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janaeekook · 3 years

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Press your Number; (1)

pairing: badboy!taemin x (f) reader

word count: 3.2k

warnings: drug use, illegal drug dealing, smutty smut, switch leaning dom!taemin (tw:Jonghyun is mentioned as a character)

When did You meet him? A complicated question really. Taemin. He held secrets in his heart, he was dangerous, maybe that was what intrigued you most about the boy. Sure the leather jacket he always wore was an addition.

College, the day before freshman year, a large party at the neighboring frat to your sorority. That was when you first saw him, when his eyes first hypnotized your mind. It was a rather prestigious school, and Taemin never really fit. That group never fit. Meaning they weren’t the typical pretentious rich kid whose daddy paid full tuition.

You were your parents pride, pretty-headstrong-straight-A-student. It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows having wealth, more than you had any idea what to do with. There were standards to be upheld and met, to embarrass yourself would be to embarrass your family.

You’d had a well off relationship with your father, You knew he wanted the best for you. He worked hard so that You’d have a better foot hold in life. You knew that You would be aloof without him, struggling to make ends meet. You didn’t want that. That fear to struggle alone kept you on track, until You went to college of course.

•

The lecture hall was full, though only a handful were still awake. The monotonous voice of your professor, a steady yet peaceful lullaby. The boy next to you jolted awake as the professors voice became louder.

“End of term papers should be turned in on my desk by tomorrow, until then, class dismissed.” The classmates around you grabbed their things, and hurried out of the hall.

“You got the notes for me princess?”

“You shouldn’t fall asleep every class, Taemin. Not everyone is going to do your biding.”

“Hmm, I don’t know I think I can be pretty convincing, don’t you think?” You could feel the smirk radiant from his perfect lips.

“Whatever.” Your face burned, as you stood up and headed for the door.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” Taemin’s voice came up behind you, “Let me make it up to you. Tonight.”

“There’s a party tonight.”

“Then your house will be empty?” You could hear the mischievous tone in his voice.

“Taemin-“

“Come on please?”

You sighed, “Fine, but if any of them come home-“

“I hide in the closet and don’t make a sound.” He waved it off nonchalantly.

“It’s serious Taemin, if my father were to get wind of anything that’s going on...” You paused, trying to find the right words.

“He won’t go along with it, I know.” He said as we made it into the hall.

“Y/n!” Your friend, Mia, called your name from down the hall.

“I’ll be over at 9.” Taemin whispered before slipping amongst the crowd. You let the familiar shiver ghost up your spine, Taemin always did that to you, and it was only his words. His hands, however, made you shake in pleasure and anticipation.

“Are you ready for the party tonight?” Mia asked excitedly linking arms.

“Aw you know, I don’t think I can make it. I need to pack, my dad is coming tomorrow afternoon after classes.”

“Y/n l/n? Not prepared? It can’t be.” She jokingly gasped.

“Ya, ya, I’ll be fine.” Mia chuckled as you went back to the house.

•

You bid the girls goodbye, it was 9:30, they claimed they couldn’t be early even if the party was just a few houses down, they had to show up fashionably late. You’d texted Taemin to just wait in his car until they left.

“Thirty minutes, that’s how long I sat there.” Taemin informed you as he came through the door. You giggled as he grabbed your waist and pulled you against him, the kiss he placed on your lips was hungry, desperate, your arms snaked around his neck. You were pushed against the wall next to the front door, “Though, it gave me time to think of what I can do to you tonight.” He pulled away to speak, moving his lips to the sensitive skin of your neck.

His hand slipped beneath your polka-dot pajama shorts. Pulling your panties to the side he plunged a finger into you. The gasped moan that fell past your lips held longing. You’d missed his touch, it was enough to drive you over the edge already. The sloppy circles he drew over your clit with his thumb made your body shake lightly.

You pulled away lightly your mouth hung somewhat open and eyes hooded in pleasure, “Upstairs.” You managed to get out. Taemin got the hint before pulling away and letting you lead him up the steps.

The door shut behind Taemin before he grabbed you from behind and latched his lips onto your neck again. Your breath was shaky in your throat.

“God I’m gonna miss this.” Taemin mumbled into your neck, the words served as a reminder that it was the last week of school before winter break. You’d be going home, returning to the city, the upper east side of New York, for the holidays.

You were going to miss the freedom of college for 4 weeks, you were going to miss Taemin’s touch, the way he made your body feel. He didn’t hold back, he wanted to proclaim to whatever God, show them exactly how much he loved you. He knew, however, that he couldn’t have more than these secret—behind closed doors— meet ups, hiding away your relationship from prying eyes. He wasn’t of ‘her class’ as they’d say, image and reputation mattered, and he didn’t fit that image.

As he thrust into you from behind, his pace got almost unbearable as he slammed his cock deeper inside you. Unintentionally taking his anger out on your body, your cries of pleasure were muffled, your face having been pressed into the mattress. Tears and saliva wetting the blankets beneath you, your senses where completely heightened as you felt your orgasm approaching. And when his cock brought you your release it was his name you cried out in pure ecstasy— but he didn’t stop his menstruations, the seemingly endless slapping of your skin with his.

Your body shook, the overstimulation taking its toll. He pulled you up so that your back was pressed against his bare chest, “T-Taemin I can’t-“ you spoke through breathless moans.

“No baby, I know you can,” He reassured you before bringing his hand around to rub harsh circles over your clit, “Give me another one.”

His combined efforts hurtled you over the edge again in less than a minute. Tears continually streamed down your cheeks, and a chocked sob left your throat, before Taemin met his own release with a low grunt in your ear.

You collapsed next to each other, catching your breaths. Your breaths mixing in the steamy mess of your bedroom. Taemin rolled onto his side, facing you before he grabbed your chin and kissed you, it was hungry yet passionate. It strangely really felt like ‘goodbye’ rather than the ‘see you later’ it used to be.

“What’s wrong?” You ask when he pulls away.

“I just-“ He shook his head, sending you a small closed mouth smile, “Never mind, It’s not important.”

He said it in his head, screamed it, ‘I love you, please don’t choose someone else, please don’t walk away.’ However he knew he’d never say it to you. He was bad for you, his tendencies and habits. He knew it wouldn’t be more than these secret meetings. You’d find someone, or your father would, who gave you more than his own criminal-like tendencies could. He knew you’d be happier in someone else’s arms.

•

The last day of classes was easy, term papers all turned in. Taemin fell asleep in class again, everything was normal, to the finest degree.

“I’ll drive you home.” Taemin had said to you, you nodded to him with a smile. You reached his car, a dark green 1970 Chevy Impala, a very Taemin car in your opinion. He opened the passenger door for you.

“How chivalrous of you.” Your words causing him to roll his eyes as he shut the door, to which you chuckled, “So what do I owe the pleasure, you taking me home?” You asked once he was in the drivers seat.

He shrugged, as he pulled away from the curb and continued down the street, “I won’t see you for awhile, might as well enjoy your company.”

You snorted, “No need to get all sappy with me Lee, I’m sure you’ll have me tangled in the sheets the day we come back to campus.”

Silence filled the car as he drove down the streets. You could sense he had something on his mind, like he had the urge to say something. And he didn’t the whole way, until you were parked across the street from the sorority both your backs leaning against the driver side of the car. Taemin lit a cigarette taking a few drags before finally speaking, the brisk breeze blowing the cloud of tobacco your way.

“What about your father?” His words held a bitter twinge to them— as if mentioning him left a bad taste in his mouth.

You looked over and up at him as you studied his face for any indication of what he meant, “What about him?” His eyes bore down into your own with the upmost intensity. free from prying eyes. Or so you thought.

Taemin shook his head, “Nevermind.” You overlooked the pained smile he had forced on his features. Stepping on his cigarette before moving in front of you he grabbed your cheek then placing his lips upon your own, the same hunger they always had beneath it made you crack a smile against his lips. He pressed your back flush against the side of his car.

“Taemin, as much fun as you fucking me against your car sounds, it’s probably not the best idea.” Your voice was breathy as you pulled away.

“I’ll be subtle about it.” He smirked. You considered it, the street was pretty much barren, void of any prying eyes. Or so you thought.

“My dad will be here to pick me up soon.”

“Tch, your lose.” He said before stepping away from you.

“I’ll see you in a couple weeks.” You smiled, pecking at his lips before walking across the street but you stopped half way turning back around to face him, “And Taemin, don’t be a stranger, text me.”

“Ya, ya, as you wish.” He waved you off with a smile, “Have fun.”

You waved to him as he drove away, and when you turned to go inside you heard a car honk. You turned around again only for your fathers ginormous black suburban to pull up, and to your surprise your father was the one driving.

When he got out you gave him a bear hug, you were his little girl.

“Oof,” he let out along with a chuckle, “Your hugs never get old, sweetheart. You ready to go?”

“Where’s Kevin?” You asked when you released him from the hug, curious as to where your fathers driver was.

“He had some business to attend to.” He reassured you, “I assume you have everything packed? We don’t want to keep your mother waiting.”

“Ya I just have to grab my bag.”

•

5 minutes prior;

Your father watched from where you had parked further down the street, he was seething. Watching as some random boy pinned his daughter between himself and the car. He was bad news, searching for a climb up the New York social latter.

The leather jacket, the car, the cigarettes, the way he handled his precious daughter. He was no where near the standard he held for his daughter.

“Sir?” Kevin asked from the drivers seat.

“Tail him, find out who he is, I never want him coming near my daughter again.”

“Sir, are you saying-“

“Yes. Take him out.”

•

Taemin;

He sat on the couch in the back of the club— the typical hangout. He had a new cigarette sitting between his middle and pointer finger, Jinki came threw the door to his office, a large stack of cash in hand.

“Hey jackass this isn’t a lodging house, feet off the couch.” Taemin scoffed but ultimately listened, sitting up.

“Is that all from last night?” He asked.

“Only half.”

“Shit.” Kibum said from his spot on the floor, most likely high with the way he was slurring his words, “We should put Taemin on the stage more often.”

“We getting our shares?” Minho asked as he cleaned his gun.

“Push me and your answer will be no. Kibum, stop testing the fucking merchandise, I’m not afraid to cut your share.” Laughter bubbled in Kibums throat, “Jonghyun, can you sober him up? I need him to sell tonight.”

Jonghyun sighed, “On it.”

“Taemin— I’m putting you on section 3, bachelorette party.”

“Fantastic.” He said before taking another drag from his cigarette.

The 5 of them worked together, Jinki bought the club a couple years back. He hired strippers, waitresses and bar tenders, and the 5 of them worked the illegal dealings, most of the time. But after a male stripper left on short notice, Taemin stepped in. And the costumers loved him. Kibum sold illegal drugs to mingling groups, usually with the help of Taemin. Minho covers security— checking Id’s and such, and Jonghyun dj’s, the whole ordeal wouldn’t work without him.

Before he went out and danced almost fully naked in front of random women. He texted you.

T: goodnight, sleep well

Y/n: Lee Taemin going to bed early? Who are you???

Taemin couldn’t help but smile at his screen, he could hear your voice as he read it.

T: No, but I know you do

Y/n: You got me there...

T: Sleep well

•

The previous week drifted past and it was Christmas Eve. Snow now on the ground, it absorbed the noise around it, making everything fall quite.

The club wasn’t the ideal place any regular person would find themselves on Christmas. But the boys were all Taemin had, the only people he could truly consider family.

“JESUS KIBUM!” Jinki’s voice shouted, the boy in question was slouched over on the couch, passed out. He didn’t even stir.

“He’s cooked, good luck with that.” Minho snorted.

“We had a new buyer meeting set up tonight, willing to pay double for 7 grams.”

“I can do it.” Taemin shrugged, and it was settled. A Simple deal, nothing he couldn’t handle.

You;

Piano played carols downstairs, the annual Christmas Eve party your father threw was in full swing. The wealthy families in the neighborhood attended talked business and such. Though you were preoccupied, starring at the screen of your phone, waiting for Taemin to text you back, you sighed when nothing popped up you left your phone on you bed before slipping back down the stairs to join the crowd.

“Y/n, darling, there you are! There’s someone your father would like you to meet.” Your mother spoke, she grabbed your hand guiding you in the foyer. You saw your father talking to a man about his age.

“Ah, sweetheart!” Your father greeted with a warm smile, “This is Mr. and Mrs. Wong, We work closely together.”

“It’s wonderful to meet you Mr. and Mrs. Wong.” You said with a bright smile.

“And, can’t forget their wonderful son, very intelligent young man.” Your father gestured to the boy who stood with them, you hadn’t even realized he was there until that very moment. He was handsome, he grabbed your hand kissing the back of it lightly.

“I’m Lucas.” He greeted and you swore that smile would make you melt, your cheeks burned crimson. You knew what your father was proposing with Lucas, and you couldn’t exactly fight him in it. In a life such as yours, your choices are made for you, including who to love and marry. Though you felt loving Lucas would come easier than you’d imagined.

Taemin;

Taemin was leaned against a graffiti covered wall in a quiet alley way, waiting for this new costumer Jinki had spoken of. The guy eventually came down the alley, Taemin rolled his eyes at how obvious this new-bee was being.

“Hey are you-“ he started.

“Ya, ya, you got the money?”

“Can I see the product first?” The man asked, Taemin rolled his eyes before taking out the bag holding it up, “That’s it?”

“It’s what you asked for, 7 grams.”

“I don’t remember that.” The guy argued.

“Look, take it or leave it dude.”

But he didn’t respond, that’s when Taemin saw the flashing lights, his stomach dropped, “NYPD, come out of the alley with your hands up!”

“You set this up? Fucking snitch.” He spat before he went barreling down the other side of the alley. He ran to his car, speeding off, his mind was racing a thousand miles per minute. He knew if they didn’t know his car by now they’d know soon.

He pulled up behind the club, rushing out of the car and then inside. Taemin shoved Jinki the second he saw him, The tensions quickly going from 0 to 100.

“The bastard called the cops!” Taemin yelled.

“Fucking shit.” Jinki spoke.

“I have to go, I-I have to leave.” Taemin was freaking out.

“Taemin we can figure this out, you don’t have to go anywhere.” Jonghyun stepped in.

“I’m not taking you all down with me- I’m sorry, I’ll contact you all when it’s safe.”

And with that Taemin was out the door again, hearing the sirens off in the distance only serving to heighten his unrest. As he sped through the bustling night streets. He pulled out his phone as he headed for the countryside, in hopes to disappear and lay low for a bit.

He pressed your number, his heart ached when you didn’t answer. He took a deep breath to steady his voice, going to speak when the tone sounded.

“Hey, Y/n, uh— I got into some trouble, I won’t be able to talk until it’s safe- Uh b-but I will, don’t worry too much about me.”

He wished he could’ve heard your voice, spoken directly to you. It would’ve calmed him down, cleared his mind enough to be aware of the black suburban tailing behind him. Would’ve prepared him for the pit maneuver that sent his car into a tree.

He coughed on the smoke before pushing the car door open, and falling out onto the asphalt. Taemin looked up to see the man from the alley way.

“You-“ Taemin croaked, blood from a cut on his forehead dripped down his face, “What? Are you a cop?”

He chuckled, “Taemin, you simply messed with the wrong family. And pissed off a powerful father.”

“You’re mistaken, Ive never met the guy.” Taemin’s hoarse voice spoke again.

“You really think he doesn’t keep tabs on her?”

“So what are you here for? To threaten me to not go near her again?” He asked groaning as he rose to his feet.

“Not exactly.” The man, Kevin, raised his arm. A gun in hand. And before Taemin had time to react it was too late. A twisted game of class resulting in blood shed. For she was higher than he.

The final sounds hushed by the snow that began to fall; were that of a gun shot and a body crumpling to the cool earth below.

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xlady-saya · 4 years

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Hello! I don’t really use this account a whole lot but I wanted to go ahead and make a pinned post, which I’ll hopefully remember to update frequently lol. Anyways, here’s a collection of the fics I’ve written for aftg, andreil, and others so far ^^

progress comes in small steps series [complete]

and we’re just starting to get it [Rated T, 11.1k]

Neil is nothing and everything all at once, the entire universe for Andrew, however small of a universe that is. Even Aaron is starting to see it, though the pieces still don't line up.

And Andrew is trying to convince Aaron that he's never jealous? Yeah right. You don't spend your entire life being denied, being hurt, going through foster care with nothing to call your own only to be okay with someone else trying to take the one bright piece of life you call yours.

Or, Aaron is done with Andrew's shit and makes it his job to prove his brother wrong.

there’s always more to learn [Rated T, 12.3k]

The subject of Katelyn and Neil hasn't felt like dangerous territory in a long time, but Aaron feels the bomb countdown already coming to an end before Bee even opens her mouth.

"Well, the two of them are so alike," Bee goes on, oblivious to the tension leaking into the space. Her smile is pleasant, teasing. "It just goes to show how you and Andrew have similar tastes despite being so different."

The world freezes on its axis.

Andrew inhales a little too loudly the same time Aaron chokes on his spit. "W-What?"

trust is a slow process [Rated T, 7.3k]

If Katelyn had been stealthier, she could've escaped the crowded dance floor without Andrew seeing her.

But of course, she's no Neil.

Or: Katelyn and Andrew spend some unwanted quality time together, and Katelyn sees things for what they are.

someday there won’t be scowls [Rated T, 8.1k]

Neil finds that even with his mind's best efforts to hang onto the wounds of the past, his opinion of Aaron just isn't what it used to be. He can thank Andrew and Katelyn for a lot of it, but his own observations certainly help.

When he sees Aaron like this, the mix of worry and adoration on his face as he thinks of Katelyn, Neil can't help but feel too exposed himself.

It's a start.

I want this touch to be familiar [Rated E, 38.1k]

Deep down, Andrew knew he would always reach this crossroads, a time where the thought became too strong to ignore.

Going all the way with Neil. It's not something he can continue to avoid thinking about. When Andrew looks back to the days where he held Neil's hands down, when he never got off with him in the same room, he's forced to acknowledge how much he's allowed.

Not allowed. Welcomed. Wanted.

But that’s not all there is to it, and the desire to make a decision finally makes itself known.

if magic exists, you’re the closest thing [Rated T, 16.2k]

The concept of love is not one Andrew understands.

For a long time, it escaped him. It's always fuzzy, always distorted. He'd given up on it long ago, so why is he still chasing answers?

Whatever the reason, he's content to blame Jean Moreau for a lot of things, Katelyn too.

It's their fault he's here, at the happiest place on earth.

this red is for you [Rated T, 10.8k]

Katelyn never considered herself capable of doling out violence.

It has always been a far away thought, dampened by college courses and late night dates with her boyfriend. She lives a stereotypical life, despite everything she's been through with Aaron. Aside from her growing connection with the notoriously troublesome Foxes, nothing much about her life has changed.

Even then, she's learning she's still able to surprise herself. When Katelyn witnesses Neil defending Andrew, her own protective rage rears its head, ready to be explored.

And maybe that's a good thing.

an unconventional crossing [Rated T, 8.1k]

Aaron likes to believe he and Andrew have a lot more practice navigating their conversations now. And he’s right, mostly. But sometimes, challenges arise at the strangest times, and especially when their significant others are concerned.

In which Andrew and Aaron run into each other at the grocery store, and choose not to part ways.

the roads I traveled with you [Rated T, 35.5k]

When his brother gets engaged, Aaron doesn't expect it to send his head spinning as much as it does. Marriage has always felt like a dream, or a nightmare, one he never thought either of them would be able to achieve.

In that moment, Aaron remembers what he's always known, what keeps his head above water. He wants to be with Katelyn forever. That's never been a question. But marriage hadn't been brought up. For so long it was this abstract concept, a fantasy. He'd always reasoned with himself that it would happen, rationally of course it would, but now...

Now Andrew has made the idea a reality, and Aaron has to confront his own wants for his future.

one shots/multichapters

I’ve had a love of my own [Rated T, ongoing]

Despite everything Neil could’ve imagined for his life, he never thought he’d be here, finally giving the world the interview they’ve always wanted.

It’s been decades, but even with his numerous accolades and sports wins, he finds that they’re the least important thing about his life.

Neil can’t help but laugh. Andrew would be so annoyed if he were here.

Of course, Neil only wants to talk about him, and the life they spent together.

slurred [Rated M, 1.6k]

They're not the type of people to give up control, but with each other they're willing to bend the rules.

growing pains [Rated T, 10.6k]

Stuart knows it’s perfectly normal for teenagers to have crushes. That’s why he’s not surprised in the slightest when Neil starts acting strange; lighter, happier. However, what he doesn’t expect is for the crush to leak into his everyday life—or literally take up residence in his house. Or: five times Stuart knew Neil was hiding a nighttime guest, and one time he actually met him.

your hands are mine to hold [Rated E, 6.7k]

It has taken a long time for Thea to accept a lot of aspects of their past. Her eyes track the fear in Kevin's eyes, emboldened by how his own resolve wears it away year by year. She'll never take that sight for granted.

