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gucciwins · 3 years

Text

The First Kiss

Harry and Y/N go on their first date...will they finally become something more?

Word count: 4814

A/N: I know how much you all love breakout room and the follow up it's your birthday. I love writing them and it's been a while but do know they are doing well. this is nothing but sweet fluff. I do mention the vaccine and wearing masks which I hope you all are doing. it's important to stay safe and truly wish nothing but the best for you all. I love you xxx

please reblog and let me know your thoughts

_____

“Are you feeling good? I sent over a goodie basket.”

Harry giggled, loving how concerned you were. “I’m doing good, baby.” He sees you tuck your head into your sweater smiling, when he notices it’s the one he sent you in a goodie basket after you got your second shot of the vaccine.

It’s spring break, and Harry can finally say he is officially vaccinated after letting the mandated two weeks pass. It’s perfect timing, honestly, as he has been itching to finally see you in person again.

Your university let you know that they would begin to have vaccine dates open to students through an email that you quickly forwarded to Harry. You had to register to get a date for your first vaccine, and slots were filling up fast. You shot Harry multiple texts telling him what day you got and time, but you went without an answer for an hour which is weird, seeing as Harry never liked to leave you waiting more than five minutes.

By the time he got back to you, he had to wait two weeks, unlike you, who would be getting in only three days. You asked why he didn’t answer, and he said he was in class. You frowned because even then, he always answered. He then confessed he lost his phone in his apartment and didn’t have time to search for it.

You laughed about it, but he was disappointed because he wanted to see you. To give you a hug. To hold your hand.

After spending his birthday together, you both decided against meeting in person for safety even though you both wanted to, more than anything. You postponed your date to the future. Instead, you completed the group assignment through zoom meetings that led to facetime calls. After submitting the project and learning that you aced the assignment, well, you both caved in.

Harry gushed on how he always got B’s on the professor’s assignments, and to celebrate, he sent you a dozen cupcakes from the bakery that you never stop raving about located only three blocks from where you live. Then proceeded to call him over to celebrate and who was he to say no. Harry was shocked at how rich and full of flavor they were because he wasn’t aware it was vegan. Yet, it tasted better than anything he ever had. Harry realized why it was your favorite, promising to take you there in person to have your pick of favorites and not only red velvet and carrot cake because they were safe choices.

You couldn’t say you’ve been on a proper date with Harry, but you’d like to count all the zoom calls and facetime calls as dates not that you let Harry know it would only inflate his ego. You’d start a call to ask a question on assignments, and it would lead to sharing stories back and forth of what their favorite book was to where they would visit if they could go that very second. You loved how insightful he was, also liked how he used pastel highlighters to mark his annotations. Harry was a fan of how you always had a pencil in your hair or behind your ear. How you always had a snack on hand because you didn’t want to listen to professors without something to eat or you’d lose focus.

You were glad you’d be able to get together safely but also taking all the needed precautions. Safety is hot, as Harry liked to say all the time when you sent him photos of you wearing your masks.

“Yeah, like the basket?”

Harry grins, but it’s not as bright due to the lacking pixels of your laptop. He holds it up, having placed it in his lap. “I did love the bath bombs.”

You smile back at him, “Going to change your life. Self-care is important, bub. Even in the smallest ways as a bath.”

Harry nods, “I know, baby. The reason I remember to take deep breaths each morning, no longer eager to reach for my phone.”

“Proud of you.”

“And I of you, baby.”

Harry shines his dimples at you when you turn your head away at the sweet name he started calling you a few weeks ago. You adored it, honestly, but it always left you feeling flustered.

“H, please.”

“Baby, I like seeing you flustered.”

“You’re a menace.”

He shrugs, still giggling.

“How are Mitch and Sarah?”

“Wonderful, sickly in love as always. Spend their time at Sarah’s like composing together.”

“That’s sweet.” You lean in, smiling at him, “you know we should all hang out together. I get to meet Mitch properly and see Sarah again, and you’ll get to meet Amy.” You grow excited at the thought.

“Not before I get to see you.”

“H, we got to coordinate a day that works for all of us. No need to get jealous.”

“Not jealous.”

“Sure,” you reply sarcastically.

“Got to learn to share me with Amy. I cook her lunch and dinner; otherwise, she’d be nothing but a walking cadaver.”

“I want you to make me lunch and dinner,” he pouts.

“I can now that you’ve vaxxed.”

“That I am, so you are.”

“Yes,” you’re waiting for him to go on.

“Will you go on a date with me? Think we waited long enough, and if my feelings weren’t obvious enough, I like you and really want to take you out.” he rambles on.

You interrupt him knowing fully well he could go on for days, “I’d love to, Harry.”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Yes, Harry.”

“Great. Friday then.”

“I’m free.”

“I know, know your schedule by heart.”

“Creep,” you gasp at the news.

“Shush, like you don’t have my classes added to your planner.” Your turn to pout.

“I like knowing your schedule, and they overlap.”

“I do too. Look forward to your messages every day between classes.”

“So Friday? What are you planning?”

“A picnic.”

You jump up in excitement, causing your laptop to fall back on your bed before you dive to save it. Harry yelling dramatically in the background as if you just dropped him.

“H, be quiet. You’re fine.”

“Dropped me, darling.”

“Dork.”

He mutters something in return, but you can’t hear him.

“So I’ll prepare lunch because you’ve told me once or twice that you’re hopeless in the kitchen.” Harry doesn’t even try to fight you because it’s true. “You’ll take care of drinks and desserts.”

“Seems like you’re planning the date,” he teases.

“I like picnics.”

“Well, I like you, so I’ll let you take over.”

Your smile turns soft, reaching your hand out as if you could reach in and caress him. “I like you, too. I can’t wait to give you a hug.”

“Counting down the hours.”

“Alright, you have class in ten, and you always struggle to log in.”

“Making me hang up. Not fair.” Harry frowns, debating skipping class for you.

“Don’t think about it, Styles.”

“Fine. Take care, baby.”

“Bye, H.”

A date.

You have a date with Harry.

Finally, it happened.

_____

You were nervous.

Why were you nervous? It was just Harry.

Harry, who wanted to date you from your first meeting, who emailed you asking you out, and who has not stopped talking to you since February. Constantly reminding you of his feelings for you. You hope he knew you felt the same, in texts and sending him little gifts even as small as writing him a letter.

You got up early today to prepare lunch. You decided on sandwiches, a non-messy meal, and Harry always said he wanted to try the bakery bread you use and not the basic store-bought. It was a bit pricey but not as much anymore because you had become a regular, meaning the sweet owner began giving you a discount, especially when finding out you're a student. Still, you always remember to leave a good tip. The turkey sandwiches were finished with cheese, lettuce, and tomatoes. Looked so good that Amy had one as you were making them. You made three and packed them up in your glass reusable containers.

Staring at the sandwiches, it felt like too little food when Harry had told you many times how much he enjoys eating, so you cleaned up and got to make a second meal. You decided on vegetable rice paper rolls. A favorite and easy meal to make that you enjoyed eating. It was packed with lettuce, avocado, cabbage, bell peppers, cucumbers, noodles, and fresh herbs. This was a meal your dad made you all the time as a child with the special slightly spicy peanut sauce that you could drizzle on top.

Harry was going to enjoy this, so you hoped. He promised to make strawberry lemonade. Assured you that it would not be store-bought, and you believed him. During one of your late conversations, he shared how his sister would make him some when she returned from uni. Reminds him of home, he would say.

After packing everything away in the fridge to keep it cool it was time to get ready. You stood in front of your closet for a good five minutes before you began to swipe through the hangers. You knew you wanted to wear a dress; it was warm weather and would only get hotter as the day went on.

You searched your entire closet, there were three options once you had decided on, but you called Amy in to make the final decison for you. She decided on the one sitting in the middle of your bed, which was exactly what you were thinking.

The dress was a white button-front high slit that fit you nicely. You hadn't used it in quite some time, seeing as when you left your apartment, it would be in leggings, sweats, and the first sweater you could slip on.

You couldn't stop looking in the mirror, loving how it flowed around you when you twirled. For accessories, you slipped on a gold ring that had a little heart on it and another that was a gift shaped like a small snake as it was going to scale down your finger. A simple heart locket gifted to you by your grandparents hung right above your cleavage. You decided to leave your hair natural, liking how it air-dried after the shower you had that morning.

There was no makeup on your face, just your favorite rosebud salve lip balm that left your lips soft. Amy insisted you put some on, but you stood firm in your decision, knowing you'd be wearing a mask and didn't want anything smudging.

You looked down at the time on your phone and knew it was time to head down, Harry said twelve, and you didn't want to make him come up to your apartment only to walk down the three levels again. You grabbed the picnic basket that was sitting in the back of yours and Amy's shared doorway closet and made sure to place everything neatly, leaving room for Harry's drink and stashing a bunch of napkins in for any accidents. Basket prepared, you slipped your sunglasses in your hair, placing your lavender tote bag with tiny embroidered daisies on your shoulder that contained sunscreen, your wallet, extra face masks, and a book Harry had told he had wanted to read.

Before opening your door, you put on the white mask that you embroidered sunflowers on. It was one of your favorites, and glad it complimented your look well. You walked down the stairs slowly, not wanting to drop the basket.

You walk out the front door and find Harry getting out of the yellow mask on his face. As you get closer, you can see it's the one you made him. It has bees on it, and embroidered on the left side is 'my honey.' Harry had turned quite pink when he opened the gift he got in the mail over facetime with her. You happily screenshot his reaction, happy to have it to look back on.

As soon as you reach him, it's as if all the nerves you had disappeared. Calm washes over you as he comes to stand in front of you. You can't see the smile he has, but the crinkles by his eyes prove he's just as happy to see you.

"Hi, Harry," you say, your eyes taking him all in.

Harry doesn't hide, he's checking you out, and you're thankful for the mask at the moment, able to hide how bashful you're feeling. "Hello, baby. You look gorgeous. I'm a lucky man."

"Yeah," you swayed side to side, "gave me a reason to dress up."

"Always beautiful, but I'm so glad to see more than just your shoulders." He laughs, and you join him.

"Look pretty, H. I had not seen this cardigan." You reach out, running a finger down over the pastel yellow cardigan that looks to be well-loved. He paired it with a plain white shirt that fits him loosely with Gucci denim trousers that he told you he found a few years ago when he was thrift shopping in London with his mother.

"No, brought it out just for you. Wanted it to match my favorite mask." Although he couldn't see it, you hoped your eyes were doing their job expressing your joy. "Let's put this basket in the trunk. Got a blanket and a few pillows as well as the lemonade."

"And the dessert?"

He chuckles, "and the dessert."

You place everything in the trunk, taking a step back for Harry to close it. He walks you over to your door, opening it for you, you offer a soft thank you, but before you get in, you turn to look at him.

"What is it, baby?"

You stare down at your ribbon-tied wedges before looking up into his piercing green eyes. "Can I have a hug? I just--I'm really happy to see you."

Harry falters for a second before answering, "of course, come here." He's quick to bring you in for a hug, and it feels like home. It's comfortable, and you can't believe you haven't hugged him since February, a good two months ago, when it has honestly felt like a lifetime. "I would have earlier, but when you came out, you truly shocked me with how amazing you looked."

You just hug him tighter, enjoying feeling his strong arms around you. He looks at you smiling. "That was nice." You nod because it was, and if he'd let you, you'd stay in his arms all day.

"Well, shall we go?"

"We shall."

And with that, you were off to your first date with Harry, which would hopefully lead to more.

_____

The drive to the park was short; you unloaded everything from the car once you got there. Harry offers to carry the basket, letting you lead to picking the spot. You walked ahead, glad he brought you to a park you recognized; it's one you liked to walk around during finals week when you were drowning in essays and exams. This was a nice break. On the other side of the park is a lake where you can rent pedal boats, but you were sure they hadn't opened up for business just yet, wanting more of the population to be vaccinated.

You led him to a secluded area laughing when he joked if you were leading him to his murder. Once you reached the clearing, one large tree with lots of shade and a few rose bushes surrounded it.

"It's beautiful here." Harry awed in amazement.

"Yeah, I found it my first year when I was trying to destress; I don't think many people know about it because it's not on the maps."

"Lucky us."

Harry grabs one end of the blanket, helping you spread it on the grass. You set your tote bag on one corner as well as setting down the pillows. As you make your way to sit down, Harry gently grabs your elbow, causing you to turn and look at him; he's holding a bouquet of tulips.

You felt your eyes well up with tears, not used to such a kind gesture; it's been a long time since you've been on a date with someone you really care about, "You got me tulips, H."

You reach forward and cradle them in your arms. "Course I did; I think you deserve all the beautiful things life has to offer."

You set the flowers on top of the basket before straightening up and pulling Harry into a hug. Your arms around his neck, his resting tightly around your waist, "including you," you whisper in his ear, causing him to squeeze you a bit tighter. Harry pulls back, leaving a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"Let's eat, baby. Know you made something delicious for us to enjoy."

Harry set the food out, and you are sure to hand him the wet wipes to clean your hand before you could begin wanting to be clean and not wanting to venture out to find a restroom. He eyed the sandwiches first, then the veggie rice paper rolls.

"Couldn't decide?"

"Wasn't sure what you'd like. So I gave you two options."

"Too sweet angel." Harry leans in to kiss her cheek.

"Think we ought to take off the mask now." You giggle, sad you didn't get to feel his lips on your cheek.

"Yeah, so comfortable it doesn't really bother me wearing them. I am hungry."

You place your mask in your bag, and Harry puts his mask in his pocket. He opens up both containers and digs into the veggie rolls first. He hums after the first bite, chewing happily. "Delicious," he mutters between chews.

"Can add this peanut sauce to give it more flavor, just a tad bit spicy." He watches you as you pick up and spoon drizzle a bit on top, taking a bite. Harry follows your steps taking another bite, and his eyes go wide at the added flavor.

"Shocked, I've lived all my life without this food."

You laugh, "well, now you don't have to."

He chews happily at your response.

_____

Lunch is filled with little conversation, both praising each other for a well-planned meal. The strawberry lemonade complimenting the food perfectly. He brought a raspberry lemon loaf cake for dessert, and you happily admit you ate two pieces. It tasted so heavily, making Harry promise you to buy more in the future for you. He agreed, stating he'd do anything to make you happy.

"It's nice going out with someone, enjoying the sweet fresh air." Harry comments.

You hum in agreement, "I adore my alone time, but with the right company, it can feel just as perfect."

Harry's cheek turns rosy pink quickly, not at all trying to hide from you. You love that he loves to show how much you affect him.

"It feels normal like we've done this hundred of times already.”

You chuckle, nudging his shoulder. "It's cause we have. Just never called any of them dates."

"So you agree, we've been dating since February," he teases.

"Yeah, I think we can say that."

"When was our first zoom call?"

"Hmm...after class a week after your birthday. Think we worked for an hour and talked about nothing for another."

You look over at Harry loving how the sun reflects off his skin; it makes him look like a gift from the Gods. Harry feels your gaze on him, flashing you a big grin, his dimples on display just for you, because of you.

"We will call February eighth our anniversary," he declares.

You laugh, not a silent one but a full-out belly gripping laugh; you can feel the tears welling up in your eyes. Harry sits there confused, not sure where the joke was.

"You alright, baby?" He asks, just a bit concerned.

"That is what you were thinking so hard about; you couldn't figure out a week from your birthday quickly. Took you a good few minutes." You shake your head, trying to catch your breath, tiny giggles still escaping you.

"Oi, no need to be rude."

"Sorry, honey."

"Never claimed to be smart."

"The pretty ones never are," you tease.

"Alright, that's it. I've had enough."

Before you can stop him, he's on top of you, his fingers tickling you from your sides to your thighs. He knows your body getting all your secret spots that make you squirm away from. You almost succeeded in getting one of his hands over your head, but he surprises you by straddling you. You've stopped laughing, but Harry keeps going.

His curls are falling over his head, his eyes shining bright, a new lightness to them. At that moment, you realize how lucky you are, and before you know it, you reach your free hand up and place it on the back of his neck, bringing him down to your lips catching him by surprise.

Harry stays frozen for a second before sinking into the kiss, responding softly, wanting to explore you as he'd been thinking about this moment for months. You love the feel of his lips against yours; you'd happily give up breathing, never wanting to part. Harry tries to pull away, but you chase his mouth, not ready to stop kissing. He smiles against your lips, humming when he places a hand on your cheek, adding more pressure; you're not sure who lets out a moan letting it out into the universe wishing for more, hoping for forever.

You don't get butterflies or fireworks. Instead, you feel the ease of calmness wash over you like when you arrive home after a long day. That's what kissing Harry is like coming home.

