fics, I also begun to see and understand why people moved away from it. It wasn’t the ship itself, it was the culture surrounding it. However, on tumblr we have the ability to connect intensely with the content we produce. Therefore, the ship itself began to be connected with the shippers and their attitudes towards outside pairings-- that attitude being tied into elitism.

I say this with every ounce of love I can because I once had the exact same mannerism. When you become so tied into one pairing to the point where other ships appear to threaten the existence of it and you react negatively towards it, you become rancid. The popular tag “everything is soma” takes a very dark turn. Even if readers consume another pairing’s work, they will be obliged to say “I ship soma more BUT that was cute.” They will read an entirely different topic and wonder why soma wasn’t inserted into it in the background. They will reject pairings that separate the two as if breaking them up is sin and an insult.

The only reason why I stopped writing my soma fics in 2016 was because I saw a real need to fill in the gaps of other pairings. I took what people were saying to heart and I wanted to change my ways and my perceptions. I saw the animosity of the ship culture and rejected it. I wanted to use what little influence I had to make the fandom just a bit more accepting. In 2016, I don’t think the fandom was ready for it. In 2017, they still weren’t ready for it. In 2020, I see hope, but I wonder sometimes if it’s masqueraded pity because of previous treatment.

In the middle of it all, I went from being the soma angst master to becoming the weird person everyone once knew. I was the friend that people excluded from group chats and I just “wasn’t the same.” Cliques grew extremely large in power in 2017 and exclusion hurt like a bitch.

The straw that broke the camel’s back and completely shut me down was in 2017 when I was graduating as a bachelor. There was a fandom event that I decided to go all in to. For context, there used to be a huge debate on how many times a person should enter in an event, but in my mind, the more exposure the better. My graduation and the event took place at the exact same time, which was cool, but what hurt me was what happened after.

I was lucky enough to be accepted into field school (when you travel to do outdoor excavating) for my major. I’m an anthropologist-- it was an honor. I didn’t plan in advance for it, and if anything, I thought that I would be committed completely to the events and my 5 or what ever entries at the time. I’ve always prided myself in communicating with others, so I made sure to let my partners in the event know what was going on. I was so excited to be going on my first ever excavation and no one at the time said anything otherwise, in fact, they all seemed incredibly supportive.

What I didn’t know was that I would be called out by name in the event feedback response by one person who felt that I didn’t take the event seriously enough and that I should’ve prioritized my time accordingly. Two of the mods let me know because it referred to me directly, though the name of the submitter was not included. It was not only a slap in the face, but a dumbfound moment that reminded me that wow, fandom content really is someone’s life out there. My enforced silence because of lack of internet in the woods actually upset someone and made them believe that I wronged them, because I put my real life ambitions first before a fandom event.

It was then when I woke up and I remember very clearly thinking to myself: I don’t want to be like them. I don’t want to treat my fandom life seriously. I want to participate in fandom for fun, not out of duty. I don’t want to prioritize this life because in the end, if I am hated for putting my work and education first, then I don’t want it.

(For context, I suspect that it was the same person who made a 200 note call out on me during the fandom tension. I respected this person immensely, but I also treated them like the flawed person I believe everyone is. I’m sure because of this, I’m pretty much trash in their eyes, which is totally fine. They have really cute cats so they can’t be all too bad. Don’t look into it too deeply.)

Once my month long field school was up, I was already used to not being on the internet or any of my social media accounts. I didn’t play my mobile games for a month. I didn’t read the news for a month. It was like going cold turkey on the internet, which reshaped my habits entirely. The only time that I had online within that time span was during the weekend, but I spent my time working on my projects and catching up with friends instead of being on apps.

I was also completely fed up with tumblr’s mobile app at the time, so one by one, I deleted my apps. Good bye to tumblr, snapchat, what little I used of instagram, twitter, everything. The only thing I kept was facebook, which was because it is the main platform that I use to message my boyfriend. That meant that any friends I retained from the fandom (who I still contact now) were also friends who had the chance to add me on facebook.

This was the cause of my 2 or 3 year hiatus on tumblr, and therefore the fandom. I occasionally checked back every 6 months to do a few fandom events, but I have several unopened messages and notifications that I haven’t been able to get to. I open my instagram for a few days once a year, and I only go onto twitter if my friends tell me (through facebook) that they dm’d me a post there.

When I left my online persona behind, I quickly strengthened my in person connections. New drama that erupted every other day became replaced with starbucks and boba runs. Reality TV shows replaced fanfiction. Text messages replaced the tumblr activity feed (which still doesn’t work on mobile BTW). I study at cafes unironically with friends instead of typing alone in my room. Overall, it opened my world considerably.

I still like making fun of myself and I try not to take myself seriously. I still make self depreciative memes to send to friends but then double up with kermit heart pics. I’m still a plot bunny, I still write my fics, I still watch my anime, I still play video games, I still sleep at 4am, I still take my depression medication, I still love potatoes, I still use my voice for people who can’t find theirs yet. But I think I’m in a much healthier mindset now, even if I still make stupid shifty posts calling out bad behavior.

