#except for the lettuce that's towards blue i think

[wheucto]

[darkstarofchaos]

So beginning of the year, I was talking about doing daily sketches, and studies, and working towards doing an animatic, and. Posted maybe twice and nothing more was said about it. Yeah.

Anyway, I got into 3D modeling last month.

This was made by following Blender Guru's latest donut tutorial. Took three tries to render, because the first time it rendered in the wrong format (and had some weird color flickering), and the second time my laptop decided to update right before it finished. Thanks to some unsaved changes, I couldn't just pick up where it left off. But as they say, third time was the charm.

My first go at making something without a tutorial. You'd think doing lettuce that wasn't sad and limp would be the hard part, but it was actually making the cheese limp. Moved on in the middle of texturing because I couldn't figure out how to add two different textures to the bun.

Mostly tutorial-free, though I used part of CG Geek's ice cream cone tutorial to figure out the icing. This one was also paused in the middle of texturing, mainly because of weird light and shadow glitches.

Another Blender Guru tutorial, this time using the teacup section of an older donut tutorial, plus Smeaf's wood texture tutorial. As it turns out, glass is super easy to do in Blender. I probably shouldn't have zoned out during the part that talked about UV unwrapping, though...

So it turns out UV mapping (that thing that tells textures where to go) is extremely important to making things look good. This sort of followed Blender Guru's couch tutorial, except I used a completely different style of couch for my reference, so I had to figure out the modeling myself. And then he used a premade fabric texture instead of showing how to make one, so I used Smeaf's fabric tutorial for that (the initial results were... interesting). Ultimately, the original tutorial was just used for the cushions.

As you can see, textures are not this couch's friend. There's a lot of stretching on the arms and back, and that blue patch has no texture at all. As far as I can tell, this is an issue with the UV mapping, and I haven't figured out how to map the texture properly yet. I'm unsure if the UV map is also responsible for the void that's consuming the right cushion, but the untextured model looks weird along the back, so it's probably a deeper issue.

On the other hand, I was able to correct the couch's initial resemblance to a shag rug.

All in all, I'm getting the hang of modeling, but I definitely need to spend some time on UV mapping.

Also, I did all of this in a month.

Obligatory ko-fi button.

[hellohimawarihana]

My Review of Yu-Gi-Oh VRAINS Henshin

Hello and welcome into another transformation analysis! This time I’ll be talking about one of Yu-Gi-Oh series that involves transformation.

If you’re not familiar with Yu-Gi-Oh then I’m gonna explain it to you. Basically it was the series who popularize the trading card game today and it always involves duel between one another by summoning creatures like dragons and fairies combined with fusion and various effects that will decide the outcome of the battle.

Now I’m not a fan of Yu-Gi-Oh myself but I do had a few interactions between the series. I was born in late 90s so I grew up with the original series and I do hear the first opening and ending songs and they felt good. Then I do watch my brother’s gameplay about some GX games (maybe?) on PS2 and one episode in 5DS (maybe in Season 2? 'cause I remember the duel back then was in chibi). ZEXAL’s first opening song was true to its name, a masterpiece to me. The rest of them like ARC-V, SEVENS and currently airing Go Rush!! isn’t my cup of tea, but the thing that does made me interested recently is the 6th anime series, VRAINS.

This series has recently got its 5th anniversary and with VRAINS World in Duel Links, few events, and goods ongoing, so I think it won’t be bad to review this third series with transformation. Well, Yu-Gi-Oh is no stranger to transformation sequence as OG and ZEXAL had done this before, but VRAINS is the first where the protagonist doesn’t need their respective partner to transform into their alter ego, whether it be possessed or by fusion.

Before that though, no transformation where the log in / sign in happened with blue flash of light as it was instantaneous / offscreen and no character without complete appearance change too, although there's one exception that will be shown later.

With no further ado, let’s dive into character sections, put the decks into Duel Disks, and “Into the VRAINS!!”

Playmaker / Soulburner

We’ll start with the protagonist and his eventual partner in Season 2 when they sign into LINK VRAINS. And their animations are... pretty much similar, so I’m dumping both here in one session.

Let’s talk about Yusaku a.k.a. Playmaker first. First off, I like the visuals when he transforms, it’s the thing that made me impressed the first time I watched it and get hooked by the series. The blue in the background matches his personality really well too. I especially like the gold glow on his bodysuit and how he let his hair down (actually it’s his front bangs) before changing it into Playmaker, ah good stuff indeed.

As for Takeru alias Soulburner... eh, fine? Nothing much to say about this one but I do like the scarf that moves when he lowers his head and how his glasses was removed the same time as his transforming hair. It’s pretty unique, since we rarely see glasses got removed onscreen during transformation (think Barnaby in Tiger & Bunny 2 and Mew Lettuce in Tokyo Mew Mew New). And the background really represents his hot-blooded personality too.

Speaking of the visual, it’s one of the successful among anime media. Usually the pseudo-space background has to represent the individual’s strengths / elements or the series theme as a whole. VRAINS is well known by its aesthetic, and oh boy it’s really shown here. Surrounding them is the screens that represent charts and the platform where they're standing are based of hardware components with the electric fan in the center, not to mention the pillars spinning around too. What differs them is the theme color. As I stated before, Playmaker uses blue though it’s more towards Yusaku than his online alias (unless you count the glows during his Ritual and Xyz Summoning) and there's emerald green as secondary color which is the closest towards his green bodysuit and his Synchro Summoning glow. Meanwhile, Soulburner uses red and orange, which is the common element of fire that was part of his deck.

And considering the fact that this series involves virtual world, Yusaku and Takeru has to sign in by surrounding themselves with the sphere in their respective color (Yusaku’s light blue and Takeru’s red) with various screens before going into transforming part. However, considering that Yusaku’s transformation was shown few times in Season 1 as opposed to Takeru’s once in Season 2, there is some twist in sign-in variations to keep it interesting. As shown in stock footage-heavy Pretty Cure series, it could be tiring if it was shown once per episode, especially DeliPa where they often transform in group and each does two lines at once (usual naming and anything gourmet-related) during their roll call. However, Yusaku was smart, and with various sign-in sequence and other alterations enough to make his transformation felt same yet less repetitive (and honestly I’m glad it happened in order to make this GIF).

The process, however, is pretty short, as the beginning took 15 seconds uncut but the actual transforming part is 6-7 seconds long. Probably because they took the usual anime transformations with 30 seconds duration, and it’s probably why the scene focuses on leg when forming the bodysuit with the belt coming second before their hair. (I had Corrector Yui vibes from there...) But I like how they break the transformation space into a new background and change the lighting in the process, talk about powerful duelist. And I’m not keen to fanservice like in Binan Koukou and Fairy Ranmaru and instead keeping their clothes before being replaced by their suit through electricity glaze is a very good idea. (I don’t think the staff would implement fanservice in kid’s show...)

Here’s the link if you want to watch and compare both.

Oh, and in case you’re wondering, there’s no combo transformation sequence for these two. After the usual set-in sequence, there’s eye sequence and then a flash of blue light on them... done. A bit shame, actually. (the same happened for Yusaku in work outfit too...)

Blue Maiden

In case of Yusaku-Takeru’s offscreen transformation, there’s one episode where it occurs the same time as when Blue Girl transforms into Blue Maiden in front of the two and Ema/Ghost Girl. She glows light blue and has some magical girl transformation vibes on it, with some twist. The ‘ping’ occurs with pink heart and concentrating on the transforming part one by one before scanning the glow out upon completion, which I think it’s pretty good for her.

Speaking of magical girl transformation, Playmaker and Soulburner has these vibes in their sequence too. And I like how their hair color traded with each other between their civilian and avatar form.

Though Blue Angel is more magical girl than any of Aoi’s avatars, at least she had transformation in one of her forms so it’s alright. Soulburner would definitely proud of this.

There’s also some transformations that’s too brief for me to review but I’m gonna show them anyway.

Ghost Girl

Blue Girl

Knights of Hanoi

And there's the acrylic board version for Revolver and Playmaker too.

(the render version in the link)

And that covers up my henshin review of Yu-Gi-Oh VRAINS. See you in my next post!

[burnedbyshoto]

for want of a bento box

– It’s plain and simple, you see, someone is stealing your bento boxes and you will find your lunch thief! Or, in which Todoroki Shouto keeps taking your bento box and you declare war. 

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pairing: todoroki shouto x reader

warnings: fluff, cursing, shouto is a bad chef, I believe I made reader pretty gender neutral but I whipped this out in two hours and I can no longer remember if I used any fem!pronouns but im pretty sure I didn’t

word count: 3,060

a/n: this is for the wonder coworker bnharem collab! I had intended on writing a completely different theme and storyline but was very overwhelmed by how much time it actually needed to be written compared to the amount of time I actually had. that version will be out another time! but for now, enjoy some pure flufffffff!!!!

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

Having a normal, functioning, well-paying job was probably the most desirable thing to you. It wasn’t to say that you were slacking or that you were homeless, broke, and never to be seen again because you were that in debt. But it was nice having a job!

When you entered the prestigious Toshinori Company, you joined not as an entry-level job employee but as a senior representative. You thought it was crazy.

It had to be crazy.

You had no prior experience, and now you were going to be in charge and the lead in certain areas?!

“And that was the entire layout of the office!” Mina chirped happily, throwing herself onto the desk chair across from yours with a big smile. “Any questions?”

“I don’t think so,” you mutter, brows creased as you look around the room again. 

The office space was ample, sleek, open. Each desk has its own grand computer that you currently could not afford with your own money, comfortable chairs, and beautiful wood desks. It was elegant, far superiorly fancy, and yet, you didn’t feel out of place. Strange.

“Oh!” you say with a roll of your eyes as you reach below your desk to bring up your packed lunch. “Where was the break room again? I need to refrigerate my food!”

“Omg, of course, come this way!” Mina grins, standing up and motioning you to follow her. You smile gratefully and do. 

The entire way to the office, Mina takes the time to point at the many different people on the floor and give them names. Everyone so far had sort of acknowledged you earlier as Mina was giving you the official tour. Some were much more open and friendly, and some had sneers or blank stares that left you dumbstruck. 

Definitely a personable group.

“Hm, well, I guess Todoroki-kun isn’t here today?” Mina mutters as you enter the break room that has couches and comfortable-looking chairs. “Such a shame! You would have loved to see the office hottie!”

You snort at that, lips curled into a granulous smile as you place your plastic container with food into the fridge. “I’m sure I’ll live,” you brush off the fact that there was an absent person on your floor today.

“That’s the thing, though,” Mina points a finger at you, a lone eyebrow raised and a confident smirk on her face. “You won’t be thinking that again the moment you see him!”

You laugh, eyes crinkling as Mina joins your laughter. Eventually, she motions for the both of you to leave, and you nod in understanding. And with a weird sense of comfort and belonging, you realized that this job was going to be good. 

.

.

Eventually, you had been working at Toshinori Company for two months.

Sixty-two days to be precise, and in all that time, you had only met Todoroki Shouto once. Even then, you had only seen the man walking through the office with a blank face, fingers in his pockets as two other men were walking in front of him, bickering lightly.

Had Mina not quite literally thrown herself across the table and gripped the collar of your shirt and twisted your head to look at him, you would have never caught a glimpse at the man with red and white hair. The three of them walked into the break room and came back out with their own lunches before leaving.

And that was it.

You had learned that the three of them (Todoroki Shouto, Midoriya Izuku, and Bakugou Katsuki) were within your department but worked very closely with the very high up members within the company. Many rumors pointed at one of the three taking over the company when the current CEO stepped down. They were, however, on the roster for your floor; they just never appeared except to pick up their lunches. Something they seemed to come to grab whenever you were a) way too fucking busy or b) not in the room.

You weren’t too bothered, though.

It wasn’t like you were trying to date one of them! You had only wanted to say hi.

.

.

.

Now, at ninety days, you had your first and probably most crucial evaluation. 

Toshinori Yagi, the man who founded and currently ran this company, sat before you, looking at papers within a folder with tired but kind blue eyes. He nodded, impressed (hopefully), making small comments about the work you had been able to accomplish, a smile becoming a warming grin as he looked up.

“I’m impressed by the performance you’ve managed to attend to despite the short while you’ve been here, y/l/n-shojo,” Toshinori spoke, his fingers threading together and placing them onto the table. “I knew it was an excellent decision to put you in that position, and you exceeded my entire expectation!”

You flushed at that, lips twitching as you attempted to suppress that smile of yours. 

“Thank you, Toshinori-san,” you practically wheeze as he waves off your thanks.

“No need to thank me, you’ve done all this work!” he laughs, tired eyes closing with a glorious supply of crow's feet blooming at the corner of his eyes. “Typically, at these evaluations, I ask a bunch of questions because there isn’t too much anyone can do in their first ninety days, I must admit.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm, but because I am curious, is there anything that has been happening as of late that you feel needs to be addressed with me?”

You felt yourself stiffen but knew your one and only complaint was not something to bring up in this setting.

“No, nothing,” you shrug, and Toshinori beams.

“I’m glad!”

Now, the problem.

The big, fat, stinky, hooligan, wanting to throttle someone problem.

For the past sixty of your ninety days, someone has been stealing your lunch.

Yes, you heard that correctly; someone was stealing your damn lunch! Every morning you woke up and prepared a delicious bento box for yourself. Some days you went as far as cutting shapes into your fruits and veggies just to make yourself grin. You weren’t the best chef in the world, but your bento boxes were pretty enough to make up for it, in your opinion. But the thing is, every day when you went into the communal fridge, you noticed two things.

One, your bento box was no longer in the same place, and two, the bento box was not yours at all.

The food was disastrously organized. Rice and lettuce spilling out in every partition in the box. The fruit and veggies often packed in this box had multiple cuts in them, implying that whoever did this was less than ideal with a knife. The meat was often oversalted, the sushi never sitting together, and everything was just… not it.

The first time you had sighed and eaten it, grumbling about how your precious lunch was stolen. But you had quickly figured out that it was inedible, and Mina, Uraraka, and Yaoyorozu thank god, offered to share their meals. 

Seeing that you were distressed about how someone stole your egg and octopus sausages one day, Mina declared that they would watch the break room for whoever was stealing your light blue bento box. The first day you staked out, you had done it with Mina. But ten minutes into waiting around, you needed to pee. So you stood up and left in a hurry, leaving Mina alone.

But when you returned, Mina was gone, instead standing by Kirishima’s desk with a bright grin and a stance that screamed that she heard something she liked (gossip, possible in-office romance, a love confession?). Her jaw dropped as she noticed you and Kirishima had turned and waved in your direction as you raced into the break room to open the fridge, and sure enough, your bento was gone.

The next time, you staked out with Uraraka. Your arms were folded, your bladder cleared, and your lips twisted into a pout as you glared and stared down every single member who entered the room. Uraraka whispered to you her guesses about just who might be the thief, every other person rating an 8/10 likelihood of stealing your lunch.

But as the both of you sat there, your eyes narrowed at each passerby, no one came to collect your bento today.

“Deku-kun, no packed lunch today?” Uraraka asked as the green, curly-haired man you had only met once previously raced into the break room, grabbing the extra chopsticks meticulously hidden in the third bottom draw.

“Ah, Uraraka-san, y/l/n-san! Uh, no,” Midoriya greeted you both, who apparently responds to the nickname Deku, laughs off as he grabs a handful of napkins. “Todoroki-kun left all our lunches in his car by accident, and well… they spoiled… Kacchan’s pissed, so I ran off to get lunch for us today!”

Uraraka laughed, shaking her head, “Leave it to Todoroki-kun to act that way.”

Midoriya laughed, bright and clearly in agreement, “You should have seen his face when Kacchan asked for his lunch! I swear–”

“HOW LONG DOES IT TAKE TO GRAB FUCKING CHOPSTICKS, SHIT-KU! I’M FUCKING STARVING!” a voice roared from nowhere near the entrance of the break room. You did, however, jump a bit, eyes turning toward the break room entrance to see the blond man (Bakugou? Kacchan? You had no idea which was correct) near the entrance of the floor. 

“It’s only been a minute, Kacchan, relax!” Midoriya laughs, completely unaffected by the startling shout as he waves goodbye to both you and Uraraka before leaving, joining Bakugou as the both of them seem to talk comfortably… well, maybe more like bickering.

“Why are they–”

“Childhood friends, apparently,” Uraraka sighed, but the smile on her face betrays her exasperation.

No one stole your bento that day.

Yaoyorozu took up the third stake out, the two of you idly chatting about tea. You honestly had no idea what to talk about with Yaomomo; she was often just so elegant and mature despite being your age. When you learned that her family was in charge of the Yaoyorozu Corp, it had been strangely easy to accept that. 

It made sense.

So as the two of you stood at the kitchen sink, boiling water for tea Yaomomo swore would be the best matchup for your packed nigiri, the both of you missed the man who walked into the room, opened the fridge, and took your lunch.

“I… I am so sorry,” Yaomomo apologized, head bowed dangerously low as the both of you looked at the sloppily cut salmon in your not actual bento. “Please eat my food in reparation.”

“No, it’s okay,” you sigh, chewing on the somehow still warm salmon. “I deserved this loss.”

Luck was just on this man's side, it seemed. No matter what you did, you could never catch the man in action, and you were ready to give up.

But this was the last attempt you said to yourself as you returned to your office floor, the evaluation done, and the rest of your life coming to light. You could do this. No! You WOULD do this!

.

.

“Why don’t you just put your name on your bento box?” Bakugou asked, a lone eyebrow raised in what you could only assume was judgment and pity. The explosive man was standing in the doorway of the breakroom, watching as you and Mina were trying to climb up the counters of the breakroom to grab the camera you had previously planted. “Obviously, it doesn’t have your name on it.”

“Um,” you squeak, having been obviously caught by someone who intimidated you just the slightest bit. “That’s a good idea, thank you, Bakugou-san.”

“Tch, whatever, just clean up the damn counters, fucking nasty standing up on there. Some people prepare their food there.”

“We would never forget to do that!” you argue, desperate to not leave a bad impression on this man.

“I don’t know much about you, but I know raccoon eyes over there would.”

“MY NAME IS MINA!”

“Like I care.”

He left without so much as a wave but did seem to nod with his departure. You sighed as you hopped off the counter, Mina grabbing the cleaning supplies as she cursed out the long-gone man under her breath. 

But you were looking at the fridge with your missing bento box.

“I can’t believe I never put my name on it.”

“It’s okay! Not even Yaomomo thought of it, so I say we are still smart!”

.

.

.

It was the next day, you were at your desk, anxious as hell as you did your work, trying not to focus on the fact that it was lunchtime and you were actively avoiding the break room. You wondered if they wouldn’t come and collect it today. If somehow they were an asshole and wouldn’t care if your name was on it! What would happen then? What if it was someone like Bakugou who was taking your lunch? What then? You were sure you would cave in slight fear and major intimidation if he said that your lunch was his now.

“Want a cutie while we wait, cutie?” Mina asked, waving the small tangerine in her fingers as she grins.

“Please,” you say in gratitude for the food because you were starving. “Thank you.”

Eventually, you lost track of what was happening, becoming all too invested in the conversation that Mina was telling you about that involved Kaminari, Kirishima, Bakugou, Midoriya, twenty-seven Red Bulls, fifteen Monsters, and five shots of sake. It seemed that the former two were quite big instigators when they wanted to be, and the latter two were unable to back away from challenges, especially when the other was involved.

“Y/l/n?” an unfamiliar voice called from behind you, and you turned partially in your chair as you looked behind you.

Standing behind you was a tall man with red and white hair, and from this distance, you noticed immediately that his eyes were a deep grey and brilliant blue.

Todoroki Shouto.

“T-Todoroki-san!” you greet him back, voice unable to keep from trembling as your nerves shot up. What was going on? You two had never interacted before! He was always gone, never present, and whenever he was in the office, it seemed that you weren’t there.

He cleared his throat and raised up two identical bento boxes.

“It seems… I have apparently been stealing your bento boxes,” he concludes, pressing the blue bento box with your name written on it into your hands.

Your jaw drops as your fingers curve around the cool plastic, eyes blinking up a storm as you try to abstain from laughing high pitched and ugly like. 

“It was you?!”

A pink color blooms onto his cheeks as he averts his eye contact with you and nods slowly, “I am so sorry.”

“I just… how?!” you exclaim, exasperated, this man obviously being a bit dense if he had no idea he was taking your bento box!

“I prepare my bento boxes the night before, and I don’t really remember what I put into them….” Todoroki explains slowly, his hand rubbing the back of his neck, his tongue clicking the roof of his tongue. “I just thought that my cooking was improving and that I was somehow doing an amazing job.”

The grin that overcomes your face is one of subtle, strange fondness and soft warmth. “I can tell you that you probably haven’t improved much,” you tease, opening your bento box to see your prepared meal for the day. 

Cucumber salad, bulgogi beef, rice, and some fruit.

It was packed exactly how you remembered.

“I can’t believe I finally get to eat a meal I prepared,” you continue to tease, your eyes moving up to meet Todoroki, who was also looking at your bento previously. “Thank you for returning my meals and apologizing.”

“It was nothing,” Todoroki waved off with a single hand before opening up his own disastrously assembled bento box. It looked worse than usual today. Everything was just thrown in, it seemed. You saw egg and rice, but everything else in there was indescribable. He smiles at you before sighing at his bento. “This looks more like my stuff.”

You laugh, shaking your head, “You want to share my bento box? I’m sure you probably don’t want to return to that.”

“No, it’s okay,” Todoroki gently declined, although he looked at your bento with great want. He cleared his throat, gaze moving to lock on yours, and you swore his cheeks were still pink but no longer from embarrassment. “I just wanted to come and apologize for stealing your lunch for so long and to thank you for the meals; they were all delicious. Especially the soba you had made.”

“It’s all good; it’s in the past now,” you say gently, somehow finding yourself falling for a man you’ve barely just begun to talk with. The both of you stare at each other, and your skin feels warm. You chuckle, gaze averting for a moment before returning as you tease him. “Although, if you steal from me again, I’m not so sure if I’ll be so lenient.”

“It won’t happen again, promise,” Todoroki smiles, and you feel your spine melt. “But I would love to make it up to you somehow. I can make you dinner one night or something?”

You laugh, head shaking, “No, absolutely not; I don’t trust your cooking skills just yet. But you can definitely take me out to dinner.”