You pull back, laying your head on the pillow Harry was wise to bring; you don't try to contain your smile as Harry stares down at you in a look of awe. You run your thumb over his bottom lip-loving how swollen they look thanks to you. His eyes never leave yours; you gasp as he places a kiss on your thumb before taking it in his mouth, sucking it gently; a moan escapes you, surprised at how hot the teasing is getting you.

"You're filthy, honey."

Harry smirks, "just for you, baby."

"Only our first date, H. We aren't going to move fast."

"A makeout isn't too fast for you," he teases.

"Felt just right." You smile, loving the feeling of his weight on top of you as he has not moved from his position, still straddling you.

"I agree."

"Sorry, I didn't ask if I could kiss you. Consent is sexy."

Harry's smile is soft, his eyes flicker to your lips, then back to your eyes, "You hereby have permission to kiss me whenever you please, my love."

"You know all the right things to say to make me puny for you."

"Good to know. Got to keep a mental list."

"What's on there so far?"

Harry smirks, leaning down his mouth right over your mouth; you remember the taste of lemon you felt when you kissed him, and well, you don't try to stop yourself when you attach your lips against his. There's no sweeter feeling, you've decided.

He pulls back, keeping the kiss short, "Know you can't be close to me without giving me a kiss. Know your heart is racing like it might beat out of your chest, and I know you're dying to ask me to be your boyfriend."

"Guess you are smart," you whisper.

He chuckles, nudging his nose against yours, humming as he places a kiss on the top of your nose.

"You know, I was right."

"Yeah, about what, H?" You reach your hand up to run your hand through his curls, brushing them back, giggling as they fall forward again.

"That your laugh sounds better in person. Know it's cheesy but truly music to my ears."

"You nutter!"

"Oi, picking up my slang, are you?"

"Got to, especially when you called that Evan kid a wanker for dismissing my response." You snicker, remembering the moment a few classes ago when you spoke up to give your opinion only for Evan trying to mansplain how women in politics were growing already especially having a female-run as a candidate a few years back. You would have cussed him out, but Harry did it for you. He packed up all your points with his own references. Safe to say, Evan has not spoken up since then.

"Cause he is one. You're the smartest person in the class, and that tosser should not even be in this class. Clearly, hasn't learned one bit since January."

"Settle down, honey. All in the past." You pat his chest a few times, getting his focus back on you. "Got that book you've wanted to read, want to give it a read now?"

"Course, baby. Happy you had it in your collection." He's gotten back into reading now that he seemed to have more time on his hands, and they had been bouncing recommendations off of each other. You had told him to stay off Book Tok because it was the same ten books being promoted by every page. His sister told him to read The Silent Patient, but he couldn't rationalize spending fifteen dollars, and he couldn't find the free pdf. He asked you and told him Amy bought it for you as a gift for feeding her.

"Let me get it out of my bag; you can lay in my lap easier to listen to."

Harry's eyes go wide; you're going to read him. He did not expect that, but he had to make sure. "Going to read to me, darling?"

"If you don't mind." you tuck your hand into your tote bag again, "brought my kindle in case you didn't want to. Won't be sad if you don't want to."

"No, I want you to. Yeah, more than anything. Got the prettiest voice." Harry pecks your lips, pulling back giddy because that's the first time he's kissed you, and well, he has to do it again. Your lips move in sync, the kisses feeling smoother but just as passionate. You break the kiss, playfully push him away, hands-off, letting you adjust yourself before he sets one of the smaller pillows in your lap and lays his head. Your hand is quick to find a place in his hair, thankful you've mastered the one hand reading and page-flipping due to always having a book in your hand growing up.

_____

After reading for a bit, Harry lifts his head from your lap, taking the time to admire you. You kept reading, letting him take you in from this new angle. You stopped brushing his hair instead, allowing yourself to get immersed in the book once again. You giggled, thinking back at Harry's reaction to the opening line of chapter one.

You had just flipped to a new page, ready to start chapter seven, when you saw how fidgety Harry had gotten. He clearly had something on his mind, so you wanted to give him his space; you had only read five words when he spoke, interrupting you.

"Will you be my girlfriend?" Harry blurts, shifting to sit in front of you.

You don't smile, but you know he can see the gleam in your eyes at his words, "Hmmm...will you give me a cute nickname?"

Harry doesn't know what you're doing but goes along with it. "Already do, so yes."

"Will you let me make you more masks?"

"Yes."

"Will you knit me a sweater?"

"I'll knit you hundreds."

You nod, "then yes, I'll be your girlfriend."

"Yeah, you want me to be your boyfriend," Harry teases.

"Dork," you shove his shoulder, causing him to fall back. He gasps in shock.

You laugh, and it's music to his ears; his dramatic response is swallowed as he takes you in. Harry isn't sure where he'd be without you. He takes in the happiness displayed on your face and knows if you could look in a mirror, he'd look just as happy if not more. You are a light in his life.

These last few months have changed everything about him. Harry hadn't really understood what it meant when people said that your partner should also be your best friend. He thought it was cheesy and something to give false hope to others, but with you, he knew it was true.

Starting off as friends built a strong foundation for you both to grow together, and he is forever thankful you took a chance on him.

Harry called it fate, but you well, you think it was all thanks to the zoom gods who set you up in a random break out room not once but twice.

_____

thank you for reading :) I adore you xx

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warmau · 3 years

Text

"i don't even like bugs."

jaemin shrugs as he shows his intern pass to the security of the front gates of the botanical garden

he mentions that you're accompanying him today as a visitor and you smile at the guard who pays you two half a gaze

"well i mean - they're butterflies not like cockroaches or anything so have some optimism?"

you don't argue, among your group of friends jaemin is kind of the symbol of optimism. sometimes it's misguided - like now - but you don't want to put a damper on his mood

after all, he's actually here to do a job

you are here on a summer assignment you have to complete for a photography elective you added to your uni program for the next semester

"nature photography" was the highlight of the project, everyone had been emailed a subject to take pictures of while off from school

you had expected maybe the beach, or flowers, or even tourists walking around in floppy hats

when you'd opened the professor's email and saw "butterflies" you had not been thrilled

but you were lucky enough to know that jaemin had scored his current internship at the botanical gardens, and while he was working with his weirdly favorite thing in the world - fungi

he could also get you access to the butterfly garden, a large indoor space for the various breeds of butterflies from around the world, before it officially opened to the public

"the pavilion is over there, i think renjun will be able to let you in."

jaemin says, pointing down a hill lined by pretty bushes that leads to a glass structure at the bottom

you turn to ask if he wants to meet for lunch, but he's already jogging in the opposite direction

you sigh, fishing your camera out of your bag - which is something you've borrowed from your parents because 'iphone photos are not allowed'

they're just butterflies like jaemin said, they're like...cute bugs.

you tell yourself as you get closer, turning the camera on and then coming to a pause in front of the glass doors that have a clear padlock on them

you loop around and try to find 'renjun' - but no one is in sight

secretly a little relieved that you don't have to go inside right away, you try to find a part of the glass structure where you can possibly get a nice shot of some of the butterflies from outside

a lot of the vines and flowers get in the way, so you struggle until finally, you find a spot that's open and peers right into the middle of the enclosed garden

you can see the butterflies, little splashes of colors that fly past you - magnificent oranges, reds, and blues

you admit they're pretty

but they're even prettier because they're not near you

and then something - no someone - comes into your frame

his narrow shoulders are engulfed by an oversized plaid shirt, sleeves rolled up by the elbows.

over the shirt is a gardening apron and on his hands are a pair of worn-out gloves

his profile is hidden by the dark hair that falls in a curtain and ends in a tickle at his jawline.

one, bright streak of bleach blonde runs through the black.

he reaches out to touch a half-bloomed flower and you watch as the butterflies float on by him

you nearly drop the camera when he turns and locks his gaze with your own

is that renjun? if so im going to kill jaemin! he didn't tell me he was so infuriatingly pretty!

without knowing how to talk to him through the glass, and because the words disintegrate in your mouth, you point to the camera

"jaemin's friend?"

oh, you can hear through the glass

"ye-yeah!"

"one second."

the sound of a click and some scuttling turns your attention toward where the door to the garden opens for a swift second, just enough for renjun to step through, before it closes again

probably to make sure none of the butterflies get out

you grip your camera and when renjun doesn't move, you make the small trip over to him

"jaemin said you're here for a project."

renjun speaks and his voice is softer when it isn't muffled through glass

"for my photography class in the fall, my subject is butterflies."

"what kind?"

your eyes get a little wider with confusion

"what kind?" you parrot

renjun's neutral expression doesn't change

"what kind of butterflies? there are over seventeen thousand species of butterflies - we might not have the species you are looking for."

"i-" you stammer, wondering for a split second if renjun is joking around, "there isn't a specific species it's just....all of them?"

renjun tilts his head as if that notion doesn't really make sense to him, but shrugs and turns toward the door again

"im going to open it quickly so just follow me."

you make a sound of agreement, but when renjun pulls the handle and steps inside.....and you can't move.

the door closes behind him with a sound that makes you jump and renjun turns to stare at you through the glass with a furrowed brow

"what are you doing?"

he doesn't bother opening the door again and you shake your head as a shiver runs through your shoulders

"a-actually is it ok if i stay out here?"

"i thought you needed to take photos?"

"i can take them from here - this lens is r-really good."

renjun doesn't seem to be buying your excuse, but he checks his watch and nods, before disappearing back into the middle of the indoor garden

you take a second to try and figure out what happened - am i scared of going inside? is it the butterflies or is it renjun?

you decide it's the butterflies.

renjun's just a boy - you aren't scared of that, but the thought of being somewhere covered with bugs

pretty bugs or not

is kind of ..... scary.

you pick your camera back up and circle back to your original spot

although renjun is nowhere in the focus, you are delighted to see some butterflies have come to nestle among the plants in view

you bring up the camera and take some shots

one butterfly is sitting directly on the leaves - big grayish, blue wings spread open and engulfed in the sunlight that shines through the glass

you zoom in on it, capturing the full expanse of the wings that stand out on the green

you get so invested you hardly notice the door open up again and then a voice speaks from behind your shoulder

"it's a pseudozizeeria maha."

you don't turn around and just stare at the butterfly still

"a wha- what?"

"a pale grass blue. they're native to south asia but are really common here too. they were first discovered by vincenz kollar, an austrian entomologist."

the sentence nearly makes you dizzy, but you thank renjun for the information

not seeing the small shy smile that casts over his lips when you do

you want to turn and show him the shot you took, but he's already stepping past you to the other side of the pavilion

the time sort of slips away from you before you can check it again and you only leave when jaemin comes jogging down from the greenery to whisk you off for lunch

"should we invite ren-"

you start, but jaemin is already twinkling eyes and nonstop talking about all the fun fungi he's spent his day with.

when you're back home you start to look through the photos you took

most of them aren't super great and the shine of the sun reflects on the glass

you know the only way you're going to get a perfect shot (or at least an acceptable one for this dumb summer project) is if you go inside the actual butterfly garden

sighing, you click to the last shot and are surprised to see that in the far left corner you see renjun's hand - gloved and in the palm of it is a small butterfly that has landed just in time for your shutter to go off

the rest of renjun is out of focus so you can't even see his, very pretty, face

isn't it weird, that he can be around them so easily and im so scared?

you zoom in a bit and wonder how nice it would have been to get a clear photo of the moment. that would be something you could definitely submit to your professor.

before any more thoughts of renjun can float through your mind, your phone pings and you look to see jaemin's contact name

did you get your shot? you can come with me on my next shift if you want to take more photos

you type back a reply before you can even think of it in your head

really? then I'll tag along :) want to take some more photos

jaemin confirms and then sends another paragraph talking about mushrooms and leaves and plants

and you giggle because he's funny and passionate, and also

guess i might see renjun again?

it's hotter than you can put into words the next time you show up at the butterfly garden

you're standing outside in the absolute sweltering heat and maybe the thought of possible colder temperatures inside the pavilion are tempting

plus - renjun is in there - he had waved at you when he saw you standing outside again

this time his apron thrown over a short sleeve shirt and some long jeans

he had motioned toward the door but you had just played off that you were ok outside. burning alive or whatever.

you found the same spot as before, wiping the sweat from your forehead before lifting the camera up in hopes of catching a good picture

but all you see through the lens was renjun, who'd taken the time to roll up the sleeves of his shirt and had seemingly abandoned the heavy apron somewhere inside

his longer hair had been clipped back and he was reaching down to heave a bag of soil up and over his shoulder

oh my god. oh my god. oh my god.

you are caught between taking a photo and just aiming your lens somewhere else out of embarrassment

either way, renjun doesn't seem to notice and continues working, saving you from the horror that would be seeing him turn and stare back at you

but this somehow goes on for the entire time you're there

you go to snap a photo, but renjun is somewhere in the frame

it must just be bad luck and timing

but by the time you're sitting at the garden's cafe with jaemin after his shift and you're going through your photos

all of them have renjun in them somehow

"woah i thought your project was butterflies not huang renjun's?"

jaemin jokes, sipping his iced coffee with an overly excited wiggle of his eyebrows

"shuttup - i just....it's because i am taking them from the outside, i need to figure out a way to get inside and just take the photo and be done with it!"

jaemin outstretches his hand

"gimmie your camera, ill go take one"

you snatch the camera off the table and vehemently shake your head

"no. the last time i trusted you with something expensive, you broke it in the first five minutes."

"hey! i thought ipads were waterproof nowadays like technology really hasn't come that far?"

you roll your eyes in response, to which jaemin sticks out his tongue and then claps his hands together in revelation

"why not ask renjun to take the photo?"

"because i don't know him that we-"

with a dismissive wave of his hand jaemin cuts you off

"he's not a stranger - i know him! if i know him, you know him. plus renjun is super careful and responsible - he's my age and ive already heard some of the directors talking about how they'd hire him as more than an intern if he wasn't still in university!"

wow, i mean i always got the impression he was mature, but...

"c'mon, i bet he'll say yes too! he's really nice!"

finally agreeing and promising jaemin you'll ask renjun when you come back to the garden again

you pretend the nervous feeling in your stomach is just because you don't know renjun that well

not because you also happen to think he's breathtaking to look at - and that it's going to be hell trying to explain to someone who knows so much about insects that you're too scared to go inside and take a measly little photo of them

you find yourself at home, with your laptop open, googling species of butterflies because you think you should at least pick one and ask renjun if he can possibly take a photo of that one

maybe your effort will make the conversation easier

maybe he'll like that i know the latin name for a - what was it? gonepteryx cleopatra?

of course, the next time jaemin brings you along - and abandons you with a thumbs up for his mushrooms and fungi - you are frozen still at the entrance of the butterfly garden

like a broken machine - you just re-read the sign over and over again - announcing that the garden will be finally open to the public in a week

and you nearly short circuit when someone clears their throat behind you

turning around, it's of course renjun, and he's giving you a weird look that is already making this whole situation bad

"h-hey renjun-"

"do you want to go inside with me today?"

you swallow and think you should really just suck it up and go inside. the butterflies aren't going to sting, bite, or eat you - but

"a-actually i wanted to ask you does the garden have any.....any um....gonep- um whats the word gonepetry? gonepetri? um-"

without a beat renjun finishes the sentence for you

"gonepteryx cleopatra's? no, those butterflies favor the mediterranean so getting them here is hard."

"right...well actually i was wondering"

renjun blinks

"oh and you can call them cleopatra's if you want. but unfortunately no, i don't have any in the garden."

god ok, how do i pivot this conversation...

"oh that's cute, um actually i also have a question-"

he waits expectingly and for some odd reason as the second's tick by he gets cuter and you get quieter and it is just a huge mess

and you think you should just book it and let renjun think you're a weirdo

when you finally lift up your camera and take a breath

"do you think you could take the photo of a butterfly for me?"

his brown eyes widen

"oh - like the photo for your project?"

"y-yeah. it's just......im really scared to go in there...bugs are not my thing. i know it's pathetic and they're just butterflies but-"

you look down and the sun and renjun's gaze are getting too heavy to handle

"but i just don't know if i can even focus when there are so many flying around....does that make sense?"

the beat of silence that follows is almost miserable but renjun just points behind him and says

"follow me."

the next thing you know you are trying to keep up with him as he walks past the butterfly garden and down a path hugged by greenery

it's way past where you've ever been and you ask renjun where he's going

only for him to insist you hurry up a little bit

before you know it you are both standing in front of a large, open iron gate, and behind it are rows and rows and rows of rose bushes

they range in color and size and the smell that permeates the air is so lovely you suddenly feel like you're in a fairytale

renjun leans closely to inspect a couple and then stops in front of a bush adorned in the brightest pink roses you must have ever seen in your life

"butterflies are attracted to roses, the colors are vibrant and they pollinate them."