Nowadays, I’m working on my Master’s degree in secret. My parents don’t know about it because my mom doesn’t like that I want to go out and do unladylike things like getting an education. I tutor kiddos and I’m really good with younger children, but I’m not going to do anything with kids because I just don’t want to. Instead, I want to work at an archive or a museum to bring my library interests and my anthropology background together. If I had my dream job, I would be a marine archaeologist; however I love my boyfriend of 8 years whom you probably all remember and I really came to terms with my grandeur dreams. I’m extremely happy with living in a small town with loved ones now, and I don’t need to move somewhere far away from my parents to be content. It’s a huge realization.

From 2018 to 2020 I got into actual drama in person while I was job hunting. Adult people suck and honestly it’s kind of embarrassing how ill equipped some people are. Even so, I currently work in middle schools as a media assistant. One of those realms is the library, and honestly it’s like fulfilling a prophecy. As much as I love the social aspect, public schools are an absolute train wreck.

I’m going to wrap this up now. This post is meant to help me close the past and move forward because the fandom culture feels different now. Things from several years ago don’t need to resurface. I want to enjoy my life fully, and fandom life is one of those aspects that I truly did enjoy. I’m going to keep using my voice and act like a fool, but I’m also not going to be losing sleep because of this. People are going to talk about you no matter what, whether positively or negatively, and it’s important to not take it personally.

Idk, go enjoy yourselves. Do things for yourself. It’s more fun that way.

#nessingaround #this was cathartic #huge thank you to my friends who stuck by me and to my friends who welcome me back with open arms #big shout out to my disney girl gang and another big shout out to 'ma girls'#another thank you to my sweethearts on google hang out #and thank you especially to the group of se lgbt users from 2016 who truly did open my eyes to the severity of the fandoms actions #even tho u still hate me and have me blocked hahaha i consider this growth

68 notes · View notes

ohnoyoonoh · 4 years

Text

PREVIEW of PHILIA & EROS

author -; @ohnoyoonoh

genre. au -; highschool au, based on/inspired by the movie. the half of it. coming of age.

pairing -; lee jeno x oc, huang renjun x oc, jeno x oc x renjun, renjun x jeno (ish)

synopsis -; a story of where someone asks a writer to write them a love letter for the girl they like except the writer likes this girl, too. it's an adventure of lessons in friendship and first love with renjun, jeno, and hwayoung in the town of dalgleish, oregon.

author’s note -; sneak peek into my upcoming story with jeno and renjun. i was actually very passionate in this story. this is the first story in a while that will be tagged with networks, yayyy lol lmk if you wanna be part of the taglist

warnings -; love triangle, strong language, minor bullying, whole story includes touches on sexuality, touches on sex but not committed, underage drinking and drug use, mention of minor character death (renjun’s mom), kissing, long ass story lemme tell you that

word count -; (preview) 4.8k and it’s only the beginning

Love. Love certainly comes in different forms. According to C.S. Lewis, there are four types that people focus on: Storge, Philia, Eros, and Agape. Omitting agape as many do not believe in the Christian faith, the other three simply play a role in everyone’s upbringing whether they notice the existence of these loves in their life or not. Following the words of Lewis, we would be obliged to love every single day without a choice whether it’s to us or seeing it with others. We see love wherever we go. But in this society, do we really know what love is? Love is not as straightforward as we thought it would be unlike adding and subtracting in math. Love is strange but whatever the perspective by the person, it could also be the most beautiful thing in the world.

And that is not how you write a world-class essay to make you pass an honors class.

Huang Renjun began to press the backspace of the conclusion to the last essay he needed to write for the English class. It wasn’t his essay that he was writing but one that was in his queue of his homework services. The list was stacked with requests of the take on C.S. Lewis’s Four Loves for Mrs. Lee’s Junior English Honors class, but the teacher could care less that the students cheated in the class in the peewee town of Dalgleish in the state of Oregon.

Dalgleish didn’t have much except for the Pretty Douglas Fir trees decorated around the boundaries of the town. It was fitting as the Dalgleish basically meant green field. There weren’t many open fields but looking at the town from above, the amount of trees make it look like a green space. That was one of the things that Renjun enjoyed seeing, the nature that the town offered. It was calming, least to say. Losing himself into the natura was a good getaway from the extensive labor he needed to do to support him and his family. His family consisted of his father and younger sister, Mei. His mother passed away due to breast cancer when Renjun was thirteen and Mei was ten.

That was the reason why he started his business of the homework services, but it also extended into adding more part time jobs to continue a decent salary for a high school student. His father never asked him to do any of these jobs because he never wanted to overwork Rejnun and his sister during high school. He wanted to make sure that they could focus primarily on their school work and occasional side jobs to include in their résumés and transcripts. Though due to the passing of his wife, he wasn’t able to commit to his computer science career and waived off the successful path to enter a minimum wage job.

Renjun understood the reason for his father’s lack of working, which is why he stepped up a little more than a teenager should carry on their shoulders. He loved his family too much to not do so. Which is why, he was checking off the list of names on his queue for the homework that needed to be handed that day.

Zhong Chenle

Eleanor Lee

Amie Quill

Wong Yukhei

Eugene Mills and the list going on.

He calculated the amount that was due and the total, making sure that no one paid him less. He didn’t mind if someone paid more, as it would be beneficial to any extra expenses that needed to be paid off. “$20 per essay, mm.. $200. That should be enough to cover the water bill and the groceries.”