“Yeah, I can definitely do that,” Todoroki agrees, and the both of you fall silent as the shy stares continue. “Does, um… is Friday at seven okay with you?”

“That works,” you say, and Todoroki smiles.

“Good, I’ll uh, see you then?”

“See you,” you agree with a sweet smile before turning around, your fingers raised in a small wave. 

You turn to see Mina, Uraraka, and Yaomomo staring at you, eyes comically wide and so very intrigued.

“Oh… my… GOD!” Mina shrieked as Todoroki walks away, and you shriek as she jumps across the table and shakes you, screaming about office romances and meet-cutes being entirely too underrated. “PROMISE ME I’LL BE INVITED TO THE WEDDING!!!!”

“MINA!”

.

.

.

.

.

It would take about three years of dating, several months of teaching Shouto how to cook, which resulted in a few bellyaches. Still, eventually yes, Mina would be invited to your wedding.

[alpacaparkaseok]

The Passport

Requested by anon - a picture of your request will be at the bottom of the post! Enjoy! Thanks for requesting!

Pairing: Namjoon x reader

Premise: You embark on a memorable journey in an attempt to return Kim Namjoon’s passport. What lengths will you go to in order to return his passport on time?

Warnings: none, this is literal crackhead fluff lol. emphasis on the crackhead.

Word Count: 3.2k 

It all started in the morning. You knew, leaving the house that morning with a skip in your step and the sun shining down on you, that something was off. Something was bound to go wrong.

It wasn’t until 11:30, sitting at brunch with some of your friends, that you caught your first whiff of trouble. 

Literally.

Rebecca, one of your oldest friends, had insisted on pretending to be rich and fancy for a day. She’d dragged you and the rest of your friends to a penthouse-like restaurant, commanding you to wear your finest ‘casual wear’, whatever that was supposed to mean. 

Long story short, you felt like some sort of avid golf fan in your skirt and blouse. Or maybe a polo fan, cheering on the magnificent horses and their riders. 

You were so consumed in your menu and trying to find the cheapest thing they had to offer without looking like a fraud, that you hadn’t noticed the room falling into a quiet buzz of excitement. Hadn’t noticed any sort of change in the air.

Except your nose had.

You unconsciously scooted in closer to the table when out of your peripheral you saw a group of people making their way over to the empty tables nearest you. They shimmied behind you and the table opposite your own, making sure to not interrupt your dining experience. Then you smelled it.

The most wonderful, fresh cologne you’d ever smelled. The smell was light enough that it had you wondering for a moment if you had just imagined the hint of pine, but another sniff confirmed what your nostrils already knew. 

Whoever had just entered the fancy, no-good for college budgets restaurant knew exactly what worked for them. And it was that cologne. Naturally, you glanced over to see just who it was that graced your nose with such a beautiful smell. 

And that, it the precise moment that you learned that Kim Namjoon, leader of BTS and dimple extraordinaire, smells like roses and pine.

Oh, and the slightest hint of jasmine.

Now, the only problem with that knowledge is the fact that you will never be able to get it out of your head. No longer will Namjoon in blue jeans and a tucked in t-shirt be your greatest weakness, as it had been before. No, that’s ancient history as far as that tantalizing fragrance is concerned. 

“Enjoying the view?” Rebecca croons from across the table, ripping your attention away from the man that just took his seat. From this angle, you have the perfect view of those dimples. 

The rest of the brunch passes by with little to no incident. The only thing that keeps you from staring at the group that’s CD has a permanent residency in your car’s stereo is the fact that you know your friends will take matters into their own hands if they catch you. Rebecca will surely embarrass you, if only because you’ve done the same thing to her countless times.

Leticia to your right elbows you lightly, grinning. “You know, RM keeps looking over at you.”

Your eyes practically bulge out of their sockets. “It’s not nice to tease!”

“It’s true!” Bianca pipes up a bit too loudly. She covers her mouth, looking embarrassed. “I mean, it’s true!” She whisper shouts. “He can only go about thirty seconds without looking at you. Maybe he’s worried you’re going to choke or something.”

You roll your eyes. “Wow, how considerate of him.”

Munching on a lettuce wrap that costs about the same as your statistics textbook, you nearly choke on it as the group finishes their meal and begins to make their way out of the restaurant. You scoot your chair back in, cursing your reddened cheeks even as you prepare yourself for the onslaught of Namjoon’s cologne again. 

“Excuse us,” Namjoon says, the sound of his voice enough to have you staring at Rebecca as though she’s a lifeline. If you can make it through this experience without passing out, you can surely accomplish anything.

“Have a good day!” Bianca chirps, smiling widely. Jung Hoseok - yeah, the sunshine of the world - smiles back. 

“Thank you,” he replies. He glances over at you and then, to your eternal horror, he looks at Namjoon with a pointed stare. 

“Er...” Namjoon stumbles over his words, looking like he would rather eat the tablecloth than have to say two words to you. You try to hide your disappointment, closing your mouth and opting for a pleasant smile. 

It’s the wrong move, honestly. Now you’re stuck smelling in his cologne and wondering how it’s humanly possible for someone to smell so beautiful.

Namjoon fiddles with his sleeves before looking over to you, a lightning bolt jolting your senses at the sudden eye contact. 

“You...you’re very pretty.”

In your own defense, your mouth is not the only one that drops open in shock. No, Bianca, Leticia, and Rebecca mirror your state of shock. 

Bianca recovers all too quickly, playfully pushing your shoulder as she exclaims, “See! I told you he was staring!”

Fighting the urge to flee the scene, you plaster on your most nonchalant expression and turn back to Namjoon with pink cheeks. You’re relieved to see his own cheeks tinted pink. 

“I- thank you!” 

At this point all of the boys have paused in their exit, turning to look back at Namjoon with silly grins. Namjoon notices their attention, nodding his head to you and his eyes dropping to stare at the carpet. 

“You’re welcome, haveaniceday,” Namjoon spits out, thrusting a napkin into your hands before before turning on his heel and making a beeline for the exit. He shoulders past the members who give him pats on the back and laugh a little at their leader’s shyness. 

With one final look over his shoulder and an annoyed sigh at Jin who mumbles a teasing remark to him, Namjoon leaves. 

You stare and stare at the exit, your brain short-circuiting as you replay your short exchange over and over again. In your hands sits the napkin - an actual, cloth napkin that is silky soft - marred (or perfected) by Namjoon’s scrawl. 

It doesn’t say a single word. Just boasts his phone number.

“What,” you breathe out, still staring at the exit, “just happened?”

Your question seems to break the spell that had your friends mute, and suddenly all four of your burst out into giddy laughter. 

“I have no idea,” Rebecca says through her giggles, “But I wish I had that on camera!”

Leticia is the one to notice it first. As the four of you get up to leave, she sees something laying on the seat where Namjoon sat. You know it’s where he sat, because you’ve burned the image into your mind. 

You’ve also memorized his phone number. As has Bianca, who read it over your shoulder about seven times before sitting back down in her seat. 

“It looks like they left something behind,” Leticia muses, wandering over to their abandoned table. “Oh, no way!” She bursts out into laughter, pointing down at the chair.

The rest of us scramble over just in time to see Leticia hoist the item up into the air. 

It’s a passport. 

Rebecca grabs your arm, looking at me with wide eyes. “This is a sign! I swear, it’s a sign!”

You frown at her, rubbing at the sore spot from where she’s grabbed a hold of you. “What do you mean? How is this a sign? Have you lost it?”

“No, I get what she’s saying!” Bianca shouts, drawing the attention of anyone that hasn't noticed the commotion yet. “He gave you his number, and now you have the perfect reason to text him! And see him again!”

You snort in disbelief even though your heart is nearly pounding out of your chest. “...right. Because people just leave their passports lying around as calling cards these days.”

Leticia flips through the passport, eyes widening at all of the stamps. “I mean...this is Kim Namjoon we’re talking about. Doesn’t he lose his passport all the time?”

“Exactly, so I-”

“So you need to return it to him,” Rebecca interrupts, smiling devilishly. “C’mon. Text him and tell him. He’s probably freaking out right now.”

You groan, but know that you should. Pulling your phone out, you ignore your friends’ cheers. “If I embarrass myself, so help me...”

You text him. 

Or rather, you begin to type out some form of message before groaning and throwing your phone at Rebecca. Naturally, she grabs your phone and types out a message, sending it off before you can even get a look at it. 

In your despair and agony (yes, you’re aware that you often overreact), you don’t realize what’s transpired until the girls are squealing over Namjoon’s response. 

“Look, look!” Rebecca yells, thrusting your phone toward your face. “Isn't he so cute?!”

Kim Namjoon 😱😍: I’m so sorry, I can’t believe I left that there. Are you available tonight? We could meet up somewhere? Sorry again for the inconvenience.

You groan, snatching your phone back. “Ugh, you people. Can’t even function over a simple text.”

“Oh, you’re one to talk,” Leticia chides. “Weren’t you the one going on about how good he smells for the past thirty minutes?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You do.

Me: Sure, that’s fine! 

Me: Where do you need me to go?

You’ve all piled into the back of Leticia’s car by the time Namjoon responds. What he says makes your jaw drop for the second time that day.

Kim Namjoon 😱😍: About that...do you know where the Grammy’s are being held tonight?

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What?” Leticia asks, looking back at in through the rear view mirror. “What did he say?”

You furiously type out a response, heart rate picking up. “Umm...I forgot that the Grammy’s were happening tonight.”

Me: I think so...why?

“It sounds like he wants to meet there...?”

Kim Namjoon 😱😍: I’ll get you a backstage pass, if you’re alright with it. Some of the staff will be there to help you out, you can leave the passport with them.

Your heart sinks a little. “But it sounds like I’ll just be meeting with his staff. Makes sense, I guess. He’ll be busy and - what?”

Bianca and Rebecca are staring me down, and you can practically see the gears shifting in their minds. 

“Why don’t we get you ready for this little rendezvous?” Bianca asks, rubbing her hands together like some evil villain. 

“But I’m not even going to see him,” You protest. “And I’m just going backstage! Nobody is going to see me.”

“Doubt it,” Rebecca states. “He just doesn’t want to freak you out. He’ll be there. I’m sure of it. And when he sees you...”

“He’ll think I look ridiculous!” You shout, staring at your reflection in the mirror with disgust. “This is horrible.”

Indeed, the gaudy red dress was a bit too much. Even the consultant of the shop appeared inclined to agree with you. 

“You’re right,” Leticia sighed. “Try on the next one.”

It hadn’t taken too much convincing to get you to go to the nearest dress store, you friends absolutely positive that you would see Namjoon tonight. When you did, he was sure to be dressed to the nine’s. You just didn’t want to look too out of place.

Casually formal.

If that’s a thing. 

So far, it’s been a nightmare trying to find a suitable dress. Most have been bordering on junior prom vibes, however you try to cling to hope as you try on the next dress. 

It’s a beautiful black dress with flowers stitched onto the lace overlay. The black slip falls to your knees, the overlay brushing against your calves.

When you exit the room, it’s easy to tell that this one is going to be the favorite. Especially once Rebecca chuckles under her breath. 

“Oh, he’s gonna freak.”

One purchase and makeover later, you smile at your reflection in the mirror. You went for a more natural look, your hair falling in gentle curls and light makeup bringing out your eyes. You’re just slipping on your shoes when you get a text from Namjoon.

Kim Namjoon 😱😍: Ok, I hope you’re still ok to meet up! I’m so sorry again. I’ll send over the link for your pass. They’ll just scan it at the main entrance and then again at entrance 3. Sound good?

You take a deep breath, looking to your friends for support. They nod encouragingly, Leticia clutching her keys. All four of you will drive over. Hopefully they’ll manage to keep you sane on the ride over.

Me: Sounds perfect. And really, don’t worry about it. It happens to the best of us.

You’ve barely gotten into the car when Namjoon sends you the link as well as another message. 

Kim Namjoon 😱😍: You know, if you leave right now there should be a few refreshments leftover from our staff. ;) Let me know when you get here!

“Oh, this man is going to be the death of me.”

The entire area where the Grammy’s are being held are packed with cars and fans clambering to get a look at their favorite celebrities on the red carpet. The red carpet interviews have only just begun, and you can’t help but wonder if Namjoon and the rest of the boys are out there already.

Smoothing out your dress, you can’t decide if you want them to be or not. Your heart is pounding from the overload of excitement and nerves. 

With shaking hands your extend the barcode Namjoon sent you to the security at the main entrance and again at the 3rd. Once the car has been parked, you send a message off to Namjoon letting him know that you’ve arrived. Chances are he’s on the red carpet and isn’t going to see it, but at least you did what he asked. 

“We’ll be right here when you’re finished!” Rebecca calls out as you clamber out of the car. You can’t help but laugh, feeling like a little kid being dropped off for school.

“You look freaking hot!” Bianca shouts, making you rush away and into the hallway crowded with people. 

You follow the signs plastered up on the walls, pointing you toward BTS. Hopefully there are some people that will know you’re coming-

“Joon, we’ve really got to get out there now,” a voice you recognize as J-hope drifts over to you as you make your way toward an open door. 

“I know,” Namjoon’s voice replies, and just like that your stomach is filled with butterflies tying impressive knots in your stomach. “But she just texted saying she’s here. I feel like it’s rude to just leave her to see the staff and not thank her in person.”

Jin’s voice is loud and clear. “Don’t lie to us. We all know that you just want to see her again. I’m starting to think you left your passport on purpose.”

You hold your breath, willing your cheeks to go back to a normal color. It does’t work. 

“Ok boys, 5 more minutes. Tops. You’ve really got to get going, people are waiting.” Someone says over their shoulder as they step out of the room. They’re eyes almost immediately land on you, going a little wide. “Oh, are you here with the passport?”

Everyone seems to quiet down inside of the room, but a few harsh whispers and some footsteps later Namjoon is popping his head out of the door. As soon as he sees you his eyes light up even as he turns a little red. 

“You made it!” He grins. “And wow. You look...”

You look down at your dress, fidgeting under the sudden attention. “A little out of place, I know. I didn’t know if it was ok to show up just in casual wear, so this is kinda what happened.”

Namjoon steps out into the hallway, and you swear you can hear Jungkook whining about how he wanted to see what’s happening. He’s quickly shushed by the others. 

You’re engulfed by that same smell as this morning, and it takes everything in your willpower not to close your eyes and breathe it in. Namjoon must have barely reapplied his cologne. 

“I was going to say you look stunning.” Now arriving just a step away from you, Namjoon smiles softly down at you. “Absolutely stunning.”

Your hands shake as you are at a loss for words, rummaging around your purse until you produce Namjoon’s passport. Staring at his tie and nowhere else, you extend it to him.

“H-here you go.”

As if trying to kill you right then and there, Namjoon’s fingers linger over your own as he takes the passport, quietly thanking you. “Um, this may sound a little strange but...”

You look up at him, a bit distracted by the way his hair is styled away from his face. Only a couple of thick strands kiss his forehead, making him look like he just stepped out of a novel. 

Namjoon’s eyes dance over your face, clearly displaying his nerves. At least you’re not the only one. 

“What is it?” You ask.

“Well, if you’re not busy tonight...would you maybe want to stay?” You barely stop yourself from passing out, digging your nails into your palm to ground yourself. Namjoon chews on the inside of his cheek. “Our staff have reserved seats by us, and we’re planning on ordering some food after-”

“Yes.” You blurt out the word before Namjoon can finish speaking, but he doesn’t mind. In fact, he looks positively relieved at your interruption. 

“Really?” He swallows, playing with his cufflinks even as he stares into your eyes. “I don’t want to pressure you or anything...”

You shake your head, but stop. “I would love to, but...I actually have my friends that dropped me off waiting for me in the parking lot. I can’t make them wait for me like that-”

Now Namjoon cuts you off. “They can come too! And invite them to eat with us after! Really, the more the merrier!”

You blink up at this man, completely floored. “But, they don’t have dresses.”

Checking a watch that you’re sure costs more than your entire year’s rent, Namjoon thinks for a moment before looking back at you. You can’t help but grin at the way his eyes sweep over your figure and face again. 

Bianca was right. You do look freaking hot.

“Do you think they could go change and be back within two hours?”

You mull it over, pulling your phone out and shooting off a text to Rebecca. “I bet they could, with the right motivation. But are you sure that’s alright?”

Namjoon smiles broadly at you. “Oh yeah. It’s more than alright.” He hesitates, rocking back on his heels. “So...you’ll stay?”

You return his smile. “I’ll stay.”

“Great!” Jin’s voice rings out into the hallway, making you jump. “Now will you bring her in here so we can warn her about how weird you are, Namjoon? We’ve only got so much time.”

Laughing at the expression of long-suffering on Namjoon’s face, you take the arm he extends to you. Before you walk through the door to meet the rest of the members, you lean up on your tippy-toes to whisper something to Namjoon. He cranes his neck, listening to your every word. 

"Thanks for losing your passport.”

Namjoon smiles sheepishly, and every thought eddies out of your brain as his adorable dimples make an appearance. “My pleasure.”

masterlist

[stuckwith-harry]

Hide-and-seek

A/N: Oh, to be a chicken in times like these. (CW for discussion of death, nothing graphic.)

In the chicken shed it might as well still be the eighties, as though time had only gone on for the humans living in the house on the other side of the fence, but not in here, where the hens are quietly clucking and cooing and enjoying their naps, until Ginny shakes a handful of lettuce in the air like an invitation, a beckoning – then they come hurrying towards her, beaks tearing greedily at the green leaves.

When the hens have had their fill, Ginny looks over the gaggle of bickering ladies and finds her favourite amongst them, Genoveva with her warm brown feathers and clever eyes, who yells and shrieks when Ginny lifts her up by her impossibly soft belly, crouching down in the chicken shed, and pulls the disgruntled hen to her chest.

“Look, I’ll make it up to you”, Ginny tells her quietly. She fishes sweetcorn out of the front pocket of her dungarees and holds her open palm out to Genoveva, not flinching or grimacing when the sharp beak leaves little red marks on her skin as the hen gulps down her treat.

Ginny smiles.

The summer after her first year, she climbed into the chicken shed every day. She was soothed, then, by the arrhythmic clucking and the smell of fresh hay and the fact that the hens allowed her to share their company, that they did not recoil in horror at her sight.

It was her that named them, while she sat here for hours and hours with a chicken in her lap, more often than not Genoveva, who, for all her complaining, was easily the most patient of the bunch, and who nestles into her lap now, blinking slowly in the twilight while Ginny strokes her feathers, the burning inside her ribcage dull and pulsating like that of an infected wound.

Like it was her that took the damn Killing Curse to the chest.

“You’ve no idea how lucky you are”, she mutters, meeting Genoveva’s sharp eyes. “Nothing in those little heads of yours except earthworms and soft hay.”

She sits there for ages and ages like she did that summer, willing the comfort of the soft animal to sink into her like warmth. When she finally gets up to leave the chickens be, she tosses the rest of the sweetcorn into the hay (Genoveva looks utterly betrayed), fills up the grains in the feeder, and climbs out of the shed with the smell of warm feathers and wheat straw still in her nose.

“Chicken-feeding duty?”, calls a voice from near the house as she swings her bare legs over the wooden fence and strolls back towards the Burrow. When she looks for the voice’s owner, she discovers Ron, sitting on the weathered bench below the kitchen window.

“What’re you doing out here?”, she calls out as she comes closer.

“Hiding”, he says dully. “Mum’s crying again.”

Ginny feels something inside her chest take a tumble. “Is anyone with her?”

“Yeah, I’m not that much of a dickhead. Dad and Percy and Bill are all in there.”

“You’re not a dickhead”, Ginny says automatically, surprising them both. Then: “Mind if I stay?”

He shrugs. “Be my guest.”

So she sinks on the bench beside him, joining him in his grim silence. They gaze aimlessly over the soft green hills all around, the shape of the lake like a blue thumbprint in the landscape, where they whiled away so many happier, warmer days than this, and Ottery St. Catchpole’s mismatched roofs in the distance, smoke rising from the chimneys.

Ron finally looks over at her. “Were you with the chickens this whole time? I thought you’d grown out of your obsession with them.”

Ginny musters up a grin. “Never. I love those stupid hens. That was just an elaborate ruse so I could hide in the chicken coop when we used to play hide-and-seek. It never occurred to any of you to look.”

“Well, you stopped growing at about five feet, I figure you fit right in.”

Ginny whacks him in the knee. In a true testament to the severity of the situation, Ron does not retaliate.

She tells herself it’s that, not how much they aged him, the few short months that he was gone.

It’s less blatant now that Mum has shorn back the unkempt mop of hair that was falling into his eyes and growing down the back of his neck like wild weeds when he walked through the secret entrance of the Room of Requirements with Harry and Hermione; now that he’s shaved the patchy stubble on his cheeks and his face has regained a little fullness. But sometimes she still looks at him and wonders how ten years have not passed since she watched him slip away into thin air at Bill and Fleur’s wedding.

“Did anything happen?”, she asks. “With Mum?”

Ron shrugs, expression blank. “Some fool said his name again. I never noticed how rarely we actually said the twins’ individual names until we had to break the habit of saying Fred-and-George all in one go. It’s like he’s Voldemort.”

Ginny doesn’t laugh.

“I know”, she mutters. “Don’t think it’ll ever come naturally.”

He nods mechanically. “Anyway – I made a run for it. I just couldn’t do it right then, having to comfort her and everything.”

Ginny looks over at him. “Funny, you’re so good at it.”

“You just say that because I make the best tea.”

“Well, you do.”

The same way that children can recognise each of their family members by the sound of their footsteps as heard through a wall, or the rhythmic pattern with which they knocked on the door, the Weasley siblings have learned to read each other’s silences since they’ve come home. Often now, they appear at each other’s bedroom doors at all hours of the night, shaken from nightmares or too restless to sleep or, rarely, weeping.

Most nights, two or three or four of them eventually find themselves in the kitchen, where Ginny turns on the lights, and Ron puts on the kettle, and they sit there and while away the small hours in each other’s company, in silence, in quiet understanding, in murmured chatter about nothing at all.  It’s good comfort, the idea that even after everything, there’s nothing in this world that a hot cup of tea can’t fix.

Ginny shifts on the bench next to him, pulling her knees to her chest. “Remember when that fox got one of the hens? I was inconsolable, and you were so nice to me when we put her in a shoebox and buried her behind the house, you didn’t even make fun of me.”