It's hard to ignore the weights on both of them, with their lives so eaten up by the Exy world and memories of the Nest, but one thing has always remained consistent.

Thea trusts Kevin Day with her everything, and she'll never hesitate to follow him into battle.

better than a night light [Rated T, 7.3k]

Neil hasn’t had the chance to examine the feeling of fear in a long time. He’s all too familiar with it though; from the nightmares, to the memories of a cold basement floor, he knows the feeling like the back of his hand.

But this fear is new, loaded with ridiculousness and a complete lack of reason. It’s nothing more than pixels on a screen, far away theories that can’t hurt him like his past can.

Maybe that’s why he’s beginning to not mind it as much. It doesn’t hurt that Andrew is also there to hold him through it.

Playtime [Rated E, 6.7k]

There was a time when Andrew might've questioned being so into this.

Not anymore.

take what you want [Rated E, 5.4k]

Laila has come a long way from her freshman year, past all the worries and pressure to behave a certain way. She never thought she’d realize it here, lounging poolside with her girlfriend.

The urge to seduce Alvarez is just too good to let go.

a product of absence [Rated T, 7.8k]

It’s funny, Andrew thinks, that this would be seen as a curse in any other situation. Two people, thrown apart by time and circumstances, desperately searching for one another.

But Andrew has never doubted Neil’s return. He’s not running, he’s not worried. It’s perhaps the only waiting game that’s been worth it, that he understands, because this bond with Neil has only ever made sense to him.

In another life, Neil made this much clear: they would always find each other in the end.

here I am, there you go again [Rated T, 17.5k]

There's many things about the past Neil chooses to leave behind, and most of the time it's for the best. For some reason though, his brain can't help but cling to the last memories of him.

"My Ex." Neil bites his tongue at the word, because it never feels right. At this point, so many years later, that man is no one. A stranger. He shouldn't presume to know him anymore than his ex should presume to know Neil.

If he remembers Neil at all.

But Neil should know better than anyone that the past always has a way of catching up to him, and this time, he's not as willing to run as he might've initially thought.

losing battle [Rated M, 3.4k]

It's always been Nicky's dream to be closer with his cousins. However, when he opens Andrew's mail to find more than he bargained for, he finds himself regretting the wish. Unfortunately, no matter how much Andrew's warmed up to him in the last few years, Nicky's pretty sure he'll die (literally) if Andrew finds out.

Nicky's mission begins.

temper, temper [Rated T, 3.7k]

"You paid for the deluxe package," Neil says as he scrolls through his payment history to find his client's invoice. His system is simple:

Basic Package: Fuck you. A general statement of displeasure and a brief description of the wrongdoing.

Intermediate Package: Fuck you, with passion. Everything in the basic package, but with additional insults. Customizable for an extra fee.

Deluxe Package: Fuck you to hell. Everything from the first two packages, for an extended period of time, and with extra viciousness.

And it looks like Andrew Minyard is the unlucky soul today.

a new contract [Rated T, 7.2k]

Neil’s request is simple on its face, but infinitely complicated given his history.

“Convince your team to sign me.”

And this was Andrew’s deal: If Neil can prove that he’s serious, that he can build a new life for himself so that he doesn’t end up crawling back to Riko, Andrew will convince his coach to recommend him for recruitment in the fall.

Yes, it was meant to be black and white…

But Andrew should’ve known better. Nothing ever is.

What a Rush [Rated E, 1.6k]

It's always Andrew's goal to stretch Neil's pleasure to its limits, and he's barely begun to scratch the surface.

locked together [Rated E, 8.3k]

Andrew licks his lips and tugs on the tail of the beast inside him, righting it so it can point him in the direction of what he's searching for. Neil looks good on top of him, panting and giddy, and it's rare that Andrew doesn't want to flip them over and make Neil fall apart.

But...every once in a while...

Well, he's relaxed today. He wants to listen, he wants orders, he wants to be controlled so long as the control comes from Neil.

do you like scary movies? [Rated T, 22.5k]

To say Andrew has never seen the benefit in the make-believe would be a lie. However, he finds less and less use for it as he grows older. He especially fails to see the benefits of anything from the horror genre; he’s made plenty of his own mistakes, has seen more than enough to terrify him in his life. He doesn’t need to rely on jump scares and idiotic protagonists.

But when he meets Neil, self-proclaimed horror archivist, he finds that maybe he never gave the genre the credit it was due, and he ends up thanking the dull movies eventually…

They lead him to Neil, the realest thing he’s ever known.

#aftg #andreil #my fics #my writing #all for the game #kateaaron #kevthea #other pairings

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neverendingstories00 · 3 years

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a winnix! found family au with easy company as kids part one out of a million!!

hi, hello! i’m back on my bullshit again. the creativity train had once stopped at my brain. I may have a thousand wip’s but tonight I’ve decided to focus solely on this one. also a ton of credit to @apairofwingsforme for rambling with me about this idea, thanks buddy! anyways, my mind is literally a terrifying place 😁 please send help. i’m literally at my breaking point

Also this is part one out of..a lot! I wanna write a fic of this, but school is a bitch. This is just winnix at the moment, but I promise I’ll start talking about easy company as kids and how chaotic it is. Literally. Child! Luz is going to be a little monster. But hey, only seven more weeks!!

It's a modern au. Both dick and Lew have been married for seven years and are happier than ever.

Okay! But before the found family part, time for the backstory!

dick and lew both met in college when there were in the same intro to marketing class. dick was struggling in the class and absolutely despised Lew, who he stereotyped as a “typical New Yorker '' as Dick donned his bean boots and flannel shirts. However, Dick learned not to make assumptions about people. Their study sessions would turn into long conversations about the newest episode of Mad Men, their families in Lancaster and Manhattan, etc. Dick and Lew grew to be best friends.

Dick felt strange around Lew. He wanted to hate him, but he couldn't. He would catch himself staring at Lew for too long and a strange feeling in his stomach. Lew caught onto this, but said nothing. He was overthinking it. Dick was the poster catholic boy with his outfits head to toe from LL Bean, carried a tiny bible in his backpack, etc. Lew knew Dick was too good for him. Besides, there was no way he would be gay.

One thing led to another and the complicated relationship between Dick and Lew changed. Dick had sworn off alcohol, but had no idea that the orange juice was a screwdriver. Dick got intoxicated and Lew dragged him back to his dorm. Next thing he knew, Lew woke up, cuddled with Dick in his neat dorm room.

After that little incident, things became awkward. They were in their senior year; friends for four years and the awkward tension was high between them. After they graduated, there was an afterparty held at their old farneity. Dick, of course, had won vladicictroain and Lew won salutadorian (shockingly). Dick knew that if it wasn’t for Lew three years ago, he wouldn’t be where he is.

So in a little corner, Dick walked up to Nixon and gifted him an apple pie, fresh from The Winter’s farm in Lancaster, thanking him for all he’s done for him. Nixon smirked and knew that Dick would give him some pie, but he was still nice about it. He took Dick to his room and gave him cufflinks that he bought especially for Dick from Nordstrom because during their freshman year, Dick was in charge of planning events in their fraternity. It was movie night and in 2007, Casino Royale was all the hype. Nobody came to the movie night since there was a huge football game and party after. Dick sat there, popcorn all made and even pushed the coaches together, and nobody showed up. He considered just packing up and calling it a night until he heard the door slam open. As he was cleaning up, Dick ran right into Lew.

“Hi, hello. Sorry I’m late, I was busy doing...stuff.”

“Oh,” Dick would reply, “I was just packing up.”

“What movie?”

“Casino Royale. Nobody’s coming though.”

“Well, is the popcorn still hot?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, consider me your customer.”

Dick and Lew watched the movie. Lew never shuts up during the film. Dick talks ethier to tell Lew to be quiet or that he loves Daniel Craig’s cufflinks. Lew made a mental note of that.

The night of graduation, stuffed in Dick’s little dorm room, was the last time Dick and Lew ever saw each other. For a while, atleast. They had a heated makeuout session that followed with awkward but passionate sex. The next morning, it was a screaming match between Lew and Dick. Dick didn’t even remember what it was about-he was too upset. He simply finished packing, threw the stuff into the back of his subaru outback, and drove back to Lancaster.

Seven years flew by, and Dick and Lew hadn’t spoken a word. Both of them were no longer twenty two year old’s who had no idea what they were doing with their life-they were now twenty nine, both trying to figure out their lives.

Dick worked as an accountant in Philadelphia, Boston, Hartford, and jumped around the east coast. He didn’t really enjoy his job so he went back to Franklin and Marshall to become a History Teacher. He had been looking for work for some time and eventually found a teaching job at a boy’s school in Bronxville. It was a job, after all.

So Dick arrives in Bronoxville and gets an email. He recognizes the last time-it’s Lew. He heard about Dick moving and wanted to catch up. Dick was new to Bronoxville and as reluctant as he was, he agreed to meet with Lew.

Lew and Dick meet at Rosie’s, a nice little Italian restaurant in the middle of Bronoxville. Lew surprises Dick, and greets him with a “going my way?”. Lew looks different; he’s gotten more handsome with age, his hair is shorter but still unruly with a tint of gray, and there’s a good amount of stubble. He hasn’t changed one bit.

Their first meeting went well. Just like Dick, Lew had a rocky start after college. Lew had foolishly gotten married to some girl he had gone to boarding school with. They barely lasted a year, and Lew left the marriage with a child he had no custody with and a large penthouse in Tribeca. Life had been lonely. He worked as an economist for a while, but hated the job and quit. With no job and a failing marriage, Lew turned to one resort; alcohol. He had nobody and nothing left in life.

Dick could see the fire that was once in Lew slowly dying out. The once sarcastic and dry Lew became a self--deprecating and lonely man with too much money and time on his hands. Naturally, Dick pitied him. He could see that Lew still loved him-if he didn’t, then how did he find out about Dick moving to Bronxville? How did he find out about Dick’s new job? Why did Lew take Dick to the nicest restaurant in Bronxville. And still, even though seven years had gone by, Dick was still in love with Lew. He’d come up in his thoughts once and while, but now, when faced with him-it was hard to resist those old feelings.

Dick was worried about Lew. So being the Architect he is (mbti type wise, he’s an INTJ), he creates a plan. Lew comes down from the city to Bronxivlle on Fridays and they meet at Rosies. They catch up on their week. From court cases to annoying students, the little things that they share each make their day a little better.

Dick was well aware of Lew’s alcoholism. It was noticeable in college, but it seemed to have worsened as Lew got older. Dick encouraged Lewis to go to therapy. When things had gotten to the worst, Lew enrolled in rehab (all thanks to Dick). He saw the stubbornness in Dick and the clear frustration. Dick wasn’t one for emotions, but when he saw Lewis with a bloody forehead because he fell down the stairs, barely able to speak, Dick sobbed in the waiting room at the hospital. Lewis had never seen Dick ever be that emotional. He was hurt.

That’s when Lewis realized two things. One, he needed to fix himself. If he kept living this deductive lifestyle, he could end up dead. He didn’t want that. And Two, as much as he repressed it-he was still in love with Dick.

Lew finally deals with his issues, ranging from alcohol to his childhood trauma and abuse. It was all with the help of Dick. Dick was there for him every step on the way, playing the role as that supportive friend. Here they were, two thirty year olds. Lew would’ve never imagined being friends with a Quaker that was too good for him, but there he was.

One night, after they had dinner at Rosies, Dick and Lew go back to Dick’s tiny little colonial house. It’s not his house, but a shared apartment. It’s small, but it’s something. Lew is shocked by the living conditions, and Dick simply finds the place charming. They laugh, lock eyes, and next thing they know their lips are clashing together, rushing to take off their clothes as they fit onto Dick’s small bed.

Seven years later, they finally realize they're in love with each other and officially start dating. Dick moves to Lew’s apartment and they live there together for a while. Both getting sick of their lives in the city, Lew decides they need a break from the city and the states.

A year later, Lew proposes to Dick at Rosies, all thanks to the help of Anne Winters, Blanche, Kitty Gorgan, and Harry Welsh. Dick happily accepts, and yes; he sheds a tear. And so does Lew. Everybody sheds a solid tear; it’s a beautiful moment.

Three days before their wedding, Dick and Lew elope on the rooftop of their apartment complex. They invite the same people who helped Lewis propose to Dick. It’s a small and intimate ceremony. Their dance song is “Flightless Bird, American Mouth”. They wanted to get married without the big crowd and Lewis’s “rich jerk friends'' and “daddy’s money”.

For the next seven years, Dick and Lew travel the world. They live all over Europe. From London, To Austria, to Tokyo-they do it all. Dick always ends up sunburnt and Lew is always wearing his classic aviators, wanting to take a photo of Dick. Whenever they go to a new location, Lew always forces Dick to pose next to something, whether that be the La Fontana Dei Quattro Fiumi or the Tokyo tower, and then he sets the photo as his lock screen. Now THAT is romance right there.

Seven years of travel is a lot. Dick and Lew traveled back to the states once in a while for Holidays, but spent most of their time overseas. They are both now in their late thirties and a little exhausted from travel.

Whenever they go to a forgien country, Lew has a tendency to buy shot glasses from each country even though he’s sworn off drinking. I just want to imagine Lew, dragging Dick into a little chaka shop and being like “Oh look darling! Aren’t these adorable” and Dick would just sigh.

So after their final destination, Greece, Dick and Lew decide to retreat back to the states. They don’t wanna live in the city, so they choose to move to the quaint Lancaster. Dick mentioned that he and his friends used to go explore this abandoned farmhouse that wasn’t too far from where he used to live (about 20 mins). Lew wants to be a romantic so he decides to pay a whole lotta money to revinate the barn into a modern mansion. Here’s a picture for reference. Lew goes the extra mile and Dick is like “ *insert eye roll emoji* lew, were two people. Lew would give him a little kiss on the cheek, “and? I’m making room for the dogs.

Oh I should add that Lew officially retires (he has loads of money, it’s called inheritance baby!) while Dick considers it, but chooses not too. He chooses to live the peaceful life of a farmer.

OKAY, but here is the very juicy part

Reminder that there house is like...fucking huge. Like ridiculously big. Like there are so many rooms, and they are furnished. Like what is the point of having furnished rooms if you only have two people living in the house??

Also Lew and Dick adopt a whole armanda of dogs. If you want specifics, they have a collie named Lassie, two westie named Lovey and Duffer, A carin named Toto, Beethoven the St.Bernard, and Copper the hound dog. Oh-and that’s the start. So. Many. BUNNIES.

Dick knows Lew. He already has a child that he’s unfortunately not been able to raise since he barely has custody over his child. He seems to like his own dogs over his children. Dick doesn’t mind. Sure, he’s worked with kids, but he’s okay not having them. He does like his dogs, after all.

Harry, Dick and Lew’s best friend from college, doesn’t live far from them. He’s been married to his college sweetheart, Kitty, for five years. Together, they have a little son named Louie. Harry comes over a lot with Louie, and Louie plays with the dogs in the backyard. Dick’s a very observant person; he sees the relationship between Louie, the dogs, Lewis, and Harry. Lewis doesn’t mind Louie. Actually, he likes the kid. He’ll run around the backyard with Louie and their dog.

So Dick starts thinking about children. Maybe he’s changed his mind; maybe he wants a kid. One or two would be fine. It could be through adoption, help a family out or a kid who’s stuck in the system. Dick is like a mother when he wants to help others around him.

One night, Dick and Lew are sitting in bed. Did I mention all the dogs sleep in their bed. When shopping for furniture, Lew wanted to pick out a bed to fit all of the animals they were gonna have. Dick didn’t like the idea and made the dogs all sleep in their crates. But one night, Lew walked in on Dick snoring, lovey and dovey tucked right next to his stomach and feet. Lew once again, takes a photo, and shows it to Dick, who’s as red as a tomato.

Dick does a little sigh and Lew looks up from his book, his reading glasses slipping down his nose. He’d be like “oh, what is it now sweetheart?”

“We have such a big house, Lew. Twenty rooms and only two people live in the house-”

“Actually Six dogs and three rabbits. The dogs sleep with us and the rabbits...wherever they sleep.”

“Lew, I know you don’t like children but-”

Lew holds up Toto, who tilts her head. “But look at her! Yeah, you’re a good girl aren’t you? Daddy's little girl!”

“You love Louie-”

“Yeah, cause he’s not mine. He’s a nice kid. But children, especially teenagers, are the devils of this earth. You need to fear them, pay for them, do all kinds of stuff. With dog’s it’s easier.”

“I love our animals, but just one or two. We have so much space in the house. Help out a child who needs it. I know you don’t wanna admit it, but your great with kids-”

“Not my own. I don’t even know my own daughter. Kathy got married to some damn twink. How the hell do you think I’d be a good father?”

Dick gives him that *insert pouty emoji* look. “Just think about, Lew.”

So Lew actually thinks about. He walks around the house, feeling and seeing the quietness. They do have thousands of empty rooms and a little too much freetime on their hands. Plus, Lew hates the puppy eye stare Dick gives him.

#this was A LOT #more then I was expecting #I just really love my gay dads #second part will have the rest as easy #either as kids or cringey teens #it's gonna be a LOT #trust me it won't be as heavy as this #stay tuned!#band of brothers #winnix #lewis nixon #dick winters #my writing

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pickalilywrites · 3 years

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

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My First Love Come Back to Me

Eretra. Big AU.

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

12788 words.

Read on Ao3!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then you’ll be fine,” he tells her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, congrats!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m well. How are you?”

“Good,” Eren answers.

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

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

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

Eren winces but doesn’t say anything.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You do?”

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

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

“Oh, you don’t have to -”

“Or you could visit me?” she suggests.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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strangest-loser · 4 years

Text

Twilight Rewrite

Fire in my Blood ~ Jasper Hale x OC ~ Book One - Chapter One

Masterlist

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

I had never given much thought as to how I would die, I expected it could be for some stupid accident or some kind of murder or something, I had hoped I would live to 102 and pass away in my sleep peacefully and without struggle, but if you told me I would die the week before my 18th birthday because I was being hunted by monsters that belong only in storybooks, I would have called you insane.

Forks, Washington was one of the coldest, rainiest places in all of the world as Alessia knew it, but she loved it. It was her home and it was where her friends and father were. After her parent’s messy divorce her mother Renée moved south with Alessia’s little sister Isabella to Phoenix, Arizona while she stayed with her father Charlie. Alessia adored her father and spent her childhood years following him around like a puppy (to the point where family friend Billy Black had nicknamed her “The little shadow”). She had a happy childhood with her friends Jacob and his pack of boys down at the reserve and it was often that her father had to come wrangle her out of some form of trouble that she had no doubt instigated.

Alessia’s favorite time of year, however, was when her baby sister came to visit them for the summer holidays. Alessia would spend two weeks getting a sunburn in Arizona sitting in front of a tv while her mother bought them little cakes and treats from some bakery for desert every night and she never failed to stick herself with a cactus needle at least once every trip. And as soon as those two weeks were up the summer dresses and shorts were traded for sturdy boots and rain jackets as Alessia dragged Bella through the forest surrounding their home for the next month, expertly weaving through the trees to get to the fort she had built with her father out of branches and slats of wood.

Getting older was what separated the sisters, who as children were thick as thieves. Bella grew to resent the time spent in the rain and cold and longed to spend more time in Phoenix with their mom and her friends, and while Alessia was still extended the invitation to stay with her mother and sister every year she couldn’t help but begin to pull away from that part of her life, the closer she grew with her father the more she began to feel like a stranger with her mother. Funny stories about her and her father’s antics that were mentioned at the dinner table caused her mother to stiffen and made the air uncomfortable, and the longer that Alessia spent in Arizona the more desperately homesick she grew for Forks. It was mutually decided, however, that Alessia would not come to Phoenix as often when her mother got a new boyfriend. Phil was nice and all, but she did not feel the same sense of comfort around her mother and sister, and her status as a stranger was reinforced to a degree that by the age of 13 Alessia stopped going altogether.

But she was happy, anyone who met her could see that. She enjoyed watching football with her father, Billy, and Jacob. She loved having bonfires on the beach with her boys and sharing scary stories only to spend the evening hiding from each other and scaring each other. She was silly and goofy but she was serious where it mattered, like letting her friend Leah run with her pack of boys on the threat that she would ignore them until they stopped being mean and let her play. She was kind and loving, meeting her friend Jessica in middle school and being her number one supporter, punching anyone who dared make fun of her insecure friend because she was so intelligent.