Mei nodded, writing the total on the sticky notes that littered all over the mirrored wall. The wall full of sticky notes for the week logging any needed tasks to be finished. Wherever there weren’t any sticky notes were old pictures of the family and memories in their upbringing or new polaroid pictures of Renjun and Mei. It was a nice reminder of the moments that were captured in the midst of the hard every days.

“Hey, uh, Renjun, I was wondering if I could go to homecoming?” Mei questioned, breaking the silence as Renjun revised the to-do lists while editing his own essay. He forgot to do so since the amount of requests to do their homework was unbelievable. The only downside of the homework service was that everyone requests last minute. “Renjun.”

“Sorry, I forgot to do my homework,” he snapped his head up, letting his sister know that she had his undivided attention. Mostly. “Uh, what did you ask?”

“I was just asking if I could go to homecoming, I’ll even work extra hours to pay for my dress. I’ll even pick up some of the homework in your requests,” Mei pleaded, not verbally but through her eyes. Renjun stared at her, wondering if she was serious. It wasn’t uncommon for freshmen to attend high school events, especially someone like his sister. Mei was and still is the type of person to enjoy the events that school offers. It was the perfect opportunity to spend time with her friends and escape the hours of working. That was what Renjun recalled during their late night talks as they pleated the dumplings for their lunches for the rest of the week.

“Renjun, stop spacing out,” Mei shook his shoulder, seeing if it would wake him up out of his trance.

“Uh, yeah yeah. You can help me with some of the homework and take over my shift for the next two days at the library, is that okay?” Renjun offered. He knew he would have felt bad if he said no. Knowing his sister, she would either give up on working and not get a new dress, or give up working and not going to homecoming all together.

Mei agreed, nodding her head profusely and quickly embracing her brother. Renjun stood there, reluctantly wrapping his arms around her. Mei rarely showed affection to him which is why he seemed so surprised at the actions. Nonetheless, he appreciated the love. God. Love. Love. Love. His essay. His eyes widened, releasing from the grasp of his sister, “Crap, I need to finish the last paragraph of my essay.”

The sound of the alarm ringing through the kitchen, notifying the Huang siblings that it was time for them to head to school. Renjun groaned, wanting to bang his head against the wall. He shoved the folder with the homeworks that he finished inside of his backpack while tossing Mei her lunch. He grabbed the pen that hung off of the wall, checking off the sticky note that was made a week before to remind him of the work to do. Renjun rechecked everything once more to be certain that he hadn’t skipped over anything. Assuring himself that he didn’t miss anything, he grabbed the keys of his dad’s car and made his way out the door. Before exiting the house, his dad seemed to be missing from his usual spot on the couch but knew he was home due to his shoes still at the door.

“Mei, is dad still home?” Renjun questioned as he sat on the floor to put his shoes on. Mei turned around to face her brother and nodded, “He’s taking a shower and already made his food.”

Renjun nodded, slinging his backpack over his shoulders to adjust the straps as he wore it, “Are you ready to go?”

“I’ve been ready, I don’t know about you,” Mei sarcastically retorted. Renjun scoffed, standing up and opening the door to allow his sister to go out first. As they walked outside to get to the car, Renjun playfully kicked her leg causing her to quickly turn around to punch him. He quickly ran to the car to escape her wrath.

“Alright, I’ll see you later. Don’t forget your shift at the library,” the male informed his sister as they both entered the school. Mei groaned but nodded, saying goodbye to her brother as she parted ways to join her friends. Now, Renjun was stuck to being a high class loner for the rest of the day. He never made any friends, well ones that didn’t last long. Though he was content with that. It was better than having ones that would backstab you or talk behind your back. For being a small town, Dalgleish didn’t have much to offer with people. So, people created their own drama. Luckily in all of the Huang siblings’ time in Dalgleish, they never had any mentions of being in drama. They only were the butt of the joke of their low-class dad, but Mei and Renjun never paid attention, so the joke died before it was even alive. That belonged to the top of the hierarchy in their school. But, Renjun could care less about them and rather focused on his studies and jobs.

“Here is yours and Chenle’s homework,” Renjun flipped through the countless essays in the folder, handing Lucas the needed homework.

“Ahh, thanks, let me send you the money now. I’m also paying for Chenle’s, just in case you wonder why there’s extra,” Lucas pulled his phone out to send the money through the Venmo app.

Feeling his phone buzz, Renjun took his phone out to check that the amount was correct. Confirming that it was right, well it was actually over. Chenle and Lucas were always kind enough to pay extra. They always said it was just for the hard work that he gives since they were his first customers and the growth of the services. “Thanks, Lucas.”

Lucas smiled before heading his way for his class. After he left, Renjun continued to make his way to all of the students that needed their work for the day. He scheduled different locations and times around the school to make sure that his contraband work wasn’t known to the faculty of the school. The only one who knew was their English and Physics teachers. Mrs. Lee and Dr. Jean.

Mrs. Lee immediately knew that the essays by the students in her class weren’t written that perfectly. The growth from one essay to another seemed to be developed overnight. Not trying to question her students, they were bright but most that had the perfect scored work weren’t the brightest. Knowing this, Mrs. Lee found out after give and take, she realized that the work was by Renjun. To let him know that she knew, she asked to conference with him after class. The only thing that Renjun grasped from the conversation is that she blatantly called her students stupid when it came to essays. Renjun agreed but defended them that they were smart in other areas and needed to strengthen their levels in the writing department.