"b-butterflies pollinate? like bees?"

renjun laughs, the sound adds to the almost dreamy vibe - with the way it sounds like the lightest piano keys

"yes and look - i can understand that you'd be scared of being inside a place full of butterflies, but here in the rose garden there are only a couple here and there."

he squats down and cups the petals of a flower with such a gentleness

you follow and are surprised to see a butterfly, with bright blue wings, nestled in the center of the rose

renjun flicks his eyes to your camera bag and you immediately understand why he's brought you here

without making too much noise you get your camera out and steady the lens - just one butterfly does not intimidate you like being in a glass, enclosed pavillion full of hundreds

so you can take the photo easily - though just as you click the shutter makes a noise and the butterfly takes off

you pout and look up to see if renjun is startled by the sudden escape of the focus of your photograph

when you gasp and see that another butterfly, this one a bright orange has settled on the tip of renjun's nose

without missing the moment - you raise the camera

and snap another photo, not taking the time to adjust the zoom or anything

just wanting to capture the little miracle

the butterfly seems to recognize renjun's pretty face is not a flower, not that you fault the butterfly for thinking that it was

as it flaps its wings and goes in search of another rose

you brighten up when you look at the preview on your camera

no blur or sun glare! it's a perfect shot!

and you lean close to renjun to show him and he leans in too

and the centimeter distance only dawns on the two of you when you look up and renjun has already turned his attention on you two

a heat spreads up your face, as it does renjun's and you both pull back from the scalding feeling

"i-"

"sorry-"

shooting back up to your feet you kind of wobble in this moment of awkwardness and then renjun asks

"will you use that photo for your project?"

"oh - if you don't want me to i won't, i think i can use the other-"

"you can use it."

he rubs his arm and then locks his gaze back on you

"but does this mean you won't come back to the gardens anymore?"

i guess since my project is done, he's right. i don't have any excuse to come and bother him by loitering around anymore.

you pull your bottom lip between your teeth and give a little shrug

"probably, jaemin's internship ends soon too so-"

"then would you be ok with seeing me- well-"

renjun flusters

which is somehow a shocking different from his usual blank expression of utter handsomeness. the stark difference is loveable and you almost have to stop yourself from falling over.

"well what i mean is would you want to maybe see me - outside of the garden.....like not here but somewhere else?"

"to hangout?"

you grip your camera and renjun half nods, but then you can see he's trying to think of the right word

"yes to hangout and like....but different, like a different kind of hangout."

confusion settles on your face and you are about to ask what he means exactly when someone burst between you two

"there you two are! sorry, was i interrupting renjun asking you on a date?"

jaemin's voice manages to echo even though you're all outside

and you push him playfully as renjun rids himself of jaemin's body weight and huffs

"aren't you supposed to be looking at toadstools are something jaemin?"

"first of all, toadstools are unscientific and not the correct term for a class of mushrooms. so mind your manners, and second - why would i want to miss the exciting moment where you too finally agree to go out!"

you catch renjun's gaze and it's as big and as wide as yours

"w-was that what you were asking, if i would go on a date with you?"

the words shock you ask they spill from your mouth

renjun nods, slowly, and then casts a look at jaemin

"yes. before this one interrupted."

jaemin looks between you two as if he is guilty of nothing

for a second you forget about him and then nod back

"y-yes id love to!"

renjun's face softens and he's about to ask for your number when jaemin claps his hands and the sound probably rattles the earth underneath you three

"amazing! this is truly a moment to remember!"

you and renjun both lurch at him and he laughs as you two tell him to go back to his mushrooms

and yet somehow, you three are all smiles when the day comes to an end because you and renjun have set up a date and jaemin is taking most of the credit for it

that summer, after you send the photo of the butterfly nestled perfectly on the tip of renjun's nose to your professor, is one that stays with you forever

you spend most of it with renjun, whenever he isn't busy with his butterflies, learning more and more about him

the little things like he doesn't like cilantro, he frequently doodles and draws in his free time, and he breaks everything he does down into a meticulous step by step process

you watch in fascination as he organizes his side dishes by the order he eats them, tabs the important dates in his planner, and pins your candid photos in a perfectly straight line above his desk

you know some of his friends call him a stickler, but it's really just another thing you grow to like about him

after all - your birthday gets a special, green tab in his planner. green means extra, extra, extra important

as for the butterfly garden .... you try a couple of times to go in. each time, renjun lists off a million reasons why butterflies are great and docile and not dangerous or scary

but every time you kind of apologize and say you can't do it - which renjun doesn't hark on you for

he just takes your hand and kisses the back of it, asks if you want to go visit jaemin or see the roses again

and as much as you love your friend, there's been too many instances of renjun leaning in to tuck your hair from your face and kiss you, all while jaemin pops up between you two like he's at the movies

and you two have to turn around and shoo him off as he insists he just wants to bear witness to the romance of the century

you and renjun sprawl across his bed, looking up at the ceiling as he finds comfort in counting the stripes on your shirt in silence and you mumble about how the summer is almost over and you won't be able to just be lazy like this with him anymore

the days of doing absolutely nothing

renjun props himself on his elbow and looks at you seriously

"spending time with someone you love isn't doing nothing. it's the act of growing closer."

you almost blurt out that that's the most romantic thing you've ever heard and you are going to cry

but instead, circle your hands around his neck and flip him over to be under you

poor renjun tells his directors he got bit by a species from the culicidae family (mosquito) to try and hide the blotch on his collarbone

and while the directors are impressed with renjun's knowledge of insects, jaemin just gives him the good old finger guns of 'yeah. sure'.

your photograph gets great marks from your professor, who replies to the image with praise about the lightening and angle

and the way you managed to capture both your boyfriend and the butterfly

you read the email to renjun over the phone and can almost hear the blush on him when you say boyfriend

you wonder if the future is going to be as sweet as this summer, can someone like you who is so terrified of the creatures renjun has structured his whole life around, really be the right choice for him

and when you ask renjun this, on the day before your classes officially start in the fall

he says that you don't have to be just like him for him to love you

it's the fact that you're so very you that he feels stronger about this relationship than he has about any other

and who cares that you don't like bugs. it just means that if you live together in the future he can be the one to get the spider under the cup and let it free while you lock yourself in the bathroom out of fear

you giggle at this, your heart beating against your ribs at the thought of a future so domestic with the boy smiling down at you

and the best thing is that future comes to fruition

when a decade later you're waiting for renjun outside of the botanical garden, where he strolls out with his co-worker jaemin whose holding a funny looking pot of yellow-topped mushrooms

"date night for the newlyweds?"

he wiggles his eyebrows the same way he did when you two were in college

you shoo him off with the hand that has your wedding ring on it and you tuck your hand through renjun's

"date night for you and some fungi, jaemin?"

he makes a face at your comment and bounds off in the direction of his car

you look up at renjun who chuckles to himself and pecks your lips in a greeting

"how are the butterflies this year?"

you ask as you two turn to walk down the street

"beautiful - do you think this might be the year you finally visit the garden?"

you scrunch up your nose and mumble that maybe, you'll have to see if after ten years your fear really hasn't gotten any better

he smiles and says you can take your time - ten, twenty, thirty

he'll be by your side when you decide it is time

you stop to look at him - seeing for a moment the flash of the boy with the butterfly on his nose - and smile

"and ill be by your side for anything and everyhing too."

he picks your hand up with his own - your matching rings gleam in the setting sun

"i know, that's why i married you."

#me and the website for people who butterfly watch became besties for this au #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct au #renjun scenarios #renjun imagines #renjun au #renjun #nct dream #nct dream au #member: renjun #sfw #butterflies/#insects/#nct dream scenarios #renjun x reader #nostalgia au

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jungshookz · 4 years

Note

cee omg you could literally write a drabble about uni!yoongi making out with yn and i would literally die

➺ pairing; min yoongi x reader

➺ genre; uni!yoongiverse!! nsfw i think?? i’m not sure?? what do u call it if it’s simultaneously smut and not smut at the same time.,,. smaybe smut,,. smalmost smut,.. smerhaps smut,.,.

➺ wordcount: 1.5k is this a baby drabble??? idk i’m counting it as a regular drabble

➺ what to expect; “i’m going to need you to shut up now, please.”

➺ optional reading: not necessary but feel free to read some other drabbles from the uni!yoongiverse!

➺ note; this was originally a baby drabble (literally was only going to be a couple of sentences at the moST) but i got carried away so here we are :D also i wrote this while my professor was in the background talking about 16th century literature on zoom and now it’s a genuine concern for me as to whether or not ancient literature is my aphrodisiac

»»————-　♡　————-««

you never really know how yoongi does it

every time you tell yourself that this time, you won’t let yourself be distracted by your boyfriend, it’s only three seconds later that you find yourself straddling him on the couch with your hands all over him

and theN when you tell yourself that you’ll only entertain him for ten minutes maximum before getting back to work he does that dumb boyish smirk and head tilt thing (“you sure you wanna go back to your textbook?”) that makes your knees all wobbly and your tummy all warm and before you know it your poor textbooks have been abandoned on the coffee table

one time you even left a marker uncapped and when you came back an hour later it was all dRY

yoongi dipped it into a glass of water in a poor attempt to revive it but it was too late

(he bought u a set of new markers from the bookstore on campus to make up for it)

“do you- mm- do you wanna hear about the classes i’m taking this semester?” you pull away and reach up to adjust your glasses that are now a little wonky considering the fact you and yoongi have been kissing for- has it already been twenty minutes?!

what happened to your ten minute rule??

yoongi rolls his eyes playfully before nodding, “go for it, dork-” he snorts before nudging his nose against your chin to get you to tilt your head back

he knows that if he says no you’re going to whinE about it for the entire time he’s groping you on the sofa so he might as well let you get it off your chest

“okay, so i’m taking this super cool literature course on trauma-“ you hum as you wrap your arms loosely around yoongi’s neck

yoongi starts to press warm kisses against your jaw while his hand slides down from your waist so that he’s gripping the side of your thigh, “mm, yeah? sounds cool.”

“it’s so super cool!” you gasp excitedly, “and the professor is super nice - i mean, she’s a little ditzy with zoom, but that’s to be expected - oh, anD she has purple hair, which automatically makes her the coolest professor ever-” you absentmindedly shift in yoongi’s lap and he grunts when you grind down against him in the process

also

side note

(not that he’s not paying attention to what you’re saying right now, but it’s pretty hard to noT focus on the fact that he’s currently kissing up on his very pretty girlfriend)

he was never really into dry humping before you came along

you guys don’t do it as often considering the fact that now,.,. now u can just have plain ol sex buT sometimes you’ll get into it if you’re on a tight schedule or something

like the other night yoongi had some dinner plans with a couple of friends (aka going to town on 5 XL pizzas in a grubby frat house) but yoU, for some reason, decided that while he was in the middle of putting his shoes on, that was the perfect time to tell him that you wanted to play

“the last person who gets there has to take out the garbage, and i am noT going to take out the garbage again-“

“but don’t you like it when i grind on you wearing just your sweatshirt?”

yoongi pauses in the middle of tying his laces

so yeah

he was the last one to arrive at the frat house which meant he was on garbage duty but it was totally worth it

and yeah, he supposes dry humping is typically something that only a couple of hormonal prepubescent teenagers would be into but.,,. with you, it’s just so,.,.., it’s so hot

he likes seeing you get so worked up over him when he hasn’t even taken any of his clothes off yet

his favourite is when he’s lying on his back and you’re on top just because he… likes it when you’re on top

there really isn’t a very deep explanation to his preference

it’s a nice view! sue him!

he also likes when you place your hands on his chest

you say it’s because it helps keep you from falling off but he knows you just like touching him there

and right as you’re about to cum, your fingers always twitch and he likes the feeling of your nails digging into the thick fabric of his hoodies

not to mention, he loves seeing your reactions whenever he starts talking dirty to you because your cheeks and the tips of your ears get super red and usually you get all quiet and whimpery but there’s always a fire in your eyes like you’re ready to rip all of his clothes off

like there was one time he actually just wanted to tease you just to see how far he could go (you weren’t paying any attention to him because your stupid nose was stuck in your stupid books as per usual and he was getting really bored) and he’d never seen you so needy before

“yeah? you like it when i talk to you like this?” yoongi coos and bites back a grin when you buck your hips against him with a pitiful whine slipping past your lips

he presses his palm flat against your hip to keep you from moving, “aw, what’s the matter, baby? need me?” yoongi pushes his bottom lip out in a mocking pout as he hooks a finger into the waistband of your skirt before giving it a playful tug

“yoongi, please-“ you prop yourself up on your elbows before leaning up to try to get yoongi to kiss you

he’s been dodging your kisses for the past five minutes which he’s been really enjoying because you look awfully cute when you frown at him like that

and to make matters worse (for you, duh! not him >:-)) he knoWs you really really like kissing him

yoongi nearly snorts when he notices you looking at him like you’re about to skin him alive

he totally gets it because he’s basically blue-balling you

it’s nice to be on the other side of the situation for once!

no wondER you do it all the time

“yoongi.” you clear your throat and he raises a brow

“mhm?”

“i don’t know what kind of game you’re playing here, but-“ you poke your finger against his chest, “in three seconds, i’m going to get on my hands and knees for you - and i want you to push my skirt up, tug my panties to the side, and fuck me. please fuck me.”

yoongi’s eyes widen in surprise and he pulls back a little

you very rareLY use swear words on a daily basis - in fact, you usually scold him when he brings his potty mouth into your apartment - so he’s not used to you dropping the f-bomb so casuall-

“did i mention i started taking birth control?”

yoongi’s mouth immediately goes dry

“-also taking a literature class on shakespeare, which is really bringing me back to high school-“ yoongi snaps out of his little trip down memory lane when he feels you shift on his lap again

okay well

he was like 5% horny earlier but now that the gates of his spank bank have basically flung wiDE open it’s safe to say that he’s roughly… 98% horny?

maybe a little more

maybe like 150% horny

you could flick his forehead and he would have a mind-blowing orgasm - that’s how horny he is.

it’s not his fault!!!

blame the spank bank!!!

“and- oh!” you find yourself flopping back on the couch and staring up at the ceiling all of a sudden and you blink quickly as your brain attempts to catch up to what the hecK is happening right now

“i’m going to need you to shut up now, please.” yoongi’s face pops up in front of your eyes and your eyes widen when he drags you down towards him until his very obvious bulge is pressing right up against your centre

you feel your face flush bright red and you find yourself struggling to come up with anything to say because a second ago you were literally talking about william frickin shakespeare, “but-”

“here’s what’s going to happen-“ yoongi tugs his sweatshirt up over his head, “first, i’m gonna go down on you,” he tosses it aside before leaning over and placing both hands on either side of your head, the thin silver chain hanging around his neck dangling down, “and then we’re gonna fuck-”

“language!” you say on instinct and yoongi immediately snorts

that’s pretty rich coming from you, miss flip-my-skirt-up-and-fuck-me-now

“and you know, since i’m feeling particularly generous today,” he ignores your comment about his oh-so inappropriate language, “i’ll gladly let you choose how we boink-”

(you end up riding him which we all know is the decision yoongi is more than happy with.)

help me help you make your wishes come tru (aka send me a request)

requested drabbles masterlist

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imagine-docx · 4 years

Text

interested.

Summary: Being best friends with Bucky, he always thinks you’re trying to get with Steve, when in reality, that is far from the truth. [college!chubby!]

Warnings: Swearing.

A/N: helloooo, i know i have been practically dead. but post secondary really ain’t it chief. here’s a small chub buck fic before i go back into the void that is my 3 hour online zoom lectures. - amanda 💛

»»————-　★　————-««

First year religion, with Professor Hill was quite possibly the most boring class to exist, but hey, that’s how you met Bucky Barnes. First year religion was a mandatory course that you had to take for psychology, and Bucky had to take for history. During the first lecture Prof Hill made you turn to the person next to you and discuss ideas, which happened to be Bucky.

The two of you felt so comfortable with each other, that you were always sitting next to each other during lectures, and eventually becoming the bestest of friends. To the point where you two spent breaks together, Friday nights together, hell he even came to a few of your classes, even though he shouldn’t be there as he wasn’t enrolled in them.

Even Bucky was surprised at this close friendship. He always had the small thought in the back of his mind saying, “She’s just using you for an easy ninety. Once the semester is over, she’s gone.” But to his surprise, here you were in your fourth year, still as strong as ever.

He could pinpoint the moment he realized he was in love with his best friend.

Second year, it was a random party that Thor was holding around early November. You were wearing a basic grey long sleeved shirt, some dark blue ripped jeans, and a pair of heels. You were dancing with Nat and Wanda, and he felt the switch in him flip, and he saw you in an affectionate way.