As she grew up Alessia grew extremely beautiful, but not in a conventional way, she didn’t remind people of the models in all of the magazines that Jessica would show her. She was beautiful in the way the woods were at sunset with the light shooting through the trees. She was strong and smart and pretty and caring, but she was also loud, opinionated, funny, sassy and quite honestly, she was wild. She had inherited her father’s brown hair and brown eyes, but there was something so uniquely ‘Alessia’ about her appearance.

Her freshman year of high school went much smoother than the movies would have you believe for Alessia. Her grades were good, and they were well maintained by letting Jessica tutor her because “Being a tutor would make me look good on my college applications Alessia!”. And while Forks football team didn’t enter many leagues (and lost all the ones that they did enter) Alessia managed to convince the faculty to let the girls who didn’t want to be on the volleyball team organize their own cheer squad for both teams, her argument being that if there were people cheering the teams on they might actually start winning.

Sophomore year was infinitely more interesting with the addition of five more students to their tiny school. The Cullen’s were extremely interesting additions to Alessia’s life. In her own year, the three elder students joined her classes, Emmet Cullen who was funny and nice was her partner for English class its it was a wonder they got anything done at all with their running jokes about Mr. Mason and their literary texts as a whole. Emmet’s girlfriend was Rosalie Hale who was extremely beautiful but smart as a whip, she was strangely cold towards Alessia at the beginning of the year but eventually began to warm up to her at the request of Emmet (“she really isn’t all that bad Rose”) and with two new friends in her classes Alessia couldn’t be happier. It was the third sibling who was in her history class that threw her for a loop.

Jasper Hale was Rosalie’s twin brother and he was the only one of the group of five who wasn’t very fond of Alessia, the other two, Alice and Edward were in the year below them and they were always welcoming towards Alessia, especially Alice who greeted her every morning with a friendly hug before launching into some random topic of conversation. But Jasper seemed to avoid her like the plague which did bother Alessia at first being that she wasn’t very used to people not liking her (her friendly demeanor often meant that people found her friendly and likeable), but after a while she grew used to it, accepting that maybe he just didn’t like her, and that was ok.

The strangest thing about the whole scenario was that while Alessia thought herself to be friends with the Cullens, it seemed that she was the only one, because according to Jessica Alessia was the only one they would entertain the thought of speaking to, let alone hang out with.

The next year is the year that everything changed, for one she began to evenly split her time between the Cullens and her other friend group consisting of Jessica, Angela, Eric, Mike, and Tyler. She would spend lunches with the Cullens and she would hang out with the others every evening after school, she spent weekends on the reserve with Jacob and Leah and the guys and her nights were spent watching sports and playing board games with her father. She was content with how her Junior year was going until March rolled around and the cold wind swept her sister back into her life and caused the hurricane that completely rearranged her world.

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

Early morning was officially the worst time to be alive, the cold crept through all three blankets on the bed and the hoodie that Alessia was sleeping in that night, and while the cold was never normally something that Alessia minded, 6:30 am was not the ideal time to face it. After taking a shower that seemed way too short and wrestling with her printer to get her Spanish homework for the day ahead she emerged from her room in her usual winter cheer uniform in its navy and gold colours with leggings, trainers and a yellow cardigan over top because Forks in March didn’t mess around and Alessia knew her classrooms would be freezing. Before making her way down to the kitchen she let her eyes linger to the door opposing hers, a door to a room that she had spent the last week clearing out and organizing. It was weird that Bella was coming after all this time, Alessia missed her sister but they had been apart for so long that it was like they were strangers at this point. A car horn is what brought her out of her daze as she rushed down the stairs grabbing her keys, wallet and an apple for some form of breakfast (Alessia wasn’t a breakfast person because eating food so early in the morning made her feel sick, but she knew it would stress Charlie out if she didn’t eat something) before disappearing out the door of her empty house. Her dad’s cruiser wasn’t parked in the driveway which was expected, he always left earlier than Alessia did, what was there instead was a pristine red Mercedes at the end of the driveway with the lights on and inside it sat Rosalie and Alice waiting for her. Alessia’s voice broke through the morning fog as she jogged towards the car, “you know, I should hate you for making me drive to school in a convertible in this weather” the smile that spread across Rosalie’s face matched the one on Alessia’s own as she replied, “yeah well you don’t so get in before I make you walk”.

According to Jessica arriving to school with the Cullens still managed to cause people to stare at Alessia, which she never noticed as she had been doing it for over a year now while trying to save up for a new car, that was a fact she didn’t dare share with any of her friends since when her phone decided to explode one day and stop working she told Alice that she needed a new one and the very next day Rosalie handed her an iPhone that there was no way she could afford, she still had it and took more care of that thing than she did to her own life. No way that was ever happening again. Hopping out of the side of the car after it pulled into its usual spot, she grabbed her backpack and pulled out the notes she needed to give back to Emmet from English the night before. “one of these days I wont be around to save your life you know” he spoke out with his usual mischievous look on his face, “yeah, yeah” she bounced back as she made her way across the parking lot to Tyler’s van where everyone else sat. She was immediately bombarded with everyone asking her if she was coming to the movies that evening. “sorry to disappoint but I have to go to the airport, my sister gets here today” the collective groan at her absence make her laugh as she told them not to be such babies and that she would see them with Bella the next morning, “I don’t want any of you numbskulls giving her any shit tomorrow you hear me?” she said pointing her accusing finger at the three guys in front of her, all of whom faked offence at even the notion. Their goofing off continued until the first period bell rang and Jessica and the others being a grade below her headed off to their homeroom as she headed towards APUSH.

Alessia adored history and she was highest in her class apart from Jasper. Not that she minded (she definitely minded), her teacher Mr Finch was one of her favorite people. He was a kind man in his 40s who had a genuine passion for teaching. Her seat in the back, left corner of the room was right next to the rooms only radiator which was busted but the corner gave her enough cover to be left out of sight by the teacher, she wasn’t in the mood to pay too much attention that morning considering she didn’t grab a coffee before she left the house.

The chatter of her fellow classmates played like white noise as Alessia pulled the top of her chocolate coloured hair into a hair tie and began pulling her homework out of her backpack before giving up and laying her head on the desk in front of her and groaning softly. Her early morning seemed to finally catch up with her, so much so that she did not notice the figure take up the desk beside hers until she heard him speak.

“well, don’t you just look chipper this morning” a southern voice broke through her sleepy haze and caused her mind to stop working for a second. The fact that Jasper was willing speaking to her was definitely new but Alessia was many things and a smartass was one of them. “yeah? well you know your day is off to a great start when you wake up and your first thought is, ‘no’.” she fired back at him raising her head to send a lazy smile his way. The chuckle that left him would have probably made Alessia’s knees weak if she were awake enough to comprehend it “yeah, I know the feeling”.

A smirk broke out on the 18-year old's face as her spine straightened and she looked him dead in his topaz coloured eyes. “did you just… agree with me?” Jasper immediately turned away to face the front of the room, still without a teacher, “oh I wish I could take- “, “nope! You said it! no take-backs!”.

The exasperated look that met her then forced a giggle out of her as she stuck her tongue out at him. “What? I was a very irritating child”, this was met with another chuckle but before he could give another reply Mr Finch’s voice called out as he finally entered the room and commanded all their eyes to the front of the room once more. Alessia let an uncontrollable smile grace her lips as her mind processed what just happened.

Maybe he didn’t completely despise her after all.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

#twilight x reader #jasper hale x reader #twilight #twilight rewrite #x oc #original character #Alessia Swan OC #fire in my blood #bella swan #edward cullen #alice cullen #rosalie twilight #rosalie hale #jasper hale

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wonjaekook · 5 years

Text

Growing Pains

A/N: The last trope was pretty heavy, so we’re going with something a little lighter this time (also because Mark Lee is the sweetest, most awkward boy ever and I love him)

21 Tropes: 5. Roommates AU + black w/Mark

Description: When you see him again, Mark Lee is both the same and very, very different. Since he’s changed, some of your feelings towards him change as well.

Word Count: 4.5k

Genre: fluff, slight angst

Warnings: somewhat suggestive (sex mentions? idk what to call it lol), swearing

The first time he saw your underwear, it was white. At the time, it hadn’t meant much to him at all. You were both toddlers, and you saw each other like that many times afterwards. For kids, it wasn’t anything abnormal, so every time it happened, he promptly forgot about it.

You and Mark were as thick as thieves back then - you barely spent a day away from each other. Thinking back on it, that togetherness didn’t last all that long, but it was enough for you to think about him for years afterwards. Unbeknownst to you until much later, it left an impression on him, too. But, all good things must come to an end, and, one sunny summer day, Mark’s mother tells your mother that his family is moving away before school is back in session. Your mom tries to let you know as gently as possible, but you’re still heartbroken, wailing and crying for your best friend not to leave you. Ever influenced by your emotions, Mark cries along with you, but promises that you’ll meet again one day. It’s a child’s promise, but it’s something. It’s enough for you to stand there instead of chasing after the car, sniffling with teary red eyes, as you just watch his family drive away.

Your first professor on your first day of college brings back that memory. As a writing exercise, he asks you to recall a time you had been very emotional and to explain how you felt then. You’re filled with a sense of melancholy - Mark Lee was not someone you had thought about in a long time.

As you take a seat in your next class, not in the back, but not in the front, you make a quick scan of your class. Other students file in slowly and, when you don’t recognize anyone from the small handful of acquaintances you’d made so far from orientation or your floor, you almost regret attending a university where virtually no one from your high school went. One boy with dark, wavy hair looks almost familiar, but, when he doesn’t meet your eyes and walks in with another tall boy, you lose hope and just look down at your desk. The class eventually settles and your history professor introduces herself before beginning roll call. You raise your hand when she calls your name and proceed to zone out again. That is, until a name from your past calls you back to reality for the second time that day.

“Mark Lee?” You instantly look up, turning your head to scan the classroom. If, even on the off chance…

You turn around to see the wavy haired boy from before, finding that he’s looking at you, too. The professor calls his name again more persistently and his hand snaps up. “Here, sorry.” She brushes it off, but you don’t, continuing to look at him for just a bit longer. He gives you the same smile that you’d never forgotten and you can’t help but smile back.

“Mark,” you say, sidling up to him after class, “how are you?” Looking at him more closely now, he’s obviously very different from the last time you’d seen him. Back then, he was a kid, literally, and now… well, now, he’s a college student. He’s taller, his features are sharper, and he dresses like a college boy. Despite all that, he still has his wavy hair and big, brown eyes, and you’re reminded of your childhood.

“Y/N! I really didn’t think I’d see you here.” He says before quickly realizing what the implications might be and backtracking. “Not that it’s a bad thing! I’m glad we got to meet again.” You laugh. You’re pleased to find that, even though he’s still a little bit awkward, it’s part of his charm along with his generally sweet personality.

“I got you, Mark,” you respond, smiling. As you’re about to ask how he’s been for the last few years, his tall friend from before joins the two of you.

“Mark, who’s this?” His tone is borderline flirtatious and you almost frown - he’s the kind of guy who’s attractive and knows it. For Mark’s sake, you try to push your inhibitions away. Even though you haven't talked to him in years, you feel as though you should be able to trust him and, by extension, his friends.

“Lucas, this is Y/N,” Mark says, gesturing between the two of you, “we used to be best friends when we were little.” You shake his hand and, when he smiles at you, you relax a little bit. Maybe you’d misjudged Lucas. It isn’t much longer after that when Lucas breaks away to go to his own class, but you and Mark keep talking. You keep walking and talking, not paying attention to where you’re going, until you both come to the sudden realization that your next classes start in less than five minutes, so you separate and book it. The short jog you have to make and the few minutes late you are is worth it.

You meet Mark pretty frequently after that and you find that he’s the same but different - in a good way. For your history class, your teacher lets you, Mark, and Lucas work together for projects and you find your core friend group emerging. When the seasons pass and freshman year runs its course, you find yourself happier than you’d been in a long time. Like you had done when you were kids, you drag Mark along with you to do dumb things together, and he convinces you to not go through with some of the particularly bad ideas. At the same time, Lucas encourages you and you find yourself with enough scrapes and bruises to rival your younger self, albeit, you’re drunk more often when you acquire them this time.

As things sometimes do, plans for living arrangements fall out for the next year. Lucas, who was initially supposed to room with Mark, finds that one of your upperclassman friends by the name of Jungwoo needs a roommate and would be evicted without one. So, one night, Mark asks you if you want to get an apartment slightly off-campus with him. You consider yourself to be close with Mark - you don’t think too much about the consequences until you’re agreeing and you’ve become his future roommate.

First summer. When you go back home, you miss your friends terribly - Mark, Lucas, Yeri, Chaeyoung, Jungwoo - after all of the time you spent together, it’s incredibly strange to not see them every hour of every day. The phone and video calls just aren’t the same.

At some point midway through the summer, you come to the realization that you’re going to be sharing an apartment with Mark. You had never shared a house with a man other than those in your family. What would it be like? You had been in his dorm room before and he wasn’t entirely disorganized. When you ask your mother, she’s unworried - he’s Mark Lee after all and, though neither of you had seen him for years after he moved, he’s still Mark. You’re put slightly more at ease after talking to her and you set your hopes high. Your mind wanders only briefly to the romantic implications of you living with Mark; it isn’t like he’s undateable, or unattractive, or unappealing in any unforgivable way, but he’s your childhood friend. Your summertime loneliness almost gets the better of you then, but, to avoid thinking about Mark like that, you shift your focus onto Lucas.

Lucas is your second best friend, the one you’re closest to after Mark, the one who jokingly but not jokingly flirts with you, the one who helps to cure your loneliness at not having had a solid boyfriend all year. When you move into your apartment at the beginning of the year, Lucas is there to help. Mark doesn’t think much of it until he hears you lose your virginity to Lucas through the walls two weeks after school starts. When he lies in bed that night, listening to the two of you, he remembers what he had seen after the first week of living with you.

The first time he saw your underwear and felt something, it was black. He backed out of the room quickly, covering his eyes while stuttering apologies, inevitably both bumping his elbow on the doorframe and tripping on the air all at the same time. Your first instinct was to cover yourself, but, as you watched him trip and fall, you couldn’t help but burst out into laughter instead, forgetting about your half naked state.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to!” He kept a hand pressed over his eyes even as he was sitting on the floor. After you recovered from your laughing fit, you quickly pulled on some shorts.

“Mark, you can look now.” He kept his hand there for a moment longer before looking through the crack in his fingers. When he saw that you had pants, he let out a sigh of relief. At the same time, he realized that his elbow and tailbone hurt from his fall and he groaned, picking himself up off the floor and rubbing the offending areas.

“S-sorry, Y/N, I’ll be more careful next time.” He refused to meet your eyes, but you thought the blush on his face was adorable.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s bound to happen sometimes.”

That night, he went to bed with a lot to think about. Of course, when he’d reunited with you, he knew you wouldn’t be a little girl anymore. Somewhere in the back of his head, he knew that you had gotten prettier and smarter and grown in every way, but he hadn’t really processed it until he saw you in your underwear.

Now, two weeks later, it sinks in even more. He doesn’t want to think about his best friends having sex, but he can’t really help it. The two of you are kind of loud and he can imagine you perfectly. He tries to clear his head - you’re his roommate, his childhood friend, one of his closest friends, you’re Y/N L/N - but he can’t stop thinking about if it was him instead of Lucas.

To Mark’s relief, whatever is happening between you and Lucas dies out quickly. However, when you stop hooking up with one of your best friends, your mind drifts back to the other. Somehow, you don’t let your feelings slip when you’re out partying with Mark and Lucas, or any of your other friends for that matter, and the fact that you’re possibly in love with Mark doesn’t sink in until about two months into school. It’s one Saturday morning, after a night of drinking with your friends, that you realize Mark isn’t what he used to be - but not in a bad way.

You’d had a night with the girls while all the guys had gone out, so you figured that Mark would want to eat something after whatever went down last night. Somehow, you’re awake before him and he stays asleep through all the noise you make cooking.

“Mark!” You call down the hall. “Breakfast!”

A few seconds later, you hear the door to his room clicking open and he shuffles out, hair very disheveled and clothes not on completely straight. You watch him with an amused grin as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes before walking over to the cabinet to get a glass for water. His sleepy boxers and oversized black t-shirt look warms your heart, but then he’s reaching up to grab from the highest shelf and his shirt rides up, revealing his surprisingly toned stomach. When his shirt falls back into place, you’re looking away, fighting the blush on your cheeks. He’s your roommate, but, more importantly, he’s Mark Lee - what are you thinking?

Mark Lee is your dumb friend from grade school, Mark Lee is your neighbor’s son, Mark Lee is your college roommate, and Mark Lee has grown into a fine-ass man.

Mark Lee is blond right now?

You look back at him with a start, the reality of his new hair color sinking in quickly. “Mark?” You say, gesturing to his hair, “What is that?”

“I lost a bet…”

“What the hell kind of bet did you lose?” All you can do is stare at him after you ask.

He scratches the back of his neck, slightly mussing up his newly-bleached blond hair. “To be honest, I don’t really remember… but Lucas texted me this morning to be mad at Donghyuck if I don’t like my new hair color.”

You immediately burst out laughing, much to Mark’s shame. He simply stares at you, lips pursed and a blush growing on his face, while you hunch over, laughing loudly. Though he’s outwardly very embarrassed, a part of him on the inside bursts with pride at making you laugh so hard. You can’t pinpoint exactly what is so funny about what he said, but you can’t stop laughing for a solid minute. Once your laughter quiets down and you try to catch your breath, Mark finally speaks up. “Is it really that bad?”

“No,” you wheeze, regaining your breath, “it looks nice. That’s just so funny.” He cracks a small smile in response before the two of you sit at your small dining table to eat your breakfast. What was supposed to be a quick meal is drawn out much longer as you and Mark and catch up with what happened the night before - other than the secrets you two were forbidden from telling one another, of course - and it’s an hour and a half past when you started when you finally decide that the two of you should probably get cleaned up. You can’t help but think that life would be perfect if every moment you had with Mark was like this. Beginning to fill the sink with soapy water so that you can wash dishes, you hear him behind you.

“Wait, there’s a knife in here…” He suddenly leans forward, reaching past your shoulder to reach into the sink and grab the knife that he had used and tossed into the water after eating.

“Mark, how-” You freeze as you turn your head, finding his face to be much closer than you thought. His warm breath washes over your lips, his wide eyes meeting yours. You can barely breathe and, suddenly, all you can think about is kissing him. Your inability to read his expression makes your heart race even faster with nerves, but you can’t tear your eyes away. He moves ever so slightly and, at that moment, the hot water filling the sink touches the tips of your fingers and you snap out of it, turning your head back around quickly to see the foamy water almost overflowing the sink. Shutting off the faucet, you try to unpause the situation, starting to scrub at a dish. “Mark, how many times have I told you not to leave knives in the sink?”

“S-sorry. I’ll be more careful.” While you had tried to bounce back to normal, his voice is still quiet and his demeanor is timid.

You spend the rest of your time washing the dishes wondering if he feels the same way as you do.

With a bit more contemplation, you figure that the most you can do is suppress the feelings, push them down until you can pretend they don’t exist. Push them down every time you see him walking around half-naked in your apartment, push them down every time he’s sweet and brings you coffee between classes, and especially push them down late at night when you’re lonely in more ways than one. Unluckily for you, alcohol brings out even your most deeply repressed feelings.

You can’t avoid Mark, you don’t want to, and you certainly can’t avoid the party that you help plan at your shared apartment in celebration of midterms being over. You forget about the bad decisions you often make and the secrets that leave you when you’re drunk and decide to let loose - exams had killed you and your feelings weighed down on you nearly constantly, even when you were focused on schoolwork. But none of that matters as you play beer pong against Yeri and ignore as your apartment starts to become messier and messier.

Eventually, the energy dies down some, so, in an attempt to liven it up again, Lucas calls everyone together. For how small your apartment is, you’re surprised at how many people you can fit in it. As you all gather around, Lucas, in his hazy, drunken state makes a suggestion that pokes the embers of the party back to life.

“Let’s play spin the bottle!”

The suggestion is met with equal groans and cheers, but everyone gathers around the empty beer bottle Lucas had retrieved nonetheless. You look around the circle and, for the first time that night, you notice that Mark had died his hair back to black. A very dark, very sexy black. Mind heavy with alcohol, you nearly blurt out how attractive he looks but, thankfully, the game starts with Jungwoo kissing Taeil, one of your graduate student friends, directly on the lips. You forget about the way you had reacted to your roommate until the bottle makes its way to you for the second time. On your first spin, you just had to kiss Chaeyoung - something you’d drunkenly done plenty of times - but, with the universe on your side, your second spin lands on Mark.