And for Dr. Jean, he just didn’t care.

“So, who’d you write for this time? I just don’t wanna read the essays to waste my time to give them A’s,” Mrs. Lee sat in her chair, sipping on her cup of coffee as she watched Renjun pack his stuff up so he could attend his next class.

He dismissed his teacher’s comment, placing his essay on her desk, “I’ll give you a list later. Oh, I also need a recommendation from my favorite teacher.” He smiled, setting a blank recommendation letter for the college he’s applying to on her desk.

He watched her scan over the document, only for her face to scrunch up in disgust. He reflected her expression with his own face, confused as to why she looked repulsed, “What is it now?”

“I don’t know, you could have chosen a better school with your grades and get in,” she tossed the paper into her neat stack before grabbing the essays and shelving it.

Renjun shrugged, knowing that the reason is that he was afraid to leave his sister and dad. More so, his sister. He didn’t want to leave all of the responsibilities to his sister. To delve even farther, the responsibility of taking care of their father. He wasn’t sure if Mei was ready to do it. A lot of people may wonder why he even thinks of his father, but his dad was still family. Their dad may not be in the best state and not pulling his weight as the head of the family, but he still worked every so often. Their dad was lucky enough to be friends with the owner of his job, and the owner understood the hardships that he was going through. The consequence of his lack in effort fell on his children.

“I just think it would be better if you attend some other college, maybe, I don’t know,” Mrs. Lee retrieved another document on a clipboard, handing it to him.

He grabbed the clipboard, wondering what it was. An application to University of Oregon. He laughed, tearing his eyes away from it to look out the window. She’s still trying to do this. He gave the clipboard back, “I can’t go to this university. It’s not even that good.”

“It was good to me,” Mrs. Lee gave him a hall pass on a sticky note before waving him off to allow him to get to his next class.

“Well, I’m passing and staying in the best town in the world,” he waved as he walked out of the class.

Renjun pondered on the idea of leaving Dalgleish, but would it be the right decision. Everything he needed was right here. There could be a great job opportunity when he graduates from the community college. Well somewhere and that somewhere is not in Dalgleish. He was going to have to move out of the town one way or another if he wanted to pursue his dream of becoming a computer scientist. Maybe, he could find a way to come back to Dalgleish, opening a company would be beneficial. That was settled on a maybe. For now, all he needed to do was pass junior year and move onto senior year.

Making his way inside of the physics classroom, he showed the pass to Dr. Jean, only for it to be dismissed. He took his seat next to the window in the back. With the lack of care that his teacher had in the class, Renjun worked on the next requests of his services.

“Renjun, you’re working with Isabelle,” his teacher declared. Renjun picked up his head so fast, wondering as to why there’s suddenly a project. He was always informed beforehand in the beginning of the semester of what’s to come, but he came to realize Dr. Jean was the best teacher at coming up with random projects. Renjun just nodded, clearing his backpack from the chair next to him allowing Isabelle to sit it in.

Isabelle gave him a head bow, greeting him, “Hi. I’m Isabelle but you could just call me Hwayoung. You probably already knew that. I can’t believe Dr. Jean still calls me Isabelle, probably because he can’t pronounce half of our names.”

Renjun chuckled, shutting his computer off to place back in his backpack. He picked two of the copies of the paper before tossing the extra copies inside of the extra copy bucket that was behind him. He handed the paper to Hwayoung before reading the document. Seeing it was the project, his mouth contorted to a form of disappointment in finding the surprise assignment. The project didn’t even have anything to do with physics but basically getting to know your partner and put it in a PowerPoint. He didn’t know if he wanted to cry or laugh. He glanced in Hwayoung’s direction: Pretty. Pretty. Popular.

Choi Hwayoung. The ideal girl that anyone could ask for. She was nice and smart. She was one of the pretty girls of the school, and everyone knew that. Renjun liked her when he joined the Model UN team, and she was also on it. He thought that she was also smart when she stood her ground during the time of Model UN. He wished he could have stayed longer as he enjoyed it, but his sister wasn’t all that capable when he had to leave for a competition once. Despite thinking the basic reasons for him liking her, he liked how she smiled and her dimples just protruded. Her eyes were full of life when debating. How she spun her pen between her fingers when she was in focus. Renjun, tone your feelings down.

Now, he wasn’t sure if he still liked her due to the lack of attention he gave his own feelings.

“Oh right, my name is Renjun,” he whispered as Dr. Jean ranted on another go of the conspiracy theories of the Illuminati and Beyoncé . His teacher always made the time in class go by faster or slower depending on how dedicated he is to the conspiracy topic. Some were more interesting than others. He looked over to her writing, “I think you knew that already.”

“Yeah, I did. You were on the Model UN team but left, you were really good at what you did,” Hwayoung complimented him. He smiled, nodding as his way of accepting the praise.

The small talk ceased as the bell rang for dismissal, he collected his items and shoved them into his backpack. He slung his backpack over his shoulder, “I’ll do the project and turn it in when it’s finished.”