“You lot are different, that’s easy. I just can’t take it when it’s our parents.”

Ginny hums in understanding. “I think seeing Dad cry was worse for me. At the memorial.”

“Cheers, thanks for bringing it up again.”

She snorts.

“You’re good with Harry”, she says softly. “D’you miss him at all?”

He rolls his eyes. “He just sleeps two floors below me, it’s not like he died.”

Ginny winces.

Ron does not miss the look on her face or the heaviness of her silence, as they have all learned to do, and asks in an unnaturally light tone: “How’re you coping with him waking up three times a night?”

He seems relieved, for a moment there, when she smirks.

“It’s not too bad, actually. At least he makes for a great pillow.”

Ron looks appalled. “What the hell happened to the camp bed?”

“Oh, we just keep that around for decoration now.” She grins, comforted by the opportunity to tease him. “And he doesn’t wake up as much anymore.”

His face lights up. “That’s good news, at least. Lead with that next time.”

“Oh, he’s just … stopped going to sleep altogether.”

“That really solves that problem”, he says darkly. “The idiot.”

“I don’t think it’s purposeful”, she says. “He’s always pretending to be asleep when I look at him, but I can always tell. And when he does doze off, I’ll just stir next to him, and that’s enough to wake him up again.”

“He’s a really light sleeper these days”, Ron says apologetically. “The worst camping trip in the world will do that to a person.”

Ginny grins faintly. “Yeah, he’s mentioned it.”

“He’s talking, then?”

“Hm-hm.” She wraps her arms a little tighter around her legs. “Which is good, I guess.”

He watches her for a minute, as though unsure what to make of her tone. “Anything on your mind?”

She laughs. “Anyone ever told you you’re turning into Mum?”

“Well, we’re here anyway!”, Ron says, ears flushing. “Spit it out, will you?”

“He, uhm –”

It has not occurred to her, until right now, how difficult it would be to pass the story on, even to someone who has heard it before. Harry handed it to her because she asked him to, and still it knocked into her like a wild animal, pouncing, the weight of it like a Hippogriff standing on her chest, pinning her to the earth.

“He told me about walking into the Forbidden Forest.”

“Ah”, Ron says hollowly. “No wonder you’re hiding in a chicken coop.”

She looks around at him. “It’s not Harry I’m hiding from.”

“But you are hiding”, Ron says wisely.

Ginny shrugs. “I dunno what I expected. Somehow I’d convinced myself I already knew the worst of it. Which, as it turns out, was a bit stupid of me.”

She draws in a shaky breath.

“I thought he was in on it. Ever since I watched him come back to life at Hagrid’s feet … I thought there was some sort of plan. But there wasn’t, or Dumbledore didn’t tell him, anyway. I thought he knew he was going to survive, and it turns out that, uhm – he didn’t know shit. He went there to die, for real.”

Ginny looks back at him, words coming faster now. “And I’m – I’m so angry, and I don’t know why. Or who I’m angry with. It can hardly be Harry.”

“In all fairness, I kind of felt like punching him when he told us”, Ron says quietly, and her mouth briefly twists into something like a smile. “If anything we should be angry with Voldemort, or Dumbledore, even – but they’re not within punching distance, so what are you gonna do?”

“If Dumbledore wasn’t already dead, I would kill him”, Ginny says. “I swear, I would kill him.”

“Yeah, that sounds reasonable”, Ron says good-naturedly, patting her arm.

“And Harry – Harry keeps apologising, and I don’t know what for.”

Ron’s expression is pained. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“No.”

He sighs. She handed this to him, and now he is steeling himself to hand something back to her. She can tell.

“My best guess is … for not saying goodbye.”

Ginny does not look at him. Suddenly she is blinking rapidly in the fading light, sitting there as the blow rolls over her, something blunt and violent that should have broken her ribs like the impact of a Bludger; but there is no injury, only an ache that does not abate, that sits all around her, inside her. She doesn’t think it’s ever going to go away, all that hurting, writhing and straining inside her like a second skeleton.

“How could he have? We would’ve dragged him back to the castle by the damn hair.”

“Of course we would have”, Ron says robustly.

For a moment he looks like he’s going to reach out to her, hold her, maybe. He seems to think better of it in the end, and she’s almost relieved, dreading what she’d do if someone hugged her.

It’s another thing that won’t ever come easily: showing up on someone’s doorstep, weeping.

“If it’s any consolation”, he says after a while, “I think that’s the worst of it.”

“I’ve been wondering”, she mutters. “Can’t think of very much that beats walking to your own death. No fucking wonder he doesn’t sleep.”

“It’s funny”, Ron says, “I talked to him less than an hour ago, and he seems alright, almost.”

Ginny shrugs. “Isn’t he always? Remarkably functional, considering.”

Ron makes an attempt at a smile. “It’s such a Harry thing to do, though, isn’t it? Always dying for other people. Or trying to, anyway.”

“Hardly just a Harry thing, it turns out.”

It’s all shit, she thinks when he looks at her. Being the person knocking at the door, and the one listening on the other side, opening it.

“He told me about Malfoy Manor”, she says softly.

“Ah.” Ron kicks at the dirt to his feet. “Well, then you know what keeps me up at night.”

“He said – he said you offered to swap places with Hermione. Let Bellatrix have you instead.”

“And? You would’ve done the exact same thing for him.”

Ginny almost smiles. He might as well still be the boy who stuck stubbornly by her side next to the chicken fence all night, when she couldn’t bear to head back to the house, in case the fox ever came back.

“Yeah. I would have.”

It settles on her shoulders as quickly and unnoticeably as night, rapidly falling all around them: everything she would’ve done, in a heartbeat, in an instant.

“I would’ve taken the forest, too”, she says, more to herself than to Ron. “I would’ve done it all for him.”

It seems significant, somehow, that Ron does not resist this. That maybe he knows what it felt like, to Ginny, when they walked out into the courtyard and saw Harry.

That, too, felt like a Bludger to the chest: the sight of him, a kid in Hagrid’s arms, his glasses askew. How she wished it was her lying there, dead in his place.

“Those two”, Ron says abruptly. “Some day they’re really gonna be the death of us.”

Ginny almost laughs.

“So you won’t strangle him for abandoning the camp bed?”

Ron eyes her for a moment, a sort of benevolent sternness in his expression – and Ginny was right, that’s all Mum. “Yeah, I’ll consider it.”

“I’m sorry, anyway”, she says, half-smiling. “For costing you your roommate.”

Ron sighs. “They grow up so fast.”

“And for all this, too. You were trying to hide, I didn’t mean to …”

“It’s all right. You had to find me eventually.”

[kieraelieson]

Three Times Patton Got Lost in a Market

Thomas was walking through the old store with his mom, careful to hold her hand while they shopped.

“Oh, look! There’s a wind chime! It’s just like the nice neighbor lady!” Patton said.

Thomas stopped to look, and his mom stopped too, looking at something else across the aisle.

“It isn’t exactly the same,” Logan said. “Hers has a hummingbird on top, but this one has a butterfly.”

“And anyway, this one has prettier colors when the light hits it,” Roman added.

“Oooh, the red really is pretty, Roman!” Patton said excitedly. “And the purple, and the yellow!”

“It’s exactly the colors of the most beautiful rainbow reflecting back from a pot of gold,” Roman said dreamily.

“Mom!” Virgil suddenly shrieked, alerting them all to the fact that Thomas’s mom was no longer beside them.

Instantly, there was a pandemonium of overlapping voices, all very confusing, and Virgil at the front screaming.

“Quiet!” Patton yelled, as loud as he could, and then felt a little like crying. He didn’t like yelling, but this was important!

“But we have to find Mom!”

“We should run after her!”

“If we yell someone will hear!”

“Listen to me!” Patton yelled again. “Remember what Mom said? If we get lost in the store we stay put, and if we see an employee then we ask them to call mom for us.”

Virgil bit down hard on his sleeves, and Patton took his silence for agreement.

“That is indeed what Thomas was told,” Logan admitted.

“I still think we should go find her!” Roman protested, though less pointedly than before.

Thomas plopped down on the floor.

“Ok. That settles it, we’re waiting for mom,” Patton said. “Let’s look for more pretty things while she comes to get us. Roman, what else can you see around us that looks like a rainbow?”

Roman grumpily crossed his arms. “There’s a rainbow on the lawn decoration.”

“Very good!” Patton said. “Logan, can you see anything that’s science-accurate?”

“Science-accurate is a very vague phrase, but I suppose you could be intending to direct me to the collection of decorative barometers.”

“Oooh~ yes, the water swan neck thingies~” Roman said.

Logan launched into an explanation of barometers, most of which Patton didn’t understand.

He checked on Virgil, who was scanning the aisle they were in over and over again, and chewing holes in his poor sleeves.

“She’ll be here in just a minute, don’t worry,” Patton said gently.

Virgil nodded slightly, but didn’t stop checking the ends of the aisle and staring down each person that passed.

And then his eyes went wide. Patton turned to look.

“Mom!”

“Thomas, I thought I lost you for a minute there! Stay close, ok?”

Thomas took his mother’s hand and nodded.

Patton let out a sigh of relief. They weren’t lost anymore.

••^*^••

Thomas was a bit worried about high school, and especially the test coming up, and Logan and Virgil were mostly helping him with that. But now he had to go to the store for groceries. And Roman was exhausted after being all excited over the play and was sound asleep.

So Patton was helping shop!

He smiled confidently, prompting Thomas to look at the list again. He needed to get the ingredients for tacos, and some bread, milk, eggs, and ice cream. Yum!

Now what all went into tacos?

There was meat, and sour cream, and little shredded lettuce, and cheese, and taco shells, or was he supposed to get soft tortillas?

Patton considered, wandering into the store towards the food. Maybe both? Yeah. Both. Oh! And there was the bread! That would probably have tortillas near it!

Patton hummed happily, finding the bread that looked the same as what mom had been getting, noting the brand name. Nature’s Own. Huh.

Now tortillas… what kind did they normally get?

He finally just picked the one that had blue on the label.

Virgil popped up, startling him for a moment, especially with his intense frown. “People are staring. We’re taking too long near the bread, and your humming is gonna make people think Thomas is weird.”

“Oh, it’s alright!” Patton said cheerfully, glad he hadn’t dropped the tortillas. “I didn’t get in anyone’s way, and they haven’t said anything yet about thinking Thomas is weird.”

“Yeah…” Virgil glared at the people milling around and shopping. “Well they could. Just… keep it quiet.”

“Will do!” Patton grinned, and Virgil sunk back out.

Next he had to find… well, next he had to find the next thing. Should he keep walking and hope to see them, or should he seek each one out? He’d stumbled upon the bread, surely he would stumble across the rest.

Patton hummed happily and kept walking, skipping along beside the cart as Thomas pushed it. Thomas must really be out of it, poor guy. But Patton could help him cheer up!

Pretty soon, they had almost everything! Except for taco seasoning. And Patton wasn’t sure if they were supposed to get the kind that was in packets, or the actual spices. And he also wasn’t sure whether he should look in the spices area or the Mexican food area. Or where those areas were.

Surely they’d passed those special Mexican drinks a while back. But where?

Patton encouraged Thomas to turn around and go back, but after several aisles he still couldn’t find anything he was looking for. He turned back around, and then again.

“Perhaps… I need to go from one end all the way to the other…”

Virgil popped up again, rather grumpy looking, but not as much as earlier. “That’s gonna take too long. We’re already late, and Mom is gonna need Thomas home son so she can make dinner.”

Patton sighed. “Ok. Logan, help please, I’m lost.”

Logan popped up, looked around, and then pointed. “That aisle.”

“But how do you know?” Patton asked.

“There’s a sign above it.”

Patton looked up. “Oh. Yeah.” He chuckled. “I should’ve thought to look for signs. Thanks, Logan!”

“You’re welcome. However I do suggest we attempt to make our trip home expedient. I’ll need Virgil’s full attention and assistance to prepare adequately for the test.”

“Will do!” Patton said, already spurring Thomas towards the aisle.

••^*^••

“I have created the ultimate maze!” Roman said excitedly. “It is called Infinite IKEA!”

Patton clapped excitedly, and even Logan gave a single clap.

“I really don’t see the point—“

“The point is a race, Emo Nightmare, and the winner gets to pick which old reruns Thomas watches tonight.”

Virgil tried to pretend he was still disinterested, but Patton could tell he was excited. “So what would we have to do to win the race?”

Roman grinned. “I’ve hidden a copy of each of our logos in the store somewhere, except for mine, which Logan hid by sinking in and placing it in a random place, so he doesn’t know the layout of the store yet. You have to find your own logo, and then exit the store!”

Oh, so that was why Logan had a bump on his head. He’d probably tried to rise up too close to a shelf. Ouch.

“Everybody ready! Set! Go!”

They all rushed into the store. Patton looked around excitedly, getting more excited to see that the store was full of items that came from houses where Thomas had lived or visited. He ran to the section of beds and flopped onto the biggest one.

He let out a comfy sigh, looking up at the roof which, rather than being metal supports and too-bright lights, was intricately painted with something that glowed.

It was amazing.

“You did a really great job, Roman,” Patton said, even though Roman was probably running ahead to win the race— oh! This was a race!

He jumped up and started walking, looking around for his heart with glasses.

After the bed section, where he wished he could stay and flip onto each one, he wandered into the lamps and chandeliers section. That was beautiful. He was still dazzled and in awe walking out. It even had that massive one Thomas had seen in the one hotel once.

And then came books, where Logan was!

“Hi, Logan!”

“Ah, greetings Patton.” Logan was looking through the books, just as captivated as Patton had been by the beds.

“Find your logo yet?”

“Not yet. I’m not overly concerned with winning, and Roman has certainly made this an interesting place to browse.”

“Mhmm!” Patton looked around. “Where are the kids books, I want to see if the Winnie the Pooh book is still chewed on or if Roman made it brand new.”

“That way, two shelves down,” Logan said, rather distracted by a book he’d picked off of the shelf.

“Thank you!”

Patton found the children’s section, and then found the book. It was still chewed on the corners. He smiled, and flipped through the thick cardboard pages. Thomas had loved this book.

And then, when he opened the last page, his logo fell out.

“Awww, look!” He picked it up, and found that it was a sticker. He promptly stuck the sticker to his chest and put the book back. Now all he had to do was find his way out!

He wandered into the next section, which was all dark and purples and blues and blacks and everything cozily packed together.

There was even a sign warning him away from certain aisles, because there would be spiders, and Patton was very glad Roman had thought of that.

And then he remembered the sunglasses stand sitting at the beginning of the lights aisle. That was probably for Virgil. Roman had been so thoughtful in building this! Patton hoped Roman would win. He certainly deserved the prize after putting all this together.

There was a whole section of Disney, all the movies, and posters, and any Disney themed toys and figurines, and even cardboard cut outs! It was lovely and chaotic and colorful, and it bridged Virgil’s section with Roman’s very well.

Roman had every single picture Thomas had ever seen, which was so many pictures!! Patton looked in awe until he realized that the paintbrushes weren’t just for show, some of them had been used. There was a little black cat in the corner of one painting, and a little V, and the paintbrush was in a cup of black water.

Patton found a picture of a field of flowers, and picked up the paintbrush, dabbing a bit of pink onto the picture. It turned instead into exactly the kind of flower Patton had been envisioning! He smiled wide and painted another, and another, and another, and each one turned out beautiful!

He ran to another painting and gave a little boy in the background a balloon and a smile. And then he gave the lady sitting in a rocking chair a baby to hold.

He finally had to stop himself. He could stay here forever, but he probably should get to the end of the store so he wouldn’t worry the others.

He got to the end of Roman’s section, only to find a massive blanket fort. He kept himself from exploring, and passed through, coming out at… the beds again?

Ohhhhh, right. It was a race and a maze.

Patton flopped down on the bed Thomas had grown up with, wrapping up in the blanket. He let out a happy sigh.

“Logan! Roman! Virgil! I’m lost! But I’m also gonna stay lost!”

Roman rose up and leaned against the footboard, a pleased smile on his face. “Enjoying the store?”

“I’m loving it!” Patton said happily, sitting up. “You did a really good job!”

Roman glowed. “I guess I’ll have to leave it up for you to wander in then. Once Virgil finds the exit I’ll put it somewhere more obvious so you can get out once you’re done.”

“Oh, did you and Logan already get out? Who won?”

“Logan, but only by a few minutes. He hid my logo in a hard place! How was I supposed to guess he’d put it under the makeup stash?”

Patton chuckled. “Wait, I didn’t see that.”

“It’s in Virgil’s section, in one of the spider aisles. I can un-spider it for you if you want.”

“Well, let Virgil have his fun first, but I’d really like that.” Patton smiled. He could have fun in here for a long time. “You did an amazing job with the paintings too! I loved those!”

Roman puffed up happily. “I did, didn’t I?”

There was a distant, triumphant, “Ha! I made it! Wait, Princey beat me? Aww.”

Patton giggled.

Roman patted his shoulder. “Have fun.”

“I will!” Patton said happily, eyeing the blanket fort which he now had time to explore.

—————

If you enjoyed, please reblog! And consider supporting me as I try to make a living off of writing 😊

[apiratewhopines]

This one is a gift for @teamhook because she is one of the most generous people I’ve ever met.

Thanks to @jrob64 for giving me advice on artwork and to ultraluckycatnd for reading over this chapter

Midnight

Chapter 1 — The Prince

Summary: In which our heroine meets cute

Chapter 1 of 7 on AO3

“But don’t forget folks,

That’s what you get folks

For makin’ whoopee”

-Makin’ Whoopee, Eddie Cantor

Emma Swan had been in some tight spots, but she’d never been in a run out of gas on a deserted highway with a dying cell phone battery and a stomach as empty as her bank account kind of situation before. In truth, she blamed this unfortunate situation on the same person she blamed all the misfortunes of her adulthood. Neal Cassidy.

There was a time a few short months ago she would have done anything for the man responsible for her current circumstances. Neal had been too good to be true. A real Prince Charming, down to the supposed trust fund and a smile that made her believe in happy endings.

She’d been a sucker. She heard one was born every minute, she just never thought her time would come. After all, one of the few things she learned in the foster system was how to spot bullshit from a mile away. But he looked at her with his soulful eyes and whispered promises in his smoky voice and she fell for it. More than once, actually, and all she had to show for the wasted years was a voicemail box full of collection calls and a wolf at the door.

Because Neal Cassidy didn’t just leave her. He stole her identity, maxed out her credit cards, and took out half a dozen loans in her name. Then he proceeded to use the money to wine and dine a wide assortment of women, the sheer number of which would make Casanova blush. All the while professing his undying love and spending his days eating all her food and watching television from his favorite seat on the couch.

Seriously, you could still see the faint outline of his backside on the cushion.

As countless victims of his schemes started showing up at her door looking for the man who made them feel alive while killing them one dollar at a time, she listened to tears and rants and misery with ill-disguised impatience. How had she become the counselor to the trail of broken girls he left in his wake? When was it going to be her turn to moan and groan and swear she’d never love again?

Well, she did get around to the swearing to never love again part. Some mistakes don’t bear repeating.

The final straw happened two months ago. Neal had disappeared after their final fight. His righteous indignation at being called on his crap and inability to find a plausible excuse for the stack of overdue bills and statements she found stuffed in the back of his gym bag made it difficult to share the same space. She wanted him gone even as her hands itched to touch him one more time.

Unfortunately, leaving her drowning in debt with the knowledge he cheated on her for the majority of their relationship wasn’t enough for him. He decided to do some collateral damage on his way out of town.

He did the unforgivable. He went after Granny.

His target was meant to wound her. While he lied and schemed the entire time they were together, she had been an open book for the first time in her life so he knew Granny was the sole connection she formed as a foster. Her brief stay with the woman before she aged out of the system was a time of peace and healing. Granny was responsible for helping her get on her feet and the two maintained a friendship years later.

Emma received the frantic call from Ruby explaining her grandmother had been tricked into giving Neal a blank check so he could do her grocery run. Hours later, she received a notification from her bank saying her checking account had been wiped out. At that point, the tenuous control Emma had on her emotions disappeared. She sat on the kitchen floor of the apartment she was about to lose, staring at empty walls that still echoed with his laughter in her weaker moments, and she broke into a million pieces.

So it was no wonder she vowed to have her vengeance. To do anything and everything to make him pay. Luckily, since he skipped out on a court date, catching him would also get her paid.

Tracking him had taken more time than she liked to admit. She was good; even penniless and running out of options, she recognized her worth and knew she possessed hard to find skill sets. But she had a sinking sensation that he might be better.

Now she was stranded on the side of the road with nothing except her most uncomfortable shoes to keep her company. But damn did they make her legs look good and with everything else in her life collapsing around her, somehow that seemed important.

Squaring her shoulders, she climbed out of the car and pondered her next course of action. She was unfamiliar with the state road connecting the two small towns on the Maine coast, so she had no idea what the odds were that a good samaritan would happen along. She had just enough juice in her battery and lettuce in her account to call for an Uber to take her to the seedy nightclub where Neal was last seen. Or she could walk the rest of the way in her mile-high heels knowing she never looked better, even though she would probably not be able to move the next day without a significant amount of pain.

What she would do if she found him or where she would stay if she didn’t weren’t questions she was ready to entertain.

Sighing, she pulled out her phone and with a huff of frustration opened her app. Pleading with whatever powers that be to let her last long enough to see herself through to the other side of this, she leaned against her beaten down yellow Bug and waited for the black sedan to show.

Of course, her phone died immediately after she booked her ride, finally giving up the ghost even though she didn’t get a chance to see the name or license plate of her hired car. Getting more anxious by the minute, she paced along the shoulder, careful to keep on the pavement since the ground was soft from recent rain. After what seemed like forever, but had probably not been more than half an hour, the headlights of a lone car crested a nearby hill.

“About time,” she muttered. To make sure the driver knew she was not pleased with the delay or the prodding pace he maintained despite the fact the sky seemed ready to open at any moment, she moved out into the middle of the lane and placed her hand on her hips. Pride kept her from squinting even though the bright high beams made her eyes water as the car approached.

Slowing from a crawl to a stop, the driver put the car in park and jumped out. It was dark and the man was dressed all in black, but as he moved around to the front of the car, she got the impression of blue eyes and a stubble-covered jaw that could probably cut glass. Great, just what she needed. A sexy Uber driver.

“Alright there, love?”

With a British accent. He probably smelled like bacon, too.