Needless to say, he left the party and went through a crisis at two am in the back of an Uber, at his new realization.

Since that day, he kept his feelings to himself. Not even telling his best friend Steve about the feelings he harboured towards you.

He always felt insecure whenever he was around you. You were always glowing, even when you had no makeup on and were in sweats on the days you had 9 am lectures. You were always this ball of sunshine that anyone would be glad to hang out with. But here he was, stomach protruding over the top of his jeans, sweaters used to hide how thick his arms actually were, and all around embarrassed about the way he looks. You could never possibly like someone like him back.

»»————-　★　————-««

It was the rare Friday night, where the two of you couldn’t meet because you had a gender studies essay to write, and he had an essay due for ancient civilizations. But, of course, the two of you were on FaceTime.

“You going to Thor’s party tomorrow?” He asked, typing in his name and student number.

“Depends, I still have three readings and a discussion post over my head for Drax.” You responded, finishing up the last sentence.

“You should come, you’ve been pulling essays out of your ass since the semester started. You need to have some fun,” Bucky said, studying your face as you yawned.

“Perks of being a social science major,” you responded, making slight adjustments to your essay.

“Please?” He begged, “I need my best friend there.”

“We will see.”

»»————-　★　————-««

God, three years later, and he still didn’t understand how you pulled off every look possible. Last night you were in one of his hoodies, hair greased, and no makeup on. Today you were pulling off a slightly oversized band tee, some ripped jeans, hairstyled and effortless makeup.

“Didn’t expect you to be around here, thought Drax owned you tonight” Bucky jokes.

“Thought about it. But a certain Brooklyn boy talked me into coming. There’s always pulling an all nighter tomorrow night,” you said, taking a drink from your cup.

“Glad to know I am useful.”

The two of you spent a good chunk of time talking by the bar. The two of you didn’t stop until Sam pulled him away for some beer pong.

You debated going over to your friend group, but from where you were, it looked like they were wasted out of their minds. And talking to them will probably result in them drunkenly saying that you should fess up and admit your crush to Bucky. And knowing your exact luck, he would be around, and that would be a hard hole to dig yourself out of.

You decided that you were gonna get some peace in the kitchen. You were sitting on one of the counters, hearing drunken screams, while scrolling through Instagram.

“You know, it would be easy to tell him how you feel,” you look up to match the voice to the person, only to see Steve.

“And I am assuming Nat did some drunk mumbling to you,” you mumbled, looking down into your cup.

“Or anyone with eyes could see the way the two of you look at each other,” Steve said, leaning against the fridge next to the counter you sat on.

You let out a sigh, “He doesn’t see me in that way. I’m just his best friend.”

“He looks at you like you hung every single star in this galaxy. I should know, I was told I look like that when I look at Nat.”

You laughed and punched him in the bicep, “At least the loverboy admits it.”

Bucky was looking for you, passing by the kitchen he saw that you and Steve were smiling, laughing and talking. He never realized how much of a couple the two of you looked like. Absolutely perfect for each other.

He felt nauseous and decided to head home. Of course you wouldn’t like him, you liked guys who were fit, like Steve. An absolute sweetheart, like Steve. Someone who could care for you, like Steve. Steve.

»»————-　★　————-««

The next morning, he saw that you were calling and kept the talking to a minimum, saying he didn’t feel good and hung up.

He needed to get his feelings in check before he exploded.

From then on, he always scheduled stuff with Steve too. You deserved it.

You deserved happiness, even if it was with Steve and not him.

He would make coffee dates on campus, and never show up. Or invite you for movie night at the apartment, and at the absolute last second ‘have his shift extended’ at work.

»»————-　★　————-««

At some point, he just started blatantly ignoring you. From phone calls, to texts, to even practically running away from you.

The last straw for you was the day your sociology professor let you go early for the day. And you were already feeling under the weather, so you just decided to head back to your dorm, and spend the rest of your day taking it easy.

While you were walking down the tunnel from your class, you saw an all familiar head of hair walking in the opposite direction. You shouted his name several times, and practically ran after him. And you knew he saw and heard you, but continued to walk away from you.

You finally stopped, realization hitting you. He doesn’t like you anymore, and you don’t know what you did. You took a deep breath, turned around and walked back to your dorm.

You sat on your bed, confused as to what the fuck you did to him for him to do this. At that point, you gave him the space he wanted. You stopped texting him, calling him, even going over to his apartment.

»»————-　★　————-««

What caused Bucky to do all of this? Two days prior, he finished his contemporary civilizations class and was on his way to the student centre to get something to eat before his colonial encounters class.

When he walked into the centre, he was greeted with you and Steve sitting at a table, laughing about something, while drinking bubble tea.

He felt something stab him in the chest. It’s supposed to be him. He’s supposed to be the one taking you out for bubble tea. He’s supposed to be the one making you laugh like that.

It was then he realized, he didn’t set up this meeting. He drew the conclusion, that he pushed the two of you closer together, and that neither of them wanted him to know.

He knew he was acting childish. But he didn’t care.

»»————-　★　————-««

Since the encounter after your sociology class, you haven’t messaged him, called him, or even made the effort to see him. It was starting to bother him. He felt empty.

He missed the random texts he would get from you about something stupid in your readings. Or the ‘I accidentally watched too much Netflix, and my discussion post is due in an hour and I have NOTHING’ texts. Or you randomly calling in the middle of the night asking him if he wanted to meet up for milkshakes.

All he would see was Instagram stories or posts of you. Whether it was you at a party getting wasted with your friends, or if it was you being cozy and studying, or you and your friends doing late night stupidity. He missed having you around.

Every single thought he has, would be of you. What were you doing? Who were you hanging out with? Did you get enough sleep? Did you eat anything for the day?

He eventually decided to start essays early just so his thoughts weren’t fogged by you.

»»————-　★　————-««

Bucky was wrapping up his notes on his latest reading. As he closed his textbook, he felt something collide with the back of his head. He turned around to see Steve sitting on his bed. “What?”

“Why are you ignoring her?” Steve asked.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bucky turned back around.

“You damn well know what I am talking about. So, answer the question, why are you ignoring her?” Steve asked.

“Why do you care? That’s your girlfriend.” Bucky seethed.

A laugh erupted from Steve, “She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Then why do the two of you act like it.” He muttered.

“Because she’s giving me pointers on asking out Nat,” he responded, “I bet you feel so stupid.”

Bucky turned back around in shock, “Wait, you’re not dating her?”

“Never was. It’s cute seeing how jealous you are,” Steve said, getting up, “Go get your girl.”

»»————-　★　————-««

Bucky has never sprinted out of his apartment so fast. He was about to walk up the stairs leading to your dorm, when he was about to open the door, the door opened revealing Carol. “Oh hey Buck. What are you doing here? You know she moved out like last month right?” she asked.

He never realized that you left the dorms, hell he didn’t even know where you were now. “Oh yeah, force of habit.” He nervously laughed.

“Anyways, I’m late for my date. Tell her I said hi!” She said walking off.

»»————-　★　————-««

Bucky returned to the apartment and was pacing around. He didn’t know where you could have gone. Nat and Wanda had no space, so you wouldn’t be there. Your parents were way too far out, and you wouldn’t want to commute all the way back. His mind was running through possibilities.

Steve and Sam were just looking on at the spiral that was occurring in front of them. “Does he…?” Sam asked.

“Nope.” Steve responded.

“Ah.” Sam responded.

“Where could she have gone though? I don’t get it.” Bucky said to himself.

“Can I tell him?” Steve asked.

“Nah.” Sam said.

“Wait, you guys know where she is? Why don’t you tell me?” Bucky said with despair laced in his voice.

Sam sighed, “Nat and Wanda.”

And with that Bucky practically sprinted out the door.

»»————-　★　————-««

Wanda and Nat were out for the night, leaving you in the living room finishing up your essay for sociology. Wrapping it up, you slapped the submit button, and headed for the shower.

Upon getting out and changing into some sweatpants and hoodie, you were contemplating what you wanted to eat. Until you heard a knock on the door, confused, you opened it to Bucky, you were about to close it but he managed to let out a, “Can I talk to you?”

You were about to say, “No.”

But once you heard his voice cracked, when he said, “Please,” your heart broke, and accepted talking to him.

»»————-　★　————-««

The two of you sat on top of the building overlooking the city. Bucky was looking at the view of the city, whereas, you were sitting on the bench.

He took note that you were shivering, and he shrugged off his jacket, wrapping you up in it. You were trying to shrug it off, when he said, “You’re gonna get sick.” You accepted that he was probably gonna tie you up in it so you don’t take it off, so you kept it on.

“So why did you ignore me?” You said, looking down at your feet.

“I thought you were dating Steve, and I got jealous. I know I pushed the two of you together, but I still couldn’t bear the thought of him being the one dating you.” He muttered, taking a seat next to you.

“Wait, you were jealous? Why?” You asked, confusion laced your voice.

“I really like you, god I’ve liked you for so long and you deserve someone better than me. Someone who’s fitter, someone who’s better looking, someone you would want to be seen with.” He said, looking down at his feet, hair falling into his face.

You pushed the hair out of his face, “No. I deserve someone who is willing to pick me up for burgers and milkshakes at 3 am. I deserve someone who is willing to drop anything they're doing to come and spend time with me. I deserve someone who would respond to my psych readings, even though they aren’t in my program. I deserve you.”

“You like me?” Bucky stammered.

“Wasn’t it obvious?” You asked. “I thought me calling you at three am because I missed you was obvious.

He wrapped his arm around you and pulled you closer, kissed your hair before muttering an, “I’m sorry.”

“I’m only accepting your apology under one condition,” you said.

He looked at you with the biggest eyes ever. Ready to do anything you even asked for. “Get bubble tea with me?” You asked.

“How about tomorrow we take a trip out of the city, to a zoo or aquarium, and bubble tea?” He said with pleading eyes.

“Only if it’s a date,” you said smiling at him.

“Anything for you.” he said, finally leaning into kiss you.

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bokunoheroanalysisforthefuture · 3 years

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And so we begin what is probably my least favorite arc… at least in fanfics. Probably because so many just repeat what happens basically verbatim and don’t change anything. But we’ll see how actually going through it in the manga has me feeling by the end of it!

[No. 23 - Roaring Sports Festival]

We open up on the day of the sports festival, crowds of reporters waiting outside for the events to start. We see the same reporter from the day of the break-in here, along with others (though I think that some of the background faces are references?). Present Mic addresses them directly, getting deep into his radio host persona as he announces that it’s once again time for the high schoolers to ‘revel in their youth’, as it’s the UA sports festival.

We then get an awesome two-page spread:

I just love how Katsuki’s providing the background action movie explosion. What a pal.

There’s a blank logo page, and then we move on to a flashback, finishing out the conversation between Izuku and Toshinori from two weeks before said Sports Festival.

Izuku slowly repeats Toshinori’s call to action (to tell the world ‘I am here!’), but isn’t sure how to go about it. Toshinori asks if Izuku knows how the Sports Festival works, which Izuku does, going into an explanation: The members of the support course, business course, general studies, and hero course are all thrown together, grouped by grade level. All the students compete in a series of preliminary competitions, whose winners move on to the main event. It’s a round-robin tournament for each grade level.

Toshinori continues his dramatic gesturing, pointing at Izuku with both hands as he confirms Izuku is exactly on point. This event is Izuku’s chance to gain mass appeal for himself. Izuku’s response?

God, Toshinori’s a dramatic dude, I love it. I can totally buy into him being a theater nerd in his off-time… not that he’s had much of that lately, but I digress. While Toshinori’s being dramatic, Izuku descends into a muttering spree, saying he gets what Toshinori is saying, he’s just not sure he can deal with it after what the class just went through. He’s also lacking motivation to stand out, since he sort of already has All Might as a mentor, and that as he is now, it wouldn’t even occur to him to make a big showing, just like with the strength tests.

Toshinori’s response?

Toshinori, I swear if someone walked in on that, there would be so many questions.These two were made for each other.

When Izuku goes to check on Toshinori, Toshinori shoots him a serious look and tells him that the slight difference between those who always aim for the top and those who don’t will come to matter in a big way once Izuku and his friends emerge into society. He tells Izuku that he understands how he feels, and that he won’t force him… but also to not forget that drive he felt when cleaning up the beach.

We fast forward a bit to the end of that same day. Ochako is hesitating in the doorway, and for good reason: an entire crowd of students is standing there and chattering right on the other side.

Also, while I am well aware it’s not Toga… I see you in the crowd there, messy bun girl… (narrow eyes)

Anyways. Ochako and the rest of the class are staring right back at the crowds, with Ochako wanting to know what’s going on. Mineta realizes there’ no way out, and wants to know what the other students are there for. Katsuki replies that they’re obviously there to scope out the competition, calling Mineta a ‘small fry.’ They’re the class who survived a villain attack, so it makes sense they’d want a look before the sports festival.

(Meanwhile, Mineta freaks out and points at Katsuki in fear while staring at Izuku, who sighs and comments on how that attitude is Kacchan on a good day.)

Katsuki says there’s no point, though, then tells the ‘cannon fodder’ to move aside. Izuku is freaking out a bit, while Tenya asks Katsuki to not resort to calling those they don’t even know ‘cannon fodder.’

A student looms over the others as he pushes himself to the front of the crowd, saying that it’s true that they came to get a look, before commenting on Katsuki’s modesty, asking if all the kids in the hero course are like him. Katsuki is looking like he’s starting to get pissed at someone talking back to him, while Tenya and Izuku in the background are shaking their hands and heads in unison, trying to be as clear as possible that they are not siding with Katsuki.

And so we get our first introduction to a fan favorite, Shinsou Hitoshi. Boy, does he look like he needs sleep for the next month.

Shinsou states that he’s somewhat disillusioned if this (referring to Katsuki) is what the hero class is offering. He then goes on to explain who those who didn’t make the hero course are stuck in general studies and the other tracks. There’s quite a few of them, did they know? At 1-a’s confusion, he continues on - depending on the results of the sports festival, the UA staff might consider transferring some of these non-hero course kids to the hero course. He understands the reverse is also possible for the hero students…

Izuku jolts at that, no doubt panicking a bit at the idea of losing his spot. Shinsou keeps going, mentioning the scoping of the competition again because declaring that, for a general studies kid like him, this will be the perfect chance to knock the hero kids off their pedestals, and to consider this a declaration of war.

I lobe these three, so in sync. All of them are a bit freaked out at the intensity of this, which is hilarious considering how intense Ochako was at lunchtime over this whole thing.

Tetsutetsu (though we won’t learn his name for a little while) says he’s from class 1-b next door. He’d heard that 1-a had fought some villains, and wanted to find out more, but all he’s seeing is ‘this arrogant bastard.’ The three think of Tetsu^4 as another daredevil while he states that they better not make fools of the hero course at the event. Katsuki has no fucks to give about their commentary, while the three just get progressively more stressed to be associated with him in any way.

I love this whole page, just. They really do put up with so much because of Katsuki.

Katsuki, on his end, just starts shoving his way into the crowd. Kirishima calls him a jerk and asks what he’s doing to the rest of the class, and that thanks to him, they have a whole mob of haters now. Katsuki turns and gives Kirishima an unimpressed look, and says that he doesn’t give a crap, which has Kirishima shocked. Katsuki then says that he’s heading for the top, so why should he care?

The rest of the class is surprised and in some cases a bit moved. Kirishima is on the verge of tears as he comments on how that’s so straight-forward and manly, Tokoyami mutters about the top and how Katsuki isn’t wrong, and Sato thinks it’s well said. Kaminari is still freaking out, telling the others not to let him play them, and that all he’s doing is winning them enemies.

Izuku has a flashback to Katsuki crying after the battle trial while declaring he’s gonna beat everyone. He calls himself an idiot as we see some of the other 1-a students waiting and talking, and then flashes back again to Ochako and Tenya’s motivations to become heroes, followed by Aizawa and Toshinori’s comments on limited time and the slight difference mattering when they emerge in society. We finally get a zoom-in on his face as he recalls Toshinori’s last words to him - the drive you felt when cleaning up the beach.

As this is the halfway point, and the rest covers the actual day of the festival, I will call it here! Next time, we get our other declaration of war in!

#readthrough #chapter 23 #sports festival arc #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #midoriya izuku #yagi toshinori #bakugou katsuki #Iida Tenya #uraraka ochako #Kirishima Eijirou #Kaminari Denki #shinsou hitoshi #tetsutetsu tetsutetsu #mineta minoru #let's welcome a character people like perhaps a bit too much #i mean no disrespect to fans of his but like #fanon sometimes... yeah...

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lilacpotter · 3 years

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“Even! For god’s sake, I don’t need them!”

“But you’ll go hungry, Mik!”

“I just ate in the morning.” Mikael pouted, crossing his arms like a child.