“But this is a two person project. I am not asking for your homework service to come in play here,” Hwayoung turned to look at him. “Maybe, we could just actually do it together. Unless you don’t want to because you’re uncomfortable to do that which then do the project by yourself, just text me if you need anything.”

With that, she smiled and left. Renjun watched her leave the classroom. That was a first. Typically any project with partners left Renjun to do the work all by himself, which he didn’t mind. Most complain that they had to do it by themselves, but he enjoyed the easy A without the others messing it up.

The final school bell rang, but Renjun was already in the car, waiting for his sister. He hummed to the music, tapping to the tunes of Ariana Grande’s Dangerous Woman album. His head turned to the door opening, and his sister joined him in the car already singing the song. Renjun turned down the volume, “Ready?”

She nodded while buckling up her seatbelt. Renjun placed the car in reverse, only for a student to be waving a paper trying to get his attention. He wasn’t paying attention, trying to get Mei to work on time was his priority.

As he continued to reverse the car, he still hadn’t noticed the student until Mei tugged on his jacket. He slammed on the breaks, finally seeing the student waving the paper around in the rear-view mirror. He almost ran over him. He inhaled and exhaled deeply, trying to come to a compromise in his head that he almost committed homicide by accident, “What the hell?”

The male student walked around from the rear of the car before going around to the driver’s side. He knocked on Renjun’s window before Renjun rolled the window, “Why were you in my way?”

“You almost killed me. Shouldn’t you feel a little empathetic?” The student smiled with a teasing tone in his voice.

“If you have nothing important, I will be going now,” Renjun put the car in drive, starting to press on the acceleration pedal. He still wanted to know what the student wanted, but it was probably just another order for homework help. “If you want me to do your homework, find my number and text me.”

“I want you to help me write a love letter. I read your essay for Lucas, and it was really good,” the student requested, holding the note out. Renjun slammed on the brakes once again, but this time, Mei slapped her brother in the shoulder for the discomfort of their backs hitting the seats so harshly. He looked at her with an apologetic expression before his gaze turned back to the student.

The student held the note at the window, which Renjun started to read.

Dear Choi Hwayoung.

The first three words were enough for Renjun to decide if he was going to help this fool or not. He shoved the letter back into the hands of the requester, “Nope, I’m not writing a love letter to Hwayo- to her.”

“Oh, to who?” Mei pitched in. Love always made people curious, well more nosy. Then, the ideas of who ends up with who just turned into a big mess. Renjun certainly didn’t want to help someone out that wanted to create a love letter. Plus if he was the recipient of a love letter, he hoped it wasn’t made by someone that didn’t have feelings for the person. Or in Renjun’s case, written by the person’s personal feelings. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be genuine. Artificial. Unauthentic. Fake. Love isn’t supposed to be any of those things if a person wants to make it work.

“No one, Mei.” Renjun answered before he turned back to the student, “Have a good day.” He rolled the windows back up and continued to drive away to his priority. He looked in the mirror once more to find the student sulking with his head down. He chuckled. That’s so pathetic.

“Hey, you could have totally picked that request up. That was Lee Jeno,” Mei tapped away on her phone as she informed him of who the student was. Renjun scoffed, but he also was unsure why the name of the student is relevant. Customers are customers. There’s no needed relationship as it’s based on monetary and satisfaction of getting work done. Mei looked at her brother who stayed silent, and she was sure that he had no clue who Jeno was. She raised her eyebrow, “Do you not know who Lee Jeno is?”

“Do I care? Mm.. Not really,” he didn’t really care about who Jeno was. He rarely cared about any of the people in the school, as they weren’t his business. He wanted to stay out of anyone’s mouths as much as possible. Renjun thought of who Jeno was because he did sound familiar. They lived in a small town, so everyone knew most of each other. Dalgleish compromised mostly of East Asians, but nonetheless it still had a good variety of other ethnicities. It shouldn’t be hard to think of who Jeno was. Ah, he’s the boy who used to live four houses down when they were younger before the downfall of the Huangs came about. Jeno would try to invite them to play often with the other kids in the neighborhood, but Renjun was shy at the time, and Mei wasn’t the one who enjoyed company. Though that did start to change as they grew older. Renjun wasn’t shy, just liked to keep to himself to stay out of trouble, and Mei enjoys the energy with people.

“Jeno is the star student of the school, more like the perfect Asian kid. He plays the violin, ping-pong captain, forward for soccer, and is part of A Honor Roll,” Mei listed all of the things that Jeno specialized in. Renjun listened but wasn’t in awe of the achievements that Jeno had. Most of the kids in the school participated in those activities, differing in sports and academics. Everyone had their own skill set to show off, which made Jeno not any different from the student body.

“Okay, what does that have to do with me?” Renjun questioned, stopping at the red light. He wasn’t sure what his sister was making in her brain. She was most likely going to lose track of where she was heading to prove a point.

“Plus, he banks and his parents have this IT company in California. So if you help him, he could probably get you to return in favor by getting you an internship,” Mei added onto her tracks. She sure did make a point. That was a first. Renjun surely could land a job if he gets an internship, but he didn’t want to use someone like that. He wanted to do it on his own.

“Yeah, no. I refuse to do that,” Renjun pressed his foot down on the gas pedal, accelerating the car as the light switched to green.