If he had been the tiniest bit more sober, he would have been blushing and stuttering like crazy, but, as you approach him, clambering onto his lap, he simply draws you closer, taking initiative as your lips meet. As you kiss him, the world doesn’t melt away or anything like that. You are very much aware that you are in your apartment, sitting on the floor in a circle made up of your friends, and, so as to not draw too much attention to how badly you had wanted this to happen, you pull away quickly. Maybe not quickly enough, though, as your friends hoot and holler as you do so. As you pull away, you meet a little resistance in the form of Mark’s hand on your waist and the dark, heavy look in his eyes, his freshly-dyed black hair sweeping his forehead. Even so, you pull away, retreating back to your spot in the circle. Not long after, the group disperses as people find other things to do, different games to play. Everyone forgets the silly kissing game that had just gone on. That is, everyone but you and Mark.

An hour later, you’re trying to find your friend Mina to rope her into playing some game with you when you feel a hand on your wrist. When you turn around, you see that it’s Mark dragging you into your bedroom. The door doesn’t even fully shut behind you before he’s staring you straight in the eyes, a type of heat that you had never seen from him before burning in them. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

You almost instantly know what he’s talking about, even through the alcohol muddling your thoughts. “Me neither.”

He takes that as permission, roughly bringing his lips to yours to kiss you again. This time, you don’t hold back. You let out all the pent up sexual frustration and tension between the two of you by meshing your lips with his. It’s a messy kiss, full of frustration, longing, and the feelings that neither of you will admit. He guides you backward before he pushes you down onto his bed and, for a moment, you’re afraid of what this all means. That fear quickly morphs into a different one as, out of the corner of your eye, you see the bedroom door begin to open. You shove Mark away quickly and he stumbles back as Yeri opens the door. To your relief, she doesn’t see anything wrong with the situation and just walks over, grabbing you by the arm and mumbling something about finding Mina and wanting to play the game that you had forgotten about. When you glance back, you can’t read the look on Mark’s face.

Even with more shots and more bottles of soju, the unease in your heart doesn’t go away for the rest of the night.

The next morning is even worse. You remember exactly what you had done and it rips you to shreds a few minutes after you wake up. After you crawl out of bed, you stumble to the bathroom with a hangover worse than any you’d ever had before. You splash some water on your face and look in the mirror and remember what you had just done with your roommate. Your roommate. Your childhood friend. Mark fucking Lee.

You don’t call him for breakfast that day, but you leave a plate out for him and let him sleep. Your head pounds with the mistakes of the night before, so you turn on some quiet music in an attempt to distract yourself as you start to clean up the apartment from the aftermath of the party. At some point, Mark gets up. You see him moving out of the corner of your eye. When he sees the food you had left out for him, he finally speaks. “Thanks, Y/N.”

You hum in response, not really wanting to speak at the moment. You wonder if he remembers it like you do. When he joins you to help clean a few minutes later, you can immediately tell that he knows. Your heart sinks. You just ruined a relationship. You just ruined your relationship with your roommate and best friend because you couldn’t keep your goddamn feelings in check-

He just ruined a relationship. He could tell from the way you refused to look at him and barely gave him a response when he thanked you for the food. He just ruined his relationship with his roommate and best friend because he couldn’t keep his feelings under control.

You barely say a word to each other for the first few days after the party, to the point even your other friends notice. When they ask you what’s wrong, you just shrug. When they ask Mark, he just looks away and mumbles some excuse. Except, even when you’re avoiding each other, you can’t help but think of him. Despite everything, you leave him breakfast in the mornings. Mark’s an atrocious cook. He won’t admit it, but, after living with him for the past few months and having reconnected with him more than a year ago, you know it. He knows you make it on purpose and that it’s not just extra food that you made and don’t want to throw away, so he silently thanks you and accepts it.

In the same way, even without talking to you, he can’t break the little habits he built around you. In the class that you have together, even though you don’t speak to one another, he leaves a cup of your favorite coffee on your desk. You know exactly who it’s from and you quietly accept it, not knowing whether to smile or cry.

Still, with the tension between you that comes with the silent treatment, your friends soon get sick of it. That’s why, one afternoon, when you’re supposed to go out with the girls for lunch, they all “suddenly” cancel on you and why Jungwoo, Lucas, and Donghyuck are all “sick” when Mark is supposed to go work on a project with them. You get a call from Yeri at the same time that Mark gets a call from Lucas.

“You can’t leave until you two sort things out.”

Slowly, you emerge from your bedroom. Mark does the same and you look at each other. “I guess,” Mark says carefully, “we should probably talk about this?”

“Yeah,” you say, nodding slightly, “I guess we should.”

“I think we should-”

“I need to-”

You both start and stop speaking at the same time. “Sorry,” you say, breaking the silence again. “I guess it’s been so long that we forgot how to talk to each other.”

“Maybe.” He finally gives you a small smile and you feel the slightest bit of relief. It feels like forever since you had seen him be anything but uncomfortable or indifferent to you. That relief doesn’t last long, as he begins to talk again. “I’m sorry for, you know. I’m sorry for kissing you at the party. I shouldn’t have let it get that far.”

“Mark-” You try to stop him. If everything is coming out now, you need to be honest about your feelings.

“I think that maybe we shouldn’t be roommates again next year.” Your heart sinks. That wasn’t at all what you wanted to hear. His eyes move everywhere but yours as he continues to talk. He had clearly put a lot of thought into it. “I could room with Lucas and Jungwoo and you could room with Yeri and Chaeyoung, or something. I just think that-”

“Mark, can you listen to me?” You finally break him out of his ramble. He stops, looking you in the eyes again. “Mark, I like you. Like, a lot more than friends or roommates like each other.” You see him swallow hard, his lips parting in surprise. “And… if you think that those feelings hurt our relationship as roommates, then I agree with what you’re saying. I just… thought you should know.” You wait for his response, but he just continues to stare at you. You notice a reddish hue slowly grow on his cheeks and at the tips of his ears and you can tell that he’s thoroughly embarrassed, but you still don’t know how he feels. “Mark?” You say again, and he snaps out of it.

“Sorry,” he breathes out, “I just really didn’t think you liked me, too.”

Your whole body seems to warm at once as you take your own time to process what he had just said. Suddenly, you can’t stop yourself from moving forward, wrapping your arms around him, and hugging him tight. He returns the hug equally as hard, pressing his face into your hair as you tuck your head into the crook of his neck.

“It really took us too long to talk about that like adults, didn’t it?” You laugh into his shirt, nearly crying from relief. He nods, savoring your warmth after not having been around you for so long. It’s a long moment before the two of you pull away again to look at each other. His eyes meet yours before flickering down to your lips, and you think that you have the same idea that he does.

“Can I kiss you again? For real this time?” You give him a strong yes and meet him in the middle.

#nct fluff #nct angst #nct smut #neowritingsnet #mark lee smut #mark lee fluff #mark lee angst #nct imagine #wonjaekook #trying to fix the tags in the hope they'll show up #thanks for waiting for me!!!

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let-me-love-you-loki · 4 years

Text

Waking Up in Vegas--Ch. 44

Chapter 44: You Made It So Sweet

Mera, Morning, 10:32 AM

I took a deep breath and looked around the concrete courtyard of the University of Nevada’s Las Vegas campus. It was dotted with squares of landscaping made of pale sandy soil planted with small plants, shrubs, and a few trees. Benches and bike racks sat along the sides of the courtyard beneath white-stoned buildings. Straight ahead was a causeway of concrete split in half by bright green grass and a canopy of trees.

The sun was blinding overhead as Dean and I walked the length of the campus. His fingers were threaded with mine as we passed from the heat of the courtyard beneath the shade of the causeway. I smiled as I breathed in the scent of damp tree leaves.

“Is it strange that I’m nervous?” I asked, looking up into the canopy of trees. “I’m in my thirties. I already have a degree. But I feel like a green freshman.”

Dean withdrew his hand and tucked his arm around my shoulder, pulling me close. He dropped a kiss on top of my head. “You’re finally getting to do something for you,” he said quietly.

My heart skipped a beat at the idea that he was right. I was finally doing something that I’d wanted to do for so long. This was what had been denied to me for most of my adult life. This feeling is what I’d given up to live the life Seth wanted. I’d resented him for it for longer than I could remember, but being with Dean had given me the ability to let go of it.

“They gave me a choice of classes,” I said, hearing the awe in my voice. “I’m taking some online, and some of them here. I can still work and travel with you.”

He stopped and turned me toward him. His blue eyes were beautiful and earnest, and I could see the dimple hidden beneath his beard when he smiled lopsidedly. “If that’s what you want, then nothing else would make me happier. If you want to stay home and focus on school, then that will make me happy, too.”

Dean kissed my forehead and took me by the hand, leading me back down the causeway beneath the trees. We were quiet for a while, meandering across the center of the campus. I gave myself time to come to grips with the fact that this was real. That I was finally getting to live the dream I’d always wanted.

I dropped my head against his shoulder and smiled. “Thank you, Dean. For everything. For this.”

My husband didn’t say anything. Instead, he smiled softly. “I never thought I’d be good enough for a woman like you—college degree, forgotten more than I’ll ever know—and yet here I am… surprised to find every day that I’m worthy of you.”

“You were always worthy of anything and everything you wanted, Dean. And I’ve known it since the day I met you.”

Seth, Afternoon, 1:08 PM

Roman sat across the table in catering, watching me with a furrowed brow. “She’s coming back to work tonight. Are you going to be able to keep your shit together?”

I sat back in my chair, feeling strangely hollow at the news. I’d spent my entire time off at my parents’ place in Iowa, reliving more of the past than I’d wanted to. Those memories had leached out every ounce of feeling out of me. I honestly didn’t know how I was functioning.

“I don’t intend on having to visit the trainer’s room.”

He leaned forward and put his elbows on the table. “You have a title defense tonight. Don’t fuck it up. Vince is already pissed with you two after that fight in the hallway.”

It didn’t matter to Roman who threw that first punch, only that the three of us had gotten reamed for it. Dean and me for fighting and Roman for not breaking it up—even though he hadn’t even been in the building.

“I’m good, Ro,” I assured him, not surprised by the fact that my voice sounded robotic. I felt that way. “I’m good.”

He started to say something, but stopped mid-sound. He was looking over my shoulder. I didn’t need to look to know who it was, but I turned around anyway. There was no surprise that it was Mera and Dean. They walked as they always did, side-by-side and moving as if they revolved around each other. My mind conjured up memories when we had been like that, but they drifted away like mist in the wind. I was so numb that I couldn’t hang on, even as it ripped into what was left of my heart.

“Sup, boys?” Dean said calmly. We’d hardly spoken since we’d been chewed out by Vince except for that disastrous call while she was in the hospital. The fact that he was acting like nothing happened was messing with my head.

“Not much,” Roman responded as he pulled out the chair at his side. “Come sit with me, Mera.”

She smiled and sank down into the offered seat, dropping a backpack on the floor by her feet. Dean sat on her other side. He watched me for a moment then turned his full attention to her. Mera practically glowed under his gaze.

“What’s the word on your last night?” Roman asked, side-eyeing me even as he spoke.

“There won’t be one.” Mera’s grin got bigger and she looked between the three of us. “I went by the campus last week. I’m taking a mix of online and on-campus classes. You’re still stuck with me.”

“We’d be lost without you,” I said, surprised at my own sincerity.

She blushed a little, but my heart was so raw that there was no skipped beat or racing pulse. “Thank you,” she said as if she really meant it.

The fact that I was so desperately numb stopped any happiness I might have had about that statement. They kept talking, but I drifted away into something like a white-noise trance. By the time I pulled out of it, Mera and Dean were gone.

“What’s wrong with you?” Roman’s words pulled me back to reality. “Not that I’m complaining about you not getting into another fight.”

I sat back and sighed, running my hand over my face. “This is… acceptance, I guess? Depression? Both? I don’t know what. I just know that I’m… empty. I’ve got nothing left, Roman.”

He looked at me for a while, not sure what he was thinking. I couldn’t remember being this sad or this lost. It sent me out of control, and I didn’t know how to handle it.

“Seth?” His voice was filled with worry when he said my name. “This isn’t okay, man. It’s like you only have three settings for her—obsessed, indifferent, or despondent. This isn’t what I meant when I said get your shit together.”

I sighed. “I haven’t had my shit together in a long time.”

Mera, Afternoon, 1:15 PM

“Go on,” Dean soothed from his spot on the edge of my trainer’s table. He reached out and brushed his fingers against my upper arm. “I can see it in your eyes.”

My heart thumped in my chest. I could feel it my pulse skimming along at my wrists and the base of my throat. “What do you mean?” I didn’t want to look at him, even though I knew what he meant.

“You saw him just like I did, Mera. And I know you’re worried about him.” He drew me close so that I stood between his knees. Then his fingers threaded with mine. His lips ghosted over my brow. “I never thought I’d prefer him being jealous and insane to whatever it is he was just now.”

“Is it strange that I still care?” My head dropped against his shoulder. I breathed deep of the scent of my husband. No matter how far away we were from Las Vegas, I could always smell the sweetness and heat of the desert air. It was calming in a way that nothing else ever could be.

“No,” Dean replied quietly. He kissed the top of my head. “It would be strange if you didn’t. You have a heart that’s too good to hate anyone, no matter how much they’ve hurt you.” He nuzzled his nose against my hair. “Now go on. Go talk to him.”

I smiled at him and kissed his cheek. “Thank you,” I whispered.

He squeezed my fingers and let me walk away. It never ceased to amaze me at how much Dean loved me. It was present each and every time he let me go, that he gave me the freedom to choose, and that he trusted me to come back to him on my own.

Seth hadn’t moved from where he’d been in catering. Roman was gone, but Seth was still there, staring into space. I slipped into the seat beside him and, even then, he didn’t move.

It wasn’t until I bumped my shoulder into his that he looked around. I’d known him long enough to see the pain in his deep brown eyes. My heart ached for the boy I’d known and for the man I’d loved most of my life.

“Hey,” I said quietly, looking sideways at him “Are you okay?”

Seth shrugged, but didn’t say anything. I turned in the chair so I could face him and rested my chin on his shoulder. “Talk to me, Bee. Please?”

“You haven’t called me that in years, Mera,” he said, hardly loud enough to be heard. Still, he tilted his head and rested his cheek against my hair.

“I’m worried about you,” I replied.

“I thought you stopped caring about me.”

“Seth…” I blinked away tears. “I never stopped caring about Colby. I never stopped and I never will. That’s the person I knew, the boy I grew up with, and the man I loved. Colby was my best friend for most of my life.”

“We used to be more than that.” His voice was hollow, but I could still hear the pain. “There used to be a time when it was you and me against the world. Now… now it’s you and Dean. And I’m just here.”

“Look at me.” The words came out stronger than I wanted, but they had the desired effect. Seth turned his head, and the look on his face broke my heart. “You’re only alone if you want to be, Colby.”

“There’s no one else for me but you, Mera. I’ve known it my whole life. But it scared me.” He spoke quietly. I reached for his hand and held it between my own. “I was an ass. And I hurt you… Christ, did I hurt you. I’m sorry, Mera. I’m so sorry.”

I didn’t stop the tears when they came this time. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted to hear from you, Colby.”

His brown eyes blurred. “It’s too late, isn’t it?”

“Not for you to be the man I know you can be.” I squeezed his hand. “Not for you to be my best friend again. And not for you and Dean to patch things up.”

Tag List

@mox-made-me-do-it @houndsofjxstice @lunatictoosweet @xbutterflius-effectusx @mother-forker @instantboquetdestinysblog @dcnmarvelgamergeek@pinkduality @lilred91 @not-that-kinda-gurl08 @maelleoute

#waking up in vegas #wuiv #dean ambrose fanfiction #dean ambrose #mera reynolds #mera x dean #dean x mera #seth rollins #seth rollins fanfiction #ofc #oc #wwe #wwe fanfiction #multi-chapter #real person fanfiction

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artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

Galactica, Chapter 17 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Hello darlings! Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Violet got a much-needed apology, and a fancy night on the town.

This Chapter: A wild night, a lazy Sunday, and a Monday morning of pure chaos.

***

Courtney twirled and twirled on the dance floor, leaning into the dizzying feeling, the bass pumping to the beat of her heart, feeling freer and happier than she’d been in weeks. She was out with a group of her closest friends--girls she’d known since college, who all happened to find themselves in New York, trying desperately to make it.

Adore was there, of course, her bestie and soulmate and favorite person in the world.

They’d been joined at the hip since the second week of Courtney’s freshman year, when they’d both been cast in their college production of RENT.

Adore had a phenomenal voice, but her dancing left some room for improvement, so the producer had asked Courtney (who had also given a great audition for Mimi, but unfortunately had the wrong skin color so they saddled her with Maureen instead) to step in and help. Watching her tonight, Courtney couldn’t help but proudly note that her sexy stripper moves had certainly improved with time.

Courtney had grown up watching American movies and television and thus, couldn’t wait to join a sorority when she got to school. Even though it ended up being a bit different than she’d expected, she had made some fabulous friends there. Tyra was one of the most glamorous people she’d ever met, and she was constantly in awe of her style and grace. She had secured a coveted paid internship at one of the biggest ad agencies in the city, and Courtney knew she’d absolutely crush it there, rising to the top just like she always did.

Tatianna, her precious Tati, was the baby of the group. Two years behind Courtney in school, she’d been her “little sister” freshman year, but left school early to pursue a modeling career, currently pounding the pavement in pursuit of an agent. She worked hard, but she played hard, too. Courtney laughed as she threw back another shot with Adore, but then handed her a water bottle, never quite shaking the slightly protective feeling she had for her. She herself had learned long ago that trying to keep up with Adore and Morgan where drinking was concerned was a surefire recipe for an absolutely hideous hangover, but Tati hadn’t made that same discovery just yet. (Or, she just didn’t care, which was also possible, and part of her charm.)

Courtney had met Morgan before all of them, even before classes started that first year, at a welcome reception for international students. A brazen, hilarious Scot with a wicked sense of humor, she and Courtney had bonded instantly that night, laughing about how soft and prim Americans were, after Courtney’s roommate begged her to wear pajamas instead of sleeping naked like she always had. They had pledged together, and remained close throughout their whole time in school.

Tyra grabbed Courtney’s hand and pulled her in, and Courtney continued to dance amongst her friends, the music taking over, feeling alive in the best possible way.

***

Violet yawned as she slowly rose to the top of consciousness. She was lying in Sutan’s giant bed, the soft sheets all around her, the pillow and mattress feeling absolutely amazing. Violet rolled over on her side, stretching before she pulled the duvet up under her chin.

She was wonderfully sore and sated. Sutan had offered to take her home after their date, but Violet had taken his hand and kissed his palm, Sutan smiling as he asked his driver to take them to his apartment.

Violet loved Sutan’s hands on her body, loved how sure he was when he touched her, how he never hesitated. It was hard for her to come with someone else, nearly impossible for her to tip over. She might have pretended to come, a small gasp clearly convincing Sutan, but the sex was nice, very very very nice, and Violet wouldn’t say no to another round.

She reached out, her hand searching for Sutan, but no one was there.

Violet sat up and looked around. She was alone in the bedroom, but as she swung her legs over the side of the bed, she realized that she was naked.

Violet bit her lip. Her dress was hung over the door of Sutan’s closet, but she couldn’t very well put that on. Violet made a quick decision, grabbing Sutan’s shirt from the day before off of the floor. The cotton was creased, but it smelled just like him, and Violet smiled as she slipped it on, the fabric falling to cover the top of her thighs.

Violet opened the door to the en-suite bathroom. She had expected to be forced to brush her teeth with her finger, but right there, on the edge of the sink was a toothbrush still in the packaging. Violet washed her face, brushed her teeth and braided her hair.

She still felt a little gross, a little unprepared, the fact that she was walking around in only a shirt and nothing else a strange sensation, but it also felt a little sexy and dangerous.

As Violet exited from the bathroom, she heard the music come from the opposite end of the apartment, smooth jazz washing over her as she followed the sound.

***

“Hurry up, baby! I want to see them feed the birds in the indoor rainforest! Come on!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming!”

Trixie yawned as he followed Katya, who was very, very, very awake and had already ran ahead.

It was 9:30 on a Sunday, and Katya had been a bundle of energy since she had practically rolled him out of bed to get him up.

The two of them were in the Central Park Zoo, where Katya had begged to go for the last two weeks, but Trixie had simply been too busy to go with her, his only free time spent in a near comatose state as he had tried to catch up on the sleep he hadn’t gotten during the week.