“Which was almost four hours ago.” Even sighed, exhausted.

“I swear to god if you both don’t shut up now I’m reporting you to the guards!”

Even shut his mouth up almost immediately, but Mikael was scowling at the guy as if he was going to report him to the guards. They were at the tiny stadium, gathered around to watch a random football match. It wasn’t a really important one, so there weren’t many people, and even those who were there, didn’t look like they were going to take it seriously, well, everyone except this big guy behind them.

“What’s his problem?” Mikael leaned in to whisper.

Mikael, for some reason, did not bring any money and was now watching everyone buy snacks and popcorn and drinks. But Even couldn’t let any of his friends go hungry so he was desperately trying to share his stuff with him, but Mikael kept refusing. Which was odd because he usually stole food from everyone.

“He hates us.”

“Well, obviously, but what is his problem?”

“I don’t know, Mik. Now, if you don’t eat the food I’m gonna have to drag you back home.” Even warned him seriously.

“Even, come on.” Mikael groaned. “You’ll need them.”

Even was confused. “For what?”

“For ‘sharing’.”

“Huh?”

“You’ll see.”

“Sometimes you baffle me, Mik.” Even shook his head.

“Only sometimes?” He winked, before hurriedly saying. “Okay, but look, I’m gonna have Adam’s snacks now so stop worrying and stay chill.”

“What are you talki-”

“Halla,”

Even’s heart started beating faster. He knew that voice. He could recognise that voice anywhere. It was the same voice that had lived in his mind rent-free for all these months. And when he turned around, he saw the very same face that haunted his dreams at night.

Isak Valtersen stood beside him, looking gorgeous and so lovely and as if he had appeared straight out of Even’s wet dreams. Am I dreaming?

“Uh...halla.” Even looked to Mikael, silently asking him what Isak was doing here. Isak fucking Valtersen.

But his friend only looked back at him smugly before reaching around and holding his hand out for Isak to shake.

“Hey, Isak. Glad you joined us, man.” He grinned all too knowingly. “Take a seat.”

“Thank you.”

Isak glanced at Even shyly before sitting down beside Even. His shoulders and the complete left side of his body was touching Even’s, and Even was too gone to move away.

This boy will be the end of him.

Even knew that Mikael had something in his mind when he forced Even to sit at one end, but he never expected Mikael had invited Isak over to join them.

Isak was….Even’s professor’s son. And although he respected prof. Marianne- way more than any other teacher -he couldn’t help but be enamoured by Isak. Isak was two years younger than him, and sometimes used to come over following his mother while carrying stuff for her to the classes. That’s how Even had found the boy.

When he met Even’s gaze from across the room for the first time-- him standing beside his mother while Even was with the boys who were too busy laughing boisterously -- Isak looked away shyly, blushing and licking his lips. Even had found it so sweet, and since then he couldn’t take his eyes off him.

It continued, and soon Isak got a little more bold with his looks, but...it just remained that. Even never dared to ask Isak out, the painful reminder that he was his professor’s son and so, he wasn’t yet sure if he was allowed to date him. Meanwhile, Isak never made any move, always watched him from afar instead.

Even shook those thoughts away and looked at him.

Today, he had worn a cap, a faded white t-shirt and dark jeans. He looked perfect. And so lovely. Even wanted to chuck the cap off and comb his fingers through those soft-looking curls.

Isak looked up at him again, as if he had read Even’s thoughts, before he averted his gaze down, with a blush resting high up on his cheeks. So sweet. He was so sweet. Even wished he could hold his hand and tell him he wouldn’t mind it if Isak were to shift any closer to him. Hell, he could crush him down and he would thank Isak for it.

I’m so gone for him.

The match started, and then followed the cheers and the whistles. There were just a few hundred or so spectators, but it was still noisy. Mikael and Adam were busy whispering to each other, leaving Even with Isak. But he was too nervous to start a conversation with him, like always. What if he snapped at me for interrupting him watching the game? Isak did look like he was the type of guy who enjoyed matches way too much, especially when it was a football match. What if he doesn’t actually like me that way? What if I’ve been reading everything wrong? What if I’m just overreacting right now and should chill down?

It was a while later, when, as if to answer all his nervousness, the kiss cam that everyone so loved, that Even so loved-- because he went all sappy at all the couples kissing --seemed to have decided to target Isak and Even, because right now it was gliding towards them, zooming in on their area, their row, and finally pausing at Isak and Even.

Kill me now.

Everyone around them burst out cheering and whistling, Mikael was yelling excitedly. The rest of the audience were urging them to go on, to fucking kiss already.

Even’s face turned white. He turned around to find Isak with his mouth dropped open, a similar look of surprise and shock on his face, but his face flaming red right now.

God.

What do I do?

The kiss cam was still pointing at them, and the crowd was still whistling, and Isak still looked shocked, lovely pink on his cheeks.

Maybe…

Maybe this is my chance.

It probably wouldn’t mean anything anyway. Right? It was just some kiss cam. He didn’t need to think so seriously about it.

Even took a deep breath in, before leaning in slightly, ever so slightly. His heart was pounding in his chest. Thud. Thud. Thud.

He was so close to Isak, just about to touch his cheek-- holy fuck it’s happening --to let him know he was going to kiss him, when the younger boy turned suddenly, eyes wide like a deer and pushed Even away.

Even fell back, too shocked for a second, and when he opened his eyes, Isak looked like he realised a moment too late what he’d done. What has he done?

The crowd was still howling, and Isak was about to say something, an apologetic look on his face, but Even waved him off, strangely feeling hollow. It was fine. He wasn’t going to make Isak feel uncomfortable. He looked straight into the camera and gestured a big ‘NO’ with his fingers. The crowd booed at that, but a few moments later the kiss cam went away, leaving them alone.

Beside him, Isak’s shoulders relaxed a tiny bit, and Even cursed the gods. What was I even thinking?

Of course he doesn’t want me.

He couldn’t avoid feeling frustrated with himself. Why do I always hope too much? He should’ve realised that by now.

Of course no one wanted him.

The match continued after that, and Even felt strangely empty.

On his other side, Mikael reached a hand out and rubbed his back, but he didn’t look sympathetic at all. He was still smiling slightly. This fucker. Even wanted to ask him what he was thinking. Maybe share with me and make me forget my misery?

But then, the kiss cam zoomed on them again in the next round and Even groaned quietly.

Jesus fucking christ.

What was up with the cameraman today?

Even shook his head this time, refusing to kiss. It was easier to do now that Isak had already shown him how he actually felt about him….which was nothing. The kiss cam went away eventually. To his right, Isak bit his bottom lip as he glanced up at Even.

Those damn eyes.

It was unfair how infuriatingly beautiful he looked, and it actually hurt that Even could never claim him as his’. I shouldn’t have let my hopes up.

It happened like this for another five or so times, the kiss cam kept zooming back on them for some reason, zooming onto their flushed faces, mere inches apart, and the crowd eventually stopped booing, probably realising that they weren’t going to kiss no matter what.

On the seventh kiss cam or so, Even sighed dejectedly and looked down instead, picking a random thread off his sleeve. He felt more awful than usual. Today seemed unnecessarily longer.

He just wanted to go home, hide his face in a pillow, and wallow in misery. He mentally flipped his fate out and continued sulking.

It was a few seconds later, the kiss cam still hadn’t budged, he didn’t notice the little gasps in the crowd, or how Mikael stiffened beside him, or most importantly, how he could feel Isak’s breath on his neck.

A warm hand slid around his waist, and Even glanced up, eyes wide, to find Isak already staring at him, a nervous smile on his precious face. Oh my god. Isak licked his lips, his eyes were unnaturally dark, and then, a second later, Even felt a hot pair of soft lips against his’.

Holy fuck.

Isak moved his lips, kissing Even, like, literally kissing him! It took some time for Even to recover from the shock, but he kissed back a moment later, and all the clapping and cheering of the crowd drowned away. Mikael’s yells faded into silence, and all Even could hear and taste was Isak, Isak, Isak.

It was happening. It was really happening.

Isak kissed him back passionately, and Even was so gone for this boy. His hand still rested on Even’s waist as they broke apart eventually. Isak broke into a shy smile, his pink lips glistening now.

Even was a bit too dazed to notice the crowd basically going crazy. The kiss cam eventually went away, and Mikael was slapping his back while shouting into his ear.

“Was it okay?” Isak asked, a while later, when the excitement died down and the match continued.

His hand had slid down Even’s back and was now lightly perching on Even’s thigh. Even dared to place his own hand on top of his.

He looked up at Isak’s face. “It was more than okay.”

The younger boy smiled, looking pleased. “I’ve always wanted to do that.”

And what?

“Really?”

Isak nodded. “Um.. I’m sorry for earlier, you know. I just- panicked.” He grimaced.

Oh.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, I- I’ve always wanted to ask you out. But, I guess I never found the courage.” Isak said, suddenly embarrassed.

Even was too surprised to respond properly. “You’re adorable, you know that?” he blurted out.

Isak gaped at him. “Fuck off. I’m not adorable. I’m hot, and you know that.”

Even snorted before trying to cover it up with a series of coughs. “You are, you are.”

“Excuse me!?”

“What? I’m just saying, I agree that you’re hot.”

Isak was blushing furiously.

“But you are cute too. A person can be both cute and hot, you know?” Even smiled.

“Yeah, whatever,” Isak rolled his eyes.

“What about me?”

“Huh?”

“Do you think I’m hot?”

“What kind of conversation is this? I just basically told you that I’m interested in you, Even!” Isak exaggerated, and Even couldn’t help but laugh. He melted at hearing his own name from Isak’s lips. It sounded too good.

Oh my god.

“Now you’re laughing.” Isak complained, crossing his arms. “Great, it’s funny.”

Even calmed down before he smiled at Isak. “No, not at all. I- I like you too.” I fucking love you.

Isak’s eyes widened ever so slightly and he licked his lips. “Yeah?”

Even nodded. “Yeah. Will you go out with me?”

Isak broke into a smile. “After this match?”

“After this match.”

“Okay.” Isak said without any hesitation.

All the questions about will your mother be okay with this? Are you sure about this? All of them faded away.

Even simply enjoyed watching Isak. They could talk about it all later.

He offered up his snacks a moment later. “Want this?”

Turned out, Isak wasn’t any less of a food lover than Mikael, because somehow, a while later, the popcorn tub ended up in his lap. And Even was too enamoured by it.

They left the stadium together, hand in hand, while sharing soft little smiles.

Meanwhile, after the two boys left, identical sappy looks on his face, Mikael dragged Adam to the cameraman, smugly smirking to himself. He took a bunch of cash and gave it to the guy, who saluted him.

“What the fuck? Why did you give him money?” Adam gaped.

“Dude, did you think the kiss cam was just simply programmed to keep zooming back on Isak and Even, or what?”

It took a moment for Adam to realise. “Holy fuck. You asked the cameraman to do it?”

“I paid him. My pocket is empty right now, but hey, it worked though!” Mikael shot a fist into the air. It was about time they got their shit together.

Adam shook his head, laughing. “You’re a madman.”

“I’m a good friend.” Mikael scoffed.

He was tired of watching Even’s lovesick face every time Isak appeared. He needed to do something, okay? And luckily, this was one of the many attempts that actually worked.

#skam drabble #evak fic #evak #skam #skam season 3 #isak valtersen #even bech naeshiem #isak x even #drabble #idiots in love #my drabbles #I wrote this in like half an hour so pardon me if there are any mistakes dfvdsjf #fanfiction #fanfic #even x isak

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mooneyedandglowing · 3 years

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It’s late, everything is jumbled and cast in a sick green light and it’s late. I hear things outside, but the neighbors are gone -- kicked out at the first chance the landlord was given. Normally, I’d feel awful and anyone would and should unless they knew those people. It’s sadly a relief for the small street. Quiets it down. No one pulling up in the middle of the night screaming racial slurs (all of them white). I’d prefer not to hear some white girl yelling out slurs for other races at another white boy as she and a group of others zoom past my house from the false safety of their vehicle. All of this over a teen egging a car. Ahhh, this place. Violent, violent, violent. Steeped in that blood. Some progressives often like to pretend (rarely being from that deep poverty in the hills where the church traumatizes you and a fight breaking out on the school bus is just a normal Tuesday. They never know how you stop flinching eventually. You think it’s all regular) that this place is a place where that sort of behavior is rare and that people are unified in class struggle. It’s not. They’re not. I always grow weary of the lies that are made to revitalize the rotten. And I say that while still loving the wild place despite the reasons not to.

Anyway, I’m avoiding the point like usual. I wrote a poem once with some line like “I don’t want to write of my life.” There was some mention of a long hallway, the I, I, I. Some dark thing of the mind is something I’d like to keep to myself. All of it, I’d like to keep for myself. Y’all remember how my dad passed suddenly this year? I was working 7 days a week, saving lives and trying to make my minor impact. And I went on like that alone. In a relationship but alone because the person I was with began an affair only a month or so after my dad’s death. Exchanged little I love you sentiments to one another on my birthday even. I only know because someone else told me after it had all imploded. And I didn’t notice a thing because of who I am -- taking care of myself, not looking to others to meet my needs, expecting them not to, thinking it “the way the world is”. I still think that. I’m grown. I supply myself with what I need. I do it again and again. I’d been forced to do it since I was a child. Take care of yourself. Mind yourself. Take care of your brothers. Take care of the father. Take care of the mother. Take care of yourself. And I’ve always been fine enough in that. It’s a straightforward role to be the elected patriach of things - to be provider for the self and for others. Authoritarian yet magnanimous.

I’m still not getting to the point and my eyes are a bit blurred.

In this world, relationships center themselves around practical matters and little else. I’m lenient with certain disloyalties (I care little about the body as possession), but to allow another to believe they are a threat to me/my relationship is a line not to be crossed and yet it was. My ego, my pride. I have both in good measure. Maybe I shouldn’t, but I do. And I’m already burning at the throat just writing this disgusting diatribe. It seems so pity me when I’d prefer to barely be perceived by anyone much less pitied by them. And I feel no pity for man’s proclaimed loneliness (or really their desire to be complimented by a woman who does not know them, who cannot yet or may never be able to perceive the truth of them and there I am loving the truth of them and it’s I suppose as horrific as where I come from), when here I am islanded and drifting and not causing damage, for my own gain, to strangers who skip my way.

I want to live my life with another who is living their own life, another who is like me and able to get on with it - to not be so weak and small and repellent in their lack. No strength of character is found hardly anywhere these days in another. No courage of one’s own convictions. Rather, a separation happens between the self and the self’s actions - a chaotic dissonance. I hate being lied to. I hate being tricked: taken for a ride. I don’t cry -- and I haven’t cried over love in many years -- but what I think I feel is pain. A tired out sort of pain. A light, fatigued heartbreak. I think of Wallace Steven’s “Re-Statement of Romance” - how it is so ideal to me as a perfect intimacy and yet is perhaps so unattainable: “So much alone, so deeply by ourselves, / So far beyond the casual solitudes, / That night is only the background of our selves, / Supremely true each to its separate self, / In the pale light that each upon the other throws.”

“In the pale light that each upon the other throws.”

#well #there's that #i calculated how much water I should drink by my body's weight that's something I guess

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harryskalechips · 4 years

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Too bad I’m attracted to you

A/n I know I said this was going to be up in two weeks but believe it or not, I’ve been so excited about this one. I’ve been writing it for three days and it is one of the biggest pieces I’ve worked on. Overall, some references such as places and the school system refer back to Canada because I am Canadian LOL. It’s easier to write about something you’re familiar with so in this case, we’re set in the true north.

word count: 6884 (I told you it’s very big 😉)

Please enjoy and give it a like or something, it means a lot xx

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Autumn

Harry’s POV

The school bell rings announcing that school was finally in session here at St. Clements High school. The year had just begun with the leaves breezing through the air and the sound of joyous laughter in the streets from children who had just begun school.

It’s my fifth year teaching here at an all-girls school. During my first year, students and even teachers would constantly hit on me and I would like to say that stopped but it hasn’t. Many of the students may think I don’t hear them whispering or murmuring in the hallways but I do. I definitely do.

I look up from my phone to see twelfth graders entering my classroom. I lock my iPhone and stand up in front of the board, observing the girls as they chose desks to sit near their friends. I offer a small smile to the girls who greet me and give a slight nod, waiting for the girls to be seated so I can start my introduction.

“Good morning girls, I’m your English teacher Mr.Styles.” The girls wait silently as I see friends make eye contact with each other, probably communicating with their eyes. “This year, you girls will be graduating so throughout this course, we will be looking at three main ideas.” I roll up the sleeves of my black polo and grab a piece of chalk to write on the chalkboard. “Now, I’m sorry we’re jumping right into the ocean. I promise I will properly introduce myself and let you girls introduce yourself to each other, right after this.”