“How come? It’s a good opportunity, I’m just saying,” Mei said as she shuffled around in her seat, adjusting her jacket.

“Well, I don’t want to use someone like that. I want to get there on my own, no matter how hard it is. I have a plan to get there,” Renjun answered. He arranged his future’s timeline, coming up with the desired plan. He thought of Plan B, just in case the first one didn’t work. Then, he had his safety plans just in case nothing of his wants couldn’t come to reality.

Mei answered with a hum. Renjun was glad that she didn’t continue the conversation. He parked next to the curb in front of the library and turned off the engine. He decided to study at the library. He didn’t have much to do today other than making dinner and finishing the rest of the requests that he didn’t assign to his sister. Plus, the library offered free food and beverages to their workers. And, who doesn’t like free food?

“Your shift ends at 7, which is perfect. I’ll be in my usual section, working and studying if you need anything,” Renjun said as he left his sister as they entered the downtown library. He walked towards the Japanese literature section, quietly greeting some of the regular goers that he recognized. Living in Dalgleish, he picked up quite a few languages. He was surrounded by multiple ethnicities who differed in languages and to benefit the elderly who weren’t comfortable using English, he thought it would be nice to learn their native language. Plus, there were foreigners who came frequently to visit the town. It was like a tourist attraction, sometimes. Even if there wasn’t anything to see in the town.

Renjun was only fluent in Mandarin Chinese and Korean, but he was conversational in other languages like Cantonese and Japanese. He tried to make the effort, plus his world geography class had an extra credit opportunity to explore languages. Despite not seeming to be a people person at school, Renjun was able to converse easily with others when he was out and about. He often got teased by his sister for it because he always said he was not a people person.

He placed his belongings on the ground, unpacking his laptop, and plugging the charger in the outlet to refuel the laptop’s battery. Putting his earphones in to enjoy his music, he bopped his head a little to the beats. Renjun checked his list if he had any new requests. He wanted to know if Jeno asked for one with his love letter. That’s so stupid. Love letters are supposed to be personal. He’s such a dumbass.

“Hey.” came out of nowhere. Renjun jerked in his chair a little, even if he had earphones, he didn’t blast it just in case someone asked him about anything in the library. He still was a worker there, even if he wasn’t working. He thrived off of a busy schedule. He didn’t thrive off on being startled.

He whipped his head to the person who peeked over his shoulder, almost throwing his hands around if it wasn’t in a public place or at least a library. He saw the same boy from earlier, only this time in neater clothes. Jeno was wearing his athletic warm-ups when he was at the school. Renjun just blinked his eyes before shaking his head and getting back to his laptop, “You’re in a library, look through some books for inspiration for your love letter. Good luck to you and bye.”

“Oh come on, I’m not the best at words and expressing my feelings. Can you just at least read it and revise?” Jeno asked, moving a chair from another table to sit with Renjun. The ping-pong star received hushes from those around him, causing both Renjun and Jeno to have apologetic looks to them.

Renjun shook his head, “No. No way.”

“I’ll pay you extra from what your highest price is. I’ll pay you even more for authenticity,” Jeno pulled his phone out. Renjun peeked over at Jeno’s screen to see his website page with the costs of the homework papers. He thought about the extra costs. He possibly could buy his sister’s dress for homecoming, so she could keep her money from work and spend it on makeup and other necessities to get ready for school events. It was a good idea, but Renjun wasn’t the best at even expressing feelings and whatnot.

“I’ll give you $100 for this one letter,” Jeno offered.

“Alright, sold.”

47 notes · View notes

capricornus-rex · 4 years

Text

Old Friend, New Family (8 - End)

Not a Witcher fic lol the gif just fits the mood

Requested by Anon | Prompt:

Hey I was wondering if you’d take a prompt where the reader is an ex-padawan who’s master died pretty early on in order 66, and was instead saved by a clone that removed his inhibitor chip. Then maybe they get separated, and years later when the reader is a crew member on the Mantis, they come across the clone again? How would the crew, especially Cal and Cere, react to meeting a friendly ex-soldier clone who’s close with the reader? Could you make it full of angst then fluff? Love your writing!

Tags:

Defected! Clone Trooper, Jedi Survivor! Reader, Order 66 Survivor

Also posted in AO3

Chapters: 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 – 6 | Previous: Part 7 | Masterlist

8 of 8

The next morning, you decided to introduce Strig to Cere. Cal helped out in prepping Cere into a calm mood, although the outcome usually ends up in the exact opposite of what he intended to do, and you stepped in with Strig in tow.

After introducing Strig as your guardian, Cere had the exact reaction as Cal, except that she handled herself with more calmness and curiosity in the guise of skepticism. When her lips parted, ready to say something, you immediately beat her to it.

“It’s kind of a long story, but I’ll tell you in the Mantis,”

Things calmed down between Cere and the three of you. Greez greeted the clone with his usual stinginess, it comes to show that he has never seen a clone without its helmet. The Lateron captain, hospitable as they are, decided to go whip up some snacks for the guest; while the four of you settle down on the lounge couch just below the dining area.

Strig answered all of Cere’s questions, many of which were the same as you and Cal’s, but she had more of her own that neither of you asked last night.

“What legion were you from?”