“What took you so long? I’ve been waiting all night.”

Moving closer, he smiled with a hint of confusion. “Had I known you were waiting for me, I would have been along sooner. Tell me, do you always accost strange men in the dead of night on empty roads?”

“Only when I’m paying them to take me where I need to go,” she grumbled, walking toward the back door on the passenger side. She pulled it open as he protested, and glared at him over the top of the car.

“Love, I think there may be a bit of a mix-up—“

“It’s fine. I won’t give you a bad rating for being late as long as you don’t talk to me. I’ve been driving for hours to get here and I need to think.”

She heard him sigh and saw the flash of his teeth as he smiled at her again. “Very well. Would you like me to get your bags?”

“You’d have to go to a pawn shop in Boston to accomplish that,” she joked, dropping into the leather seat and noticing for the first time the expensive luxury of her rented carriage. She supposed if she was going to spend her last dime on a ride, she could have done far worse.

She resisted the urge to use the low ambient lighting of the dashboard to get a better look at her temporary chauffeur. The glimpse she got outside was more than enough to know she needed to keep her distance. It didn’t stop her from feeling the weight of his stare as he peeked over his shoulder while clicking on his seatbelt. Out of the corner of her eye, she could have sworn she saw his tongue flicker slowly over his bottom lip before he turned his attention back to the road.

“Nice dress. Where are we heading this fine night, Miss…?”

“You’re really terrible at this. Is it your first time being a driver for hire?”

“What gave it away, love? It’s quite an unexpected development that came about just this evening. But you know what they say, you never forget your first.”

It was everything she could do not to laugh. She had a feeling it would only encourage him and if she was heading into battle, she needed her wits about her. “The Snakehole Lounge.”

“At the risk of sounding cliche, why would a nice girl like you want to go to a place like that?”

“I’m not a nice girl,” Emma informed him without a hint of irony or bravado. “And your rating is going down with each syllable out of your mouth.”

“Tough lass,” he murmured. “But do yourself a favor. Stay away from the Snake Juice.”

Little did he know that even if she wanted to have a drink, and boy did she ever, she used the last of her meager funds to get to this backwater place and she wasn’t sure where her next meal would come from. “I’ll do my best.”

The rest of the ride passed in silence. She spent the time looking out the window at the trees flying by and trying to ignore how every time she looked away, her eyes caught his in the rearview mirror.

Honestly, it was probably a good thing they were the only people for miles around or he would have gotten them both killed.

Less than fifteen minutes later, he pulled to the curb in front of a shabby nightclub. Even the multitude of neon lights flashing “Girls! Girls! Girls!” and “Half-Price Beer Buckets” did little to enliven the dingy exterior. They didn’t bother with a bouncer, probably because no one actually wanted to get in.

Before she could say anything, her driver was out of the car and rounding his way to her door. She didn’t have a chance to object as he opened it and looked at her with avid curiosity. She had to admit she was impressed he didn’t give into it and ask any questions.

“Since we’re out of the car, am I allowed to speak again?”

Perhaps she had been too hasty in her internal praise. “Thanks for the ride. I hope your next passengers are more chatty since that’s what you’re into...overall, a solid three stars.”

“Three stars? I’d be surprised, but I had a feeling you were warming up to me between the baleful stares and eye-rolling.”

Gifting him with another of the said eye rolls, she adjusted the hem of her skirt to show a little more leg and walked away. She knew if she stayed a second longer she would give in to the almost magnetic pull of him and say something foolish like, ‘What’s your name?’

—

The inside of the establishment was every bit as horrible as the outside. The low lighting obscured the grime and wear that would be glaringly obvious otherwise. She wasn’t surprised. It seemed like the kind of place Neal would gravitate to since he was a dirty little rat.

Music heavy with bass pumped out a rhythm entirely too fast for the energy of the place. The few patrons who persevered this far into the night looked anemic as tired dancers did their best to act like they wanted to be there. Pulling her ID from the scrap of a bra she wore under her dress, she flashed it at the lone employee who manned the entrance and the bar. He gave it a cursory glance and turned back to his phone.

Snapping her fingers under his nose to get his attention, she pulled out a grainy photo of her quarry from the same location and asked, “Have you seen this man recently?”

“I’ve never seen anyone. Ever.” The man grumbled, not interested in the slightest. She wondered if he would stop her if she walked behind the counter and helped herself to a drink. She was leaning toward no and tempted to try.

“Tell you what buddy, take a good look at this picture. Then look me in the eye and tell me you haven’t seen him and we’ll end the night without any trouble.”

Something in her tone must have penetrated his disillusionment and he gazed at her with more interest than he’d probably shown anything in years. She waited as he glanced at the photo for a few seconds. “No, sorry. If he’s been here, it wasn’t during any of my shifts. Is he your husband or something?”

“He’s something alright,” she muttered. Defeated, she turned around without another word. She used the last of her resources to fund a wild goose chase, but at least it got her into town. Only thing left to do was find a park or quiet bench somewhere safe to sleep for a few hours and then she would tackle whatever came next. It wouldn’t be the first time she roughed it, although she had never attempted it in formal wear before.

Pushing the door open with unnecessary force, she immediately froze. Her three star driver was waiting at the curb as if it wasn’t the middle of the night and she hadn’t given him the brush off.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

“Yes, especially since I’m pretty sure our business is done,” she replied, walking past him and wishing the man could be a tiny bit less handsome. Now that the streetlights of the small town were there to illuminate their interactions, she couldn’t deny he was ridiculously attractive and exactly her type, complete with a black leather jacket and messy hair begging to be pulled. And, heaven help her, he was determined to extend their acquaintance apparently.

“It’s just good sense, love. I figured you’d be in need of transportation again, so why waste the gas to leave when I’d have to turn around after you called for your next ride.” He matched his stride to hers as she did her best to increase her pace.

Sighing, she stopped at the corner and looked at him. “Listen, I could tell you my phone is dead and I need to make a few more stops, that I’d pay you when you drop me off at my place at the end of the night, but it would be a lie. I’m chasing down a bounty. I need the money to pay for a ride and I need a ride to make the money. A smart man like you can see the problem. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

She turned away again but felt him leap into action behind her. He moved to cut off her escape and said, “Double or nothing.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Double or nothing, sweetheart. I take you to wherever you need to go tonight and when you collect your fee, you pay me double whatever the normal fare is for jaunts like these.”

“What if I don’t find him?”

“That’s where the nothing comes in, lass. A smart woman like you can see the benefit of such an arrangement.”

She studied him, hoping to find some ulterior motive in his seemingly selfless offer, but all she saw in his expression was an earnestness bordering on being painful and a thirst for adventure barely contained. Perhaps this was how he got his kicks in an isolated town. He propositioned strangers and gambled on fate. “No strings? No funny business?”

“This whole business is funny, but I’ll behave myself if you will. We’ll have much less satisfaction that way, but I’ll do my best to rally my spirits and overcome my disappointment.”

With a rueful shake of her head, she stuck out her hand and introduced herself. “I guess we’re doing this. I’m Emma Swan.”

“Killian Jones, driver extraordinaire and captain of this fine vessel, at your service. Where’s our next stop?”

“I need to go to every seedy bar and filthy dive in the area so you tell me, Captain.”

—

She wasn’t sure what it said about her newfound companion that he was able to rattle off several places in a matter of seconds, but as the night stretched on and the miles racked up, she found she rather liked her tour guide. Which was probably a good thing since at this rate, she would be splitting the bounty fifty-fifty with him. Who knew the twin cities of Storybrooke and Misthaven had so many sleazy places to hang out?

“I’m afraid we’ve reached the end of the line, Swan. Are you sure he’s in the area, because every traveler worth his salt makes a point to stop by Moe’s Tavern while visiting our fair city.”

“I can see why. The thrift-store ambience is delightful and the watered down drinks are to die for,” she murmured as she rested against the side of his car. She was tired and weak from hunger and as much as she wanted to curl up in the back seat and sleep, she was scared she’d get used to the comfort he was offering and do something she might regret later.

She was trying to figure out how to cut and run without seeming ungrateful when her stomach growled loudly.

In a playful tone belaying the concern in his eyes, he asked, “Was that your stomach? Bloody hell, am I in danger? Are you going to try to eat me to satisfy the beast within?”

Feeling a blush color her face, she avoided his gaze as she said, “Sorry, I...um, I skipped dinner.” And breakfast and lunch for that matter.

Taking up a position next to her, he nudged her with his shoulder. “Tell the truth, when was the last time you ate something, lass?”

“Hmm, what day is it again?”

“As I suspected. Come on, I know just the spot.” Pushing off from the car, he gently moved her and opened the door to the backseat.

She wanted to fight, to tell him she could take care of herself. She would have too, if she had any energy at all. Meeting his eyes for the first time, she joked, “You lost a gamble, Captain. That doesn’t mean you have to feed it.”

“I consider it an act of self-preservation. I figured you for a man-eater the first moment I laid eyes on you, but I’m afraid you might prove me right in unexpected ways if we don’t get some food in you soon.”

“As long as eyes are all you plan on laying on me, I accept your gracious offer,” she replied with a narrowed stare. Before Neal, she trusted her instincts. She would have insisted they were infallible, but he had shaken her confidence. She couldn’t risk being wrong about Killian Jones of the electric eyes and perpetual helpfulness.

“No strings. No funny business, Swan. Those are the rules. Get in, your chariot and dinner awaits.”

He stood a few feet from her, urging her into the car and she wasn’t sure what drove her to say it, but before she could change her mind, the words were out. “I’d rather ride in the front this time if that’s okay with you.”

His smile could have melted metal, tempted angels to fall, and inspired devils to repent. It was probably lack of rest and food causing her stomach to do flip flops. Or at least that was what she was going to tell herself.

“Your heart’s desire, Swan. I promise that’s all I want you to have…” He closed the back door with a firm finality that echoed through the night and somehow felt momentous in the thick air of summer. When he opened the passenger door, the light seemed warmer and it bathed him in softness and shadows. He waited patiently as if he knew something had shifted between them and he didn’t want any sudden movements to break the odd spell.

Then her stomach growled again, angry at the promise of food being delayed while she gawked at the man who was determined to rescue her in every imaginable way.

“And dinner, of course.”

“Of course,” she whispered, taking care not to make contact with his body as she slid into the seat. She was glad the door was already closed when she left out a huff of air. Good thing she had sworn off love or she may be in some danger.

@teamhook @kmomof4 @jrob64 @stahlop @motherkatereloyshipper @xarandomdreamx @xsajx @klynn-stormz

[possiamo-andare]

Just You (1)

JJ x Reader x Rafe (love triangle)

MASTERLIST

word count: 3.1k

summary: A new girl moves to OBX and a love triangle ensues. Your usual yearning, fluff writing :)

a/n: gosh, it has been too long. university has me swamped but since it’s the holiday break, i will try and update as much as i can. as of rn my other fic, sweeter, is on hold, while i try to write more and get back into the groove of things :) love y’all <3 

~

Many people do not care to know the difference between new and old money. To the working class, new and old money were relatively the same. To some extent, that was true. People that had either new or old money were rich nonetheless but when you grew up rich like Rafe Cameron did, the difference was all that mattered.

The main difference was how the money was procured. Old money was passed down. No one from old money had to work since they were born rich. Their manners were taught at a young age. New money meant that they had worked for what they had. At some point, they were not rich and now they were. They were not as defined and they had to be taught, at an older age, how to act. Rafe’s mother used to say you could see who was from old and new money from their ties. If it was a man, their ties would be neutral colours, nothing flashy. People from new money usually had something to prove and so they would buy extravagant things. For women, it was their heels. Women from old money had small heels that were polished as well. Women from new money had tall heels and they had never learned that they should polish the heel along with the shoe.

Growing up as someone from old money, Rafe had normalized that there was a divide between the rich people in Figure 8. Of course, there was a divide between the Pogues and the Kooks but that divide was course and palpable. This divide was subdued and rarely ever spoken about. Kooks that came from old money lived on the west side of Figure 8 while the Kooks from new money resided on the east. This unspoken rule proved to be useful since the two groups of rich snobs never liked to speak to each other anyways. This rule had been in place years before Rafe was even born and he had thought it would still be there even after he died. That is, until Y/N moved in down the street.

It was at the beginning of June when she moved in. The first sign that things would end terribly was when her family pulled into the parking lot. Her mother drove a beat up blue Camaro while her father trailed behind in a black motorcycle. Most people that lived on the west side of the island didn’t have flashy cars but they were well maintained and not so loud. Everyone knew they were from new money before they even exited their cars. And when they did, it was confirmed these people had just become wealthy.

Rafe’s family, like most on the street, watched from their windows as a tall, burly man with a long black beard and sunglasses opened the truck of his wife’s car and carried two large bags in the door. His two sons, both similar in size and features, followed after him. They carried two pink suitcases inside as the man’s daughter and wife stayed outside to open their garage.

Rafe’s eyes glanced over their house. It was one of the bigger houses on the block but it looked more like a huge cottage than anything else. His mind went to the thought of hippies invading their neighbourhood. He gulped. If they were some type of laid back, motorcycling hippies, he’d go crazy for sure. He knew Sarah would love them though; she always complained about how boring their neighbourhood was. But boring meant normal and that’s what Rafe wanted.

As his mother gossiped on the phone, Rafe watched the mother and the daughter laugh together. The mother looked like a hippie. Her hair was tied up on the top of her head and it had clearly not been brushed. She wore a light green skirt that reached to her ankles which then led to the flip flops that she wore. A white t-shirt was tucked into her skirt and she had big bracelets of all different colours dangling off her wrists. The daughter’s style was similar to her mother’s. She wore pink bootcut jeans and a white crop top, black chunky platform boots pulling the look together. Her hair was different from her mothers and was let down to blow in the breeze. They all looked like polar opposites from everyone else living in Figure 8.

At first, Rafe could care less about the girl or her family across the street. Granted, he would religiously watch through the window for when she would come outside to ride her bike around the neighbourhood with her brothers, and yes, he would sometimes wait until she was outside for him to take out the trash but he didn’t like her. If anything, it was the opposite. Rafe was too good for her. At least, that’s what he led himself to believe.

The first time he spoke to her was two weeks after she moved in. His mother had told him to stay away from Y/N’s family and Rafe had done an amazing job at doing so. Unfortunately, that all stopped when he had to pick Sarah up from school. She had thrown up in the middle of one of her classes and since both his mother and father were at work, the responsibility was on Rafe to pick Sarah up and make sure she was okay. Although reluctant to go back to his old highschool, Rafe knew he’d be in trouble if he was late in picking up his sister. When he entered the school's administration office, he finally came face to face with the girl he had been watching for two weeks now. Except, her back was turned to him as she argued with the secretary.

“That’s what you call a vegetarian dish?” Y/N raised her voice, not particularly enjoying being ignored by the school administration. When she first had come to this school, she had checked off on her form that she needed vegetarian dishes for lunch. Now, everyday since she had come, they had served her horribly chopped up lettuce with vinegar.

“Miss -” Ms. Buzden said, placing her phone on hold. It was the student’s lunch break so she usually called her sister during this time but Y/N was keeping her from doing so.

“Y/N.” Y/N smiled, finally happy she had caught the woman’s attention.

Ms. Buzden rolled her eyes, sighing deeply. “Y/N, dear, if you have a problem with lunch, please take it up with the lunch ladies.”

Y/N sighed, leaning against the secretary’s desk. “I tried to, Beth, but she told me to come here. I will not be ignored.”

Rafe was almost as surprised as Ms. Buzden was when Y/N used her first name. As he stood behind Y/N, waiting for his turn to ask where Sarah was so he could sign her out, he watched in slight amusement at the fact she was nonchalantly complaining to the secretary.

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you dear.” Ms. Buzden forced a smile, finally looking over Y/N’s shoulder to Rafe. “Rafe, sweetie, you’re here to sign out Sarah?”

Rafe hesitated for a moment, knowing Y/N’s eyes were on his. He felt as if an imaginary spotlight had shown on him for a solo and he had forgotten the words. His eyes glanced toward Y/N for a moment but it did not help his stage fright. Her beautiful eyes were squinting in his direction and for a moment he thought he would faint underneath her stare. His eyes quickly returned to the secretary’s and nodded quickly. In an embarrassing turn of events, Y/N spoke before Rafe did.

“Hey, I know you.” Y/N’s bracelets clang together as she lifts her hand up and points at Rafe. “You’re my neighbour. You’re always watching me through your window.”

As the secretary busies herself with printing the paperwork, Rafe busies himself by stuttering and gasping for breath at the accusation she had just posed. In an attempt to save himself from anymore embarrassment, Rafe tries and fails at coming up with a good excuse. Instead, he denies the accusation entirely.

“I do not watch you.” Rafe stubbornly blubbers out. He’s trying not to seem so embarrassed but she’s caught him so off guard that there’s nothing else he can do.

Y/N snickers, watching the poor boy stumble on every word. For someone older than her, he was not very mature. “No, you’re right. Watching would imply a causal aspect to the activity. More like you stalk me.”

This time, Rafe boiled over with anger. How dare this girl accuse him of stalking her? Rafe did not chase after any girl, no matter how attractive she was. “That’s a bit arrogant, isn’t it? To think everyone’s eyes are on you?”

Y/N continued to smile, unbothered by Rafe’s obvious rudeness. She shrugs, looking back to the secretary for a moment and grabbing her terrible vegetarian lunch before looking back to Rafe. “Not everyone’s. Just yours.”

And with that, she leaves the office. And Rafe knows he is screwed, because he just met the love of his life.

~

JJ Maybank shared almost everything with his friends. Emphasis on almost. They had always relied on him to be the funny one. To always goof around and take nothing seriously. So, when his dad first started beating after his mother left, he said nothing. He felt it was an unnecessary burden to put on the people that truly loved him. Eventually, the bruises and scars were too overwhelming to keep a secret anymore and he began to confess all his issues to his friends. But even then, as JJ tried to open up to the people he cared the most about, there was one thing he could never share.

He was scared of love.

Not just any love, but specifically romantic love. Every time he felt himself begin to develop deep feelings for anyone, he soon backpedaled and left them hanging. It was too scary to give himself to anyone. It would be a lie if he said it had nothing to do with his mother leaving. He had always believed that there was no love greater than his parents when he was growing up and when his mother left, it shattered him. Of course, he never blamed her for leaving considering how abusive his dad was but it killed JJ to know she did not want him to come with her. He had begun to believe that she didn’t think he was important to bring along. He believed that if she truly loved him, she wouldn’t leave without him. That’s what scared him the most; the fact that someone can change their mind about love so quickly.

So, JJ ran at the first sign of love. And he never shared this with anyone. Until that day.

In early June, when Y/N had first moved to OBX, there was a Start of Summer Fair. Right after classes ended on the last day of school, people in the community organized a fair for everyone who was excited for the summer to start. It was exactly two weeks after Y/N had moved in. Exactly two hours after she spoke to Rafe. Funny how the world works.

Behind the fair, there was a small lake where rarely anyone ventured. It was usually muddy and no one in their right mind would go swimming there. With that being said, JJ wanted to go swimming there. He had spent a solid hour with his friends at the fair before becoming exhausted. It wasn’t so much that his friends were exhausting him but a girl named Anna was. He had gone out with her once and had never called her back (as per usual) but she had not picked up on the hidden messages JJ had given her. Instead, she followed him around during his entire time at the fair like a little lost puppy dog. Just as she announced she was going to the bathroom, JJ had almost died from boredom. Thankfully, her going to the bathroom let JJ slip away from his friends and sneak away from Anna.

“What do you want us to tell her?” Kie asked, watching as her best friend was breaking off from the group.

JJ shrugged, not possibly being able to care less. “I don’t care. For all I care, tell her I died.” A bit harsh, yes, but that’s how JJ operated. Abandon them before they abandon you.

The idea to hide near the lake hit him as soon as he left his friends. No one went back there, not if they wanted an infection. Although slightly disgusting, if that was what he had to do to get away and have a moment of peace, he would make that sacrifice. Unfortunately, he found no peace because the second the lake came into view between two thick trees, JJ saw a girl in the water. At first, he was going to leave, maybe even shout a quick joke her way for getting in the dirty water. But when he saw what she was doing, he became curious and couldn’t help but venture forward and investigate.

Y/N, too invested in what she was currently doing, did not see JJ approaching at first. Daisies had begun to grow around the lake, which was already odd on it’s own, but some of them floated on the surface level of the lake. Y/N thought a bunch of Daisies would be a good surprise for her mother so, in an effort to be thoughtful, she emerged herself, from the waist down, into the water. She was not afraid of the muddy water staining her white dress (she had worse stains on her clothes), even excited to show her mother the lengths she went to to get the Daisies. So, with one hand, she held onto a wicker basket full of Daisies and with the other hand, she grabbed a hold of the daisies in the water.

JJ watched in complete and utter fascination as this girl who he did not recognize, fearlessly went into the lake and plucked some Daisies to put in her basket. She almost didn’t even look real. He blinked quickly to make sure she was even actually there. When he opened his eyes and she was still there, he was glad he hadn’t imagined her.

Finally, Y/N sensed a presence that was not her own. Quickly turning to her right, she made eye contact with JJ and her face softened. He was the least threatening person she’d ever seen and something about him made her heartbeat pick up.

She brushed this feeling off and instead, with a small smile on her lips, spoke confidently. “Hello stalker.”

JJ blushed, shoving his hands into his pockets and taking a few steps closer to the lake. “I’m sorry. Was just wondering what you’re doing here. No one comes here.”

“You’re here, aren’t you?” Y/N quips backs, a playfulness in her voice.

JJ thinks he might faint. “Um, well, I’m hiding.”

Y/N giggled. “Me too actually.” She grabs more daisies and puts them in her basket. She looks back up at JJ and speaks to him again. “Who are you hiding from?”

JJ gulps. He doesn’t want to scare away this girl by telling her why he’s come back here. He knows anyone else would judge him but, as he looks at her, he can see she would never judge him. “I’m hiding from a girl.”

Y/N nods, not expressing any disgust and JJ’s heart jumps for joy. “I see. Ex-lover, I presume?”

JJ shrugs. “We only went on one date.”

“Must’ve been a terrible date.” She jokes, and JJ realizes that she’s completely stopped what she’s been doing to listen to him.

JJ shakes his head, focused on her cute round cheeks. “Not really. She was nice.”

Y/N pouts. “Then why are you hiding from her?”