I face the board and write a list...

1. Format

2. Author’s choices

3. Clarification of ideas

I put the chalk down and rest my hands on my hips, facing the girls. “Okay, so I’m going to explain these points, if you would like too, you can write down what I say but I also have a syllabus for you girls that will be ready at the end of this week.”

After 30 minutes of explaining the course, I lean on the front of my desk, finally looking at each of the students so I can remember what they look like when I learn their names. “Okay so let’s start the introduction.” I laugh a bit at the idea of introducing myself every year. “Should I start or would someone like to volunteer?”

“I would!” A girl speaks up. She had natural ginger hair with slight freckles on her face. Just from the way she stood up, I knew she was the student in class who would participate the most. “Hello, I’m Cathy. A random fact about me is I love to watch Netflix. Say any show and I can guarantee I’ve watched it.” The class of 17 girls clapped enthusiastically, supporting one another.

After a couple more turns, and Jazzy was done stating her random fact about being obsessed with Nutella, a girl with light brown hair and pale skin stood up. She smiled sweetly and looked around the classroom before looking at me. I give her a slight nod to continue and she coughs in her sleeve before standing up straighter to continue.

Now, I never looked at my students and debated whether they are pretty or not but for some reason, when this unfamiliar girl spoke I became way too interested in what she was saying than I have ever been with any students I have taught.

“Hi um, my name is Adeline. A weird fact about me is I love to eat the chocolate part before eating a KitKat.” Her friends gasp while some called her out for eating the chocolate wrong but I laughed as I crossed my arms and watched her sit back down, shaking her head.

As class came to a finish, I learned a few interesting facts about these seniors. I learned that a few hated English and loved math, some didn’t appreciate or care much about their education and some of these girls are really hard workers who want the best mark. Of course, I see these types of students every year but it’s nice to know which one these students are in my class so I can predict their course mark for the rest of the year.

I wait for my next class and repeat my routine. This year I was teaching 12s, 10s, and 9s.

——

Adeline’s POV

“Oh my god. Adel wasn't Mr. Styles so hot in class today? Did you see his back muscles contract when he wiped the board?” Mya leaned against the locker beside me while rolling her eyes in the back of her head. Mr. Styles is definitely going to be her crush this year. Last year, it was Mr.Belmonte and the year before that was Mr. Sanchez. “Don’t give me that look, Adel. If you don’t think Mr. Styles is hot then maybe you’re lesbian!”

“Mya as much as gay people are cooler than you, I’m sadly as straight as a raw spaghetti noodle.” I laugh it off and shut my locker as we walk together to Biology class.

“He’s our first period for the rest of the year. He’s going to always start the day off. I’m really excited.”

“That’s nice to know. I mean I’m excited about his class too, I really love English I hope he isn't a hard marker.”

As I spoke to Mya, my best friend, I truly began to wonder how I can improve more in English and see if I wanted to pursue it in University. So a month into Mr. Styles's class, I decided to stay after to ask him a question.

“Hi, Sir. I just have a quick question I was hoping you would be able to help me out with.” I approach him as he has a pen cap in between his teeth as he marked our commentary assignment from a few days ago. He looks up at me and sits up while focusing all his attention on me.

“Sure Addy, what’s up?” No one has ever called me addy before. I know it’s surprising but usually, all my friends called me by the nicknames Adel, laine, or what my parents call me, delly.

“Well, I truly love English but I don’t know if I would want to major in it. I was wondering if you know any opportunities I can try during my free time so I can think about it. I really have a passion for teaching and English but how do I know what to expect?” He genuinely looked really interested as he watched the grade 10’s enter his class.

“You know I’ve seen your work Addy. You have real potential. I don’t know if you would like this idea but I would love to be your mentor and help you with this skill you want to pursue. I know when I was in University being a TA, truly led me to this passion of becoming a teacher.” I nod my head and clench my binders tighter to my chest because it felt weird talking to a teacher for too long.

“If you would like too. I’ve never done this before actually but would you like to be my own assistant? I can ask Mrs. Raisell to verify with her. I think you can help me with marking younger students’ work and work on the outline of my lessons. At the end of this, I can write you a reference letter and give you hours if you need it for a special program.”

“Wow sir, no yeah I would be really honoured. It would mean a lot if I got to work side by side with you.” He smiles and stands up, probably a signal that I should go to my next class because he’s about to teach his.

“Obviously during your class or anything to do with that class, it will not have to do anything with what you do with me but yeah, I would love to go over things with you to see if this career path is right for you. Let me just start my class and maybe I can get back to you by the end of the week?”

“Perfect. Thank you, sir.” And with our final remarks, I left his class with the biggest smile on my face.

It’s been two months working with Mr. Styles after school. After Mrs.Raisell, my principal, accepted his idea, Mr. Styles and I began working alongside each other. Every Tuesday and Thursday, I would come back to his class after Calculus since it was the end of the day. His last period was a prep period which meant he had a period for himself to mark work and prep his lessons. When I come to his class, usually we focus on whatever he has left to mark. Some late nights, we would drown in a whole deep conversation about life when we get off topic about another conversation.

“Mr.Styles, I have a few more papers to go through but I was going to uber some dinner, are you hungry?” I ask him as I sit at the desk in front of his very own.

He looks up at me and stretches his arms. “You know, you’ve been helping me out a lot. How about I buy us some dinner? I know a really tasty Italian bistro a couple blocks from here.”

“Yeah, sure. Let me just text my mom so she knows I’m not at school anymore.” He nods his head and stands up, collecting my work and the papers he has on his desk. He shoves them into his side leather bag and waits for me by his door so he can lock it.

He turns off the light and we walk together to his car. “Wow, nice car. I’m guessing you’re a bachelor?” He unlocks his car and smirks while putting his bag in the back. He takes my backpack as well and puts it behind the passenger seat.

“Yeah, bachelor you’re very much correct.” He opens my door and gestures to me to sit inside so he can go to his side of the car and get in.

“How are you still a bachelor?” I joke as I watch him shift the car into drive. We zoom out of the parking lot and with a few bumps from the speeding bumps, we’re on the main roads. He looks at me and laughs.

“What do you mean? I’m 25.” He gazes at me while his elbow rests against his door and his hand is on the wheel. His other hand rests on the gear shift.

“Well, no I just- I know it’s weird to say it but a lot of the girls in our school have a crush on you and not by students. I mean actual teachers. My history teacher was talking about how cute you were today.” His cheeks redden and his eyes widen just a tiny bit.

“Oh, Sandra. Yeah, I had a feeling she liked me. She would always make me coffee when I’m in the staffroom marking.”

“Woah.” I laugh. I can’t believe I’m having such a casual conversation with Mr. Styles. Especially since he’s my teacher. I guess it’s natural for us though since I’ve been with him for two months now.

“So do your friends know you’re with me after school on some days?” He asks after he parks in the restaurant's lot.

“No actually.” We pause the conversation for a quick minute as we walk out the car together. He holds the door for me as we enter and the waitress directs us to a booth secluded in the corner.

“How come?” He takes his jacket off and looks at the menu while I flip through the pages quickly, scanning everything on their menu. “My friends would think about weird scenarios of me working with you. I don’t know. I’m scared some of the girls in the class might become jealous about the opportunity you gave me.” He listens to me and watches me while I talk.

“Oh wow. Yeah, I get why you didn’t tell them.” He closes his menu, probably knowing what he wants. “And to be honest, I’ve never done this before. I wouldn’t offer it to any student. I think after reading your work and your interest in the career. It would be nice to mentor you. Plus, as much as high schoolers are. I’m pretty sure nothing weird will come out of this. Mrs. Raisewell has been checking on us quite frequently to make sure no boundaries are crossed.”

“Yeah, I think that’s good. My parents were really happy you gave me this opportunity too. So once again, thank you.”

The next day went pretty smoothly during the first period. Ever since I started working with Mr. Styles, he would call me out during class in a teasing manner. For example, he would use me as an example when he was teaching us a lesson. He would also ask me to read out loud with the rest of the class. I never gave much thought to it since after school when we were together and I would always tease him too. Like a couple of days ago I called him out for eating things with his tongue out. I guess you can say he and I truly became closer than a regular teacher/student relationship.

“Addy, stay after class today. I need to talk to you.” He comes by my desk and tells me as the rest of the girls began getting ready for class.

The class went by very quickly in my mind as I kept thinking of what Mr. Styles had to talk to me about it.

“Hey, sir.” I smile softly as I approach his desk. My eyes sparkled a bit as I checked him out briefly. He was wearing light brown khakis and a tight white long sleeve polo. He zooms out of the window he was looking at on his computer and focuses his attention on me.

“Addy, hey.” He smiles at me and brushes his hand over his hair. “So, my friend from uni is a professor at Windsor university. I was wondering if you would like to come with me and go to the provincial writers’ gala. It’s basically this event where we listen to authors and composers of different genres.”

“Yeah, I would love to go. Is there a specific dress code?”

“Yeah, it’s formal. Can you write down your address here, I can pick you up and drive you home. It's also in January.”

“How about I call you so I can give you my number and I can get yours too.”

After we exchanged numbers, I went on my way to my next class.

----

Winter

It’s been five months working with Harry. Throughout these past couple of months, We began sharing more about ourselves. We were on first name bases. I was calling him by his first name when we were not in class and he was driving me home from our late nights. Mrs. Raisell was frequently checking upon us as she promised and everything was going well.

My friends and I had a few fun memories over the winter break. We were at Rachel’s party and we all got drunk. I spent time with my family and my older sister finally brought home a puppy-like she always wanted to. I bought Harry a Nike sweater for Christmas since I remember him telling me a night while we worked that he wanted to invest more in casual wear. Harry, being very nice. He bought me his favourite book when he first started university which was Emma written by Jane Austen.

Tonight was the gala. After many months of finding the perfect dress, I found it just a week ago. It was this pretty pink long dress that was off the shoulders and with a slit through the leg. As much as I wasn’t Harry’s date, I would be with him all night long. I didn’t want to look like an 18-year-old student of his but more of his actual friend who came out with him tonight.

“Wow, Adeline.” He smiles at me as I leave my house and step out. He had a single red ombre rose in his hand for me. “You look very pretty tonight. I would think you’re trying to get yourself a boyfriend from the event.”

“I don’t think I’ll be looking for one tonight especially since I have my teacher beside me the whole night.” I tease.

“Hey.” He drags the word out and laughs. “I asked you to be my date so you’re right. No looking for boys tonight.” Oh, so I was his date. I took in his outfit he had his hair nicely gelled as he had just gotten a haircut and he was wearing a classic black suit.

As we made our way into the fancy venue, we sat at a table with people we did not know. There were many people here tonight with cameras everywhere. Throughout dinner, we made small talk with the others and by the time I knew it, we were facing the front of the stage listening to a composer who wrote a one-hit-wonder. I had my second glass of wine tonight, feeling the need to destress. Harry only had one and stopped there.

“Harry,” I whisper in his ear. We were sitting very closely together as we listened to the 4th speaker of the night. He kept an arm around my chair after fidgeting for the past couple of minutes.

“Yes, Addy.”

“Can we walk out a bit, I’m just feeling really sleepy from listening to them talk.” He nods without another word and helps me stand up. We try to walk out of the hall without causing much attention. He leads me outside into the cold air and leans against the pillar.

“You okay? I brought you out here, maybe the cold air can wake you up a bit.”

I smile at him because he looks so cute being concerned about me. “Thank you. I really appreciate you bringing me here tonight. I’ve just been exhausted hearing them talk for two hours.” He laughs and stands up straighter. He takes his suit jacket off and hangs it over my body. “Trust me, I was daydreaming in there.” I laugh at his thought.

“Wow, my teacher daydreams while another one talks too? huh.” I grasp onto his shoulders as I feel myself almost about to fall.

“Okay, I think it’s time for us to go home. What do you think?”

“No! I’m not drunk I promise.” I smile and pull on his arm to try and get him to stop us from walking to his car. “Please Harry. I really am enjoying this night with you.”

“Okay fine but can we go inside my car and go somewhere else if we’re done with this event?” I nod my head and with his hand still in mine, he brings us into his car.

We sat quietly in his car for a couple of minutes. Until he turned his head to look at me. I had my body facing him already as my head rested on the seat’s headrest. I was admiring how good he looks.

“You tired?” He asks me gently as the warm air blows on my cheeks. “You have those cute lil red cheeks because of the cold weather. I should have told you to bring your jacket tonight.”

“It’s alright.” I smile. “Thank you for tonight. I know it’s weird having your student as your date but you truly made my night. People may think how weird we are because of how close we are but I just wanted to let you know that I appreciate everything you have done for me. You believe in me and only want the best for me.” He smiles and mimics my exact position.

“Adeline, I can definitely say out of all my years teaching. I have never gotten close to a student before like this. I don’t regret anything with you. First time I saw you, you were just a pretty girl and a smooth voice but now I know how funny you think you are, how passionate you are, and just how genuinely smart you can be.” and without another thought process in my mind, I kiss him because I’ve always wanted to. The moment I saw him in the halls last year, my heart truly did skip a beat and it hasn’t stopped since. He pulls away from me as quickly as my lips touch his. He looked into my eyes for a couple of seconds and I was about to apologize for being so rash except he pulled me in again with his hand on my cheeks. His lips were full and soft. His lips were on mine and they fit so perfectly that I had no other thought except the feeling of his soft palm on my face. We kissed for a couple of minutes and by the time I knew it, he was driving me home with his hand placed in my lap as I played with his rings.

He stops in front of my house as all the lights are turned off, meaning my parents went to bed as did my sister.

“Thank you, Harry. You know I had a great night.” He pulls his hand away from me and turns off the radio.

“Addy, about what happened in the parking lot. I’m sorry I kissed you. The moment was just very overwhelming.” He looks at the wheel in front of him.

“I don’t regret it, Harry. Do you?” My heart beats fast, scared of the rejection that is seeping through his soft lovable lips.

“Yes. I promised you and I that I would not let us cross boundaries.” I look out into the deep night, seeing my street completely empty because it’s 1 in the morning.

“We crossed boundaries the moment I started calling you by your first name, Harry. Why did you kiss me anyways? Maybe, it is inappropriate having your student as your date. Why did you ask me?” I feel so vulnerable after being rejected by him. I feel so embarrassed that the 18-year-old student he thought wouldn’t throw herself at him, actually did.

“Adeline.” He looks at me as I look away, getting ready to leave his car.

“Thank you for this opportunity, Mr. Styles but I think it’s my time I take a step back and focus on a different career since this one does not seem right for me.” I leave his car without another word and run up my driveway, crying. All I wanted to do was hide in my sheets.

After this night, I didn’t go to Harry’s class for three days. The first day, I stayed home but the other two days, I came to school after the first period was over.

“Addy, oh my God. Why aren’t you at homeroom anymore?” Mya spots me locking my locker. “Mr. Styles has been in such a bad mood ever since the beginning of this week. He yelled at us because we didn’t understand a layout he taught us not even 15 minutes prior.” I let my hair fall behind my uniform and carry my binders to my chest. Mya was frustrated, rolling her eyes at the thought of our English teacher.

“I don’t know, I keep waking up late,” I answered very shortly.

“I’m starting not to like him anymore. He’s been such an ass! As much as he’s really hot, I can’t deal with him.” We turn the corner and I spot Harry coming out of the English department office with papers in his hand. He looks at me quickly then keeps his head straight to continue walking back to his class. Ouch.

“Okay.” I murmur in response to Mya, after seeing him again.

“Hi, Ms. Olsen, is it okay if I pull Adeline out of your class for a quick minute?” Mr. Styles appears at the door of my history class. Ms. Olsen smiles sweetly and agrees. All the girls in my class look at each other while I stand up from my seat and meet him outside the hallway. They probably thought I was in trouble for skipping his class for the past few days

“Yes, Mr. Styles?” I reply with a cold tone laced in my voice. He was wearing a grey collar t-shirt today with black slacks.

“Have you been purposely avoiding me, Adeline.” He asks seriously as he whispers.

“No, It’s been a coincidence. I have not been feeling well and I’ve been waking up late.” Not true.

“See me in my class after school like usual.” and with that, he opens my classroom door, gesturing me to go inside. As I walked past him, his scent clung to my nose and I have missed it.

As I entered his classroom, his class was empty. He was resting against the classroom’s bookshelf reading over a book. I close the door and approach him, with my bag being held by only one of my shoulders.

“Mr. Styles, You wanted to see me.” He puts his book back into a spot on his bookshelf, my eyes catching the book of his favourite that he gave me last Christmas.

“Addy, you have to understand why I regret our kiss.”