“The 167th Legion, ma’am,”

Cere asked about the inhibitor chip, suddenly the cogs of her curiosity were spinning again—more or less, she’s becoming quite like her inquisitive master—and Strig was more than happy to oblige in answering her queries. Perhaps the most chilling bit of his narrative was the fact that it was the Supreme Chancellor—later, the Emperor—who called the shots.

“Truth be told, to this day, I still don’t understand why,” Strig confessed.

“It’s all past us now, soldier. What matters is you’re doing good things here now,” Cere reassured.

Later that day, everyone was in their duties. Cere kept herself busy in the Mantis, trying to splice the Imperials’ signals in case she can fish for some intel; meanwhile, you and Cal needed to find Tarfful.

“Tarfful?”

“The Wookiee chieftain. Do you know where he could be, Strig?”

“I’ve only heard from the Wookiees that he’s taken refuge in the deeper parts of the forest,”

You sense the hint of concern in his voice, and there probably seems to be a good reason as to why.

“What’s wrong, Strig?”

“Well, you’re not probably used to carnivorous plants in dense jungles?”

“Believe me, each planet has their own freakshow, and Cal and I just have own fair share of it.”

“Then you’ll be fine,” Strig chuckled.

Cal gently tapped your arm, “Come on, let’s go check the other spots before we head out.”

“Okay,” you flash a small smile to Cal and then turn to Strig. “I’ll be right back.”

“Take your time, kids,”

The clone watches the two of you run off through the elevator and head to God-knows-where. He smiled to himself with his arms crossed together until you disappeared from the landing pad and through the AT-AT. Cere approached Strig, noticed the way he looked at you and Cal.

“Something on your mind, Strig?”

“I was just thinking how she had fared when I was gone. There wasn’t a day that I didn’t think of her—if she was eating well, sleeping in a place with a roof over her head, or if she’s cleaning up after herself. That is until she found Cal. Was he your Padawan, ma’am?”

Cere’s eyes wandered, “No, I had a different one. It was a girl.”

“With all due respect, ma’am, I—”

“Please, Strig, no need to be so formal. Just call me Cere.”

“Cere,” Strig repeated then composed himself again. “Has she… Has [y/n] been taking care of herself ever since she was with you?”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about your little girl, she’s been doing quite well ever since she’s joined the crew,”

“She was in Corellia when you found her,” Strig recalled.

Cere nodded, “Yes, she was somewhat lost—but in the way you’re thinking of. I don’t think she planned on staying in Corellia for long. That is until Cal found her and the next thing I saw—she appeared to be healing. Maybe because she and Cal pretty much have the same experience.”

Strig sighed, having nothing else to say back to that. However, he wholeheartedly agreed with Cere and sensed the sincerity in her words; but the fact that you’re healing with Cal—the same way he was with you—highlighted in his mind.

Meanwhile, you and Cal find yourselves at the same area as last night. You take the lead and he followed you to one of the supply bays. You find that the ropes in the pulleys weren’t undone and still hung below.

“Strig said there’d be ship supplies that we can use here,” you blurted.

“I’m surprised that you still trust him, even though it’s been a long time,”

“In a situation like this, with the Empire and all that, do we really have the luxury to harbor hate?”

Apparently, your words caught Cal off-guard while the two of you walked together, heading to one of the supply bays beyond the one where you reunited with Strig.

“Wow, that’s… that’s actually a mature thing for you to say,”

You chuckle in reaction, “I can be mature too, you know.”

After a few minutes’ worth of trekking, the two of you finally found the supply bay storing machine and ship components. You only took what you needed but stuck around when you got a view of the river without Imperial ships trashing the landscape.

Cal can sense something troubling your mind, seeing as to why you’re suddenly quiet as you stared at the landscape. He joined you by the bannister, overlooking the river, and propped himself on his arms next to you.

“Something on your mind?”

“Is it bad if I ask if we can bring Strig along?”

“I don’t think I’m in that place to say so, sweetie,”

“I understand. It’s been so long and I feel like I haven’t caught up with him enough,”

“I envy you, you know,”

You jerk your head to Cal, shooting him a puzzled look.

“You already had someone else you knew before the Purge, before meeting me and the crew. Even if you and Strig got separated, and only met again just now, at least it must’ve crossed your minds that you had someone; unlike myself, I only had… well, myself.”

You nudged closer to him, slipping your arm around his and leaning against his bicep.

“Well, neither of us have to be alone now, right?”

He smiled and planted a kiss on your forehead, “Never.”

Hours have passed and the two of you continued strolling around until you came across the shoreline of the great Origin River. To you, it didn’t exactly look like a river, it was more of an ocean. As you walked by the shore, colorful rocks beached and dotted the sand, your eyes caught one or two. Cal watched you take off your boots and roll up the hem of your pants, he did the same and both of you dipped your toes into the water—it was nice and cool.

“Don’t tackle me or anything!” you squealed.

“Not if you tackle me first!”

The two of you gleefully frolicked, kicking and splashing at one another, dipping your arms up to your elbows into the water to cool yourselves off. Cal put up an act saying that he felt something slip past his leg.

“Very funny, Cal,”

“No, really!” he picked up a thick strand of freshwater kelp that’s blackened with age. “Oh God, [y/n], it’s a river snake!”