Trixie watched Katya, a smile on his face. She had even dressed up for the occasion, her backpack decorated with animal keyrings and her “exploring kit.” She skipped along beside Max, who’d been more than happy to join them for this adventure, always up for the opportunity to go back to his original love of wildlife photography. The two of them led Trixie around the zoo, pulling him this way and that until he fully woke up, with the help of some cotton candy.

“Oh, Trixie, look! Look!” Katya smiled, her entire face lighting up as she pointed at a small, blue, white and black bird. “It’s a Leucopsar rothschildi!”

“A what?” Trixie looked up from his project of taking the perfect Instagram picture of Katya and the birds.

“A Bali Mynah! It’s critically endangered.”

“There’s only 14 left in the wild.” Max chimed in.

Trixie came up to Katya’s side, and gave her a kiss. “I love it when you talk birdy to me.”

Against all of Trixie’s expectations, he ended up having an amazing day with Max and Katya at the zoo.

A seal splashed water at Max, one of the monkeys almost stole Trixie’s fanny pack, they all got more cotton candy and Katya even switched with Trixie halfway through so he could have both blue and pink--and at the end of the day, Katya almost cried when Trixie brought her a stuffed lion from the zoo store, all proceeds going to saving animals in the wild.

Riding home with the two of them on the subway, Trixie could feel the sugar coma taking over, his eyelids drooping, head falling forward as he leaned heavily against Katya’s warm body.

“I love you, baby,” Katya whispered, kissing the top of his head sweetly and wrapping her arm around his shoulders.

***

Beep, beep, beep, beep, beeeeeep!

Violet groaned as she recognized the sound of her alarm. She fumbled for her phone, the charger underneath Sutan’s bedside table. She swore under her breath as she yanked it out, finally getting it open so she could turn her alarm off.

She sat up, careful not to wake Sutan as she leaned against the headboard.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Violet nearly jumped as she felt an arm reach over her lap, a hand settling on her hip. Sutan was looking up at her, one of his eyes lazily cracked open, a small smile on his lips.

“Did I wake you up?” Violet put a hand in Sutan’s hair, carefully running her fingers through it.

“What time is it?”

“5:30.”

“Urgh,” Sutan groaned, sounding genuinely disgusted with the situation, and Violet couldn’t help but chuckle. She guessed that was the privilege of being senior staff, Sutan probably able to show up whenever he wanted to. “Come back to bed, right now.”

Violet had to go to the gym, but as Sutan pulled on her, she couldn’t resist. She crawled back under the covers, Sutan’s hand sneaking under her t-shirt, his fingers playing with the elastic of the shorts she had borrowed as he closed his eyes once again.

“Sutan?”

“Yes lovely eyes?” Sutan growled a little, and Violet bit her lip.

“Why am I still here?” Violet hadn’t expected to spend the day at Sutan’s, had certainly not expected to stay another night, but he was so easy to be around, the two of them spending the day on the couch where they had listened to music, watched movies (though Violet hadn’t cared too much) and made dinner between rounds of sex.

“Well-” Sutan opened his eyes. “Sometimes when a man asks a woman to come home with him, she says yes.”

Violet rolled her eyes. “Idiot.” She leaned forward, pressing a kiss against Sutan’s forehead, before she made another attempt to untangle herself.

“Hey-” Sutan gripped her hip, a flash of warmth rushing over Violet’s body. “Stay?”

“I can’t-” Violet sighed. “I have to be at work at 7:30-”

“7:30? I really hope Fame pays you well.”

She didn’t, but Violet wasn’t going to point that out.

“I have nothing to wear.” She had to get going if she wanted to make it home to her apartment and change, but the last thing she wanted was to put on her dress from Saturday and go all the way from Harlem to her apartment in Kip’s Bay and then back uptown for work. “I mean, I don’t even have a bra.”

“If you stay here, you can borrow something from me.” Sutan was actually fully awake now, a wicked smile growing on his face.

“What?” Violet wrinkled her brow. “Don’t be stupid…” Violet could feel herself getting seduced, she could stay, technically, if Sutan really had clothes she could wear to the office. Ivy could pull clothes for her to borrow, and she could figure everything else out.

“Stay.”

***

Normally Sutan would have thrown a fuss from another dimension if anyone had forced him out of bed before 7, but somehow it was okay when he got to dig through a box of his boyhood clothes with a girl that looked like sin wearing his pants.

“Isn’t it a little worrying that we basically use the same pants size?” Violet turned to the side, her brown eyes watching herself in the mirror on the back of the door. Her upper body was bare, her still damp black hair spilling straight down her back, her small breasts on full display.

“They’re from when I was 21-” Sutan handed her a belt, and Violet took it. “I used to be a skinny little thing.”

Violet lifted a brow, looking up and down his body, clearly not buying the idea that Sutan had been even thinner, and he couldn’t help but laugh.

“Believe me, I know I’m slender, but Raja and I both used to be rail thin.”

Sutan dug into the box in front of him, quietly thanking Raja for saving all of his clothes in the back of his closet, his sister sealing them in plastic bins when he wasn’t looking.

“It was 95, everyone looked like they were on coke.”

(Not that Violet would ever need to know that he had actually been on coke for most of the 90’s.)

“Here, try this.” Sutan held out a shirt, Violet quickly pulling it over her head, and Sutan took a second to mourn the fact that she was no longer topless.

“You were 21 in 95?”

“I’m glad you can do math, darling.” Sutan smiled. “That color looks all wrong on you. Try this one instead.” Sutan held out a striped sweater, Violet taking it from his hands.

“In 95, I was excited to start preschool...”

“Does that bother you?” Sutan looked at Violet, the woman’s head popping through the hole in the sweater. Violet looked uncomfortable, like she would rather not be having this conversation, her teeth biting into her lips.

He had asked her once before, her reply then that she didn’t care, but Sutan realized that he had to know if it was still true. “Does it bother you that I’m older than you?”

“No.” Violet didn’t look at him, her eyes fixed on her hands that were slowly pulling at the fabric of the sweater she was wearing. “No, it’s just.. Sometimes I worry that, that I’m not… Enough.”

Sutan rose to his knees. “You’re more than not.” Sutan smiled, tilting his head up. “I promise you that.”

Violet leaned down, gently kissing him when her alarm went off in the background.

“God I hate your phone.”

***

Courtney ran past the dark reception desk, down the hall towards the office. Violet had called her fifteen times in the last 20 minutes, Courtney recognizing the sign of a crisis on the subway immediately as soon as the war dialing began. Apparently, there was some kind of disaster with the Fashion Week confirmations that she’d been handling, and she was terrified to find out what it was.

She rounded the corner at full speed, stopping short in her tracks by a sight she never thought she’d see in a billion years. Violet stood at the printer, wearing jeans. Not just jeans. Boy’s jeans, held up with a belt. She actually looked pretty cute, having paired the jeans with chic silver heels and a black and white sweater. But nevertheless, it caught Courtney completely off-guard and she paused, looking her up and down in wonder.

That’s when Violet looked up sharply, seeing her standing in the doorway, and the gates of hell opened.

“Finally! Where the hell have you been?!”

“It’s only 5 til 8-” Courtney began, but Violet immediately interrupted.

“What’s wrong with you? Are you suffering from a head injury, or are you just this fucking stupid?”

Courtney set her mouth in a firm line. Her heart was pounding, unable to think of what her fuck-up possibly could have been, a lump rising to her throat. She wished that Violet would just tell her the problem directly instead of berating her and forcing her to wait in dread of what was coming, but she supposed that was part of her punishment for...whatever she’d done wrong.

“No.”

“You’re not stupid?”

“I-”

“Did I or did I not tell you to call and confirm every single name on that spreadsheet last week?” Violet pointed at Courtney’s computer.

“You did, but-”

“And did I or did I not tell you to send me a status update before you left on Friday with all the confirmations checked off in green and a list in the email of anyone you couldn’t reach?”

“Yes!” Violet had left early, for once trusting Courtney to close things down and take care of all the end of day tasks. “I did that! Didn’t you get my email? I reached everyone, they’re all in green!” Courtney exclaimed.

She knew that she was new at this job, and still learning every day, but she had no idea why Violet was angry with her right now.

She’d followed her explicit instructions to the letter.

“Come here.” Violet’s voice was low and scary, and Courtney immediately joined her at the computer. “This is the spreadsheet you sent back on Friday.”

Violet opened the spreadsheet, and there it was. All names checked off in green, the day and time they’d been confirmed in column D.

“And these…” Violet began to click through 5 more tabs, each one a separate list, each one with names all in black, as yet unconfirmed. “These are the tabs you missed because you are too much of an absolute imbecile to understand how excel works.”

All of the blood drained from Courtney’s face, the room feeling off-kilter as she grew hot and dizzy, her heart pounding out of her chest.

“There were…” Courtney swallowed, “more tabs?” she managed to whisper.

“Yes, Courtney. There were more tabs. Which you would have known if you ever took your fucking head out of your fucking ass for long enough to pay attention to your job.”

“I-I’m so sorry, I-” Courtney’s eyes filled with tears, which only seemed to enrage Violet more.

“Do you realize what you’ve done? Do you realize how bad this could have gotten if I hadn’t caught your mistake?”

“I didn’t mean to-”

“I asked you, I specifically asked you, to check every, single, fucking name,” Violet groaned. “You better pray that we can fix this before Miss Fame finds out.”

“I will, Violet, I promise. I’ll do whatever it takes, I-”

“Sit, get to work. I’m handling the vendors in the third tab, and the staff for the photoshoot, because god forbid you screw that up too, we’d all be absolutely fucked. Do not talk to me until every name on every other tab is accounted for. Got it?!”

Courtney nodded, nearly tripping over her feet running to her desk. She swiped at her eyes with the back of her hands as her computer powered on, still feeling shaky and panicked.

Thankfully, the tab that Courtney had seen the week before was the one marked “VIP,” so all of Galactica’s important guests were accounted for. At 8 am, she decided that the smartest list to do next was “Press,” because at least she’d be able to reach a human being. Her nerves began to settle as she made her way through the list, every single press outlet confirming their attendance. When she finally got to the end, it was almost 9, and she reported her progress to Violet.

“Good.” Violet slammed a drawer shut, everything about her radiating annoyance.

Courtney sighed internally. She checked out the last two lists: “H/M - Run Through” and “H/M – Show,” and realized there was quite a bit of overlap, Alaska clearly intending to book as many of the same people as possible for both days.

She got right to work, mostly leaving voicemail messages and then following up with texts and emails. These people were freelance and since it was still early, she didn’t worry too much about them answering their phones. It wasn’t until she started to get calls and messages back that the real panic set in.

“Um...Violet?” she asked softly, after highlighting the 10th name in red.

“What?” Violet asked sharply, still clearly annoyed with her. She had only gotten in about 20 minutes of calls to the vendors before she had to stop to roll calls with Fame, and Courtney prayed that none of them would end up being a problem.

“I, um...some of the people on Alaska’s lists are...already booked on other jobs. So...I’m not sure what to do now.” Courtney took a deep breath, determined not to cry. For one thing, she knew that it would just piss Violet off. And for another, she was determined to weather this disaster like an adult, no matter how much she felt like breaking down and sobbing her eyes out.

“One moment,” Violet said into the phone, her voice soft and pleasant, professional as can be. Once she had Fame on the line, she muted herself and turned back to Courtney, dark eyes flashing with anger. “What now?”

“I just...there’s like...at least 10 people who can’t do it, and-and I don’t know what to do,” Courtney admitted.

“There’s nothing you can do.” Violet folded her arms.

“But...then what do I do?” Courtney asked, biting her lip, using all of her strength to keep her voice from breaking. “Are there any backup lists, or a place I can go to find other people...I mean I have to be able to fix it, right?”

“No.” Violet let out a long, put-upon sigh, eyes rolling up to the ceiling before she leveled her gaze back down at Courtney. “You can’t. So go downstairs, tell Alaska what you did, and pray that she doesn’t kill you on sight.”

Alaska. Somehow, in the midst of all of this, it hadn’t occurred to Courtney until this moment that her screw-up would be creating a huge problem for the one executive at this company who had gone out of their way to show her kindness, the one person she was most desperate to impress. The guilt hit her like a tidal wave.

“Who knows,” Violet said, going back to her computer. “Maybe you can use some of that patented charm to get yourself out of the mess you created.” Violet punctuated this statement with a dry, joyless chuckle, clearly not believing that Courtney would in fact get out of this situation alive.

Courtney closed her eyes briefly and printed the two hair and makeup lists, then stood up.

“Okay. I’m going downstairs,” she said, to nobody in particular, since Violet was back at her computer, typing an email and trying to stay on top of Miss Fame’s phone calls.

Courtney took a deep breath, clutching her phone in her hands as she pulled the pages from the printer and made her way towards the stairs.

#rpdr fanfiction #thedane #veronica #galactica #lesbian au #fashion au #vitan #trixya #violet chachki #raja gemini #courtney act #adore delano #trixie mattel #katya zamolodchikova #max malanaphy #tatianna #morgan mcmichaels #tyra sanchez

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gilbirda · 4 years

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Chapter 7: Lights, camera, action!

When Marianne finally got home, her mind was going around and far away from her body. She hadn't felt like this before, not even when Roland confessed an eternity ago. She felt like she could fly from her bed and right through the ceiling, floating away in a gentle breeze…

She sighed and opened her eyes, a bitter smile on her lips despite the happiness filling her chest. While this wasn’t something she expected to feel, at least not so soon, she was aware of the things this entailed. That even if Bog kissed her back - she still couldn’t believe that it really happened! -, this whatever that was happening between them could not last.

She was young and he was... what? Ten years older than her? Maybe even more, and that was just too much for her. Why the hell did she think that it was a good idea? I mean, she was the one that took the first step. She, who despised romance and love. She, who denied to her own sister that something was going on between her and the librarian.

Marianne put a hand over her eyes, snorting at the thought. She was being too silly with this. Bog was an adult and he knew that this couldn’t continue. Yeah. Tomorrow she was going to sit down with him and discuss the termination of…

Of his soft kisses and warm hands? Of the way that he looked at her like she was beautiful? Like she mattered, like her existence was worth something for someone. Bog’s blue eyes told her what she had needed to hear this whole time, bringing the life she had lost back to her. And it has only been one evening like this.

A future with him was too tantalising. In less than a year she would be eighteen and she would be legally an adult. She could date whoever she wanted, so it wasn’t a wild thought to be… involved with the librarian. Romantically.

Marianne chuckled lowly. God, she was a mess.

“You are pretty quiet tonight,” Dadga said to his eldest daughter, who hadn’t touched much of her dinner.

When he finally got home and found that Marianne forgot to make dinner he thought nothing of it. The girl was in her last year and it wasn’t weird that she would be balancing a lot of work right now. And, of course, her after school punishment for bad behavior.

“Huh?” she asked without looking up from her food. The Director looked at Dawn, but the girl shrugged in response, not knowing what was going on with her sister.

“Is everything okay at school?” he asked, putting down his fork.

Marianne blinked slowly and smiled, knowing what was going to happen if she told him the truth. It would eventually go back to Roland, that why did she have to end her relationship with him if 'things were going great’ and that she was prettier without that much make up. She would answer that her reasons were her own, and that her choices weren’t driven by a broken heart, as everyone seemed to assume. He would scoff and tell her that why did she have to be so difficult and if Violet was still there with them she wouldn’t behave like this.

She hated when her father mentioned her mother like that, like if she were still alive they would be happy and things would go as planned. Things wouldn’t suddenly be going to get better, she was aware of that, and if he wanted her to be happier he could at least pay attention to what she had to say for once in his life.

But right now she was way too tired to start a fight. That’s why she just smiled and said:

“Nah. Everything is ok.” But her father’s face didn’t look very convinced.

“You sure? You look… different,” he frowned and leaned in, trying to look closer at his daughter’s face. “Don’t you think so, Dawn?”

The mentioned girl smiled weakly. Marianne was crushing on a handsome, tall librarian, but she couldn’t say it. She chose the safe route and shrugged again.

“Something new lately?” he kept trying to connect with his little girl. She seemed so far away since Roland… she was not the Marianne he used to know. “Maybe -,” he swallowed hard, “Maybe a boy?”

Marianne looked at him so fast and he knew that he was right.

“Roland?” Dagda smiled tentatively, but the teenager was shaking her head already.

“Never,” she sighed and ate a few bites with a frown on her face. “I’m not hungry anymore. I’ll eat this tomorrow.” She got up and went to the kitchen to store the food.

The father blinked in surprise and sighed. Roland was a delicate topic in the house and he didn’t know how to bring it up anymore without getting this type of response from the girl. It was like the mere mention of his name triggered her defenses and made her even more closed off to the world than what she usually was.

When they had that final fight where they broke up, he thought it was going to simply go away in a while. Yes, they were in the same school but their classes were in different parts of the building so she wouldn’t have to worry about seeing him everyday. And kids were like that, right? One partner here, another one later… He had a few girlfriends in high school and he never behaved like that when those relationships ended.

He wished that his wife were still alive. She would have known what to do. Maybe it was a woman’s thing? He never understood them very well, specially not teenagers, but he was trying.

Why was Marianne being so difficult? Just let it go, that’s what he usually tried to tell her. Even if it is going back with Roland and resolve this absurd tension or finding someone else to be with - he didn’t care. He just wanted his old Marianne back.

***

“What have you told him?” The older sister cornered Dawn once she got back to her room. The blonde was expecting this conversation sooner or later, so she squared her shoulders and smiled innocently.

“Not a thing. Really.”

“Then why did he ask all those questions?” Marianne frowned and crossed her arms.

“I haven’t said anything. I promise,” she sat down on her bed and looked up to her sister with a gentler smile on her lips. “I said I would help you with Bog and that’s what I intend to do.”

“Don’t say his name!” Dawn blinked in surprise, noticing the slight blush on the other girl’s face.

“Oh my,” she giggled. “What happened?”

Marianne blushed deeper and damned her bad luck. Telling Dawn was a bad idea. But it wasn’t like there was much to tell, though; and she still intended to end it - whatever there was - tomorrow once she spoke with the librarian.

“Nothing.”

Dawn smiled wider, her eyes full of mirth in her trademark knowing look.

“Okay, maybe something happened today,” Marianne looked elsewhere in shame, choosing to ignore the tiny shriek of glee from her sister. “But I’m going to end it tomorrow.”

“What? Why?” Dawn jumped to her feet, ready to shake her sister until she were more reasonable. “And tell me the details! Did you kiss?” Marianne’s blush darkened. “Oh my -!”

“Shh!!”

“I know, I know.” the girl jumped in her place. “Is just that I’m sooooo happy! I knew he was good for you!”

“He is not -”

“Nonsense!” Dawn interrupted, placing her hands on her hips as she frowned. “He has been the best thing in your life since… well, since that. You are not letting him go, you hear me!?”

“But he is much older than me, and I -”

“Nonsense!” she said again, this time with a light chuckle. “You are not going down that path, girl. He might be older, but you guys fit so damn well that it doesn’t matter. Age is just a number!”

Marianne sighed in defeat.

“You’ve read too many shoujo mangas, Dawn. In real life things don’t work like that.” The sister made a face at the comment, knowing that the older teen was closed to any argument or reasoning. She bit her lip and used her last card, using the soft voice she reserved for their mother’s memory.

“Mom and Dad had almost ten years of age difference.”

That finally made Marianne listen.

“But - but that’s different!” she tried to defend herself. “They were adults when it happened! They -”

“They met in college and started going out when she was a freshman. Which you’ll be next year, Marianne,” Dawn’s serious face, devoid from any of it usual spark, almost scared the elder sister for a moment. “In a few months you’ll start college and be all adult. You can make your own decisions about love.”

Marianne smirked at the irony of being lectured by her sister, who was using her own thoughts against her.

“I think so,” she shrugged.

“No, don’t run away from this. There’s nothing wrong with it, Marianne. He adores you. I can see that!”

“I…,” she blushed slightly, remembering Bog’s eyes that same evening. They looked at her like she was beautiful. He touched her like she was the most precious thing he had ever seen. He kissed her like it was the last time he could be able to do it.

Maybe it was, her most obnoxious part responded inside her head, reminding her that she should not succumb to the temptation; that changing was bad, that taking risks was what put her in this place first. That romance was for the weak. That letting someone else have that kind of power over her was a bad idea.

And it was, looking at it from certain perspective. Loving someone implied giving them the key to bring her down, and trust that they wouldn’t ever use it. That Roland disappointed her was part of the learning process, but it didn’t mean that the next one would do the same. That Bog would do the same.

Of course Dawn was right. She should stop and listen to her heart for once. If he made her happy then it was stupid to care so much for what they would say or if he’s older and whatnot.