“I do.”

“No you do not,” He moves to his desk and sits on it, he brings me closer to him so I stand almost in between his legs. “I love my job a lot. I’ve always been attracted to you the moment you stepped in my class but my aim was to never seduce you or take advantage of you.”

“I’m eighteen. I-”

“Baby, don’t talk while I’m speaking.” baby. He just called me baby. “ I know you’re eighteen but you’re still my student. I know the age gap is 7 years but that’s not the point. I wasn’t supposed to act on my feelings, all I ever wanted to do was help you. So, I just want to tell you, I’m sorry because of what happened and I’m sorry I’ve hurt you. You deserve a whole lot better than I because as much as you’ve interested me out of all the girls I’ve ever known, I can’t give you what you want.”

“I really like you, Harry.” I walk into him, trying to be comforted.

“I really like you too, Addy. I haven’t been in a relationship for eight years but for some reason the more I got to know you, the more I wanted you to be my girlfriend.”

“Take me home please,” I whisper into the crook of his neck as he wraps his arms around me. “Take me to your home.”

I walk into one of my neighbourhoods near my school, where Harry would pick me up. I spotted his car just ahead of me so I ran and opened the door to the vehicle that I’ve grown so familiar with. The moment I’m inside, I place my hand on his jaw while he grasps onto my hip to kiss me. His kiss felt so more affectionate as his thumbs rubbed circles on my hips. He kisses down my neck and onto my collar bone, sure to leave a hickey while I pull onto his hair.

“Okay Addy, let’s go home.”

His home was a small townhouse 40 minutes from school. It was very beautiful though and very well decorated. His living room had bookshelves everywhere filled from top to bottom.

“Would you like anything to drink?”

“No, I’m okay. Can we watch a movie and cuddle though.”

Spring

“Hey, how are you?” Harry smiles at me as I enter his classroom. It’s May now, so his windows are open so fresh air can breeze through the room.

“I’m good, what about you?” I approach him and give him a quick peck on the cheek. “I bought you some cookies from the cafeteria.” He smiles at me and kisses me on the forehead as he hugs me.

“Thanks, baby.” He sets up our usual set when I help him with marking. Usually, we act professionally at school, maybe a little cuddling occasionally. We try to finish early though so we can make it to his house so we can spend actual time together. “Does it still hurt?” He rubs my leg.

A couple of months ago, I had sex for the very time and it was with him. He was very gentle with me and I spent a whole night at his place. In the morning, we had sex over and over again until going somewhere a bit out of town for some breakfast. Last night though, we had it pretty rough that this morning, while I was walking to his desk during class to ask him about a literary device, he smirked at me while I tried not to limp in front of everyone.

“Yeah, as you care.” I roll my eyes at him and take out my 5th red pen since October.

“I do baby but it’s nice to know that you’ve physically been dick down by me huh.” He sits in his chair and opens the bag full of cookies and taking a bite.

“No one knows you’re dicking me down except for us.” I bite on my pen and laugh.

“I think that’s what makes it hotter.” He offers me a cookie but I shake my head.

“I’m graduating soon,” I smirk. He nods and swallows what he’s chewing.”

“University of Toronto Addy, I’m happy you’re pursuing English.”

“Thanks, daddy.” I joke with him as he raises his eyebrow. “I’m sorry I know the rules.”

“Yeah, don’t try and make me fuck you right here on my desk.”

“But maybe you should.” I blurted out loud. “I mean I’m graduating soon and I want you too.” I bite my lip and put down my pen. Without a word, he takes the papers and put them on the desk Jazzy sits in near the front. He pulls me out of my chair and onto his desk.

“You want me to bend you over in the class where you sit every morning, talking to your friends.” I nod my head. He pulls off my grey blazer that is part of my uniform and throws it on the floor. He walks over to the door and locks it. He goes to the window and shuts each of them tight and closing the blinds. He stands in front of me again and unties his tie, then rolling it up. “Guess, where I’m putting my tie today baby?” He holds onto my hips so he can rub his growing self on me.

“In my mouth?” He smirks and whispers in my ear, a quiet no. He unrolls it and wraps it around my head so I can’t see. His fingers slowly take off my panties and he rolls them into a ball with a small murmur of him saying open, which I do. He shoves them in my mouth and pushes me more onto the desk. He pulls my skirt down and unbuttons my white polo shirt. He takes it off leaving me bare. “Not wearing a bra, I see.”

He places his mouth onto my wet center and I moan. He wraps his hands around my inner thighs spreading them open, as I grip onto his hair. He leaps his tongue on my clit a couple of times, sucking onto it making my hips press onto his face. His growing facial hair tickling me. He takes my hands and adjusts them behind my back as he uses his other hand to take off his pants and boxers. From the way, he started rubbing his dick on me, I could tell his pants were probably down to his knees. He makes me stand up and he turns me over, pressing my tits to his cold wooden desk. As I moan, he inserts himself into me very quickly as I cry because of how good it feels. The frustration and the lust running in my veins making my heart want to burst. He keeps his hand holding onto mine as his other one gathers my hair into a makeshift ponytail. He bends down and starts kissing me, whispering the dirtiest things that always get me going.

“You like that you little slut?” “You feel me deep in there baby?” “You’re doing so well for me, I love how tight you are, always trying to make daddy feel good.”

By the time I knew it, he comes in me and stays for a little while, trying to catch his breath. He unties his tie around me and the first thing I see when I open my eyes are his clear beautiful green eyes. He carries me on top of his desk after wiping me off and putting my blazer on me. He fixes himself up first then helps me get dressed. He then carries me to sit on his lap in his chair as we nap for a bit.

I think I’m in love with him.

Summer

“Okay girls, You’ve done so well this semester. You’ve had your fun time at prom but next week you girls are graduating. Thank you for trying hard in my course, I really wish the best for each and one of you because I solely believe that women are our future.” He smiles as we come to our last class of the year. I truly am going to miss Harry as my teacher. Of course, I’m going to miss how he gave me special extensions on assignments and his extra help on my work but what I really am going to miss is his presence. I’ve seen him every day for the past 9 months. I also can’t ignore the fact I’m so in love with him.

He makes eye contact with me and smiles wider. He makes a fish face at me for a second and I blush to return one back. He then proceeds with his conclusion of the course and what we can expect in university. This is the room where I fell in love with him and it will also be the room where I leave him as I set my pathway in University. Of course, I’ll still see him every day since the apartment my parents bought me is close to campus and his place but it’s different because we won’t be at school anymore.

...

The day arrived and here we are at my graduation. After the long ceremony, My friends and I all took our pictures. I took some pictures with Mya and her family and with my family as well. After Harry was done having pictures with girls from my English class, he approached me. He greeted my parents, which they responded enthusiastically, knowing he and I are very close. They always teased me about having a crush on my teacher, what they don’t know is that I’ve been dating him for 5 months. My sister knew though, I needed someone to cover me up.

“Hello, Ms. Chastain. I was wondering if I could take a picture with my favourite student?” I roll my eyes and ask my sister, Marla to take a picture of us. He wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me close as we smiled widely together. We also took some selfies on my phone with kisses to each other when we were more separated from the rest of the big crowd. “Will you come to my house tomorrow night, for your celebratory dinner?” I squint my nose and pretend to act all iffy.

“I don’t know Mr. Styles. Don’t you think it’s weird that a student will come to your house for dinner?” He pulls my hair a bit and pokes my hip.

“Shut up.” He laughs as his eyes crinkle. “Come to my car with me.” I walk with him to his car and I lean a bit on his hood as I watch him take something out of his car. He pulls out a huge bouquet of red roses and a teal bag from tiffany and co. The parking lot was empty because either everyone was in the hall or have already left. He hands me the gifts and kisses me on the lips. “Congratulations my baby. I’m so proud of you.

He helps me take out the necklace from the bag. It was this beautiful diamond on this thin chain that rested perfectly in between my collar bones. Underneath the pendant, the letter H&A was engraved. I kiss him one more time, knowing tomorrow will be the day I tell him that I love him.

“Wow, I can definitely smell the storm you’re cooking up in here.” I smile as I enter his house. I was wearing a nice blouse and white jeans with his necklace. He was wearing his casual attire, that I’ve grown to see more often as he bought more while we were dating. He was wearing this I heart new york knit sweater and tight black jeans.

“Just for you, Love.” He helps me sit at his dining table as he sits in front of me. The dinner went overall really well, as we spoke about his experience in University not long ago. By the time, we were finished we were cuddling on his couch watching the fireplace tonight. “Isn’t it crazy how I’ve known you since September and you were my student? I just never really thought I would go for a student.” I rub my foot against his leg and snuggle more into his chest.

“I never thought I would date the hottest teacher at my school nor get dick downed by him.” He pokes my hip and I cuddle more into him trying to hide. “Harry, I have something to tell you.”

“Yes, my beautiful girlfriend. What would you like to tell me, Baby.” He combs my hair out of my face.

“I love you.” He stays silent for a bit as the crackling of the wood became louder in my ears, I was trying so hard to distract myself from hearing my heartbeat.

“Thank you.” I sit up a bit to see his reaction. He didn’t seem pleased that I love him.

“Are you not happy?” I pout and sit up so we can talk. “I don’t expect you to say it back but you just don’t look like you want me to love you.”

“Baby, it’s not like that. I just-, I don’t know. You knew we weren’t going to last long. Why did you have to develop such strong feelings?”

“I’m sorry Harry, what? My fault?” I stand up, getting off his couch.

“No, it’s not your fault. I’m trying to say, do you really think we’re going to last while you’re in university? It’s difficult Addy, I don’t want to pressure you into this relationship that seriously yet.”

“You didn’t have a problem bending me over in your class the other month ago.”

“Adeline. Listen to me. You’re my girlfriend and I feel deeply for you, a lot but I don’t want to take that step yet when you’re just about to enter University.”

“Harry, I can love you whenever I want to.”

“You don’t understand. You went to an all-girls school, now you’re going to a university filled with thousands of men. I’m not saying you’re going to cheat on me but that’s just another example of how different this environment is. What if you do start falling in love with another guy? You’re going to leave me and I’m just going to be heartbroken. I just-, what you said to me means everything to me and I don’t think you’re really committed enough to say that to me right now.”

“Fuck you, Harry.” I grab my purse, getting ready to leave.

“Addy, don’t leave we need to talk about this.” He holds onto my arm.

“No Harry, I’m not dealing with your bullshit. It’s not me who is not committed enough to say those words it’s you! You’re not committed enough to admit it. You can’t genuinely believe that you can fall in love with one of your students. Just fuck you, Harry. I’m leaving.” “Adeline.”

“I’m giving you five seconds to tell me why you can’t accept me saying I love you right now, Harry or else I am gone for good.” I cry as he watches me. As I begin to count down, his hands on my waist tighten. “5...4...3...2...1” and with that, I take his hands off me. “It’s not that I’m mad that you can’t love me or anything. I’m just disappointed in you because you’re the first man I have ever loved and you rejected the love that I offered you. I trusted you so much this past year and you threw my feelings back at me.”

“Don’t...leave me, Adeline.” He whispers as he grips onto his hair.

“I’m sorry.” As I walk out his door, I hear him smash things to the ground but he doubted if we were still going to be together next year, I guess he doesn’t...anymore.

#Harry Styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles oneshots #harrystylesimagines #teacher!harrystyles #harry styles moodboard #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harrystyles fluff #harrystylesfanfic #harry styles fine line #one direction #one direction one shots #I love this ahh #too bad I'm attracted to you

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tisfan · 4 years

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From Joe Morice, daughters in 8th & 10th grade in Fairfax County Public Schools' Centreville Pyramid:

To our fellow FCPS families—this is it gang: 5 days until the 2 days in school vs. 100% virtual decision. Let’s talk it out, in my traditional mammoth TL/DR form.

Like all of you, I’ve seen my feed become a flood of anxiety and faux expertise. You’ll get no presumption of expertise here. This is how I am looking at and considering this issue and the positions people have taken in my feed and in the hundred or so FCPS discussion groups that have popped up. The lead comments in quotes are taken directly from my feed and those boards. Sometimes I try to rationalize them. Sometimes I’m just punching back at the void.

Full disclosure, we initially chose the 2 days option and are now having serious reservations. As I consider the positions and arguments I see in my feed, these are where my mind goes. Of note, when I started working on this piece at 12:19 PM today the COVID death tally in the United States stood at 133,420.

“My kids want to go back to school.”

I challenge that position. I believe what the kids desire is more abstract. I believe what they want is a return to normalcy. They want their idea of yesterday. And yesterday isn’t on the menu.

“I want my child in school so they can socialize.”

This was the principle reason for our 2 days decision. As I think more on it though, what do we think ‘social’ will look like? There aren’t going to be any lunch table groups, any lockers, any recess games, any study halls, any sitting next to friends, any talking to people in the hallway, any dances. All of that is off the menu. So, when we say that we want the kids to benefit from the social experience, what are we deluding ourselves into thinking in-building socialization will actually look like in the Fall?

“My kid is going to be left behind.”

Left behind who? The entire country is grappling with the same issue, leaving all children in the same quagmire. Who exactly would they be behind? I believe the rhetorical answer to that is “They’ll be behind where they should be,” to which I’ll counter that “where they should be” is a fictional goal post that we as a society have taken as gospel because it maps to standardized tests which are used to grade schools and counties as they chase funding.

“Classrooms are safe.”

At the current distancing guidelines from FCPS middle and high schools would have no more than 12 people (teachers + students) in a classroom (I acknowledge this number may change as FCPS considers the Commonwealth’s 3 ft with a mask vs. 6 ft position, noting that FCPS is all mask regardless of the distance). For the purpose of this discussion we’ll say classes run 45 minutes.

I posed the following question to 40 people today, representing professional and management roles in corporations, government agencies, and military commands: “Would your company or command have a 12 person, 45 minute meeting in a conference room?”

100% of them said no, they would not. These are some of their answers:

“No. Until further notice we are on Zoom.”

“(Our company) doesn’t allow us in (company space).”

“Oh hell no.”

“No absolutely not.”

“Is there a percentage lower than zero?”

“Something of that size would be virtual.”

We do not even consider putting our office employees into the same situation we are contemplating putting our children into. And let’s drive this point home: there are instances here when commanding officers will not put soldiers, ACTUAL SOLDIERS, into the kind of indoor environment we’re contemplating for our children. For me this is as close to a ‘kill shot’ argument as there is in this entire debate. How do we work from home because buildings with recycled air are not safe, because we don’t trust other people to not spread the virus, and then with the same breath send our children into buildings?

“Children only die .0016 of the time.”

First, conceding we’re an increasingly morally bankrupt society, but when did we start talking about children’s lives, or anyone’s lives, like this? This how the villain in movies talks about mortality, usually 10-15 minutes before the good guy kills him.

If you’re in this camp, and I acknowledge that many, many people are, I’m asking you to consider that number from a slightly different angle.

FCPS has 189,000 children. .0016 of that is 302. 302 dead children are the Calvary Hill you’re erecting your argument on. So, let’s agree to do this: stop presenting this as a data point. If this is your argument, I challenge you to have courage equal to your conviction. Go ahead, plant a flag on the internet and say, “Only 302 children will die.” No one will. That’s the kind action on social media that gets you fired from your job. And I trust our social media enclave isn’t so careless and irresponsible with life that it would even, for even a millisecond, enter any of your minds to make such an argument.

Considered another way: You’re presented with a bag with 189,000 $1 bills. You’re told that in the bag are 302 random bills, they look and feel just like all the others, but each one of those bills will kill you. Do you take the money out of the bag?

Same argument, applied to the 12,487 teachers in FCPS (per Wikipedia), using the ‘children’s multiplier’ of .0016 (all of us understanding the adult mortality rate is higher). That’s 20 teachers. That’s the number you’re talking about. It’s very easy to sit behind a keyboard and diminish and dismiss the risk you’re advocating other people assume. Take a breath and think about that.

If you want to advocate for 2 days a week, look, I’m looking for someone to convince me. But please, for the love of God, drop things like this from your argument. Because the people I know who’ve said things like this, I know they’re better people than this. They’re good people under incredible stress who let things slip out as their frustration boils over. So, please do the right thing and move on from this, because one potential outcome is that one day, you’re going to have to stand in front of St. Peter and answer for this, and that’s not going to be conversation you enjoy.

“Hardly any kids get COVID.”

(Deep sigh) Yes, that is statistically true as of this writing. But it is a cherry-picked argument because you’re leaving out an important piece.

One can reasonably argue that, due to the school closures in March, children have had the least EXPOSURE to COVID. In other words, closing schools was the one pandemic mitigation action we took that worked. There can be no discussion of the rate of diagnosis within children without also acknowledging they were among our fastest and most quarantined people. Put another way, you cannot cite the effect without acknowledging the cause.