JJ feels as though it is too complicated to explain. And besides, how would he start? He’s never told anyone why he truly has never had a girlfriend. But something about this girl makes him trust her completely. He knows it’s the arrogance in her eyes. “I’m scared.”

Y/N nods, as if she understands him completely and he feels as though she does. “I see. You know, when I get irrationally anxious over something like this, I play the What If game.”

JJ’s brows pull together in confusion. “What?”

Y/N moves through the water and closer to the edge where JJ stands. When she arrives at the water’s edge, she reaches her hand out for JJ to grasp. He hesitates first and knows it’s because he likes her so much already and this will be the first time they will touch. The first time he’ll feel her skin against his is beside this muddy lake. Eventually, he grabs her hand and helps her out of the water and he knows, the second his hand touches hers, she’s his dream girl. His hands are on fire and he feels a pit in his stomach grow as her hand grips tighter onto him. There’s a spark and he’s sure there has never been anyone else that made him feel this way.

“The What If game,” Y/N starts, placing her basket on the ground. She starts to ring out the water from her dress but continues to keep eye contact with JJ. “is really easy. Here; tell me a fear you have about falling in love but make sure it starts with ‘what if.’”

JJ thinks for a moment. There are so many and he doesn’t know where to start. Finally, he chooses his biggest fear. “What if she leaves?”

Y/N smiles. “What if she doesn’t though? But, what if she does and then you find who you’re actually supposed to be with? The game is to just rationalize every irrational fear.”

JJ nods, a small smirk growing at the corner of his lips. “You’re not one of those girls who believes every breakup brings you closer to your soulmate?”

Y/N laughs. “Yeah, I wish. I’m not your manic pixie dream girl - wait, what's your name?”

JJ extends his hand, ready to feel her skin again. “JJ Maybank. Yours?”

Y/N smiles and shakes JJ’s hand. This should be interesting, she thinks. “It’s Y/N.”

“So, Y/N,” JJ starts, her name feeling good coming from his mouth. “If you’re not my manic pixie dream girl, then what are you?”

Y/N smiles. She was right. This is definitely going to be interesting. “I’m just yours.”

~

tagging; @tovvaa​

[mimiwrites2000]

What Does White Mean?

Chapter ONE / two

(completed)

AO3 ~~

Pairings: Armin x Annie

(side pairings: Pieck Finger x Jean Kirstein, Reiner Braun x Hitch Dreyse, Mikasa Ackreman x someone new)

Words count: 3416

* spoilers for chapter 131 and up

Summary:

The ocean lulled them to sleep, and the sun woke them up with mild kisses. Tangled with each other, in their cabin by the beach. After the war ended, they moved together, ever since, they faced obstacles, issues, and misunderstandings. One of them was Armin’s seashells. Stubbornness got in the way, but no matter how much they tried, they couldn’t keep their hands to themselves.

He already filled two boxes to the rim. Pieces falling out from them, the wooden edges of the boxes barely holding them in. 

Sea shells in necklaces, bracelets, rings. But nothing was good enough, nothing was perfect.

He didn't know what the perfect one looked like, but he knew that none of them was it.

In his small workshop, that was, in fact, just a tiny storage room before he started this hobby, Armin worked his way through another piece of jewelry.

A seashell with streaks of pink, light as Annie's lips. Dots of sparkling white adorning it, just like the sparks in her eyes.

He put the final touches on the necklace, twisting the clasp in its place, giving it two tugs to insure its firmness, then opened the cabinet in his desk, and pulled out a third box.

Imperfect piece number one went in the third box.

Great.

The storage room— the workshop had a small, triangle, frosted glass window, but Armin didn't like it, it made the small place even smaller. After he moved in with Annie, he changed it immediately, to a clear transparent glass. 

Their ocean-view cabin met Armin’s dreams to the smallest detail; one bedroom, one bathroom, a living room, and a kitchenette were enough to satisfy them and convincing enough to buy it without second thoughts.

He spent most of his mornings either strolling by the beach or in Annie's arms, and his nights by a bonfire or under the sheets with her.

They had their breakfasts on the porch, with the salty wafts drifting with the ocean breeze, the crooning of seagulls their only companion.

Everything seemed perfect.

Except for the nights when he woke up in cold sweat, screams rupturing his lungs, Annie’s hands trying to calm him down, embracing him and running through his hair. Or mornings while Annie took longer in the shower, while he sat outside, listening to her silent sobs.

But they were ok. Armin always hugged Annie when she stepped out of the shower, and whispered that they're ok, they're alive, healthy, together.

They're ok.

But this jewelry crafting thing came out of nowhere. And Armin wished he learnt about it long before.

It was Annie who suggested it, when she saw his seashells collection accumulating to the ceiling, she said he might as well make good use of it. She didn’t specify jewelry crafts, but he found that these delicate shells needed a delicate use.

And there he was, in his former storage room, picking through seashells, twisting wires and knitting in beads.

He had been trying to make her the perfect piece. He still didn’t find the perfect one.

He eyed the two boxes — the newly third one joining them. He never thought about selling them, or giving them to anyone else, or throwing them away…

He wondered why.

Maybe because he clutched onto one seashell for more than four years, and the habit was born with the many nights he spent eyeing it, whether it was in his room at night, or in front of a crystal in an icy cold basement.

Knock knock!

“Don’t come in!” Armin’s words overlapped, he was so immersed in his daydream that the knocks on the door made him jump in his seat.

“I won’t, I promise,” from the other side of the door, Annie grumbled. Armin felt bad, he never let her in his workshop, mainly because he didn’t want to spoil the surprise that he still didn’t figure out, and secondly… well, he wasn’t ready for any judgment on his poor jewelry crafting skills.

“Armin?”

“Y-yeah?”

“It’s getting late, I was wondering if you can… you know, get dinner ready? I don’t feel like burning the kitchen.”

“Oh right,” he got up and opened the door, only to be met with an arms-crossed Annie, a passive look on her face. He didn’t know if she was upset because she was hungry, or because he was, once again, keeping her away from his workshop. “We don’t want a burnt kitchen now do we?” he asked, half jokingly

Annie tried cooking once, on his birthday. She tried baking a simple cake. They ended up with a piece of a circular char, on top of it one single candle.

“I don’t think we have-” the rest of the sentence was swallowed down Armin’s throat when he saw groceries lining up the kitchen table.

“I went out an hour ago, I didn’t want to disturb you, but don’t worry, I checked everything on the list, twice.”

“Ah, yes, thanks.”

Guilt swelt in his guts.

She didn’t want to disturb him…

She was upset with him.

He rolled up his sweater’s sleeves, washing his hands, before he started opening the groceries bags, emptying them on the counter.

Annie on the side crossing her arms.

“What do you want for dinner?” he asked, trying to ignore her glaring eyes by inspecting a head of lettuce in his hand.

“Anything, it doesn’t matter.”

One 

Two 

Three-

“Maybe something fast so you can get back to your small workshop-”

“Okay Annie listen-”

“No you listen!”

The lettuce head froze in his hands.

“You’ve been doing this for weeks! Even- even I don’t know how many months!”

Armin slowly put down the lettuce on the counter, looking down at his feet.

“And you never let me in! Like, ever! I don’t understand why!” she continued, her arms flailing around, before resting on her hips, “every single day, every fucking day you lock yourself up in that room for hours! And I know you’re playing around with your shells but why are you hiding like this?! I’m not gonna pretend that something is not up,” she was pacing around the kitchen, Armin watching her from the corner of his eyes. “I know I’m the one who suggested it, but- but-” she sighed, “even when we go out on the beach, your eyes are always down, searching for even more shells! What is up with you?!”

“Annie-”

“I don’t understand what you’re hiding, I don’t understand why you’re hiding it,” suddenly she stopped, Armin looked at her, “we moved in together, Armin, we live under the same goddamn roof.”

“Annie-”

“What?Annie what? You’re sorry? Keep it to yourself! You’ve already apologized twice before but nothing ever changed,” she turned, and before he could stop her, she stormed into their bedroom.

And he was left alone in the kitchen.

The ocean waves swayed in a symphony, but when he looked outside, all he saw was a dark mass that swallowed him whole.

Armin huffed, he knew this was coming, he knew it so well.

Annie wasn’t wrong.

But she wasn’t right either.

He was doing it for her. He was locking himself up to make her the perfect jewelry.

Armin kicked the heel of his shoes against the cabinet. Thud thud thud. Putting a rhythm to his mind and his thoughts.

Maybe... she was right. She didn’t know what he was doing, she felt left out.

They only have each other.

No one should leave the other in the dark.

No matter what.

Armin pushed himself off the cabinets, and walked towards the room.

He stood at the threshold, watching Annie curled on her side of the bed under the duvet.

He pressed his lips together, but he didn’t dare make a sound, even though he knew she was aware of his presence. 

He sat on his side of the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. 

Annie didn’t move.

Armin sighed. He fucked up, and he must fix it. 

He kicked off his shoes, and slithered under the duvet.

His face confronted her back.

One

Two

Three-

She turned around-

“I’m sorry,” they both said at the same time.

Armin bit his lips to stop himself from smiling, while gazing at Annie’s stoic face, with a slight dip between her eyebrows.

They talked, confessed, together at the same time, their words overlapping.

“I know your craft means so much to you-”

“I’ve been leaving you out of this-”

“I don’t mean that you should spend every single moment with me-”

“And I want to spend more time with you-”

Then the last sentence, they breathed it together, “I promise to be a better person.”

Their eyes on each other, blue meeting blue.

Magnetic force pulled them towards each other, capturing each other's lips, hands running over each other's bodies.

Their clothes were stripped and thrown on the floor, while the groceries in the kitchen were left untouched.

~~~

The most valuable times for Annie were these moments when she woke up beside him, heads on the same pillow, skin on skin, under the blankets.

The warmth like an aura around his body made her alive, incomparable to soft rays of early morning sun filtering through the window.

It was so early and everything was quiet, even the ocean fell in a quiet slumber.

Without moving, she checked the time.

There was still a couple of hours before Armin's usual wake up time.

She usually got up before him, went on an extra walk, or maybe a dip in the ocean.

But getting up from bed and leaving this beauty behind would be as bad as a crime.

So she stayed, watching his face. His breath warm on her face, his lips slightly parted, bangs ruffled on his forehead. Mildly, she caressed them, brushing them off his forehead. Before she cupped his cheek, and she held the world and the sun and the ocean— all together in her palm.

His eyelashes fanned upon his closed eyes like sun rays. She tilted her head up, and kissed his eyelid, soft, like a feather.

Armin was a light sleeper, the last thing she wanted was to ruin his sleep.

A cold breeze wafted through the window, Annie shivered. She noticed Armin hunching his back, he must be cold as well.

She inched closer, cautious, wrapping her arms around his frame, over his shoulder, nesting her head on his chest. The warmth radiating off his body relaxed her muscles, and in those moments, deep inside, something would stir in her, feelings she wasn’t aware she would experience one day.

Arms wrapped around her, and she tensed, did she wake him up?

She peeked up at him, he was already watching her, his eyes barely open.

He tried to speak, but no voice came out. After he cleared his throat, he tried again, “Good… morning.” his voice deep, hoarse.

She rubbed her feet against the mattress, “Did I wake you up?” she whispered.

He squinted his eyes, deep in thought, “If I said no?”

“Good.”

“And if I said yes?”

Annie runs her tongue on the inside of her teeth, “I can make it up for you.”

At that, Armin props himself up on one elbow, raising an eyebrow, beckoning her to continue.

With one finger pointing at his chest, she said, “I’ll make you breakfast.”

He snorted, the voice vibrated through Annie’s body, and she had to swallow.

“No,” was his simple, predictable answer.

“Your lose,” She said, swinging her legs off the bed, but before she could stand up, arms wrapped around her, rolling her in bed.

~~~

Breakfast time was long gone, so, after Armin went through the groceries from the night before, he made a light meal for both of them. While he cooked, Annie watched him, sitting on the counter, her legs swinging.

She enjoyed watching him cook, muscles of his arms flexing as he cut tomatoes, brushing his bangs away from his face, wiping his hands on the towel.

By that point she could blindly sculpt a statue of his body.

He also enjoyed catching her off guard, catching her eyes every now and then. When they first moved together, she would blush furiously and avert her eyes, but now, even though she still blushes, sometimes she would pay him back with a sudden kiss, or sometimes she would dare him with more than a kiss.

It was the privilege of a peaceful life, the result of going to hell and back, tolerating an agonizing pain for years.

A slow-paced life, where everything was in place, everything was right.

They reached the end of the labyrinthine, they might as well celebrate their victory.

Post afternoon, and after a meal with their legs tangled under the table, they strolled along the shore.

Annie never imagined that she would settle down in a cabin by the beach, every day the seagulls waking her up, and every night the ocean waves lulling her to sleep.

Hand by hand, shoes off, the sand tickling her feet, like walking on a pile of feathers.

The sun above them soft on their skin, a chilly afternoon, perfect for a walk.

Armin tried so hard to keep his gaze on the horizon, fighting the urge to peak down and hunt for shells.

He wouldn’t rest until he found the perfect shell for Annie’s piece.

However, he remembered his promise to Annie, wanted to spend more time with her, she wanted to spend more time with him.

An especially shiny shell caught his attention, tempting him to kneel down, and plunge his hands in the sand and go back to the cabin with a bag full of new shells. 

“I was thinking of going to town for a few days,” Annie said, catching Armin off guard, “my father wrote to me and said he’s holding a dinner, and we’re invited.” 

“Oh, yeah sure,” Armin answered. Her father lived only half an hour away, in the town, alongside a couple of their old friends as well.

They lived with him for a couple of weeks before, as they went hunting for their own place. He was an old nice man, but he certainly had a temper.

Armin was exceptionally nervous around her father for the first few months. For what reason, he still didn’t know, but something about that man made him rethink everything he wanted to say twice.

But after all, her father accepted their relationship, if not a bit too dramatically, for he cried and hugged Armin for the first time.

In the end, they had to move out, Annie was adamant they had their own house.

Armin smiled, “You can move out and live with your father.”

Annie raised an eyebrow.

“You know, I can move with you-” his voice got muffled; Annie’s palm on his mouth.

“No.”

“Whyyyy?” he asked, his voice choked up with a laugh, he wanted to try biting Annie’s hand on his mouth.

“If each of us would get a different room, then yeah sure,” she answered, lowering her hand, and continuing her walk.

“Not my fault you’re too loud-”

Annie started running.

The nearby village could hear Armin’s howling laugh. 

~~~

Annie waited at the cabin longer than Armin would need to catch up to her. She wondered what was taking him so long, though she had a clear idea what was holding him off.

She waited by the door, but then the sun got a little uncomfortable, so she went inside. She hated that the first thing she thought of was checking Armin’s workshop.

She immediately shook her idea, shoving it away. Intrusiveness wasn’t her trait.

But the door glowed in her sight. Walking to it, and turning the knob seemed like the most tempting thing ever.

No

“No,” she said it out loud, to convince herself to stop.

She would certainly be upset if she was in his shoes. She would never do that to him.

Nope.

Never.

One 

Two 

Three

She walked to the door. An old, small door, compared to a standard door, Armin had to bend to get through, but Annie bet she can walk through it, with her head brushing the door frame.

A tiny place for a workshop, she thought, she wondered how he keeps his tools there, the dozens of seashells bags going there, never going out again.

She was burning to know what was in there.

She was in front of the door, she could lift her hand, and turn the knob, and she could see it all for herself.

Finally,

She reached for the antique door knob.

Her palm rested on it.

Turn it turn it turn it turn it-

She twirled and walked away, right to their bedroom, without even a glance back.

A minute or two after, she heard the door of the cabin open and close. Annie got up, not thinking much of it, “Hey what took you so long-”

Armin stood there, with a handful of seashells in his hands.

Annie threw her head back…

One

Two 

Three

“Listen-”

“It hadn’t even been a day, not a single day had passed,” Annie said, frustration evident in her voice, which was as rare as the sky turning green.

“Annie, I can explain.”

Annie crossed her arms, waiting for him to explain.

Armin sighed, he didn’t want to spoil the surprise, he had to come up with something.

“I’m making something.”

“Yeah no shit.”

“No no no I mean I’m making something,” he said, his closed clutch on the seashells flailing around.

Annie sighed, “Try again.”

“I’m honest, I’m making something.”

“And?” she inquired.

A moment of silence passed, Armin trying so hard to come up with something, anything.

Annie knew that face very well, the face Armin makes when he’s trying to come up with a good fight in a debate, the face he does when he would lob a few words to hypnotize a whole crowd of people.

But not on her.

Never on her.

She knew him too well for his own good.

Without waiting for an answer, she turned around, returning to their room. She threw over her shoulder, “Tomorrow is the dinner at my father’s house,” before she vanished from sight.

Armin, left alone, stared down at the seashells in his hands.

~~~

Armin spent most of the night in his workshop, his hands working, but his mind somewhere else.

He didn’t talk to Annie since their confrontation, nor did any of them eat.

Embarrassment gnawed at him, he promised her, yet he broke the promise.

He must be a terrible partner.

Armin sighed.

He wondered why he was even trying to make Annie a piece of jewelry, to win her heart? 

Pfft

She was better off without him anyway.

She could leave him at any second and he wouldn’t even question it. She was smart, pretty, skillful, talented, gorgeous, sweet, and... nice.

And what was he? He couldn’t think of one good trait about himself. Not good enough to match hers.

And he fucked up.

He groaned, letting his head fall on the desk.

The pile of the new shells sat in his sight line, waiting to be cleaned of the sand, but he had no intention of doing so. He wanted to cage himself in his workshop forever, rather than facing Annie again after he broke his promise.

Armin swallowed, wondering how he would meet her father the next day.

Mr. Leonhart was protective, way too protective. Armin knew he wouldn’t hesitate to cut off Armin’s head if he hurt Annie.

Naaah.

He thought. Annie is much more mature than that.

He snorted at himself, he had some stupid thoughts sometime, but this one was the stupidest of them all.

Annie ranting to her father about her boyfriend.

Pffft

Armin straightened his back on the chair, thinking of what he should do.

Then, at that moment, a glimmer caught his eyes.

Armin shook his head, peeking outside the small, circular window.

He wasn’t sure if it came from outside or from the inside, but then it happened again, this time, he was sure it came from the inside of the workshop. Armin looked around, trying to find it.

The moon light filtering through the glass, gleaming upon the pile of seashells accumulated on his desk.

The glimmer happened again.

But that time, Armin caught it.

It came from one of the seashells. 

Armin scattered the pile on the desk, going over each shell, rotating it under the moonlight, trying to find that one seashell.

On his seventh try, he found it.

Something clicked, and Armin knew exactly what he had to do. Everything cleared in his mind, and he found it absurd that he only saw it now.

Locked in his small workshop, with his back bowed down. Armin finished his perfect piece when the first ray of sunshine broke the night.

.

.

.

uwu thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed! next chapter (which is much much longer) will be posted in a couple of days or so can't wait for the other ships to make their cameos hahhaaa thank you for reading! like always, feedback, kudos, all is much appreciated

[klixxy]

Weekly Fic Recs

(ft. my bookmark comments)

HAIKYUU!!:

the pretty (pining) setters squad - bloodyhalefire 

(haikyuu!!; multiple relationships; chatfic; setter-centric; 36k words; ongoing)

oikawa: I HAVE NO FEAR

suga: straight iwaizumi

oikawa: I HAVE ONE FEAR

said you’re coming back home, boy, don't feel so alone - jublis

(haikyuu!!; kagehina; kageyama-centric; 9k words) MANGA SPOILERS

The ball rolls gently on the ground, all the way to Tobio’s feet. He bends down to pick it up, and something in his blood sizzles like lightning. He looks at the leathery surface, then at his sister’s wild smile and neat hair; looks back at the court and the net, where the boys are running a spiking practice. Everyone else seems focused on the attackers, but Tobio’s eyes are zeroed on the one tossing. Set, connect, spike. Bang-bang-bang.

No one wins without the setter.

Tobio tosses the ball to Miwa and says, “Again.”

Or, Kageyama Tobio grows up, older, and not that much wiser at all. Featuring brothers and sisters, anger, connection, and that moment when someone finally catches up with you.

My Best Friend is a 9 Year-Old - CO32minus

(haikyuu!!; kagehina; gen; kagehina-centric; 48k words) MANGA SPOILERS

Kageyama didn't expect to become friends with Hinata nearly as fast as he did. He expected becoming best friends with Hinata's sister even less. But over the course of his high school career, the two of them grow closer than any friend Kageyama has had in a long time. A long time.

[my bookmarks: beautiful. a masterpiece. i have been rendered... speechless. it's poignant and painful and heartbreaking.

explores the relationships between tobio and a variety of people in a unique way. an emotional, tearful rollercoaster all the way through.]

you who appeared before my eyes like a miracle - vivahate

(haikyuu!!; kagehina; kageyama-centric; hurt/comfort; 2k words) MANGA SPOILERS

Everything I told you last night,” Kageyama says at last and he sounds so awful, so defensive: he keeps trying to pull away, and Hinata can tell he’s come to all the wrong conclusions. “I told you because I wanted to. There’s nothing more to it. I don’t need your -”

“It’s not pity!” Hinata hisses, tightening his hold on Kageyama’s hands. “Or whatever else you’re thinking.” Hinata releases another quivering breath against Tobio’s neck, the setter going completely still in his arms. It’s important that Tobio understands. “It breaks my heart knowing that the boy I love was hurting and I didn’t even –” he breaks off with a sound of frustration, “I could’ve done something to make it at least a little better for you.”

(or; Kageyama tells Hinata about Kazuyo san after the Black Jackals/Adlers game, and Hinata processes.)

cats and other challenges - vivahate (they have such good fics!)

(haikyuu!!; kagehina; hurt/comfort; 6k words) MANGA SPOILERS

“Was that Hime?” Miwa asks over the phone, having apparently heard that pathetic yowl.

“No.” Tobio grunts, “It’s a different cat I picked up from the garbage on my way home.” On the other end of the line Miwa laughs gleefully, probably thinking he’s joking.

He’s not.

(Or; Sometime in the year following the Olympics, Tobio finds himself adopting a cat. And then three more. Hinata doesn't mind.)

etymology - tothemoon

(haikyuu!!; kagehina; coming of age; 3k words) MANGA SPOILERS

Kageyama Tobio has a language all his own.