“Oh, Marianne…,” her sister said as she got up. For a moment Marianne was confused by her sister’s behaviour, unable to stop the girl when she hugged her. “Don’t be scared. Everything’s going to be alright.” She patted the older sister’s back.

It was then that Marianne noticed that she was crying.

***

Things weren’t alright, she thought bitterly as she stood in front of the Library’s door, unable to simply open it and face Bog.

She couldn’t sleep last night and her classes were painfully slow and difficult to follow in her sleep-deprived state. Teachers talked about nonsense and formulas and words mixed together in a big mess in her brain. That’s why she knew that it was a bad idea to talk to Bog after school. She needed to be in her right mind to do that conversation.

“Hey,” she heard the man’s voice and blinked open the eyes she didn’t remember closing. The girl looked up and found the subject of her despair right in front of her face, a tentative smile on his lips and obvious nervousness in his eyes.

“‘Sup,” Marianne answered, trying to mask the fact that maybe she just fell asleep while standing there.

“You look horrible.”

“Thanks,” she smiled. Both laughed.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

“Nope.”

“I wonder why,” Bog smiled cheekily, surprising Marianne by his bold move. She pushed him to get inside the Library with a scoff, refusing to answer that remark.

She had to stop.

She had to end this.

She had to!

But as soon as they went inside the Library it was like an electric current passed between them, the memories from the previous day going through their minds. Any smart speech she had rehearsed in her mind went out of the window in the moment their skin touched when Bog lovingly caressed her cheek.

She barely had time to sigh before the man leaned down and kissed her, a mere touch on the lips, something chaste and delicate like the situation they were in.

She tried to force her mouth to form words, but blaming the lack of sleep - even if she knew she was more awake in that moment than the whole day -, she wasn’t able to stop the situation. A simple “hey” would do the trick to make him stop kissing her. Anything! But the spell of his lips touching hers broke any kind of resolution inside of her body.

His soft touch on her skin as he caressed her cheeks, cupping her face with so much care with his big hands. It was in moments like this when she forgets how he may look at the rest of the world; that for her he was soft and tender, gentle with infinite care.

And Marianne knew that she was doomed.

She couldn’t stop this, stop him, stop herself. It was like her body acted on its own, crossing her arms behind his neck, bringing him down to her level for better access. Kissing him back with enthusiasm, she decided then and there that what the hell; she was old enough to make these kind of decisions by herself after all.

It was then that they heard a knock on the door, startling them and making them jump and take a step back just in case. Marianne cleared her throat and combed back her messy hair - she glared at the librarian - before opening the door, finding…

“Hello, Buttercup.” The blond man smiled there, showing as much as he could his perfectly white teeth.

“What are you doing here!” she hissed and looked back at Bog with worry. Had they been discovered?

“I came to talk to you. It’s important,” Roland glanced at the librarian, his smile faltering a bit, sending a clear message: It was private, too.

“Don’t worry, I’ll leave,” Bog sighed and walked deeper into the Library to give them some privacy. Roland waited until he disappeared behind a far shelf to look back at Marianne with a serious expression.

“We have to go, now,” he whispered before grabbing the girl’s arm, pulling with a bit too much force.

“What do you think you are doing?”

“I’m saving you, Buttercup.” She narrowed her eyes, planting her feet on the ground.

“What?” Marianne forced her arm out of his disgusting hands. “And if I needed saving it should be from you!”

“Stop being so difficult! I’m trying to save you from that man!” Roland approached her and put his hands on her shoulders, but it wasn’t a pleasant touch. It wasn’t like when Bog did it, because then she felt protected and warm. Now, it made her fight or flight instinct arise.

“What the hell are you talking about!”

“Marianne,” the sound of her name coming from his lips made her recoil. “You have been seen kissing… that man.”

The girl’s body went cold. Her slow mind tried to process the fact that word of her beautiful relationship, which still didn’t have a name for, with the librarian was already passing around. She felt heavy, she felt tired. She felt like crumbling down. This couldn’t be happening, at least not so soon.

She never had the chance to be happy.

“... and I had to get you as far as possible!” Roland was still talking, but she could barely hear him over the beeping in her ears. “Are you alright?” He put his hand on her cheek, making her snap out of her trance.

“What have you done?” she whispered, looking fiercely at him in the eyes.”Why are you torturing me? Have you not done enough?”

“I don’t know what are you talking about, Buttercu-”

“Silence,” Marianne cut him, too tired to scream. She tried to take a step back, but he still had his hands around her. “Let me go.”

“I can’t.”

“Why.” It wasn’t even a question.

“Because you can’t go back to him.”

“Who the fuck said so.”

Roland smiled, putting his other hand on her left cheek, successfully cupping her face in what could have been a loving gesture. Instead, she felt threatened when Roland leaned down and whispered in her ear: “Your father said so.”

Before she could dwell on the discovery, the speaker on the wall came back to life to deliver the message that the librarian was requested at the Director’s office. Immediately.

#strange magic #butterfly bog #bog king #marianne #lofe #fanfic #writeblr #gil writes #strange magic fanfiction #princess marianne #fanfiction

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bearsfakedthemoonlanding · 4 years

Text

Lover Boy

since so much of my dysphoria has to do with other people’s perceptions of me, i spent a lot of time exploring myself while on the arms of other people. i’ll talk about them at length later, but for now i want to talk about her.

she said to write about us, and well. i’ll do anything she asks of me.

i’m nineteen years old and we’re in my freshman year dorm room. at the beginning of the school year our small cluster of three had gone about picking up people wherever we could find them, dragging them along with us and watching them decide to stick around or drop away. there were a lot of nights sitting on that dorm room floor with a small crowd of people, giggling over some card game or bottle of alcohol, daring each other to tell secrets and exchange kisses.

is it crazy to admit i don’t remember if we ever kissed, back then?

those were good days. i liked our friends, and i liked the down time. i liked being so far away from home and so far out of my parent’s sight.

while a number of our evenings were spent with a whole crew of us, laughing and screaming and being rowdy into the night, and even more significant number of nights were spent with just a handful. the original three of us, sometimes an extra here and there, but when i think back to those nights my memories dance with her.

just her, always an arm lengths away. she would let herself in and sit on my bed, lounge on my floor, take up space on the bean bag. it didn’t matter what i was getting up to, when she knocked i’d let her in, and we’d be there together quietly

i’m nineteen years old, and my long distance girlfriend has been slowly building up towards breaking up with me for months now. i can feel it coming, like watching a tsunami roll in in slow motion, too in shock to do anything, just frozen in dread.

things are crashing down around me, and there we are in my dorm room. i don’t remember what series of events led to us being so comfortable, but by this point it wasn’t strange to find us pressing against each other’s sides or lounging in each other’s laps. it was purely platonic, back then. nothing but young, giddy innocence. we’re on the floor with a group of other’s around us, and i’m either drunk or i’m tired, but i’ve sagged over sideways. my head is pillowed on her thigh, and suddenly her fingers are in my hair. petting, combing, nails scratching gently against my scalp and i realize.

oh no.

the guilt eats away at me, the idea that i could have a crush on anyone while dating anyone else, but as the relationship continues to crumble and buckle under the weight of our distance and a lot of childish mistakes, everything comes to a head.

we all separate for summer vacation, and my girlfriend and i separate for good. i go home for the summer, mopey and heartbroken, but the entire three months i’m away my phone continues to chime.

we’re still taking up space in each other’s lives. i’m happy to have made a friend.

i used to not understand her. she was hard to read, distant, very reserved with her feelings. in sophomore year once i was in her dorm room when our friend-- her roommate-- received terrible news. our friend broke down, and i watched the panic that flitted over Her face as she stared.

i’d never seen her helpless before. she was so collected. so in control of herself. she stared at our friend crying and had no idea what to do, and i shouldn’t have found it charming, but well. anything she does is charming to me. has been for quite a while.

sophomore year was spent clinging to those same old friends and hesitantly making news ones, while also making quite a few mistakes. a friend offers me THC chocolate, and one moment i’m sitting there bored waiting for the drug to kick in, the next i look down and see three sets of hands in my own lap.

she doesn’t seem to mind as i cling to her, burying my face in the crook of her neck and hanging off of her arm while she carries on a conversation i cant even begin to keep up with. every so often i hold my wrist out to her and ask to her to check my pulse-- i’ve never felt my heart beat like this before.

she bares it patiently and assures me every time that i’m fine, no frustration, no irritation, just fine. always, continuously fine.

i’m twenty-two and it’s valentine’s day, and i don’t know why, but she’s been sad for months. i’ve memorized our routines, gotten used to her once-a-semester breakdown (always just a week or two before finals, and always bouncing right back afterwards. it was easier to track her emotional state than it was mine). but senior year was different. she hit hard and didn’t bounce back, and by now we were best friends. i wanted to do something nice for her.

it was selfish in a way. i knew she didn’t reciprocate feelings, but i couldn’t give up the hope of changing her mind, couldn’t resist the temptation of offerings and gestures. a kiss to the side of the head. lending her my sweater. an arm wrapped around shoulders. a small bouquet of roses on her desk with a carefully written note.

she bore it all patiently. our entire college career, i was convinced that she was just bearing me patiently. i went through phases and feelings and drama in an endless tumble of activity, always changing, always something, and she was steadfast. laying in my bed and listening to whatever i had to say, let me talk and talk, rarely as affected by anything as i was.

it was both easy and impossible to love someone so steady.

the first time we shared a bed, we were sophomores in college. early that fall semester we’d gotten far more tangible with each other, picking up where we left off and continuing to sitting on laps and leaning into each other’s sides.

i wasn’t quiet about my feelings, dropping hints whenever it seemed appropriate, until a mutual friend asked us outright. they said we would be cute together, asked if we would date.

no, she said. she was straight.

i took several steps back.

but while i wrestled my feelings back under control and carefully reigned in my behaviors, nothing in her demeanor changed. still wrapping herself around my arm, leaning into my side, laying on top of me, starting up fights. we spent so many nights throwing each other around on dorm room beds, fighting and wrestling, and i resorted to tickling while she nipped at my fingers and dug her nails into me skin. we laughed ourselves breathless. i was endlessly baffled by it.

but friends could be close, i assured myself. friends could be tangible, could be physically affectionate. there was nothing wrong with it.

when she tells the story, she says i asked her over. i wasn’t feeling well. i don’t remember. but she came over in her pajamas and curled up in my bed. my roommate was away, and the lights in the dorm room were on. she was tucked into my side, nestled under my arm, and by the time i realized she was asleep i was too petrified to move and break the spell. i was convinced that if she woke, she’d go away.

we slept with the lights on, me hyperaware of every sensation even in cat naps, until my alarm went off in the morning and i hesitantly retracted myself from her arms and made my way off to class.

she stayed in my bed all morning, made friends with my roommate when she returned. they would grow to be incredibly close, become best friends, and i would spend the next several months ruminating on that night.

in december i confess, tell her my feelings, that she’s the most amazing person i’ve ever met and that nobody else makes me happier. she politely declines, says she can’t love me Like That. I reel myself back in, having done all that I can, and spend my free moments thinking about that evening and trying not to stare every time she steals my clothes and wears them out in public.

best friends, i told myself, and it was fine.

junior year was terrible for both of us. while i tangled myself up with somebody terrible, she grew more and more distant and declined every invitation to hang out with us. i let him monopolize my free time, meaning there was little time that i spent with her.

do you know how ridiculous it is to spend a whole relationship missing somebody else?

regardless of all that, she was the first person i told. we took a long walk the night after it happened, wandering around campus as we were keen to do. she was wearing my clothes. we found ourselves on the top of the parking garage, and i confessed two things.

i lost my virginity, and i think i might be bisexual.

she laughed, not meanly, and i had been so terribly afraid she’d be mad at me. i wasn’t sure why i needed her approval so strongly. she was there the first night,

and five months later for the break up, she was there again

we spent a long time wandering around campus late at night, neither of us speaking as i waited for her to piece her words together. this wasn’t anything new. i’d become quite accustomed to this particular brand of communication, and i would have waited contentedly all night long for her to figure out what she wanted to say. i still would.

we walked through campus, but unlike other times, the longer we went the more she grew visibly upset. visibly upset wasn’t ever her forte. she was so cool, so calm, so reserved and careful with her emotions. they were nobody else’s business.

she shoved her phone into my hands, and she was crying as she demanded i read it. the shake in her voice sticks vividly in my memory. she’d never cried before, not in front of me. i read the whole terrible thing on her phone-- a love letter to her from the boy i was dating, an exchange of messages, him bullying her into meeting-- and while i knew i should have felt heartbreak and betrayal over him, all i could feel was anger for her

he had made her cry

me, well. he could do anything to me. i’d accepted no small number of terrible treatment from him, but he had made her cry. he’d made her afraid. he knew what she meant to me, and he’d done it all anyways.

she followed me around for hours afterwards, letting me build myself up to a shouting, ranting rage as i called the arrangement off. let me talk and talk and listened patiently as i said nothing of any importance, pulled me back gently when i kicked at a wall and buzzed close at my elbow as i sagged onto a frozen concrete bench.

she’d been scared of losing me. i was scared of the fallout of telling him ‘no.’ but i had her back again, stuck to my side, and it was so. so comfortable.

she used to talk about “when we were older.” make up elaborate scenarios of us both being professors, of us teasing the students with rumors of a romance that didn’t exist. talked about living together, convincing everyone we were married in some elaborate prank. she talked about our children, first as separate entities-- her children and my own-- but it wasn’t long before our fictional families morphed into one and they just became Ours.

i talked about being old folks together in the same nursing home, and she agreed.

best friends, we called it. i was so scared that if i didn’t stick a label on it, it would cease to exist at all.

twenty-two years old and we’re in our shared dorm room. i’ve come back from class or work. she hasn’t gotten out of bed.

i don’t realize she’s shirtless until i’m already falling on top of her blankets, and by then its too late to turn back.

it’s no strange thing in our senior year for our roommates to return and find us sprawled out on top of each other, both under and over the covers, arms wrapped snuggly around waists, noses tucked against throats. we’d spend hours tangled up in each other, holding conversations with the others as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

we called it best friends.

this day it’s still daylight, and no one is home, and she’s nearly naked under the covers and i’m wearing gym shorts and a t-shirt as i lay on top of her. a sheet separates us. neither of us acknowledges the situation. she curls up against my side as if this is ordinary, and i wrap my arms around her. we lay together, there, for hours.

we call it best friends.

in the car in the dark we talk about god.

i don’t talk about god with anyone. i’m queer and my family is conservative. the church that raised me left a lot of tender areas that never quite healed right when i grew up. even now, 900 miles from home and two years removed from the church, i think back on things and feel the cold fist of fear coil tight in my chest.

i don’t like being so angry.

but we’re in the car in the dark and we talk about god. we’re several days into our cross-country road trip, just the two of us, and while i’d been afraid that so much time alone in the front seat together would lead us to resent each other, we’ve done nothing but kept comfortable companionship the whole time. like we always had.

of course, though. we were best friends.

we’re moving her to new york city. we’ve just grabbed dinner at a small diner in nebraska-- the restaurant had been a bizarre sort of gambling den, but outside of the darkened room next to us, we were alone. i let myself imagine she loved me, held her hand in front of the waitress and made a modest show to paying the bill and holding the door. we split a desert. we laughed the whole meal. the waitress couldn’t have cared less, though i felt like i was getting away with something.

we’re in the truck and we talk about god and i’m relieved to hear she doesn’t renounce the idea entirely.

quickly into the drive exhaustion sets in. i feel dizzy and delirious, and when i nearly drive us off the road in a tragic attempt at merging back onto the interstate, she calmly takes the wheel and sets us right again. unshakeable, always. i am endlessly impressed with her.

i spend the rest of the evening thinking about holding her hand over the center console while sappy, romantic country songs play on the radio and put fog in my eyes. i don’t, though. we’re just best friends.

when we park for the night outside of a walmart, i curl up in the drivers seat and imagine we cleared out the back, crowded together in the back seat and slept in each other’s arms. she was less than a foot away in the passenger seat. i missed her.

the summer between junior and senior year she confessed in a roundabout way. we were best friends, she said in a several page letter on my phone’s screen. and she loved me. she wished she could love me like that, but she couldn’t.

i paced the fields miserably and showed the phone to my mom, who’d gotten better over the years about talking about my romances, homosexual or otherwise. she’d warmed up to this one quickly, had probably seen it coming from day one.

it can’t be like that, the confession said, and i believed it wholeheartedly.

and then senior year it came again. i love you, but not like that. it can’t be like that. we can’t be like that.

it was april, late april. we graduated in a month and then i’d be losing her forever. i figured i had nothing left to lose.

i asked her on a date.

she asked me why.

i figured we might as well try it, just to say that we did. she agreed. i thought so hard and so long about kissing her that evening-- after going out to dinner, and exploring old antique shops, playing around in a casino we were both too poor to even look at, mocking the glistening marble tile, running down the strip to the roller coaster that had become our tradition.

she caught my hand and held it, and we were clumsy with each other, trying to figure out how to match pace and settle into a rhythm.

i didn’t kiss her that night. we got alcoholic slushies and made our way home, and inside our dorm room were both of our roommates, who had no idea what we’d been up to.

i figured it was over, that was it. i didn’t make the big move and it had all come to an end. i flopped hopelessly onto my bed while listening to my friends talk, and then just like an old habit, she nudged me over to make room and pressed herself into my side.

the two of us accompanied our roommates on countless double dates. they were dating and very wrapped up in each other, but they always offered to take us along. they liked big events. liked group activities.

we rented a hotel room for her twenty-first birthday, and we went to see the chippendales boys. our male friend elected to stay behind, and my other roommate and i found ourselves absolutely unimpressed with the show while my love stared wide eyed.

she cheered along with the other women in the crowd and thoroughly enjoyed the show, and even though she sat there with her knee pressed against mine under the table, and her eyes sparkling any time she turned to smile at me, i felt hope slipping through her fingers.

i was still a girl then, and had been clinging to the idea a bit more firmly that evening. i wanted to look nice. i wore a dress, something that showed my chest and my waist and my legs, and she was wrapped up in these men on stage, and i felt absolutely disgusting.

the four of us slept in one bed that night, all curled up together in a way we would do several more times before the end of the school year. in the morning me and her awoke alone to find a note, on of them had felt ill and they had decided to split early. we curled up together in their absence and stayed there as long as the hotel would allow.

she’s in my childhood home. it shouldn’t feel as intimate as it did, but it felt like every ‘fake dating/take them home for christmas’ fanfiction i had ever read. she laughed with my parents, sat on the couch. besides my mother, my family is terribly homophobic, and armed with this knowledge she let me rebel against them by pressing against her side, putting my arm around her shoulders, sending cheesy, doughy smiles her way.

she wasn’t afraid of anything, and i realize as i write this-- she’s always been willing to appease me. always gone along with my nonsense. i don’t know what i did to deserve this.

guess its what best friends are for.

that night we’re in my childhood bedroom, squeezed together in my twin bed, and everything feels odd. we lay there on our backs, shoulder to shoulder, and we say nothing. until the tension begins to break me, and i roll over and say fuck it. what are we doing. come here.

she sleeps against my chest. my parents are in the next room. i don’t know if they suspect anything, but our actions were nothing but innocent anyways-- abominable by nature or otherwise. they leave us be.

it is odd to wake up with her in my bedroom.

the air is frozen and bitter. we’ve been out of school for five months, haven’t seen each other in nearly that long, but here she is again. back in my hometown. she’s holding my hand.

i lend her a jacket and scarf and we drive two miles in the dark to a haunted house. we wander the fair grounds, and as we make our way through the trail of boy scouts leaping out in masks trying to scare us shitless, she clings onto my arm for dear life and lets me pretend to be brave.

it’s bitingly cold, because it’s november first in indiana and the snow has started to fall. her hand is burning warm where it holds mine in my pocket, and her breath is warm when she leans in and presses against me. her breath puffs against my neck. my nose is frozen when i press it to her cheek.

we’re best friends.

we spend four long days wasting away in a motel room together, watching terrible tv shows and touching as much as the confines of our relationship will allow. in the mornings i wake up first, but when i begin to stir she whines and pulls me close, spooning against my back and wrapping her arms tight around my middle. she presses her back between my shoulder blades and doesn’t let me move.

we get drunk in an empty bar and spend long hours talking and laughing and smiling at each other.

we wrestle, and any time one of us wins and pins the other, we freeze uncertainly, not sure what else we’re supposed to do.

i drive her to the airport so she can return home, and when we hug goodbye in the parking lot she presses a kiss to the side of my neck before she disappears. i can’t feel my hands as i drive to a diner and sit numbly in a booth, fending off tears and making myself sick on greasy food, trying not to think too hard about anything.

it’s july. we bit the bullet four months ago and have been romancing each other properly ever since, even with the long distance separating us.

over a year prior, when i had asked her to change my pronouns, i’d been terrified. eighteen months before that, when i’d come out as bisexual to her on that parking garage, i’d been shaking. i’m more confident now, though, as i ask how she feels about me starting testosterone.

it’s a change that will affect her too, i figure. she deserves to know about major changes with the person she’s dating. it could affect a lot. our future, our children, our reputation, our sex life.

she is unconcerned. she’s wonderfully supportive, but at the same time cavalier. i shouldn’t be surprised. she’s cavalier about almost everything.

less so, now that we’re no longer holding back with each other, but her poker face remains infinitely better than my own. my own responses to things seem like melodrama compared to her unaffected calm.

i’m worried she isn’t thinking it through thoroughly, worried she might not actually care.

a week later a letter appears in the mail. it’s three pencil drawings, a little damp from a sudden downpour shortly after it was delivered. three images of a naked figure-- one with smooth limbs, delicate curves, breasts, thin arms and shoulders. another with harder lines, denser limbs, thick hair decorating the legs and lower abdomen and neck and jaw. and a drawing in the middle of a figure with hair on their legs and tape binding their chest

and the weight of the gesture is enough to draw tears out of me.

the drawings are tacked to my wall now, and as i reflect on the past five years of knowing her, i still can’t piece together how i have gotten so impossibly lucky to earn her love.

if i was writing this at any time other than midnight with only four hours of sleep, i might be able to put it more eloquently. but there were things that i needed to express. how absolutely and utterly in love i am. how amazingly she treats me. how comfortable we are, and have been, for such a long time. i don’t mind how long it has taken us to get here. i think the journey here was all part of it.

if you’re looking to date anyone, find them on the floor of your freshman dorm. stick to them, patiently. learn all of the ways that they care for you. you really ought to date your best friend.