“The flu kills more people every year.”

(Deep sigh). First of all, no, it doesn’t. Per the CDC, United States flu deaths average 20,000 annually. COVID, when I start writing here today, has killed 133,420 in six months.

And when you mention the flu, do you mean the disease that, if you’re suspected of having it, everyone, literally everyone in the country tells you stay the f- away from other people? You mean the one where parents are pretty sure their kids have it but send them to school anyway because they have a meeting that day, the one that every year causes massive f-ing outbreaks in schools because schools are petri dishes and it causes kids to miss weeks of school and leaves them out of sports and band for a month? That one? Because you’re right - the flu kills people every year. It does, but you’re ignoring the why. It’s because there are people who are a--holes who don’t care about infecting other people. In that regard it’s a perfect comparison to COVID.

“Almost everyone recovers.”

You’re confusing “release from the hospital” and “no longer infected” with “recovered.” I’m fortunate to only know two people who have had COVID. One my age and one my dad’s age. The one my age described it as “absolute hell” and although no longer infected cannot breathe right. The one my dad’s age was in the hospital for 13 weeks, had to have a trach ring put in because she could no longer be on a ventilator, and upon finally getting home and being faced with incalculable time in rehab told my mother, “I wish I had died.”

While I’m making every effort to reach objectivity, on this particular point, you don’t know what the f- you’re talking about.

“If people get sick, they get sick.”

First, you mistyped. What you intended to say was “If OTHER people get sick, they get sick.” And shame on you.

“I’m not going to live my life in fear.”

You already live your life in fear. For your health, your family’s health, your job, your retirement, terrorists, extremists, one political party or the other being in power, the new neighbors, an unexpected home repair, the next sunrise. What you meant to say was, “I’m not prepared to add ANOTHER fear,” and I’ve got news for you: that ship has sailed. It’s too late. There are two kinds of people, and only two: those that admit they’re afraid, and those that are lying to themselves about it.

As to the fear argument, fear is the reason you wait up when your kids stay out late, it’s the reason you tell your kids not to dive in the shallow water, to look both ways before crossing the road. Fear is the respect for the wide world that we teach our children. Except in this instance, for reasons no one has been able to explain to me yet.

“FCPS leadership sucks.”

I will summarize my view of the School Board thusly: if the 12 of you aren’t getting into a room together because it represents a risk, don’t tell me it’s OK for our kids. I understand your arguments, that we need the 2 days option for parents who can’t work from home, kids who don’t have internet or computer access, kids who needs meals from the school system, kids who need extra support to learn, and most tragically for kids who are at greater risk of abuse by being home. All very serious, all very real issues, all heartbreaking. No argument.

But you must first lead by example. Because you’re failing when it comes to optics. All your meetings are online. What our children see is all of you on a Zoom telling them it’s OK for them to be exactly where you aren’t. I understand you’re not PR people, but you really should think about hiring some.

“I talked it over with my kids.”

Let’s put aside for a moment the concept of adults effectively deferring this decision to children, the same children who will continue to stuff things into a full trash can rather than change it out. Yes, those hygienic children.

Listen, my 15 year old daughter wants a sport car, which she’s not getting next year because it would be dangerous to her and to others. Those kinds of decisions are our job. We step in and decide as parents, we don’t let them expose themselves to risks because their still developing and screen addicted brains narrow their understanding of cause and effect.

We as parents and adults serve to make difficult decisions. Sometimes those are in the form of lessons, where we try to steer kids towards the right answer and are willing to let them make a mistake in the hopes of teaching better decision making the next time around. This is not one of those moments. The stakes are too high for that. This is a “the adults are talking” moment. Kids are not mature enough for this moment. That is not an attack on your child. It is a broad statement about all children. It is true of your children and it was true when we were children. We need to be doing that thinking here, and “Johnny wants to see Bobby at school” cannot be the prevailing element in the equation.

“The teachers need to do their job.”

How is it that the same society which abruptly shifted to virtual students only three months ago, and offered glowing endorsements of teachers stating, “we finally understand how difficult your job is,” has now shifted to “screw you, do your job.” There are myriad problems with that position but for the purposes of this piece let’s simply go with, “You’re not looking for a teacher, you’re looking for the babysitter you feel your property tax payment entitles you to.”

“Teachers have a greater chance to being killed by a car than they do of dying from COVID.”

(Eye roll) Per the Insurance Institute for Highway Safety (IIHS), the U.S. see approximately 36,000 auto fatalities a year. Again, there have been 133,420 COVID deaths in the United States through 12:09 July 10, 2020. So no, they do not have a great chance of being killed in a car accident.

And, if you want to take the actual environment into consideration, the odds of a teacher being killed in a car accident in their classroom, you know, the environment we’re actually talking about, that’s right around 0%.

“If the grocery store workers can be onsite what are the teachers afraid of?”

(Deep breath) A grocery store worker, who absolutely risks exposure, has either six feet of space or a plexiglass shield between them and individual adult customers who can grasp their own mortality whose transactions can be completed in moments, in a 40,000 SF space.

A teacher is with 11 ‘customers’ who have not an inkling what mortality is, for 45 minutes, in a 675 SF space, six times a day.

Just stop.

“Teachers are choosing remote because they don’t want to work.”

(Deep breaths) Many teachers are opting to be remote. That is not a vacation. They’re requesting to do their job at a safer site. Just like many, many people who work in buildings with recycled air have done. And likely the building you’re not going into has a newer and better serviced air system than our schools.

Of greater interest to me is the number of teachers choosing the 100% virtual option for their children. The people who spend the most time in the buildings are the same ones electing not to send their children into those buildings. That’s something I pay attention to.

“I wasn’t prepared to be a parent 24/7” and “I just need a break.”

I truly, deeply respect that honesty. Truth be told, both arguments have crossed my mind. Pre COVID, I routinely worked from home 1 – 2 days a week. The solace was nice. When I was in the office, I had an actual office, a room with a door I could close, where I could focus. During the quarantine that hasn’t always been the case. I’ve been frustrated, I’ve been short, I’ve gone to just take a drive and get the hell away for a moment and been disgusted when one of the kids sees me and asks me to come for a ride, robbing me of those minutes of silence. You want to hear silence. I get it. I really, really do.

Here’s another version of that, admittedly extreme. What if one of our kids becomes one of the 302? What’s that silence going to sound like? What if you have one of those matted frames where you add the kid’s school picture every year? What if you don’t get to finish the pictures?

“What does your gut tell you to do?”

Shawn and I have talked ad infinitum about all of these and other points. Two days ago, at mid-discussion I said, “Stop, right now, gut answer, what is it,” and we both said, “virtual.”

A lot of the arguments I hear people making for the 2 days sound like we’re trying to talk ourselves into ignoring our instincts, they are almost exclusively, “We’re doing 2 days, but…”. There’s a fantastic book by Gavin de Becker, The Gift of Fear, which I’ll minimize for you thusly: your gut instinct is a hardwired part of your brain and you should listen to it. In the introduction he talks about elevators, and how, of all living things, humans are the only ones that would voluntarily get into a soundproof steel box with a potential predator just so they could skip a flight of stairs.

I keep thinking that the 2 days option is the soundproof steel box. I welcome, damn, beg, anyone to convince me otherwise.

At the time I started writing at 12:09 PM, 133,420 Americans had died from COVID. Upon completing this draft at 7:04 PM, that number rose to 133,940.

520 Americans died of COVID while I was working on this. In seven hours.

The length of a school day.

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pl-panda · 4 years

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Damienette arranged marriage: Part 10

Okay. You will probably either love me or try to kill me for this one. Good corruption is so hard to write.

Credits: Miraculous Ladybug team for the elements I take from MLB show. DC for their characters, @ozmav for the AU, @maribat-archive for giving me access to so many different stories to have take inspirations from, @thyladyanput for idea for Chat Damian and me for the plot.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Part 9

Damienette arranged marriage: Part 10

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

Chloe sat there, not sure what to make of the discussion. She was about to say something when something crashed through the window. The three teens starred at the form of Chat Noir. He was looking different. His ears and tail were real instead of accesories and instead of bell on his neck he had only a choker with word 'Marinette' written on it.

"My Purrincess! I come to save you!”

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

One month ago

Adrien was angry. His lady just got married. And it wasn't with him. Something was wrong with this idea. He already had everything planned. He knew what suit he would wear, he had a general idea about the dress, he even chose the place. HIs Lady would not refuse him. And yet, he was too late. She told him several times that she was in love with someone else and now she married this someone. Someone who was not him.

He wanted to scream, he wanted to cry, he wanted to punch something... someone. And not just anyone, but this one person who stole his lady from him. His mind was racing, trying to remember every single detail she revealed. The most important so far was marriage, but he decided to leave that for the last. She definitely liked the Gabriel Brand and often recognized him. She thought she loved someone, but she never revealed many details. Ladybug also...

"I know what you are doing and better drop it." Plagg sounded next to him.

"I can't. She made a mistake. We are destined to be with each other Plagg."

"Are you having a stroke or did Lila steal your last brain cell?" the kwami scolded him harshly. "If ladybug chose someone else, then you should respect her choice and roll with it. Besides, don't you need to be eighteen to marry in this century?"

"She loves me. She just doesn't know it yet! And age is just a number."

"As is the cell number she will end up in if she is with you." Plagg deadpanned.

"No. I... but... We... You said Chat Noir and Ladybug are destined to be together!"

"Yes, but not as a couple you moron. I swear I am always the one who gets the dummies..." Plagg moaned to himself. "The two miraculous are destined to be used together or they will create imbalance. There can never be Ladybug without Chat Noir for a prolonged amount of time or we risk another pompei."

"I don't care! She's my lady! We are made for each other!" Adrien almost screamed.

"Tikki help me... You are an idiot." Plagg just stated and phazed through the wall to get to his hidden camembert stash. He was too hungry to deal with mr. possessiveness right now.

Adrien huffed at the actions of his Kwami. The gluttonous cat knew nothing. He was Ladybug's perfect partner in both fighting Akumas and in life. With that thought he fell asleep.

----------

Next day school seemed plain and boring. Just like he expected Lila made sure Marinette did not have a chance to explain herself. Why did this two girls couldn't get along. He sighted. From his place he could not really see Marinette in the back, but he was almost certain she would be okay. This was Marinette he was thinking about. She was pretty much their everyday-ladybug. He frowned at the thought. Stupid someone. If only he could punch this person in the face.

Plagg didn't talk to him at all, choosing to instead stash himself with ungodly amounts of cheese. Who needed this lazy cat anyway? It's not like he had to be Chat Noir. He could do whatever he wanted.

After classes he tried to speak with Marinette, but she just brushed him off and run to her home. He just shrugged. She was strong, smart and resourceful. She was almost like Ladybug except without powers. And she was just as pretty. Maybe even prettier because she had no mask covering half of her face. But she still wasn't his Lady. Adrien sighted as he got into the limousine. The Gorilla took him home. Like always the bulky man only grunted instead of speaking. If someone replaced him with a semi-shaved gorilla most people wouldn't notice. Adrien would, but probably no one else.

When they arrived at the mansion Nathalie was already waiting for him. She had her usual emotionless expression, but Adrien noticed the corners of her lips were slightly upward.

"Adrien. Your father wants to speak with you." She started.

"Father? What does he want?" Adrien asked as politely as possible. It was very unusual for Gabriel to demand a meeting with his son.

"It's best if he tells you himself." Nathalie did not reveal anything.

"Okay." Adrien smiled sadly. Usually in this kind of situations it meant something bad.

She led him to the atelier where his father stood by the drawing board.

"Welcome son. Nathalie, leave us." Gabriel's voice showed surprising amount of emotions for him. The assistant nodded and walked out of the room. The father and son were now alone in large room. "Come here Adrien." The older man did not need to make any hand gestures. His voice emphasized the order enough.

"What is it Father. Nathalie said you wanted to speak with me."

"Yes, but not here." Gabriel simply shut down all further questions. Adrien stood next to him curious when the older man pressed several buttons that were parts of the painting of Emilie. The ground below them lit and Adrien found himself on an elevator going down. A large hall lit in front of him. There were rows of lanterns on the walls and a single catwalk in the middle that led to some green area at the far end. There was some tube that Adrien couldn't see the content of. Behind everything was a giant symbol that looked like a flower, but the young Agreste couldn't shake the feeling it reminded him of something more malicious.

They stepped off the platform and Gabriel walked to the tube on the far end without saying a word. Adrien just followed him. It was not possible for the two of them to walk side by side so he only saw the tube again once they got to the platform.What was inside froze his blood.

Inside laid Emilie Agreste, his mother.

"F-Father...?" His voice was almost just a whisper. "Wh-What is all of this?"

"Your mother is very ill my son. This stasis chamber is the only thing keeping her alive."

"Why isn't she in hospital? Everyone believes she died." Adrien was still shaken by this. He had no idea what to think. He did not pay slightest attention to small flock of white butterflies on the edges of this green island.

"No hospital on earth could possibly help her. Only a miracle could save her. Or a wish."

The meaning behind last word hit Adrien with the speed of rushing train. The silence that fell after was so loud that he could hear the flapping of butterfly wings.

"N-No... That can't be... You... But she... We... I... She... Ladybug... Mother... Father... My lady..." Adrien started babbling incomprehensibly. His father watched his son's eyes jump between the stasis pod, himself, the ring on his finger and the window behind them. Gabriel walked to his son and gently placed a hand on boy's shoulder.

"Adrien. Listen to me. I know you are confused, but everything I do is to unite our family. I am sorry I didn't tell you before. You were still young when this happened and I didn't want to burden you. But I can no longer see you so secluded. Suffering from the ignorance. I don't want you in anymore danger. Help me son. I don't think I can do this without you. I want to see our family together." As Gabriel spoke to his son, the expression on boy's face changed. It was that of acceptance. Older man had to hold the urge to grin. It was all coming together. They would finally be one, happy family together.

"But... My Lady..." Adrien was still torn between his loyalties.

"What are you talking about?!" Father was losing patience.

"Ladybug. My Lady. She..." the boy started and Gabriel finally caught the flow. All the dots connected. He had to improvise. It could be all or nothing.

"And what did she for you my son? She doesn't care about you. In neither forms. Not really. What does Ladybug really know about you?"

Adrien grasped. Only now he realized that he revealed himself before his supposedly worst enemy. But it didn't matter. His father was right. Ladybug didn't care about him. She chose someone else and abandoned him. He didn't owe her anything. But he did owe his mother everything. He pulled off the silver ring from his finger and closed his fist around it.

"Plagg. I renounce you!" There was a sudden black zoom and the ring changed to black color with paw symbol on it. Adrien then offered the ring to his father.

"Here. If it helps bring mother back... take it." There was complete resignation in his voice. Adrien gave up.

Something in Gabriel's cold heart actually felt some guilt. He didn't want to break Adrien to bring Emilie back. Instead of taking the ring he closed boy's hand around it, cupping it in his own. "No son. I told you I can't do this alone. I want... I need your help. We can bring your mother back together."

"Thank you father. Your trust means the world for me."

——————————————————————————————————–

Taglist (sorry if I missed you)@pheonixashtree @sassakitty @unabashedbookworm @vixen-uchiha @maggiecc12 @actualdisasterwoman @tired-butterfly @shizukiryuu @floralfi @imanerddealwith @northernbluetongue @krispydefendorpolice @toodaloo-kangaroo @dast218 @bluesoulblueheart @theatreandcomicfreak @disneyfoxuniverse @mindfulmagics @alwaysnumberonetruth @nyaabinch @jardimazul @lenamau @rosep16 @dramatic-squirrel @sonif50 @daminett4life @lulutheawkwardess @weird-pale-blonde-person @mooshoon @jeminiikrystal @mochegato @moonlightstar64 @dragonflyswing @silverwhiteraven @shamefullove @magic-miraculous @valeks-princess @heaven428 @mlbchaosqueen @winter-gardenflower @spicybelladonna @emo-elaine13 @vetilora @karukofox21 @my-name-is-michell @sturchling @lokiifriggasonn @redscarlet95 @melicmusicmagic @interobanginyourmom @the-fusionist @razzledazzle247 @miss-mysterys-blog @darkthunder1589 @i-is-mysterious @catthhay @the-one-woman-army @zestyzealot @dahjokester @write-for-your-life2 @mermaidreject @peachedpocky @sassakitty @dahjokester @crazylittlemunchkin

#maribat #maribat au #marinette x damian #order of the guardians #guardian!marinette #redeemed!chloe #evil!adrien #league of assassins #batman #batfam #mlb #mlb x dc #damienette #crossover #miraculous lb #miraculous ladybug #arranged marriage au

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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 :)

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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!!!

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