“Cal, you psycho! Get that away from me!”

He chased you with it, you were too freaked out to realize that it was only a piece of plant that looked the part. As retaliation, you scooped up a handful of water and threw it over his head; water dribbled at the tips of his hair. His revenge was the same as yours; now the two of you are drenched. He dropped the kelp, he ran his fingers through his wet hair—little strands strayed off from his hairline even after he smoothed out his hair—and caught you staring.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing,” you cooed as you briskly shook your head. You had to look away to bite your lip, fighting off a private smile.

The playtime became mellower. A breeze picks up conveniently enough to dry yourselves. The scent of petrichor was rich in the air as it drifted into your direction. You were growing tired of the stale air of the machinery in Zeffo, only the windswept ruins had its flora intact—no metal, just grass and flowers.

Cere radioed the two of you, she wasn’t able to hide the urgency in her voice when she spoke.

“I think we have a lead about the tomb at Zeffo. Mari said it’ll take a while before she can disclose Tarfful’s whereabouts.”

“Alright, we’ll head back there now,” Cal replied.

You and Cal rushed back to land, sat on the shore to dust off the sand on your feet before putting your boots back on.

“Race you there?” Cal started.

“No fair, you have a headstart! You’re close to finishing on your boots!”

“Well, gain on me when you can, slowpoke!” he teased, stealing a quick kiss on your cheek while you’re still struggling to buckle the strap of your boot.

“I hate it when you do that!”

“You’re falling behind!” he chortled.

The two of you raced across the shore, back to the forest, and finally reaching the landing pad. Whoever sets foot onto the metal floor wins—Cal came up with that seconds before he could plant the balls of his feet on the floor. Both of you arrived desperate for air, hunched over with your hands on your knees as you breathe in and out.

“Well, that’s a weird warm-up for you,” Strig commented.

“We do this all the time!” you beamed.

“You two are soaking wet,” Cere pointed out.

You pointed your thumb at Cal, “His idea. No, his fault!”

When your energy subsided to the needed level, Cere briefed the two of you into further detail about the lead she picked up about Zeffo. It’s possible that the Inquisitors are on the way to the planet to try and crack the tomb to get the artifact there.

“That is if they know what they’re looking for,” you commented.

“Inquisitors have a lot of researchers and scholars at their disposal, let’s hope they haven’t found the tomb yet,”

“Let’s hope they haven’t cracked the code yet,” Cal added.

“We leave when you’re ready,”

The two young Jedi make yourselves busy in doing last-minute tweaks and inventory checks. Strig walked up to you, apparently he’s overheard that you’re about to leave Kashyyyk any minute now.

“So, out on the road again, Spinner?”

You dropped everything and spoke to him. Your tone was somber and pleading, like a child begging to go with their parent.

“Don’t you want to come with us, Strig?”

Strig’s eyes wandered over your shoulder, glancing at Cal and then to Cere and Greez. He took the deepest sigh his lungs could muster and gingerly took your hands into his.

“Spinner, my place is here; the same way your place is with them. Even for just a short time of meeting everyone, I can tell that you belong with them—especially with Cal. You’re so happy with him. Maybe the happiest I’ve ever seen. This kind of setting is no different from back in the Clone Wars,”

“But I can fight,”

“I never doubted that for a split second, [y/n]. But eventually, you’ll find your own battle that you’re sure to win. Do you understand that?”

You nodded sincerely.

“You know what? Whatever happens, I got your back… always.”

You threw yourself into his arms, in a burst of tears, this time it was you who was pooling tears on the shoulder of his shirt.

“You were never a great motivational speaker,” you dryly joked while choking back on your tears.

He chuckled, “Yeah, never was, eh?”

You planted a goodbye kiss on his cheek before pulling away, even though you hesitated to let go. Strig turned to Cal as the boy approached the two of you.

“Take care of her, will ya?”

“I will. She’s in good hands,”

“I know she is,” he turned to you again, bracing your arms and giving you a quick shake. “I’ll see you soon okay? I won’t go anywhere anytime soon.”

“Promise?”

“Promise. Now run along, Spinner.”

With one last hug, you whisper in his ear, “I love you so much… Dad.”

Strig released a sigh, tightening his embrace around you one last time.

“Aww, you’re gonna make a mess outta me, Spinner,” he awkwardly chuckled, trying to conceal his crying but is failing epically. “Run along, now, kiddo.”

As you withdrew from his embrace, you felt his grip still tight around your arm but it was gentle. You take one step, a little secret tug to prompt him to let go—even though he’s finding it greatly difficult to do so—and allowed his fingers to loosen up a bit until your fingers have unhooked from one another.

Your other hand takes Cal’s, but you take one last look behind you.

All of a sudden, the memory of you as a child flashed before his eyes—it was the exact moment when you looked over your shoulder when he asked if you were okay. He saw the face of the scared little girl he picked up from the wake of destruction; he blinked once and now he’s looking at the grown girl smiling back at him.

It may not be him who helped you heal wholly, but he’s glad that he was a part of it—and that was more than enough—for he knows perfectly well that no one can take that away.

A single tear rolls down his cheek as he watched the Mantis take off, with you standing by the partially-open entry ramp and waving goodbye at him.

46 notes · View notes