[my bookmarks: holy shit this is pure poetry. beauty. breathtaking. <3]

and if you asked me if i love him (i'd lie) - fakecharliebrown

(haikyuu!!; kagehina; kagehina-centric; humor; falling in love; au; 13k words)

“Okay, what the fuck,” Tobio said, upon seeing the source of the commotion in his kitchen. There, standing in front of his open window—when had he opened that?—was a guy probably several years younger than Tobio, a high schooler most likely, with bright, orange hair. He was soaked to the bone, dripping rainwater all over Tobio’s kitchen floor like he was trying to fill a new lake.

The boy looked up, wide-eyed, and blurted, “This isn’t my apartment.”

or; Hinata accidentally breaks into Kageyama’s apartment, starts a fire, and is deeply offended that Kageyama eats lettuce. It all seems to unravel from there.

burn - orphan_account

(haikyuu!!; kagehina; kagehina-centric; au; 3k words)

Kageyama Tobio had always had the odd ability to see the numbers signalling how dangerous a person was. He'd gone through his childhood surrounded by Twos and Threes, maybe even Fours. And then he meets his Ten.

~~~~~~~~~~

The flame seemed to burn ever so bright, as Kageyama felt the air around the other basically crackle. He felt as if he was Icarus and Hinata was the Sun. Two wings to hold him up, a fiery heat to burn him down.

Don't get too close, or you'll melt.

6/10 - CheekyBrunette

(haikyuu!!; kagehina; kageyama-centric; social anxiety; 19k words)

Hinata babbled on. “Natsu’s just so annoying sometimes. Everyone comes over and is like, ‘But oh, she’s so cute!’ and, well... yeah, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t like pushing all my buttons, you know? I mean, this is the third time she stole my blue furoshiki, so I had to wrap my bento with her stupid cat one!”

Kageyama’s hands knotted up in the bottom hem of his shorts. “Little sisters are the worst,” he tried.

Hinata’s nose scrunched up, and Kageyama’s stomach threatened to tie itself in knots. That had been the wrong thing to say. “Well, she’s not the worst,” Hinata corrected. Kageyama felt stupid for speaking up.

Fixation - @radio-silents

(haikyuu!!; kagehina; kagehina-centric; 7k words)

Hinata can’t stand Kageyama.

He can’t stand Kageyama’s stupid grumpy face, he can’t stand his stupid hair, and most of all he can’t stand how stupidly good Kageyama is at volleyball.

Alternatively, where Hinata spends a lot of time being frustrated and confused about his conflicting emotions toward Kageyama.

Summer Days, Flying By - @anawriteshorror​

(haikyuu!!; kagehina; kageyama-centric; abuse au; angst; 11k words)

“Ne, Tobio.” Shouyou asked him one afternoon, smile relaxed on his face as he spread his fingers, splaying shadows on the walls. “Have you ever wondered what it’s like to fly?”

He shook his head. Flying meant going outside, and even imagining it made him tense up. He was already breaking enough rules as it was; no need to stir up his mind more than he already had.

Shouyou looked a little sad at that. “Well, I have.” His eyes went to the sky, like he could see himself soaring at that very moment. “You should imagine it, just once.”

The facts that make up his world are this: his name is Kageyama Tobio, he's ten years old, and he's never been outside his house.

Until he met Shouyou.

well, maybe i'm a crook - aruariandance

(haikyuu!!; kagehina; kageyama-centric; angst; 6k words)

The thing is-- Hinata is in love with Kageyama and everyone knows it, including Kageyama.

[my bookmarks: i'm cryignd i can't-]

discovering the smile of one kageyama tobio - Emlee_J (also a great fic writer - check out her other fics they’re all equally as good)

(haikyuu!!; kagehina; falling in love; 3rd year au; 8k words)

Kageyama blinks once before a grin of his own spreads over his face. Shouyou’s breath halts in his lungs at the sight, and he wills for time to stop, just so he can drink it in. He sees it sometimes, when they’re playing - Kageyama’s fierce smile when they pull a combo off just right, when they show their opponents how possible the impossible can really be. But then there’s another serve, another rally, and the moment is gone.

'Shame', Shouyou thinks to himself, as he lets his eyes roam over Kageyama’s stupidly happy face, taking in the creases that are from joy rather than frowning, for a change. 'It’s a really nice smile.'

-

In which it's their third, and final, year in high school and Hinata has only one goal: to make Kageyama smile outside of volleyball.

Wedding Tosses - its_tabby_cat

(haikyuu!!; kagehina; wedding; fluff/humor; 4k words) MILD MANGA SPOILERS

Based on the post I can't find anymore about Hinata and Kageyama spiking their wedding bouquet during the bouquet toss in their wedding.

Hinata and Kageyama's wedding is unique in their friends and guests' memories for one very specific reason. Natsu and Miwa wish they could say they saw this coming when they organised a bouquet toss as part of their brothers' wedding, but they didn't. They should have, though.

Hinata and Kageyama have no regrets. Neither do any of their guests (Except maybe Tsukishima).

gonna stand by you - meregalaxiesandgods

(haikyuu!!; gen; 3rd year au; kageyama-centric; 5k words)

Five times Kageyama defended his teammates, and one time they defended him.

baby, i can give you wings - Metis_Ink

(haikyuu!!; kagehina/daisuga; superpower au; humor/romance; 8k words)

In which there are superpowers, cats, rainstorms, realizations, split-second jealousy, embarrassing volleyparents, killer whales, electric Kuroos, unstable emotions, bad romance movie mentions, some angst, some fluff, but mostly a lot of awkward high schoolers.

-

The minute Kageyama walks into the gym and sees Hinata hovering eight feet over the nets he knows he’s screwed.

if it wasn't for you - diphylleias

(haikyuu!!; kagehina; gen; getting together; 13k words) MANGA SPOILERS

A long moment passes between them, and Hinata watches, starstruck, as Heitor’s eyes linger on Nice’s silhouette from across the venue. His voice is deep, rich, all encompassing. “Some people change your life just by being in it, and you don’t want to let that go.”

Huh, Hinata thinks grandly.

[my bookmarks: This is majestic. Im now gonna proceed to scream internally about my kagehina feels for the next few hours.]

kintsugi - horchata

(haikyuu!!; gen; magical realism; kageyama-centric; 4k words)

Tobio notices when people get hurt. Something inside him hums to fix it.

The first time’s for Iwaizumi-san.

i bear little resemblance to the king i could become - silpium

(haikyuu!!; kagehina; gen; kageyama-centric; found family; 1k words)

Something else that’s infuriating about Hinata: he doesn’t question much. He never questions how Kageyama never smiles. He never questions why Kageyama doesn’t seem to have any friends. He never questions why Kageyama doesn’t talk much about himself, or talk much at all. He’ll make fun of these things sometimes, sure, but there’s never a probing question lingering beneath it. He seems to know there are just some things about Kageyama that are the way they are and that won’t change.

Or: sometimes people find their homes later in life.

Saffron and Cayenne Pepper - dontsaycrazy

(haikyuu!!; kagehina; gen; falling in love; cooking au; 30k words)

Cooking is hard. Even if you have your very attractive, very grumpy neighbor there to help you.

In which Hinata's lack of cooking skills are a danger to him and others. Luckily (or not), Kageyama is willing to teach him, if only for the sake of avoiding any burned down apartments.

halcyon - @queenanimetrash​

(haikyuu!!; kagehina; gen; depression; falling in love; hurt/comfort; 11k words)

"...And Kageyama cried. There was no rhyme or reason to it. There was no reason for all of the things he was feeling. Depression was weird like that, the lady in the pantsuit told him. There was no reason for it. It just comes and stays sticky on your skin, lumpy in your throat, heavy in your heart, suffocating and cold all at once."

again - bigspoonnoya

(haikyuu!!; kagehina; gen; falling in love; reincarnation au; fantastical; 15k words)

Both your deaths in this universe have failed. “Failed…” Kageyama echoes. The word seems to hurt him. “How can you fail at dying?” Hinata asks, incredulous. Luckily you have an infinite selection of universes, with an extensive number of lifetimes, still remaining. Until you can save one another, you will never grow old.

[my bookmarks: magical. absolutely breathtaking. amazingly poetic. <33333]

Blowing Up - sarahenany

(haikyuu!!; kagehina; gen; bombing au; angst; hurt/comfort; 10k words)

Minor spoilers for early S4 of the anime. Hinata and Kageyama go to different training camps, but news reaches Hinata's camp that there's been a bombing at the Ajinomoto Center, where Kageyama's camp is being held. Kageyama has minor injuries. Hinata is worried and protective. Tsukishima, Ukai, Takeda, Kenma and Kuroo are awesome.

like a sudden flight of birds - starstrikes

(haikyuu!!; atsukage; soulmate au; 17k words) MANGA SPOILERS

There are these chances—the ones that come flying overhead, streaking through the sky, waiting for a jump and a catch.

It takes Tobio a couple wrong chances before the right one comes swooping by like a shooting star. This time, Tobio jumps for the catch and doesn't let go.

stray bird - diarahans

(haikyuu!!; tsukkikage; falling in love; fluff; 7k words)

Tsukishima brings home a rain-drenched Kageyama.

All That's Left - tsunderei

(haikyuu!!; kagehina; falling in love; pacific rim au; 38k words)

Almost immediately after his last mission, where his mistakes nearly claimed the life of his partner, Kageyama Tobio resigns as a Jaeger pilot. Since then he has kept to himself, his life stuck in a rut and his reputation left in tatters. When the Kaiju suddenly threaten to rise again, he doesn’t want anything to do with them.

But along with the new threat comes new recruits, and a certain redheaded pilot isn’t willing to give up on Kageyama so easily. Hinata Shouyou is all about fighting spirit and second chances, despite his lack of experience. Slowly but insistently, he pulls Kageyama along – back to life, back into the Jaeger, back into the drift.

everything/anything by @superish​

[all of my bookmarks for superish’s stuff: ]

like literally. this was my bookmark for one of their fics: 

OH. MY. GOD. OHMYGOD. THIS IS PHENOMAL. BEAUTIFUL. BREATHTAKING. THE DESCRIPTIONS OF TOBIO WERE JUST- A+++++++++++++. INFINITE +S. INCREDIBLE. RIDICULOUSLY GOOD. HEART-STOPPING. THERE ARE NOT ENOUGH ADJECTIVES TO PRAISE THIS FIC. 

OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD I'M SCREAMING. I'M GONNA SCREAM. I'M DYING. HOW- WHY- THE EQUIVALENT OF PERFECTION EXISTS IN THIS WORLD, AND IT IS THIS FIC. JESUS CHRIST I'M IN LOVE. THIS IS MY NEW FUCKING RELIGION AND NO ONE CAN TELL ME OTHERWISE.

BNHA:

Knead a Hand? - staqua

(boku no hero academia; bakutodo; bakutodo-centric; 5k words)

Ah. For all of the appliances Shouto had been, a blowtorch was new. Still, just to prompt and bother: "So...?"

"So..."

It was a plea for help but Shouto wanted to hear the words. Another eyebrow twitch. The other one this time, because Bakugou clearly liked to workout both muscles for ultimate impact.

"Argh! Just light your finger on fire and caramelize these shitheads!"

OR: Shouto discovers his quirk is useful for more than hero work through his time spent cooking with a grudging Bakugou.

journey to the past - @aloneintherain​

(boku no hero academia; gen; midoriya-centric; time-travel au; 44k words)

Izuku is five years old the first time he's saved by heroes. He's an instant fan of the woman in pink with her cheerful smile and the man with his ice powers and fine-boned features, even if they both refuse to tell him their names.

For most of his life, Izuku has been the centre of villain attacks, but he has never been injured. Every time, he's saved by bright, unknown heroes—heroes who smile at Izuku, and ruffle his hair or ply him with hugs, and seem mesmerised by how small he is.

Heroes that the rest of the world doesn't believe exists.

(Time-travelling Class 1-A AU)

Candy Canes And Christmas Crackers - bigdorkenergy

(boku no hero academia; bakutodo; fake dating au; slow burn; 104k words)

“So….your huge family somehow all think that you have a long term boyfriend and are insisting that you bring him to your week long Christmas family reunion?” Despite his efforts the end of his question raised in pitch as Kirishma swallowed down a giggle.

“How does that even happen?” Kaminari added popping some of the hashbrowns Bakugou made into his mouth.

_

OR your classic holiday romcom where Bakugou needs a fake boyfriend to bring home for Christmas and Todoroki is willing to take that bullet.

some days - @chibistarlyte​

(boku no hero academia; pre-bakutodo; gen; angst; 6k words)

Most days, Shouto is fine.

But some days...

Some days, Shouto falls apart.

hear me howling - @lunal0u​ 

(i absolutely love, love, love this author check her out PLEASE you don’t even have to ship tododeku just PLEASE)

(boku no hero academia; tododeku; gen; angst; suicide; emotional rollercoaster; 14k words)

Instead of squinting away like Izuku would, Shouto’s eyes seem to grow warmer as they stare into the sun, seem to grow softer.

In the glow of the early morning, the sky painted in hues of red and pink, it almost looks as if the sun itself is reflecting from Shouto’s eyes, his dark pupils dyed gold by the light.

(or, four times izuku watches the sunrise with shouto and the one time he doesn't)

[my bookmarks: this is everything i aspire to be, shoved into one, brilliant fic.]

the stars are floating and we are flying - @lunal0u​

(boku no hero academia; tododeku; gen; angst; mental illness; 39k words)

Aizawa starts walking towards the exit, obviously expecting Shouto to follow him, but Shouto's feet are frozen in place. His eyes flicker from the distorted reflection of himself in the ice to where All Might is giving him a long look, eyes kinder than anything Todoroki has ever been deserving of, and he feels sick.

“Todoroki-kun,” Midoriya says gently, squeezing his arm in what Shouto presumes is meant to be a reassuring gesture. “It’s going to be okay.”

He doesn’t think Midoriya is in any place to tell him what okay is, all things considered, but he chooses to keep quiet on the matter.

[my bookmarks: this made me burst into tears. my heart just exploded. I'm crying like a baby. just fricking- it's just fricking beautiful. astounding. incredible. wonderful. poignant. heartbreaking. so, so very sad. i can't even put it into words frick.]

rock'n'roll, buckaroo! - Origamidragons

(boku no hero academia; gen; humor; youtube au; 6k words)

Kaminari walks up to Todoroki in the hallway after class and says, “Dude, I need your help.”

Todoroki checks over his shoulder, twice, to verify that Kaminari is indeed talking to him. “Why?”

“Yesterday you asked Shinsou-kun if he was Aizawa-sensei’s son,” Kaminari says, as though that explains anything at all.

“...yes?”

“Make a hero conspiracy YouTube channel with me.”

FMAB:

snipers solve 99% of all problems - silentwalrus

(fullmetal alchemist: brotherhood x harry potter; gen; humor; 226k words; ongoing)

Ed had thought, after the whole Promised Day, homunculus, entire country harvested for alchemical batteries thing, the batshit quotient of his life would have settled down some. He really ought to have topped out the meter with that one. But no. The bullshit is just getting started.

“Are you fucking kidding me,” Ed demands. “The wizards?”

Podfic & Chinese translation available! See notes

[my bookmarks: holy shit this is amazing... {SPOILERS}]

everything/anything by tierfal

you don’t even have to have read fmab for some of their fics- you can hate royed for all i care- just PLEASE read their fics. all of their fics are just so wonderful and are such an emotional rollercoaster that has you absolutely hooked from start to end. the author has an amazing quality that their writing just makes you feel so much.

please check them out.

ATLA:

respite - @blue---pluto​ 

(avatar: the last airbender; gen; gaang finds out abt zuko’s scar fic; 3k words)

“It’s healing really well.” Katara tells him with a smile, before her lips quirk down into a frown. “Though it’ll still scar pretty bad.”

Zuko shrugs. “It’s ok. I doubt people will really focus on it anyway… the one on my face is a bit more prominent.”

Katara makes a face, like she’s not quite sure if she should laugh or frown, when Toph speaks up.

“You have a scar on your face?” Toph asks, sitting up so she’s sitting by his legs rather than lying on them.

Zuko blinks. He never quite forgets that Toph is blind, but the fact that she can’t see his scar never really occurred to him.

“Oh, yeah.” Zuko looks down at his lap. “My father burned like, half my face off before I was banished.” He says it a little too casually, probably not bitterly enough.

The Competition - @littlelovelyspiderling​ 

(avatar: the last airbender; gen; tickle fic; zuko-centric; 8k words)

The avatar gang competes to see who can get Zuko to laugh first. Adorableness ensues.

where the stars do not take sides - WitchofEndor

(avatar: the last airbender; gen; zukka; azula and zuko-centric; 60k words)

When Azula is nine, she becomes an only child. She hears the Fire Lord call for Zuko's life, and in the morning, her mother and brother are gone. Azula may be young, but she isn't naive. She knows what happened to them.

Which makes it all the more surprising when Azula tracks the Avatar down and fights his group of peasant friends, only to find herself staring into an eerily familiar face.

asmr: Actively Seeking Machiavellism's Redemption - cereal_whore

(avatar: the last airbender; gen; azula redemption; zuko-centric; time travel au; humor; 13k words; ongoing)

When Zuko's midlife crisis is just his life replayed for a second time, it tests not just his patience, but also whether it's truly Azula that's the murderous sibling out of the two. Because Zuko might be a mentally matured sixteen-year-old with his own handful of daddy issues, but he is this close to throwing hands at his eleven-year-old baby sister out in their courtyard.

Or: upon being hit by Azula's lightning in the last battle, Zuko finds himself back in time to when his father just branded half of his face. He also finds himself facing his younger sister, eleven and not a murderer, and through his own mixture of overwhelming pity and resentment for her, realizes he could possibly save not just all the people she killed- but herself as well.

In other words: Zuko wants to make things right for Azula (who was never given a chance by anyone), so he essentially drags her along with him on his life-changing field trip as a tired nanny.

heirloom - jublis

(avatar: the last airbender; gen; azula redemption; angst; series; 56k words; ongoing)

The weight of the world rests on the shoulders of children. In spite of it all, they still find enough place to grow.

[my bookmarks: fuck i’m gonna cry again]

Leaves and Shells - ChimaeraKitten

(avatar: the last airbender; gen; angst; zuko-centric; 2k)

Zuko thought he knew how to deal with grief. But loss is different every time, and losing the one person who anchored him through all the other turmoil is its own special kind of pain. Luckily Zuko is not quite as alone as he once was.

Names - TGP

(avatar: the last airbender; jetko; angst; amnesia au; 89k words)

His name is Li. At least, that’s what the villagers call him and when they die in a Fire Nation attack, he carries that name with him to the Freedom Fighters and a war that will test every fiber of his being.

Where Zuko ends and Li begins is a muddled thing indeed.

[my bookmarks: i don’t ship jetko but... but this... i did NOT see this fic coming and it hit me with the feels train... hard.]

CROSSOVERS:

In His Element(s) - WriterGreenReads

(boku no hero academia x avatar: the last airbender; gen; aang-centric; 111k words; ongoing)

“So… one more time.” Shouta pinched the bridge of his nose, regretting both waking up this morning and possibly existence in general. “You’re the spiritual avatar of an entirely different world, and in the process of keeping the peace with said spirits, originating from your… dimension, you’ve come to our world to stop the actively malicious versions of your spirits, because our world told your world that something was wrong.” The child shrugged and grinned, looking much too cheery for someone currently in handcuffs. “Pretty much!” he chirped. “Your world spirit is really polite, too. Ours was super grumpy about all the spirits escaping, but then yours said it was ok, so long as I teach her more about them on the way back!”"

Aang chases some renegade spirits across worldly borders and possibly makes some new friends along the way.

but it's a little too late - @irleggsywrites​

(haikyuu!! x bleach; kageyama x ichigo; gen; humor; 11k words; ongoing)

Kageyama's elusive "girlfriend" turns out to be a bizarre ginger-haired boy who isn't Hinata. Subsequently, he may or may not lose it at some point.

Karasuno's getting kind of suspicious of Kageyama's relationship. It seems like he always runs into trouble around this guy, and some things aren't adding up. When push comes to shove, they aren't afraid to show their protective streak, especially when it comes to their youngest.

Ichigo likes his new volleyball-playing boyfriend a lot. He just wishes ghosts would stop crashing their dates, because it's a real mood-killer.

(This is 110% crack. HQ!! focused.)

Ignis Aurum Probat - writing_addict

(fullmetal alchemist: brotherhood x how to train your dragon; gen; angst; humor; 37k words; ongoing)

Edward Elric is born early into the dead of winter, on an island twelve days North of Hopeless and a few degrees south of Freezing-To-Death. He comes into the world sickly and small--and endlessly defiant, burning with the kind of rage that can shake the foundations of the universe. The gods themselves hear that scream, that roar of fury and thunder promising to remake the world as they know it, and wonder.

Fifteen years later, Ed brings down the Night Fury that's been plaguing his people for generations, stands over it with the perfect opportunity to make the kill...and spares it. And just like that, the Norns begin weaving the fate of a hero.

[valkyrieofsmut]

At Your Service, Alpha   7

Alpha!Kurt Wagner (Nightcrawler) x omega!Reader

Descriptions:   Kurt is apartment sitting for his friend and the last thing he expected to find was his one true omega, but there she was. Except she can’t seem to tell they belong together. (Y/n) has dreamed about the day she would meet her one true alpha her whole life. A new, blue, alpha comes to see her every day, and she hates him! Until she starts thinking about him all the time. Her allergies make it so she can’t smell anything, but she knows that her alpha will let her know when he finds her. Won’t he?

A/n- Sorry it’s been so long for this story! Just been swamped by everything going on 😭 I hope you enjoy it! Feel free to comment, vote, or just read. I love you all and hope you’re doing ok! We’ll get through this, stay safe!

Masterlist     Series Masterlist

Story!

(Y/n)'s heat lasted two days longer than normal, which usurped the fact that it had started a week early as the weirdest thing that had ever happened. 

(Y/n) stepped out of the shower, feeling a clear head and sinuses for the first time since her last heat. 

After getting dressed in her uniform and pulling her shoes on, she headed to the door to leave for work. 

However, as soon as she opened it, she froze. 

That smell. 

That hot, dark, safe, manly smell. 

(Y/n)'s nose was drawn to the side, pressing against the door jamb. 

That warm, delicious, wonderful, amazing smell. 

Alex was right, an alpha had marked her door. 

That smell… 

She needed to leave for work. She straightened and started down the hall to work. 

That smell. 

It permeated her mind, her thoughts, made her feet turn back until she was standing at the door again, her nose against it. 

She needed that smell. 

(Y/n)'s hands moved over the jamb, running back and forth over the smell, gathering it in her palms. It started slowly, but she started swaying, back and forth, rubbing her face and shoulders against the wood as well. 

Oh, that smell… 

A door down the hall closed and she came rushing back to her thoughts. 

She needed to get to work. 

(Y/n) looked at her phone for the time, and saw that she was going to be late. 

A bit of panic filled her belly. She turned and hurried out of the building, nearly running as she headed toward the cafe. 

Kurt looked around as the few other patrons at the cafe so early chatted. 

(Y/n) had to be coming to work today, he'd smelled that she'd finished her heat the afternoon before, and he needed to see her, to assure himself that she was alright more than anything, but it was a need borne from a feeling of loss at not seeing her for a week, nearly a week and a half. 

He looked up as (Y/n) hurried to his table, tieing her apron around her waist and pulling a menu from the front pocket. 

“Good morning!” She offered with a smile. 

Kurt smiled back, but his expression froze, edging into confusion as her scent seemed dull. 