#it is late and i am tired and in love #shes perfect #college sweethearts #pining #slow burn romance #queer love

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sabertag105 · 4 years

Text

Me in a nutshell

There’s always a certain anonymity to using the Internet (and Tumblr for that matter especially), it’ one of the things I love about Tumblr. There’s no pressure to be perfect, it’s a great place to find a community that has the same interests as you no matter your interests, and there will always be someone here to which you can reach out. And I love Tumblr for all those reasons and more.

But in the pursuit of preserving that anonymity, I feel like I skirt around those details about me. I make jokes that only 2 people will understand, I make jokes that, decontextualized, are not funny at all. So I feel like it would be worth it to take a moment to tell everyone that cares to read this a little more about me. Not everything will be complete, but it is my promise that everything is true.

My name is Matthew. I’m 19 years old, and I’m a freshman at the College of William and Mary. I graduated in 2019 with an advanced diploma and an International Baccalaureate Diploma. I became an Eagle Scout in 2018, and I wrestled for three years in high school. All of this is to say that these are the few accomplishments that I feel like I’ve had that have made the most impact on my life. I’ve had others as well, like Highest Scorer in Scholar’s Bowl in middle school and 1st place in Jump the River on Field Day in 2nd grade (which I’m still proud as fuck about), but these few achievements have made to who I am.

Wrestling gave me the strength, both mental and physical, to do everything else that I wanted to do. It gave me the physical confidence to be who I knew I could be, and my coach instilled in me the mental grit it took to become an Eagle and an IB Diplomat. I gave my coach my Eagle Mentor Pin, and I will be forever grateful for the time he put into making me a man.

Becoming an Eagle Scout was the longest-running goal I have ever had. It was the ONLY goal that persisted from the time that I was in 4th grade all the way to when I became a legal adult. The IB Program, wrestling, all my other major achievements didn’t even become a possibility until I was 14. Being an Eagle had always seemed to be my goal in life. So much so that it seemed like a given. Like If I didn’t just stop Scouting cold turkey that I was guaranteed to get it. but the thing I didn’t get until I was 17 was that you don’t get your Eagle Rank. You earn it. And I was behind. So what I did was what Coach had taught me to do. Get my sorry ass off the pavement, put my nose to the grindstone, and prove myself wrong. And that’s what I did. One month before my 18th birthday, I turned in my paperwork for my Eagle Project and request for an Eagle Board of Review. And on the 18th of December, 6 days after my 18th birthday, I was awarded with my Eagle Rank. And I couldn’t have been happier. I peaked the mountain that I had been climbing for 8 years. It was the same mountain that a child had started. It felt so strange to finally achieve my ultimate goal and touch the top of the world.

The IB Program, as any IB student will tell you, was easily the hardest thing I have ever done in my life. This one goal was the only goal I have ever cried over, poured over, and considered over all within one week. I hated having to force myself to do so much work that I made myself physically ill. I literally took almost an entire month away from school JUST to take tests that would determine my diploma. I wouldn’t even know my scores until July 16th, a whole month and two days AFTER I graduated. So you can imagine how much anxiety I had over my tests. But I had to realize something. The hay is in the barn, there was nothing I could do about it after the tests were over. So I just took a deep breath, sat down, and waited for my scores to release. And when it did, I saw all 5s and one 4, plus my 1 bonus from the subclass essays, totaling 30 out of the necessary 24. I didn’t feel the ecstasy I thought I would. Instead, I felt peace. Like the tension in my soul was just unbunched and allowed to flow out. It felt good. And I celebrated by playing On Top of the World by Imagine Dragons one time through. Then that was that. Just this past December 19th was when I was officially awarded my diploma.

But that’s enough about what I look like on paper. This post isn’t just for me to toot my horn, it’s so that I can tell an audience that I believe exists about who I am. So more about me in general.

I was born on December 12th, 2000. I have one brother, Zachary, and he’s 22. When I’m not at college I live with both my parents, happily married, but at college, I live on campus in Dinwiddie Hall. I am strictly heterosexual, and I am not in a relationship. Essentially, I’m the poster child for Straight White Male Monthly.

I have dark brown hair (like my mother, but I say her hair is black), I have green and hazel eyes (neither of which are my parent’s natural eye color) with a case of symmetrical central dichromia. Put simply, I have to different eye colors in each eye, but my eyes look indistinguishably identical to one another. So my eyes don’t look different, but I’ve got 2 eye colors.

I don’t really know much about my heritage, but I do know that my great grandmother Ruth was full-blooded German. So I’m at least 12.5% German. My mother was adopted, so my pedigree according to the government is a smidge fucked up.

Now for personal details and preferences. I don’t have OCD, but I have a heavy preference for symmetry. I don’t like it when things aren’t centered or at least tastefully decentered. I am very hyperactive, I’m a bit of a night owl unfortunately (it’s currently 1:13 lol), and I play video games. Less frequently than I used to, but still so. I haven’t seen anyone about it, so there’s no way for it to be diagnosed, but I have had extended bouts of depression in the past. Right now, I feel okay, but it feels like the emotion is still there, but it’s just waiting for a reason to crop up. It will probably happen once the semester comes back. Most of it is caused by loneliness (which explains the jokes I make about it). When I get lonely I become seriously reserved save for around a select group of people, and I just kind of hole up, which is highly uncharacteristic for me. During that time, I tend to use Tumblr as a vice for coping with how lonely I am, so if I do make posts like that please bear with me. I’m doing my best, I’ve just been dealt a bad hand that day.

I’m typically as open as possible with personal stuff, save for private details like bank numbers n shit, so if anything I’ve said strikes a question please ask. I like answering questions. And If you read all this, you’re either really bored or genuinely want to know more about me. Regardless, I’m grateful you took the time to go through all my midnight jargon about myself. I hope you learned something that you wanted to learn, and I hope that no matter the topic, you stay curious and continue to learn. Be safe, stay hydrated, and don’t do anything stupid without proper preparation.

#midnight thoughts #just shit I wanted to say #swearing #swearing in the tags #personal #me #meirl #learn more #about me #just shit #gotta go beddy bye now

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caws5749 · 4 years

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This took SO LONG thanks @natthisback

1: Name Madison

2: Age 21

3: 3 fears spiders, not becoming a doctor, becoming like my parents

4: 3 things i love marvel movies, my blanket (whoops), and scrunchies

5: 4 turn ons compliment me, be chivalrous, (idk if this means sex turn on too or not but) moaning my n- ANYWHO uh and the last one definitely like showing you want me

6: 4 turn offs someone who only talks about themselves, being like wishy washy, being arrogant/cocky, complaining about the same things

7: my best friend that would be shea @cloversofshea

8: sexual orientation lesbian

9: my best first date okay SO this like isn’t a first date but it was my first like nicer dinner date so I’m gonna count it. It was just this past weekend actually and i just i loved it so much it was amazing

10: how tall am i 5’2

11: what do i miss honestly, feeling like i was good at things

12: what time were i born 11:14am

13: favorite color purple, although it’s slowly been turning to like a baby light pink

14: do i have a crush yes yes i do and i likes her a lot

15: favorite quote “Truth is a matter of circumstance. It’s not all things to all people all the time. And neither am I.”

16: favorite place Chicago or New York City

17: favorite food SALMON

18: do i use sarcasm yes, but i feel like i don’t use it as much as i used to

19: what am i listening to right now Christmas pop playlist on Spotify

20: first thing i notice in new person whether they only talk about themselves

21: shoe size 8 or 8.5

22: eye color blue

23: hair color right now, it’s a brown that goes to blond at my ends

24: favorite style of clothing so if this means like fav style to wear daily, definitely athleisure. If it means in general, i love love love preppy looks? But not super preppy.

25: ever done a prank call? Absolutely, many times

27: meaning behind my url i explain this in my about me page (linked in bio!)

28: favorite movie captain America winter soldier

29: favorite song i don’t really have favorite songs but rn it’s prob December night by Michael buble

30: favorite band i don’t really have fav bands

31: how i feel right now it’s really hot in here, so warm. I feel okay

32: someone i love i love lots of people but ill stick with @cloversofshea

33: my current relationship status I’ve answered this so many times literally just look at the ask game tag

34: my relationship with my parents um yikes

35: favorite holiday Halloween

36: tattoos and piercing i have i have 6 tattoos! “Breathe” on my right inner ankle, a heart on left shoulder, heart w equal sign in it behind right ear, basically an ecg on my left inner ankle, Aquarius symbol on right bicep, and caws 5749 on my left side. And my ears are pierced.

37: tattoos and piercing i want definitely the black widow symbol in the same place Scarlett got her og6 tattoo, an amino acid tattoo that spells out “wah” , definitely more little tattoos! And maybe more ear piercings idk

38: the reason i joined tumblr so, I’ve had a tumblr for many many years. I originally joined bc my best friends at the time had them, and i was like sure! Ive deleted that personal blog since, and started my new personal blog a few years ago. I also have a studyblr that i started i think back in high school, and i just started this blog back in the end of July!

39: do i and my last ex hate each other no, I’d say far from it bc i likes her a lot

40: do i ever get “good morning” or “good night” texts yes from her and i fucking love it, it used to be a bigger thing almost every day and i loved it

41: have i ever kissed the last person i texted lmao no and for those who were wondering it is @cloversofshea

42: when did i last hold hands LMAO WITH @michelinaamour WHEN I WAS STUMBLING HOME DRUNK IN HIGH HEELS

43: how long does it take me to get ready in the morning it depends, anywhere from ten minutes to an hour and a half

44: have you shaved your legs in the past three days no! I am super lucky and have really light colored hairs on my legs and so i dont’ have to shave very often. Also i just want to say that i personally love shaving my legs and it is my choice to do so.. girls, you do not need to shave!!

45: where am i right now so i started answering this in the research lab, but i am currently sitting at one of the dining places on campus finishing it

46: if i were drunk and can’t stand, who’s taking care of me LMAO DEFINITELY @michelinaamour because she’s done it ALREADY FOR ME MULTIPLE TIMES

47: do i like my music loud or at a reasonable level it depends, in car trips, definitely blast it. But just driving around or listening in doors, definitely reasonable level

48: do i live with my mom and dad nope i live with @michelinaamour

49: am i excited for anything yes, I’m excited for lots of things. I get excited easily

50: do i have someone of the opposite sex i can tell everything to no. I used to

51: how often do i wear a fake smile this is a really interesting question. I don’t consider smiles i give to random people like ordering food or something to be fake, so i would say fake smiles are when I’m not okay and trying to hide it. Which happens less often now bc I’m just much happier of a person

52: when was the last time i hugged someone I think it was @michelinaamour two days ago but i think i hugged @cloversofshea that day too so

53: what if the last person i kissed was kissing someone else right in front of me I’d be heartbroken tbh

54: is there anyone i trust even though i should not yes, certain adults in my life

55: what is something i disliked about today my hair won’t do what i want it to :(

56: if i could meet anyone on this earth who would it be probably Chris Evans or Scarlett Johansson

57: what do i think about the most tumblr and everything with that, or probably her or school stuff definitely

58: what’s my strangest talent i don’t think i have any lol

59: do i have any strange phobias yes definitely haha, I’m terrified of stepping on worms

60: do i prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it i think a few years ago i would have said behind, but honestly I think I’d love to be in front of the camera now

61: what was the last lie i told i actually don’t know. Maybe this past weekend as to like the fact that i was going out on a date instead of just going out with a friend

62: do i prefer talking on the phone or video chatting online I’d say talking on the phone bc then they cant’ see me lmao

63: do I believe in ghosts? How about aliens? Yes and yes

64: do i believe in magic? Yes, or at least, that’s what i tell myself

65: do i believe in luck yes

66: what’s the weather like right now snowy!

67: what was the last book I’ve ever read The Butchering Art, it’s about the history of surgery

68: do i like the smell of gasoline omg yes yes yes yes yes yes

69: do i have any nicknames yes, madz, madi, girl who lives by the kitchen, queen (a new one) and clown (also a new one) thanks @natthisback

70: what was the worst injury I’ve ever had back in freshman year of college, i did something stupid and my foot swelled up like hell and hurt so bad. There were no fractures detected but the swelling stayed for a really long time, as well as the bruising and pain, and it never returned to normal

71: do i spent my money or save it SPEND IT BABY

72: can i touch my nose w my tongue no I’m not that talented

73: is there anything pink in 10 ft from me. Hmm part of my backpack? And my rings are pinkish bc they are rose gold. Oh and my scrunchie is pink, as well as my iPad

74: favorite animal cat

75: what was i doing last night at 12am i was still at work In the emergency room!

76: what do i think satan’s last name is uh honestly Jim lmao (it’s demons Jim! @cloversofshea )

77: what’s a song that always makes me happy when i hear it so good by dove Cameron

78: how can you win my heart suggest we watch a marvel movie, and I’m prob straight up in love. There are other things too but they’re pretty general, like compliment me, show you want me ya know

79: what would i want to be written on my tombstone haha, as a joke, “so realy its very thing. Just to keep everyone guessing.” But idk something funny

80: what is my favorite word i have no idea, maybe like sophisticated or something like that or aesthetic , champagne is a good one too

81: my top 5 blogs on tumblr ooh! Okay so @markiplier @lesbian-deadpool @americasass-romanoff @lesbianmariahilll @shining-rey-of-sunshine but i love so so so so so many more, and i have a lot of top blogs

82: if the whole world were listening to me right now what would i say fuck trump also I’m gay as hell and I’m growing tired of hiding it from people

83: do i have any relatives in jail not that i know of

84: i accidentally eat some radioactive vegatables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow me with the super power of my choice! What is that power lmao this question is great. Prob same powers as Wanda

85: what would be a question I’d be afraid to tell the truth on any weird fetis- JUST KIDDING. Do you still think about them?

86: what is my current desktop picture so on my laptop, it’s fall flowers. But since that’s broken af, i use my iPad and that background is one of the apple ones. It’s just a beach idk why but I’ve never changed it

87: had sex WHY IS THIS IN EVERY SINGLE ASK GAME WTF

88: bought condoms nope i am gay as hell bye

89: gotten pregnant nope i am gay as hell bye

90: failed a class nope, definitely come close though

91: kissed a boy yes

92: kissed a girl yes

93: have i ever kissed somebody in th rain honestly, probably at some point, but I’ve never had one of those romantic kisses in the rain. I really really want to though and i think about it a lot

94: had job yeah, I’ve had three true jobs

95: left the house without my wallet probably

96: bullied someone on the internet no bc I’m not a fucking douche

97: had sex in public not yet

98: played on a sports team yeah, played softball and basketball in middle school

99: smoked weed yeah, but i didn’t get high

100: did drugs nope

101: smoked cigarettes nope, i think i asked drunk once if i could smoke, but my friend was like “really?” And i was like uhhhhhh just kidding haha

102: drank alcohol lmao i drink fucking all the time i mean. I literally have drunk writing nights , I’m drinking tonight too

103: am i a vegetarian/vegan i was a vegetarian for a while, and then an aspiring vegan, and then vegetarian, and then pescatarian now!

104: been overweight no

105: been underweight yes

106: been to a wedding yeah, but like not for a long time. I was like 4 and the flower girl. Oh WAIT. Does playing a wedding count? I played cello at a wedding so i was there???

107: been on the computer for 5 hours straight hell yeah, how would i function not doing this with class and relaxing

108: watched tv for 5 hours straight lmao definitely

109: been outside my home country yeah

110: gotten my heart broken yeah

111: been to a professional sports game yeah. I don’t really do sports though , so when i go it’s usually in suites and I’m just there for the food

112: broken a bone nope!

113: cut myself this is...a. Really deep question but bc i want to be able to speak about mental health on here, the answer is yes.

114: been to prom yes! I went to my junior and senior proms!

115: been in airplane too many times

116: fly by helicopter no, I’m not sure if i want to do this or not

117: what concerts have i been to I’ve been to lots. So first off, I’ve been to hundreds of classical concerts (and performed in them). As for pop, Bruno mars twice, maroon five like three times. Selena Gomez. Josh groban. American authors. Definitely others that i don’t remember

118: had a crush on someone of the same sex yes I’m fucking gay

119: learned another language so if this means fluent, no. I took a decent amount of French and am learning Russian right now!

120: wore make up absolutely. When i choose to wear makeup, its because i fuckign love makeup haha. Most days I’m lazy though and like to let my skin breathe and be natural

121: lost my virginity before I was 18 no

122: had oral sex yeah

123: dyed my hair many times

124: voted in a presidential election okay i think so but honestly can’t remember. But I’m pretty sure i did.

125: rode in an ambulance no and i never want to.

126: had a surgery no and i never want to haha. Well i cant say that. Depending on how my life plays out, I might freeze my eggs or something.

127: met someone famous yes, several I think, but probably Henry winkler was the one I remember most.

128: stalked someone on a social network yeah

129: peed outside nope don’t think so and definitely don’t want to

130: been fishing yes I have been ice fishing and regular fishing

131: helped w charity i have!

132: been rejected by a crush I’ve been not liked back but i don’t think I’ve ever made like a move on a crush and been rejected

133: broken a mirror ooh i don’t think i have actually

134: what do i want for birthday nothing bc i dont’ like my bday

#madison speaks #ask game

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tinytendril · 5 years

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wanna dance with you, pt. 2 - robbaery au Summary: Drabbles or a collection of moments between Margaery and Robb, finding themselves unexpectedly drawn to each other over the course of the summer after high school graduation and the start of her college freshman year.

Chapter Summary: Robb and Margaery find themselves trying to navigate an even hazier view of their friendship. Robb says things. Margaery tries not to say things. And everyone seems to have something to say about their relationship. AN: The final addition to the robbaery drabbles in part i, and I’m already running ideas of more AUs for this pair. I’m hooked.

Margaery & Robb

It appears that Theon and Arya had found Robb in a less than favourable mood to share their opinions about his predicament with Margaery (and they swear they did not find out from Sansa). But, he’s resigned to keeping their company because his usual lunch date by the rugby pitch has clearly claimed him persona non-grata.

‘What I don’t get is why you would want to be a part of something so archaic,’ Arya tells her brother. ‘Robb, you used to tell Sansa to stop worrying about all these social events mum and dad forced us to attend. You were the one to tell her to not be a part of something so sexist, something that would parade girls in dresses for a prize of some strange guy’s attention.’

Theon does an exaggerated nod in agreement, and then takes a massive bite into his bacon butty, ‘-otally, mate. -otally awrkaic-’ He swallows to solemnly add, ‘But, that parade of sexiest dresses.’

As soon as she stops hollering at Jon to clobber the boy with the rugby ball down at the pitch, Arya elbows Theon to continue to speak to her brother, ‘Robb, are you going because of…’

Robb wonders if he is doing a good job of masking his embarrassment as they catch him and his coincidental spotting of Margaery across the pitch, passing by to get to what he knows is her last class of the day. Her eyes dart away as soon as she spots them, and she’s already turning the corner, her last trek to her class hidden behind the opposite bleachers, before he has the chance to look away himself. Judging by Theon’s snickering, he can tell that he’s not got a cat in hell’s chance in fooling the pair of them.