“Is- is there something wrong?” (Y/n) asked. 

“Nein,” he answered, but his expression was still off. 

She brought him coffee and set it up on his table, but he was still eyeing her in a strange way. 

(Y/n) could feel the heat in her cheeks and kept her head lowered a little as she looked at him. “Are you sure there's nothing wrong?” 

His eyes seemed to focus, looking her in the eye now. “Ja.” (Y/n)’s back was to him as she went back to the cafe, and his eyes trailed over it as his mind searched for what was strange. 

He had alternated between forcing himself to edge off some of the rut in the shower and guarding the door to make sure no other alphas tried to get into (Y/n)’s apartment, and he was certain that none had, and nothing that he could tell had happened, so why was something so different? 

Alex looked up from the register as (Y/n) walked in, hiding her smile long enough for the customer she was helping to leave. “So.” 

(Y/n) looked at her questioningly. 

“Finally found an alpha, huh?” Her grin grew as (Y/n) blushed. 

“No,” she protested. 

“Smells like it…” Alex sang. 

(Y/n) blushed darker. “I didn't, there was just this smell…” 

Alex stopped grinning and sighed. “Oh, where that alpha marked. Why did you go rolling around in it?” 

“Order up,” one if the cooks called as he put a plate on the counter, and (Y/n) gratefully took the opportunity to leave without having to explain herself. 

(Y/n) stepped to Kurt’s table and set the plate down. 

“Thank you for waiting,” she told him. 

Kurt’s eyes widened as (Y/n) leaned forward with the pastry. “That smell-” 

The reason her scent seemed dulled was that she smelled like him! 

(Y/n) blushed as she looked up. “Oh… yeah…” 

He was just staring at her and it was making her feel awkward. 

“I… There was this delicious smell… and…” 

Kurt’s brows rose as his eyes widened further. “Du- Liebling, you can smell right now?” 

(Y/n)'s face heated. “I- well… Um, it’s complicated-” She wasn't sure what to say, but she was rescued by another customer getting her attention. “I’ll be right there,” she called, turning to Kurt to excuse herself. 

His hand met her arm and she felt a zing of heat. “Tell me on your break,” he suggested, and she nodded. 

(Y/n) spent the time between trying to figure out what to say to him. 

Finally, she just sat across from him after checking out for her break, and said, “I can’t smell anything, most of the time. The only time I can smell things is if I take my allergy medicine, which is expensive and not particularly worth it, or, um… Just after a hot shower, but... only if I’ve just finished a heat…” 

Kurt followed silently through most of it, until she got to the last line, and his brow rose. “So, what you’re saying is… You can smell things right now, but only for- how long?” 

She could smell, she’d smelled his scent and had loved it so much she’d rolled around in it, but now she couldn’t smell him, because she’d covered herself in his scent and couldn’t tell that it was coming from him. 

He needed to get her to smell that it was coming from him, or he wouldn’t get another chance for a month, and he wasn’t sure if Scott would be back by then. 

“Um… It depends on how much pollen and stuff there is in the air that I’m allergic to.” 

Kurt could feel his time ticking. 

It was going to have to be soon. 

He needed a plan, quickly. Now, preferably. 

(Y/n) finished her shift, feeling a little strange that Kurt had such an intent look on his face when he looked at her now. 

She was just stopping by to give his check, and he reached for it, causing a catastrophe. 

His sleeve caught on the knife, which caught the plate his discarded lettuce and tomato were settled atop his fork on, making it tumble forward to catch the handle of the mug of cool tea, which bumped into his glass of ice water, which tumbled and caught the spoon sticking out of the coffee mug, and his hand moved forward to stop this, but hit the edge of the plate, and the fork laying over it, letting the fork fly, all of this ending in the coffee splashing over her stomach, the water hitting and running down her arm, and the sandwich toppings hitting her chest. 

She looked down in shock, and to Kurt where he stared at her in apology. 

“I am so sorry, Liebling,” he said quietly. 

(Y/n) looked down again and took a breath, bringing herself to pick the lettuce and tomato from her chest, dropping them on the plate again and shaking off her arm. “It’s- it’s ok. I know you didn’t mean to… It would have taken some heavy duty planning to make that mess all orchestrate like that on purpose,” she told him. 

Kurt lifted the corner of his lips in an apologetic smile and dropped to his knees on the ground where she had gotten down to pick up the other cutlery and dishes. 

(Y/n) was being so kind about the whole thing, it made him feel even worse that he had planned it out to the last detail, making as big of a mess on her as possible, needing her to take another shower to get his scent off of her so she could smell that he was the source of it. 

“It’s ok, I’ve got it,” she told him, picking up the last of the dishes as the other customers murmured about the excitement. 

(Y/n) carried the tray into the cafe to a gasp from Alex as she made her way to the dish room. 

“What happened?” She asked as she followed her into the room. 

(Y/n) sighed and shook her head. “An accident.” 

“Are you ok?” Alex asked. 

“Let’s just say that I’m glad I get off in a few minutes,” (Y/n) answered, turning so she could survey the damage. 

“Who did it?” 

“I told you, it was an accident,” (Y/n) told her, wiping at the wet spots down her front. 

“Who?” She demanded. 

“Kurt,” (Y/n) admitted. 

“That- the- the same one that was giving you problems at first?” 

(Y/n) nodded as she continued wiping. 

“Oh my- What if he did it on purpose?” She asked, and (Y/n) shot her a look. “What if he didn’t like that you smelled like another Alpha, and spilled all that on you so that you had to shower?!” 

“Alex,” (Y/n) chided, “I told you; it was an accident. I swear; you’d have to have a freaking degree to set that chaos up on purpose.” 

“Maybe he has a freaking degree,” she answered. 

“Maybe you're trying to make things true because you want them to be,” (Y/n) told her. 

Alex still insisted on being worried about her, but (Y/n) brushed her off. 

A nice, hot shower awaited her when she got home, and she was overjoyed that her sinuses remained open. 

Tag List!

@otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore  @racheo91  @tephi101  @lilypalmer1987  @pingu89  @gifsbysimplysonia  @omnomsauruswrites  @keldachick  @Randomfandompenguin  @mannls  @screeching-student-unknown  @lizfawn  @ya-lyublu-tebya  @their-bibliophile  @the-fifth-marauder03  @colourforanamee  

[pickalilywrites]

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

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

My First Love Come Back to Me

Eretra. Big AU. 

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

12788 words. 

Read on Ao3!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then you’ll be fine,” he tells her. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, congrats!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m well. How are you?” 

“Good,” Eren answers.

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

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

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

Eren winces but doesn’t say anything. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You do?” 

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

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

“Oh, you don’t have to -” 

“Or you could visit me?” she suggests. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[shes-ddreaming]

the eyes that lost you ➸ lee donghyuck

i.

✧ destination ↬ best friends to lovers + fluff, angst,,, all that jazz yak

✧ a party of two for ↬ lee donghyuck x reader

✧ duration of flight ↬ 2.5k

✧ in stereo ↬ exo - what if

✧ in which your best friend donghyuck decides to pretend to be someone else’s boyfriend, leaving you to confront the only thing you’ve been avoiding your whole life—your feelings for him.

donghyuck had confessed to you a long time ago. and if you only knew that you’d be hurting like this now, you would’ve said yes to him in a heartbeat. but you didn’t; you had decided that your friendship was more important than anything, rejecting your best friend’s confession.

he took your rejection lightly, telling you that your friendship was just as important to him as it was to you. “look, y/n, i love you not because i had any intention of making you my girlfriend, but because... i love you for .. you. and if you’d much rather stay friends, then i’m all for it. i’ll be your best friend—whatever you want me to be, i’ll be.” he was sincere, and you appreciated that more than anything. you were more than grateful that donghyuck understood your reasoning behind the rejection.

and a day later, things went right back to normal, never a moment of awkwardness. he was still the same best friend you’ve had since you came out of the womb. it was as if his confession never happened.

and that’s all it took for you to make lee donghyuck your best friend for life. he was your constant, the one person in your life who has always stayed by your side. so many of your friends have come and gone, but donghyuck wasn’t one of them.

here you were, not even 3 years later, your eyes were on your best friend whose hair has grown a little longer from how it was when he confessed. he’s a lot taller now, standing a good 6 inches or so above you. it seems like a lot about him has changed, and his feelings for you were not an exception. but there was one thing that could never change, and that was you being his best friend.

the object of his lingering glances is no longer you, but it just had to be kang mina. you weren’t surprised—she was annoyingly pretty, smart, and funny. not only that, she happened to be the class president. donghyuck? vice president. everyone called them a match made in heaven. you hated how you felt when he was around her. you hated how your heart would fall every time you caught sight of him stealing glances at her. it wasn’t fair. it wasn’t fair to donghyuck. what right do you have to catch feelings for him when you let him suffer from his feelings for you for so long?

the guilt had eaten you up for a long time. you liked to believe that your suffering now was your way to repay the pain you caused donghyuck for liking you without any reciprocation all those years.

he always reminded you that he was alright with the way you two were, that you rejecting him didn’t hurt him as much as you thought it did, that he was glad you two were best friends. but it was hard to ignore his obvious feelings for you. you knew deep down that you were hurting him by staying friends, but he never complained. he quietly loved you until he developed feelings for someone else.

it was your turn to realize your feelings, only now it’s too late. you’re in love with your best friend but he’s in love with someone else.

however, it probably wouldn’t hurt as bad if he hadn’t been fake dating her. maybe then you wouldn’t see him in so much pain. you couldn’t bear to witness seeing him doing anything and everything for her when she doesn’t even feel the same way, just like he did for you.

“you’re a hypocrite,” mark says as you bore your heart and soul to him. these days, donghyuck sits with mina at lunch to continue to play the little charade they’ve been onto for weeks. mark lee has been your rock these past few months, always quietly listening to you and offering—what he would call—words of wisdom. you couldn’t count how many times you’ve gone to him to talk about your conflicting feelings about donghyuck. “be honest with me. is the fact that you’re no longer the object of lee donghyuck’s desire the driving force of what you think are your feelings for him?”

leave it to mark lee to be brutally honest with his stupid rhetorical questions. you sigh, putting your head down on the cafeteria table. you were a shitty person, a terrible, shitty person. you feel your lunch tray being moved away from your head. “do i have lettuce in my hair?” mark laughs at you, slapping your shoulder in the process.

“you did. but, i took it off of your hair, dumbass,” he softly pats your head like one would do to a crying toddler. “look, i’m sorry if that was a little mean. i hope i didn’t hurt your feelings or anything.”

“nah, it just got me thinking. do you think i’m projecting my desires of wanting a

boyfriend onto hyuck? or maybe i’m friend-jealous and i’m mistaking it for being in love with him?” you once again steal a glance at the boy who has been all over your thoughts lately and your heart disagreed. whatever these feelings were, they’re definitely not friend-jealousy or whatever mark had called it. you knew in your heart that you loved him.

“oh god i wanna die, i want to actually fucking die.”

mark has this amused look on his face as he helps you pack up once the bell rings for 4th period. “stop thinking about it for now, alright? we can get ice cream after school, it’s on me. i think i owe you.” he takes the textbook you were holding out of your hands and carries it for you, as he reaches his hand out for your backpack. you roll your eyes, taking it off and handing it to him. this was beginning to be a routine for you two whenever you’re sad. mark never lets you carry anything and always walked you to class.

“what did i do to deserve a mark lee?” you wonder out loud, followed by a kick to your shin from mark. you immediately took back what you said. “suddenly i don’t remember ever being friends with a kid named mark.” you hear his obnoxiously loud laugh and shake your head.

“shut up, loser!”

full sun (the best friend) 🌞💖: KDKDKD come heRE

[you questioned: “KDKDKD come heRE”]

full sun (the best friend) 🌞💖: STOP DOING THOSE REACTION THINGS AND REPLY FJDKDKDKD

full sun (the best friend) 🌞💖: PLEASE Y/N OH MY GOD

you: WHAT

full sun (the best friend) 🌞💖: pls come down to my floor rn i need sugar

you: what the fuck

[full sun (the best friend) 🌞💖 disliked “what the fuck”]

full sun (the best friend) 🌞💖: I PROMISE YOU’LL GET TO HAVE SOME OF THE COOKIES I BAKE

full sun (the best friend) 🌞💖: I RAN OUT OF SUGAR I NEED YOUR ASSISTANCE 😔🙏🏽

full sun (the best friend) 🌞💖: I HAVE A COUNCIL MEETING IN LIKE 2 HOURS AND I NEED TO HAVE THE COOKIES DONE BY THEN

you: oh shit i just checked i dont have any sugar

[full sun (the best friend) 🌞💖 disliked “oh shit i just checked i dont have any sugar”]

full sun (the best friend) 🌞💖: god why didn’t apple give the people™ the option to disheart something

full sun (the best friend) 🌞💖: you had one job

full sun (the best friend) 🌞💖: ONE JOB

you: KDKSKSKS IM SORRY LMFAO

you: ALSO I DONT EVEN THINK DISHEART IS THE RIGHT TERM FOR IT

full sun (the best friend) 🌞💖: come to the grocery store w me 🥺👉🏽👈🏽

you: fine 😔

“hey, neighbor!” you hear donghyuck yell from his door as you hold the button that keeps the elevator doors open.

you can already hear mark arguing “you two technically aren’t even neighbors! he lives like two floors below you!”

while donghyuck counters back saying, “yeah but if she lived on my floor then we would live right next door to each other!” you can recall this exact confrontation when the three of you were in 3rd grade.

you and donghyuck have lived in the same apartment building your whole lives—which is also a big reason as to how the pair of you reached best friend status.

“let’s go before the sun starts setting!” he was smiling as he ran towards you and you couldn’t even deny that your heart was doing backflips.

“hurry up before i let go of this button and leave you there,” you threaten him and he laughs, pretending to walk in slow motion. you let go of the button and the elevator doors begin to close in on each other, prompting a loud gasp from donghyuck as he runs as fast as he can to reach the doors before they close completely.

“y/n, what the fuck!” he cries once he reaches the doors and they open back up again. he had his hands on his knees in an attempt to catch his breath and you couldn’t contain your laughter. “i hate you, oh my god! i busted a lung out there trying to catch up to the elevator. i can’t believe you’d do that to me.” you were both laughing now and you watched as he pretended to sob.

the doors of the elevator opened back up once you reached the lobby and donghyuck takes this as an opportunity to run away from you to get to his car before you could beat him there.

he had his payback when he locked the doors before you could even open the door to his car, leaving you there for a good two minutes, yelling “karma, bitch!” before finally letting you in.

“you’re insane!” he just laughs at this, and you two call a truce to stop pulling pranks on each other for the duration of your grocery trip.

“alright, alright. i’ll go drop the sugar off to my house and i’ll meet you at the rooftop,” you nod, waving goodbye to him as he steps foot off the elevator with the grocery bag in his hand and you continue up to the penthouse floor.

you really didn’t know if this was legal. if you were being honest, you had a feeling you were putting your parents’ lease on the line every time you snuck onto the rooftop. you made your way out of the penthouse floor, opening the doors to the fire escape before you were finally met with the stairs that lead up to the rooftop.

you smiled as you looked up to the sky with its various shades of blue, purple, and pink. it was your senior year of high school and you knew you’d miss this once you left home.

you: HURRY UP THE SUN IS SETTING REAL QUICK

you: it’S NOT GONNA WAIT FOR YOUR SLOW ASS

full sun (the best friend) 🌞💖: FUCK FUCK FUCK WAIT IM PUTTING THE COOKIES IN THE OVEN FIRST

full sun (the best friend) 🌞💖: TELL THE SUN TO SLOW DOWN 😤😤 damn even the sun has no pATIENCE

you: damn riGHT so if you don’t hurry up you’re gonna miss it 😔

full sun (the best friend) 🌞💖: ALR ALR THEY’RE IN THE OVEN I’M USAIN BOLTING OUTTA HERE

and usain bolt, he did. donghyuck soon opened the doors out of the fire escape, finally getting a glimpse of the sky as the sun started to set. you seemed to have not noticed him, eyes focused upwards onto the sky.

he stopped in his tracks. donghyuck liked to think he no longer had any feelings for you. “not even any residue,” he would tell himself. but he couldn’t lie that there were some moments that he’d wish you had felt the same way as he once did. this exact moment would make it on that list. you looked cute. your small figure was a good ten feet away from him but despite the distance, he just knew there was no other place you’d rather be at the moment.

“finally!” you yell as he made your way towards you. “i was ready to lasso the sun and keep it here until you got your ass up here.”

he was staring at you, a small smile adorning his features. if the word fond could be personified, it would probably be this exact face he was making.

you finally let go of the breath you had been holding when his eyes leave your face and instead focus onto the sky. “god i’m gonna miss this.”

“the sky? i was thinking the exact-“

“no, us.” oh shit. oh shit. oh shit. you couldn’t even look at him. god, you were blushing like crazy and you prayed that he didn’t notice because you knew you were being crazy obvious right now. “i’m gonna miss us sneaking onto the rooftop to watch the sunset, you know? it’s just- i don’t know. senior year ending has made me become more... sad? i don’t think that’s the right word for it. nostalgic? maybe. every moment just has this sense of finality to it and that scares me.”

you were about to reply, but you were immediately cut off by the sound of his phone ringing. “hey, mina.”

and just as icarus flew too close to the sun, so did you heart. and now you felt it falling straight down to the sea. you didn’t bother to listen to the rest of his conversation on the phone. instead, you watched the sun while it painted the buildings a brilliant shade of golden yellow and casted a shadow onto the trees. but the view of the buildings could never compete with donghyuck as his tanned skin glowed in the golden sunlight and his eyes twinkled in a different shade of brown.

“crap, i almost forgot about my council meeting. i have to go pick up mina, too,” he had a small frown on his face and you giggled. lee donghyuck, how could you be so cute? “are you gonna be okay up here? i’m gonna go get the cookies ready. i’ll leave some at your door, as promised.”

you reject donghyuck’s offer of walking you to your door, telling him that you just wanted to stay here for a little while longer.

mork 🤢: damn senior year rly be hitting different 😩😔😫💦

you: MARK WTF JDDJDJ YOUR EMOJIS GTFO

mork 🤢: y/n i have a story omg facetime me #storytime

mork 🤢: i think my life is starting to become a coming of age movie LMAO

you smile as you read mark’s texts, telling him you’ll facetime him once you get back home. he was right though; senior year really did feel different, and it forced you to confront feelings you’d much rather keep buried, especially in the lee donghyuck department of your heart.

hello! if you made it this far, then thank you 🥺 tbh i was reALLY SCARED TO POST THIS IDK I HAVEN’T ACTUALLY WRITTEN ANYTHING IN AWHILE !! this WILL be continued so stay tuned !! 💖 kjdfakjl also aren’t we all just tryna be hyuck’s best friend 😔✊🏽

[httpjeon]

— 02. bunny blues: conflict | yoongi & jungkook

yoongi/reader/jungkook | angst | hybrid!au

wordcount: 3.9k

contents: jungkook is a dick now im sorry, um bullying?, jealousy

― synopsis: maybe jungkook isn’t as happy as he thought he was

note: reader is a bunny hybrid, kook is a dog hybrid, and yoongi is a human!

blog masterlist ɪɴᴅᴇx: 01 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08

© httpjeon 2019. do not repost, modify, or translate.

"I've found a place for you," It was the first time he'd spoken to you all day -- and it was 7pm. His tone held none of the warmth you were used to, it was cold and detached.

Your reply was a simple 'really?' as you didn't really know what else to ask. You were sitting in your bedroom, except it resembled nothing like it once did. All your belongings were gone except two outfits and one pair of shoes. Your mattress didn't even have your pastel pink sheets on it -- he had only left you with a single blanket.

Part of you wondered when he became cruel but, it could be worse.

Right. It could be worse...

"It's the coworker I told you about," He expanded upon his previous statement, leaning against the door frame with his arms across his chest. He held an almost defensive stance. You must have look quite pathetic sitting in the middle of your empty bedroom playing with a single sock because you felt his place a comforting hand upon your head. "He owns another hybrid so you won't be alone when he works and they're both really nice. Yoongi will be able to provide well for you,"

You didn't offer a response this time, merely pulling a thread out of your sock causing the fabric to frustratingly bunch up. As you straightened it back out, you heard Namjoon sigh and remove his hand from your head. Your ears flopped over your head in response to the loss of contact...of comfort. You heard him begin to walk away, several steps before he stopped once again. You felt his eyes on you.

"I'm really sorry, _____,"

When he shut the door, you buried your face in your knees and cried; all alone in your barren bedroom that was once filled to the brim with love.

As you stood in the little apartment Yoongi and Jungkook owned, you were surprised. Namjoon owned a two story house so this little space was so different. However, it was quite cozy with blankets and pillows thrown about. Two soothing scents mixed together but was being tainted by Namjoon's. His was a scent you were beginning to hate -- it made you feel sad. You had been briefly introduced to the two of them but it didn't ease the awkward tension that filled the space.

Despite your growing anger and disdain towards him, you still found yourself hiding behind him and clinging to the back of his shirt. His warmth and strong muscles beneath his shirt gave you a sense of protection.

Yoongi stood in front of Namjoon, holding a little packet of paper you didn't even realize Joon had been carrying. Jungkook was peeking over the back of the couch, his butt in the air with his fluffy tail wagging happily along with two fluffy ears twitching atop his head.

"She has a pretty specific diet, different to what Jungkook would eat," Namjoon explained as both he and Yoongi looked over the papers. It took you a moment to come to terms that Namjoon had actually created a care guide for your new owner -- an actually sweet gesture. "She's a pretty picky eater, actually, so you can't just slop anything together and feed it to her. She uhhh...she really likes Romaine lettuce, it's her favorite. I usually give the centers to her as a snack since they're really sweet -- y-you can just save them when you feed her and it'll be fine like that. I think she prefers them as a snack,"

As you listened, you noticed that Jungkook's tail stopped wagging and his ears were flopping sadly. Namjoon's voice was no longer strong and detached, instead it was shaky and watery -- mixed in with small sniffles.

"She doesn't like cabbage at all, she'll just refuse to eat it if it has it...also no broccoli, it makes her feel sick," Namjoon sniffled again, his body stiffening when you reflexively hugged him from behind at his distress. "You should keep some protein powder on hand for when she gets sick. You can sprinkle it on her food and it'll help her bounce back faster. If she starts running a fever she turns into a bit of a crybaby. She really hates loud noises so at bathtime you should fill the tub with her out of the room otherwise she'll get scared, and at bedtime you should play rainy mood or something because she really can't sleep in silence her ears are too sensitive, you know. Also she--"

"Namjoon," Yoongi cut the unending rambling off, causing Namjoon to go silent. "Do you really want to do this?"

There was a beat of silence before Namjoon seemed to sober up. His back straightened and he sighed.

"I have to," After he said those cold words, he pulled your hands off from around him and released himself from your embrace. Turning around, you noted he had in fact been crying -- his cheeks were still wet and his eyes were red. As you gazed up at him, you saw his lips trembling as he fought himself from crying again. Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to your forehead one final time. "Goodbye sweetheart,"

He breezed past you and was gone with a simple slam of the door. Yoongi floundered for a moment, unsure of what to do when he saw your eyes begin to water and your chin start to wobble.

"Hey don't cry!" You were suddenly embraced strongly by the puppy hybrid you hadn't even noticed get up from the couch. "How about we go get your room set up! Hey," He paused, looking around you. "why don't you have any things?"

"Oh," Your shoulders slumped and Jungkook squeezed you reassuringly. "Joonie got rid of them because he thought I was going to a shelter instead,"

"Well," Yoongi sighed, scratching his head. "We'll have to do some shopping anyway for your food. I suppose we can go another day to get you some clothes and belongings as well,"

"I'll show you to your room anyway!" Jungkook took your hand and dragged you down the hallway. You looked over your shoulder to see Yoongi staring at the papers Namjoon left. "It's right across the hall from my room, see! And Yoongi-hyungs is all the way down the hallway so I'm closer to you, if you need me any time!"

As you stood in the bedroom, you noticed it was smaller than your old one. The walls were white instead of pink and the floor was wooden instead of carpeted. That was going to be annoying because you sometimes slept on your floor -- it was cooler down there after all. The mattress was completely bare and it was simply on the floor and not on a frame. There wasn't even a dresser and you found yourself tearing up again.

"W-Why are you crying? Don't you like it?" Jungkook panicked, hovering over you as he didn't quite know what to do as you cried into your hands.

"What's the matter?" Yoongi gruffly asked as he entered the room, alerted to the problem from Jungkook's freak out.

"I-I don't know, she just started crying!" Jungkook whimpered, hands still hovering above you as if he wanted to touch you but too scared of upsetting you.

"It's alright, Kook," Yoongi soothed, petting the pup's hair. "She's probably just overwhelmed, isn't that right honey?"

You nodded into your hands when he addressed you. He pulled you into a hug and you buried your face in his neck. For some reason, you found yourself comforted by his scent and quickly spit out what was wrong.

"I-I compared it to Joonie's room I-I'm sorry," Both men in the room stilled when you choked out the confession.

"It's alright, there's nothing wrong with that," Yoongi cooed, stroking your hair softly. "It was what you knew and this is different so you're gonna compare the new to the old, yeah?"

"Y-You're not mad?" You whimpered, pulling away from his chest to ask. He nearly cooed at how cute you looked, eyes wide and teary with a small pout on your lips.

"No, not at all," He smiled, a cute gummy smile that immediately brought a small smile to your lips.

"U-Um what should she wear to...like bed?" Jungkook asked somewhat awkwardly, breaking up the soft bonding moment between you and Yoongi. The older pulled away from you and you took the moment to dry your eyes on your sleeve.

"Well, you don't have anything to sleep in and I assume you don't want to sleep in that dress," You nodded and he placed his hands on his hips. "I suppose you can wear something of mine to bed tonight, yeah?"

"Why not mine?" Jungkook pouted, making Yoongi laugh and ruffle his hair.

"We both know you don't like sharing your clothes, pup, but thank you for trying, that's very sweet," Jungkook shakily smiled at Yoongi's praise. "I'll pick something out for you real quick,"

Yoongi vanished down the hall and you plopped onto the bed, giggling when the mattress made you bounce. When you looked at Jungkook, you noticed his body was completely still and he was spaced out staring at the door.

You started to ask if he was okay when Yoongi entered the room once more. He was holding some dark colored clothes and you pouted a bit -- you never wore dark colors. You didn't voice your opinion, however, as he was nice enough to lend you his clothing.

"They'll probably be a little big on you, but you shouldn't mind. They're soft and smell nice at least," Yoongi chuckled, placing them on the bed beside you. "C'mon Jungkook, let's let her get changed. ______ we'll be in the living room waiting for you, okay? You remember the way?"

His concern immediately had a smile lighting up your face and you nodded. Yoongi's eyes followed your bouncing ears and he reached out, about to pet them before settling for just patting your head. Sometimes humans were scared of touching your ears, you noticed. Joonie was never like that.

You shook your head of that thought before pausing to make sure the two of them didn't notice. Luckily they were both walking out of the room now. With a soft click of the door, you were alone again.

When you exited the room, you wandered down the hallway to find them both sitting on the couch. They both turned to look at you and you grinned. You had put on Yoongi's long sleeved sweater but since it fell to your knees, you decided not to put on the sweatpants.

"Aren't you adorable?" Yoongi cooed, taking your hand and looked you up and down with a grin. "Isn't she precious, Kookie?"

You barely noticed the halfhearted smile Jungkook gave but no actual verbal reply. Yoongi didn't seem to notice either, still beaming at you swimming in his shirt. However, when you yawned, Yoongi cooed again and pet your head.

"Jungkookie will get you a blanket and a pillow and then you can get some sleep okay?" You nodded eagerly and smiled at Jungkook who pursed his lips in response to you. Cocking your head to the side, Yoongi furrowed his brows and looked at Jungkook. "Go on, Kook,"

The pup heaved a sigh and got to his feet, breezing past you as if you didn't exist. You missed the way Yoongi's jaw clenched and his brows furrowed as you bounced after the other hybrid.

By the time you reached him, he was already pulling the things you needed out. Holding your arms out, you let him pile the soft fabric into your hands before he shut the door with a bang -- making you yelp in surprise and drop everything.

"Jungkook!" Yoongi came in, immediately scolding his hybrid, who immediately bowed his head in submission. "Namjoon said you have to be quiet, her ears are more sensitive than yours, you know? You scared her!"

Jungkook didn't supply an answer, his tail sagging behind him as Yoongi picked everything up for you and grabbed your hand to lead you into your room. Jungkook followed, standing outside the bedroom as he watched his owner set your bed up, laughing and smiling with you.

Jungkook's heart filled with jealousy, eyes squinting when Yoongi would pet you or take your hand in his. When you were finally tucked in, Jungkook nearly turned red at the sight of you hugging Yoongi and rubbing your nose against his in a soft bunny kiss. Just as Yoongi kissed your forehead, Jungkook turned on his heels and stomped to his own bedroom -- slamming the door which was followed by a yelp from you.

It didn't take very long for Yoongi to storm into Jungkook's room, hands on his hips and look not happy.

"Why are you being a brat?" He hiss to the hybrid, who only huffed into his pillow. "You agreed to let her stay here!"

"Yeah but I didn't agree for her to wear your clothes and for you to kiss her," Jungkook snapped, voice muffled by his pillow.

"You're jealous?" Yoongi sighed, running a hand through his hair. "She's adjusting Jungkook, things will mellow out soon. Stop being a brat, you're going to make her uncomfortable and the last thing we need is a stressed out bunny -- she could get sick. So be polite and nice to her, be her friend, alright?"

He didn't wait for a response before he stalked out of the room. Jungkook belatedly realized he didn't get a goodnight kiss like you did and it only made the jealousy burn deeper into his heart. He shouldn't have felt it but when he agreed to have you -- he didn't account for the fact he'd have to share Yoongi's attention too.

Perhaps he wasn't as ready to share as he thought he was.

At the first light of sun, you were being awoken with soft pets to your ears. Opening your eyes, you smiled and nuzzled into the touch.

"Oh so you do like it?" Yoongi asked, grinning when you nodded happily. You noticed he was dressed in a t-shirt and jeans; he also smelled really nice. "I put your dress beside you, it's freshly washed and it should be warm from the dryer. Put it on and we can get going, alright?"

At your okay, he gave a little pat to your head before standing up and leaving with a soft click of the door. You sat up in the bed and stretched with a small moan. You had slept really well, the mattress was extremely comfy even if it was on the floor.

After throwing on your dress, you bounced out of the room and into the hallway where you were met with Jungkook. You beamed at him, missing the cold glare he gave you before he spoke.

"Your hair is gross, fix it," Your smile disappeared along with him down the hallway. The happy, cheerful tone from yesterday was long gone and replaced with detached distance.

Yoongi came out of the bathroom just seconds later, pulling his zipper up before pausing and laughing.

"You got a little bedhead, come here," Your smiled returned when he held his hand out for you.

You liked holding his hand, it was nice.

Standing in the bathroom, you giggled at your hair -- it looked like a rats nest. Yoongi fished a comb out of the drawer and set to work combing the knots out.

"You ever do your hair yourself?" He asked you, combing the ends of your hair out.

"No, Joonie really liked doing my hair pretty so I never really did it!" You replied happily, loving the feeling of him touching your hair.

"Well maybe we can teach you to do some styles on your own one of these days," He finished combing your hair and put the comb down when a proud smile. "I don't have any ties or anything to put it up, I hope you don't mind,"

"No it's okay!" You beamed when you received little ear rubs.

"Come on!" Jungkook snapped from down the hall, followed by a little foot stomp.

Yoongi sighed before smiling at you in the mirror. Taking your hand, he led you down the hallway and past Jungkook who trailed behind. They both quickly learned that you didn't know how to tie the laces on your shoes either and Yoongi took that opportunity to coo about how cute you were.

Yoongi was really nice, you decided. He made you feel happy.

As you looked at Jungkook, who was glaring down at his owner with his arms crossed over his chest you wondered why he was in a bad mood. Maybe the new scent of yours mixing with the familiar one had altered his mood for the day. You hoped he would cheer up while you were shopping!

Except, Jungkook only seemed to get more and more irate as the minutes ticked by. You were holding Yoongi's hand, letting him guide you to the correct aisles.

You were practically vibrating with excitement when Yoongi allowed you to choose the things you liked. There were so many soft, pastel colors that left you beaming in happiness.

"I'm going to pick up something from the dog section," Yoongi told you, releasing your hand and patting his grumpy pups head.

"What do you think of this, Kookie? It's so cute!" You asked, holding up a soft purple sweater.

"Don't call me that," Jungkook grumbled, not even looking at you. "And it's ugly,"

"Oh," You felt your ears and shoulders sag in response, merely putting the garment back on the rack. "Okay,"

Yoongi returned a moment later, holding a pair of jeans which he put in the cart as well.

"They're your favorite pair, Kook, I noticed the ones you have no are getting worn," Yoongi explained, earning a simple nod and half hearted smile. "Oh, this is cute ____!"

You followed him to where he was touching the soft fabric of the purple sweater you picked out moments before.

"I-I don't really like it..." Yoongi nodded and put it back, but you couldn't help but stare at it again.

The shopping trip ended without a hitch and you ended up with several bags stuffed full of clothes, shoes and even a couple toys Yoongi let you grab. It was a pain to carry them inside as the clothes were also included in grocery shopping you'd done together.

Later on, Jungkook was watching a nature documentary while you sat on the couch -- watching but not understanding nor retaining what you saw.

"Hey _____, why don't you try on some of your clothes for us!" Yoongi called from where he was beginning to make dinner for the three of you.

The idea had you bouncing to your feet excitedly. You rushed to your room, nearly tripping over Jungkook in the process.

You had meticulously put your clothes away when you got home. You didn't have a dresser so some of your undergarments and t-shirts were still in bags. But you had put your dresses and other nice clothes in the closet.

Yoongi had to help you out putting some of them on the hangers. Namjoon had usually put your clothes away for you, so you didn't exactly have much experience in keeping articles from falling off.

You hurriedly put on your favorite piece from that day, eager to show Yoongi and Jungkook how nice you'd look in it. You didn't bother pairing it with shoes, you were much too lazy for that.

"Look how cute you are!" Yoongi cooed the second you appeared, taking your hand in his and leading in a little twirl. "Isn't she, Kook?"

Your eyes met Jungkook's, eager to hear him compliment you after he had been so cold to you all day. However, the smile disappeared from your face when he simple gave you a once-over with a noncommittal grunt.

At least he didn't say it looked ugly?

Yoongi continued to praise every outfit you showed up. But it wasn't long until dinner was ready and he told you to put your pajamas on.

Now, you had gotten some PJs while shopping but you still slipped Yoongi's sweater on. When you arrived in the kitchen, taking a seat in front of the veggie-based dish Yoongi had made for you, he ruffled your hair.

"Why are you wearing that, silly girl? You got new PJs, remember?" You nodded, your ears flopping over your head from the force.

"But I like your sweater more! It smells really nice and it's cozy!" Yoongi's ears burned red at your words, but you completely missed it.

"Y-You can wear it as long as you'd like then," He whispered, nearly choking as he hurriedly shoved a spoonful of his pasta in his mouth.

However, as you ate, you felt Jungkook's eyes burning into you. You tried to ignore it, but every time you met his eyes you sunk deeper into your chair. You shoveled the rest of your food into your mouth, eager to get away from the tension.

If Yoongi sensed it, he didn't show it or say anything.

You sighed as you crawled into bed, cuddling into a new, soft stuffed animal you had gotten. It felt nice to sleep with something again again after Namjoon had gotten rid of all yours.

You were just about to sleep when your door creaked open, bringing you back to consciousness. You sat up, rubbing your eyes to adjust to the darkness. Jungkook was standing there, silhouetted by the dim nightlight in your room.

"Koo-Jungkook?" You muttered, sitting up in your bed staring at him now.

"You're being annoying," He growled, sounding more aggressive than he had all day.

"W-What?"

"You're clingy, you've been here for like three days and you're already begging for attention," He continued, holding nothing back as he voiced his opinion. "No wonder Namjoon-hyung was so eager to get rid of you. If you're not careful Yoongi-hyung will get tired of you too. He doesn't like people clinging to him like you've been. On top of that, he's never going to love you like you want him too. He's mine, not yours,"

You didn't offer a response, twiddling your fingers over your blanket. His presence was almost as stifling as the pressure his words put upon you.

Clingy...that's what Namjoon had called you.

You couldn't help it, it was your nature. You got attached quickly and maybe you did go overboard but you didn't think you were making Yoongi uncomfortable. But Jungkook definitely knew Yoongi better than you did.

If Yoongi were to get rid of you, you'd be sent to a shelter you were sure. No one would take a bunny who'd been rehoused three times. If you wanted to keep your new home, all the nice things he'd given you and a cozy bed to sleep in, then you'd have to fix yourself. Fix how clingy and needy you were.

You could do that.

You didn't realize you were crying until Jungkook scoffed.

"Crybaby," He muttered before leaving with a quiet click of the door.

You held your sobs in until you heard him enter his own room across the hall. Finally alone, you curled in on yourself and cried into your stuffed animal with only the white noise of the fan above you accompanying you.

[dreamlover31]

Love Will Find a Way: Chapter 23

On a mildly warm day, the sun shone brightly with a few passing clouds in its path, over at a local farmer’s market, Alexa was traipsing through the various fruits and vegetables stands in search of the ingredients she needed for the dinner planned for Rafael later in the evening.

At six months pregnant, she was able to navigate her way around the city without any trouble, except for when it came to climbing up and down stair wells and in most cases, taxi cabs for they only had one vehicle. With a reusable bag in hand, she spotted some delectable tomatoes as well as some ripe bananas and strawberries; in no short order, her eyes shifted over to a stand where a grocer was laying out fresh carrots, celery and lettuce. While she examined its contents, a medium build figure stood behind her, at that moment; a strange sensation overcame her, it felt as if she was being watched.

“Alexa?”

A weird chill slid down her spine as her mind tried to process the voice that called her name, that voice…it sounds so familiar…maybe I’m just hearing things. For what seemed like a few minutes went by before the voice called out to her again.

“Alexa?”

Slowly, she turned and faced its source, her eyes widened at the person who stood before her, the man was tall with broad shoulders and short dark hair, his eyes were a deep shade of blue. At that moment, it was as if time was at a standstill, Alexa was frozen in place like a statue, words built up in her throat but unable to come out, at the same time, her mind was racing; no…this can’t be happening…this can’t be real…oh god, can it really be him? Finally, in a choked voice, Alexa said:

“Sean?”

The man displayed a soft smile as he let out a breath that he didn’t realize he was holding, he was relieved that Alexa recognized him but was cautious at her oncoming reaction towards seeing him given their sordid history, after a few minutes, the tension between them eased.

“Wow…it’s been a long time…um…what are you doing here?”

“Yeah it has, um…well I moved back here a couple months ago, I’m working as a clerk down at the DA’s office”

“Oh…”

Another moment of awkward silence ensued, then his gaze went downwards to Alexa’s growing belly, a small grin stretched across his face.

“So, I guess congratulations are in order?”

Alexa smiled nervously as she placed her hand on top of her belly.

“Yeah”

“So…who’s the lucky dad? Anyone I know?”

“I don’t think so…he’s an assistant district attorney and we’ve been living together for a while now”

“Well, that’s great…I’m really happy for you”

“Thanks”

Suddenly, her phone began ringing from inside her purse, she planted her bag on the ground then scrambled to reach for it. When it was in her grasp, she quickly answered.

“Hello”

Rafael was on the other end of the line, after a frustrating day in court, he found the time to call and check in on his pregnant girlfriend.

“Hey, how your day going?”

“It’s great, I’m just at the farmer’s market picking up some stuff…as they continued their conversation, she tried her best to sound as normal as possible, but today was not a normal day. Ultimately, there was an incoming call from Liv coming from his end, an annoyed grunt could be heard on Alexa’s side of the call.

“Everything ok?”

“No, Liv’s calling me, probably to give me hell on this search warrant that she wants me to get without the evidence to back it up”

“Aww, well don’t worry, I’ll have something special for you when you get home tonight”

“Oh…well now I feel better”

They laughed simultaneously before bidding farewell to each other, after she placed her phone back in her purse, Alexa picked up her bag and turned to face Sean again.

“Listen, I have to get home and get dinner started…but it was nice seeing you”

“Yeah…sure…ok, well I guess I’ll see you around”

Alexa nodded as she made her way to the checkout line, she paid for the assortment of fruits and vegetables then hailed a cab, during the drive back to the brownstone; her mind was in a daze. After all this time, the man who had caused her so much heartache, who had committed the ultimate act of betrayal, has now re-entered her life.

She wasn’t sure how to process this encounter, if she should tell Rafael or anyone else for that matter, Jesus Christ…what a day, well I’m sure this was just a onetime thing and I probably won’t see him again anyway…at any rate, I already found someone better. Later that evening, Alexa was setting the table when she heard keys turning the lock on the front door, she smiled as she saw Rafael walked through the door, as soon as he set his briefcase down and slipped off his jacket; he joined Alexa at the table where he gave her a peck on the cheek.

“How was your day?”

“Oh, you know the usual, Liv bringing me a case with weak evidence and shaky eyewitness testimony, and then acting like a child who doesn’t get her way when I can’t get her a search warrant”

“I’m sorry you had such a stressful day…come on, why don’t you sit down and I’ll get your dinner ready”

“Thank you,” he said as he gave her another kiss.

A few minutes passed before Alexa came back with two plates filled with a stunning display of her culinary skills, when she set them down, Rafael reached over and pulled her chair out enough so she could sit. Alexa thanked him for his act of gentlemanly kindness, but then she realized that their meal was absent of drinks, Alexa began to get up but was stopped by Rafael’s hand.

“No, it’s ok, I got it”

Rafael left his seat and retrieved his glass of scotch and a glass of water for Alexa, once he settled back into position, they picked up their utensils and proceeded to cut into their meal. As they dined, Rafael could sense that the atmosphere between them was unsettling, Alexa was eerily quiet and barely batted an eye towards him. In that instant, he reached out and propped his hand on her knee, she ceased her motions while her eyes flickered over to him.

“Hey, are you ok?”

“Mhmm, I’m fine”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m fine Rafi…now finish your dinner before it gets cold”

He smirked as he resumed to feast upon his meal, even though in the back of his mind, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was out of sorts with her. However, he was not going to push the issue given her condition, when everything was cleared from their plates; Rafael placed the dishes in the dishwasher.

Meanwhile, Alexa, at her own pace, made the trek up the stairs and into their bedroom where she disrobed and squeezed into a pair of maternity style pajamas, in her peripheral vision, she saw Rafael entered the room just as she was buttoning up the last button on her shirt.

Quickly, he changed out of his suit and into his black pajama bottoms and grey shirt, he then pulled back the covers and helped Alexa into bed, after she was comfortable; Rafael slid up behind her. His arm draped over her as he laid his chin on top of her shoulder, after a short while, their slow breathing lulled them into a peaceful sleep.

Tagging: @madpanda75 @laceybellerain @southern-magnolia @tropes-and-tales @beccabarba @teamsladsandgents @karens-imagined-world @itsjustmyfantasyroom @thatesqcrush @glimmerglittergirl @madamsnape921