‘I’m only dropping off Sansa to her dance practices for the ball,’ he starts, but has to continue because both Theon and Arya wait for him to continue. ‘And I promised I’d help be her dance partner if hers wasn’t available.’

Theon and Arya share another look.

‘Arya, I thought you and mum were just visiting for the day,’ he grumbles into his own sandwich. ‘Shu’in ya be wi- her insteh-.’

‘I prefer giving you a hard time,’ she says, and steals one of his chips from his takeaway box, smiling as she chews on his food.

‘Great,’ Robb grouses, and tries to start giving her grief about her rumoured new friend, Godfrey, Gordon, Greg, or something or other (he purposely tries to save knowing it is Gendry to add to his sister’s annoyance).

‘You should give her all the space she needs, because time and perspective are the only remedies to heal a strained relationship.’

Robb and Arya’s bickering stops to whip their attention toward Theon and his words. Only Theon’s already started on his second meal, or Robb’s meal, and eats the rest of his chips, ignoring Robb’s irritated, ‘Oi!’

‘Where did you even come up with that?’ Arya’s eyes narrow in disbelief.

‘Wha-’ Theon shrugs. ‘I can’t come up with summat intelligent once and again.’

‘No,’ both siblings say in unison.

‘Am I wrong?’ Theon asks.

They try and fail to find a quip to shut him up, until Arya accuses him of reading Sansa’s Cosmopolitan magazines at their summer home. Theon shrugs again, repeating his last comment, and mumbling about having some competency to be able to read and look at scantily-clad women at the same time.

When Theon starts to list more quotes having nothing to do with Robb’s situation, and clearly more to do with annoying Arya, Robb can’t help but eye the trail that Margaery was last seen.

He’s not sure what possess him (or maybe he wants them to stop bickering too), but he admits aloud, ‘You’re not wrong.’

Margaery She nearly knocks over something solid, what she assumed was only a blur of grey and white flashing before her eyes. Greywind. She's only startled because she didn't expect anyone to find her here. Here, at an unfamiliar part of campus, where she planned to have her lunch away from prying eyes, she finds the hound trying to curl next to her makeshift picnic and sidles next to her crossed legs. He sniffs at her knee, licks it there, and peers up at her with his imploring, amber-coloured gaze. Ignorant to look about for his owner, someone she had been actively avoiding all week, she smiles and reaches to scratch at the back of his ears. Expectant, she tilts her head up to greet Robb approaching them with a reluctant, 'Hiya...y'arite?' 'You play dirty, Stark,' she says, attention and affections back to Greywind. 'I swear, I knew you needed space. I only took Greywind for a walk, you know he's not needed a leash for years, so--' She shakes her head, smirking impishly at him then. 'Relax, I'm glad you two found me.' He lights up at this, and it surprises her how much it eases her, that she's relieved that he's not furious with her for a number of reasons and unanswered texts. She gestures for him to sit, eyeing his awkward shifting stance. Her smile turns gentle when he finally sits next to her and her half eaten bento box, and because Robb’s giving her a look that she hasn’t seen in a week (the one that she’s tried to tell him makes his eyebrows look downright devious when they cock and crease this way), her smile widens even as she tries to bite it down. 'You're not cross?' He adjusts his light blue oxford shirt so its sleeves do not keep unraveling from their folding. And she fights the urge to adjust it too, as a force of habit, of course. 'I need to apologize, I was being a real bitch the other day,' she admits, gravely. ‘I can’t believe I said all those things about you. You know I know how you feel about your dad, and how much pressure you’ve been under. That was uncalled for.’ He attempts to shake his head to certainly lessen her blame, but she continues, 'Robb, you have been one of if not my sole closest friend since I broke up with Joffrey. I should've reacted with a lot more sympathy about Jeyne.' 'S’alright,' he shrugs. 'No,' she says, adamantly. 'I--I hadn't told you that my parents were going through a divorce since the beginning of the summer, just before graduation. The day you told me about Jeyne, I think something just imploded in me. I couldn't handle another emotional conversation on the same day my dad told me about finalizing the divorce with my mum.' 'Margaery, I'm so sorry,’ he says earnestly, but a silence follows her admissions that he can't seem to follow up. He absently starts stroking Greywind's back, as they sit together in their thoughtfulness. 'It started when my parents were fighting more and more, more than they used to at least, then sleeping in separate rooms, and finally speaking about their prenuptial agreements.' She finds herself scoffing, laughing humourlessly as she continues to explain, 'I idolized my parents for so long. I wanted to be like the princesses that me and Sansa would play pretend when we were younger because my father treated my mother like one. And Joffrey treated me the same for awhile. Then, the fine dining and the trips across Westeros stopped, and the things Joffrey did behind my back or the things he did in front of me started...' She stops for a beat and continues again. 'The thing is, I am well over Joffrey, and I feel like I’m starting to move past mourning over my parents’ relationship. But, I’m still hurting.' 'This might seem like the worst thing that could happen. And it might be,' he starts boldly, as if he is negotiating something happy about this news. 'But, maybe this means your parents will be happier for it.' 'We're nearly broke,' she says so quiet he has to bend to hear her. 'Loras caught my dad trying to access his trust fund. That's why my mum is leaving, because we're apparently useless to her without money.' Robb is silent again, finding no silver lining this time. 'Fuck, that part is fucked too. But, something else, as well,' she tries to breathe evenly through her tears. 'I know it sounds crazy, and completely selfish, but I've been acting distant toward everyone, and you, because I knew it meant I didn't have to admit all of this out loud. If I said it all out loud, it would feel real. And it does now. I guess, I wasn't ready to give up on feeling like a princess yet.' 'It's not crazy, it's not crazy to want to mourn another huge part of your life,' he says, and she's thankful that he is simply listening instead of feeding her lines of wishy-washy hope. Greywind whines at the loss of their attention, and it's only because they still at the way their hands brush against each other. She retrieves her hand back, and wipes the last traces of her tears mingling with mascara running down her cheeks. Then, she smiles as though she's finally done straining with something heavy, and she hopes this tells him she's fine, or will be fine, and that she's grateful most of all. 'I know you care about me, Robb. I know because you always let me tease you, argue with you, and go on and on about things I'm fairly sure you could give two shits about. But, mostly because you're letting me ramble about this too. You've been so lovely.' 'Of course, you have me, for anything you need,' he tells her seriously, but soon quirks up a small smile to add, 'as long as I don't have to hide behind any bookcases or in your closet if anyone asks about us.' She chuckles weakly, and nods to agree, 'You have me too, if you need to talk...about anything.' 'There is...' If there is something else Robb needs to tell her, since dumping all this extremely charged news on him might be spurring other alarming confessions, it somehow does not come. Her stomach, she hadn't realized, had been clenching from the anticipation. She feels herself sigh visibly when he doesn't say anything. She sees him deflate too, though she's not sure he is quite as relieved as she is because of this. Greywind jolts to action, as if to strike out the silence. He's on his feet, leaping and barking at a passing, scurrying bird, startling both of them out of their silent inaction. Robb scolds him to calm down, but Margaery is already busying herself with tidying her lunch and book bag. 'I'm knackered and not interested in hearing that bint of a economics professor go on about useless anecdotes that have nothing to do with economics. Walk me home?' She gathers her remaining things together, and whistles for Greywind's attention, kissing his forehead when he lopes over to her. For now, she sees Robb's bubbling up of words dissipate, and his heavy gaze with it. He eventually lifts himself up and offers her his hand to stand. For now, she sees him forfeiting to the comfort of her accepting his hand. 'Hey,' he tries, barely, to suppress puffing out his chest. He nudges her as they walk together, ‘You think I’m lovely.’ She nudges back harder, rolling her eyes, 'When you’re not trying so hard.'

Robb

Dickon Tarly is clearly Randyll Tarly’s favourite son, and a favourite for many other reasons if the many socialite eyes on him show as much. Robb’s known for years that his own family name carries weight among these society functions, but it is something entirely different when he sees the Southern families gravitate toward each other. So, it comes to no surprise to him that Dickon leads Margaery into the debutante waltz with a confidence that catches the attention of both of her parents at the King’s Season’s last dance rehearsal. In fact, Dickon has certainly gained favour from Mace Tyrell, as he spies them sharing a firm handshake after the first dance, the older man flitting joyful eyes between the young couple before him.

And they do look like an idyllic pair, both sharing similar brunette locks, and bright, brown eyes. Margaery, he’s noticed not for the first time today, looks especially pretty with her hair tied up in the way she mentioned she’d dress up for the ball, with tiny rose buds weaved into her pinned curls.

‘Robb .’ Sansa grabs his arm, exasperated.

He is trying, and failing to help an irate Sansa (replacing her own escort since he’d been nursing a hangover into the late afternoon), but he keeps apologizing for his own two left feet. It’s when he continues to watch Alerie Tyrell laughing, eyes glittering at something Dickon’s sharing with her, that Margaery comes to them and finally takes his attention away while she asks to borrow him from his sister. She’s asking for him to listen to her counting the steps, which helps some.

‘Alerie seems to be enjoying herself,’ she observes tersely, before she whisks him across the hall at the dance instructor’s direction, and straightens his back as they move along.

‘You haven’t talked to your mum at all today, have you?’ He only means to be concerned.

She only gives him a sharp glare, before pushing his feet farther apart, which allows him not to trip over himself in the next few steps. ‘And you haven’t spoken to your father about your planning on quitting the internship.’

He ignores this, and the paranoia of his own parents watching them, so he comments, ‘So, Dickie’s taking you to the debutante ball. That’s...expected.’ It sounds wrong even as he voices it out loud, and after their reconciliation in the past week, he knows he should not be saying such things.

Her glare turns amused, ‘So, you haven’t noticed the pack of wolves swarming you since they heard about your breakup with Jeyne? Have you checked your back pocket during the changing of partners through the waltz?’

Robb pauses a beat to pinch through his back pocket of his slacks for a piece of folded paper.

‘Myrcella thinks Sansa’s brother would appreciate her phone number. You know, for a shoulder to cry on.’

Margaery is smirking, and he doesn’t think this bothers him that much until he doesn’t hesitate to ask, ‘If I call her, would you mind?’

He’s watching her reaction, and it’s his turn to feel amused, even though he’s trying his best to ignore the steady ramping up of beats thrumming in his chest.

‘You can do whatever you want.’ She does not meet his eyes then. ‘And if you would just do what makes you happy, you could finally quit yer whinging. Really, Robb, we’d all feel better for it. Your father, for one, would want you to be happy.’

The thrumming reaches his ears now, and it’s useless to ignore his inner pleading for her to look his way. ‘I’m happy...right now...’

The music had long stopped, he realized, before their feet caught up to this cue. In his periphery, he can spot his family, hers, and Dickon looking on, and he wonders if they can tell the tense way both he and Margaery are holding themselves after his confession. Margaery lets go first, and he’s left to pocket his hands, smiling weakly before signalling for her to look to her actual dancing partner.

She does. But, he swears, the only thing that gives his thrumming heart pause is her own pause at taking Dickon’s hand back for the final dance.

And that thrumming doesn’t leave him. After trying to walk off the gnawing energy from the rehearsal, he finds himself possessed, moving farther and farther away from home without redirection. He realizes that his feet have taken him all the way to the front door of Margaery’s apartment complex, and he’s not stopping himself from buzzing for her flat number.

He comes to when she answers her door, only dressed in an oversized sweater and knee-high socks, her long brown hair let down from its previous curls and pins. He knows that his undone, formal attire does not look as good as her own. He must look in distress, and he’s sure she’s eyeing the way he’s been compulsively running his hands through his waxed down curls, most likely looking a winded mess.

When she invites him in, some of the unease and rapid beating settles, if only to assume that he’s not interrupting Dickon being with her. A quick scan of her space gives way for a sigh when he’s nowhere to be seen.

‘I’ve been walking around for what feels like hours, going over and over this problem,’ Robb tells her.

She’s stalk still.

‘Maybe there’s a reason why we were hiding what we meant to each other from everyone.’

She remains mute.

‘Could it be that we’re both thinking the same thing, but won’t admit it because of, what, bad timing? Expectations from your parents?’

‘I’m not with Dickon for my parents, he’s just an escort for the ball,’ she says plainly. ‘Believe it or not, I confided in you when I was at my lowest, but that doesn’t mean I want the same things anymore--’

‘Sorry, sorry,’ He comes closer, closing the distance between them with inches to spare.

Margaery doesn’t seem to mind, though she can’t seem to speak over his interruption as she’s easily done before. ‘What I mean to say is that you’re allowed to do whatever you want to do. And do that thing you keep telling me to do, which is be happy. If you are happy with Tarly, then that’s fine. But, if there is a small chance that we’ve been avoiding this...this thing between us...then, I need to know.’

Her silence keeps giving him the impression that she’ll be throwing him out any minute now. Yet, she’s swaying, appealing for the space toward him instead of pulling back.

‘You need to know if we’re not going mad, and that there is a chance for...us,’ she finally offers.

‘Us,’ he repeats lamely, wondering if he’ll continue to be articulate if she continues to at least entertain his thoughts.

‘So...’ She straightens her back, as if bracing herself. ‘Kiss me.’

He’s almost thrown by her firm proposal, but not altogether surprised by her. ‘Only if you want--’

And she’s on tip-toe before he finishes, her lips meeting his. Her faint freckles across the bridge of her nose, the last thing he remembers before he closes his eyes to be lost in the impossible softness of her kiss. The sweet, flowery parfum he’s seen her dot along her collarbone, now in his deep inhaling breath.

‘Robb…’

It really is a quick kiss, though. As swift as it came, it goes. She says his name again, and he comes out of the haze of the surrealness of what they had just done.

He still feels her touch on his lips when they part, acutely conscious of this when he answers her, ‘Marge, listen. You don’t have to give me an answer right now. I just needed you to know how I feel, which is that I feel happiest when I’m with you. But, I’m not going to make you decide what you feel right now, not after what happened between us when I tried to force you to confront all of this the first time or how I nearly ambushed you all over again, rehashing everything in front of our families.’

She must be mulling over this as well, because she slowly nods.

‘But, I can’t say I regret telling you, or that kiss.’

Her silence must mean something, but he leaves it up to his theories in the dead of the night, when he will most likely find himself alone with his thoughts. This, and the way she closes the door to him before he leaves, not quite shut or open, before he walks down her long corridor makes him wonder if she would be thinking of him tonight as well.

Margaery

After the first time, she’d thought there would be some finesse to her ignoring Robb.

Although she agreed to take time away from him (only a few days, she promised him), she’s convinced she’s gone mad, seeing him practically everywhere she turns. She sees him coming out of his morning class wearing his father’s tweed jacket, the one she’s told him does not (no matter how many times he’s explained to her) make him look more mature or collegiate for meetings with his professors. She sees him eating his favourite fish and chip meal from the tiny shop around the corner from the student parking lot. She even sees him at their favourite cafe, where she’s sure Myrcella has coincidentally found him, making him seemingly amused at something she’s said. His winning smile is still there, effortless like everything else that he tries on, when Margaery wills herself to not storm into the cafe to cut into their conversation.

‘You really like him, don’t you?’ Sansa states this more than she asks, her eyes are practically sparkling at the notion in the midday sun. Robb’s sister has dragged her to one of those trendy restaurants, the kind that serves their entrees on newspapers over cutting boards. She even giggles at the waiter taking their second drink order by taking her pinned note on a washing line.

‘Shush you,’ Margaery tuts, but doesn’t deny it.

‘Admit it, you’re thinking of him right now.’

Margaery still doesn’t admit a thing, but certainly accuses her of being creepily invested in her brother’s love life, but it doesn’t stop Sansa from reminding Margaery of squandering her time to let Robb know how she feels.

She also attempts to remind Margaery of what kind of summer holiday she would have had if not for her brother. Though Margaery doesn’t need reminders, she knows that she wouldn’t have endured the summer the way she had if it hadn’t been for the Starks, for Robb’s unfailing kindness. For the way he makes her laugh, even if it’s at her own expense. For the sincere way he tells her that she is incredible and good . She feels those words, the way they warm and settle in her chest.

‘You know, he told our dad about quitting the internship. He really did it, and it’s not from any of our family’s ideas or pushing. We all know how Robb’s been fearless about anything he’s come up against, but where do you think he got that courage to do the only thing that actually scares him?’

She knows Sansa is aware that this stirs something in her. That warm feeling spreads rapidly, and it almost overwhelms her.

‘Your meal on newspaper is here,’ Margaery tries to diffuse this conversation and her nerves.

For now, Sansa is momentarily distracted by her drink order, with its gradient of coloured liquor and multiple umbrellas.

Margaery & Robb

Summer of 2010

Catelyn attempts to fix a serious look to her son, but her lips quiver slightly, and Robb openly rolls his eyes at his mum. Ned would often comment about their nonverbal conversations, amused. Sometimes, he would say, he’d be rather jealous of their connection.

To add to his humiliation, she comes around their kitchen island they sit around to ruffle his hair. At nine-years-old, he feels entitled to an apology from her. He’s old enough now to warrant her to take him with actual seriousness.

‘Come now, Robb.’

‘Fine, it’s Margaery.’

She appears to humour him, and actually sits beside him on the other kitchen stool, the dirty dishes she meant to clean are left forgotten.

‘Yes, Sansa says she’s inconsolable.’

‘She’s mad. She screamed at me even when I politely asked her what was wrong. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but her and Sansa were yelling beside my bedroom door.’

‘She is a rather willful girl, isn’t she?’

‘She’s also a sore loser at board games. Did you see her yell at Jon for winning over her last night?’

‘And now your sunny afternoon is ruined because of her? Robb, the sun and warmth are a rarity in the North, you should just ignore her. She’s only here for another week, love, and most of that time is spent with Sansa and her friends. Soon, she’ll be gone until next summer.’

‘Even Loras is in a sour mood, and we were meant to be playing football in the pitch dad prepared for us today, but she probably got him in a right mood too, because he’s doesn’t want to play. Now, he’s leaving with his dad tomorrow morning, and we’re stuck with her.’

This time, he looks up to see something dawn on her mum’s eyes, like she’s only just thought of something. ‘Yes, Loras is going to spend the rest of his summer in the South with his father.’

‘Couldn’t he have taken her instead,’ Robb mumbles as he lies his head in his folded arms, eyes down.

His mum pokes the side of his head, and she smiles to see him peering up at him with the same bright blue eyes as hers. She looks ready to tell one of her stories, with a warm smile spreading across her face. He decides he wouldn’t mind his mum continuing, she tells the best stories, after all.

‘Do you remember when Jon first came to our family? You were only five then, and you didn’t understand why he came to us, but, you welcomed him like he was your own brother. And when you grew old enough to know we lost your Aunt Lyanna and Uncle Rhaegar in the car accident the night before he came to us, you were even closer to him because of this understanding. You’ve been inseparable since then.’

Robb’s brows crease, as if he were trying to connect the threads of a bigger story he’s sure his mum is weaving.

‘But, there was a time when you had felt badly--’

Robb shakes his head so rapidly that his curls whip as a blurry, fiery halo.

‘Not badly, but almost cold. That time your father took Jon camping without you. It was always your favourite trip with your father.’

‘Oh,’ Robb agrees finally, embarrassed. ‘But, only because...because…’

She quickly pecks the top of her son’s head and continues, ‘You were young, and you didn’t realize that he was only gone for a weekend, not forever like you wept about. When they came back you didn’t speak to both of them for the whole day they came back.’

Something washes over Robb’s eyes, not unlike the realization that his mum went through. He’s sheepish to admit, ‘I was jealous, I thought dad was leaving us, and that he didn’t want to be my dad anymore, but wanted Jon as a son instead.’

‘But, your father finally explained that he needed to speak to Jon about the horrible week he had at school, horrible bullying if you remember that incident with Ramsay. He only meant to keep it between them in case he was feeling sensitive about it all.’

‘I was being…’

‘You weren’t foolish, you were just reacting to a fear.’ Catelyn rubs small circles over her sons’ back. ‘Do you see that fear in a certain moody someone?’

‘She’s jealous of Loras?’

‘Mace loves all his children, Robb. But, sometimes grownups aren’t always good at explaining why they do the things they do. Your father was much better after that day of hunting with Jon, when I spoke to him. But, sometimes, there are grownups that aren’t good at explaining themselves...at all. Mace has never shied away from favouring the boys in their family, and I’m surprised Margaery has only started to feel this way. Poor girl, only has her grandmother on holiday breaks to make her feel better about herself.’

His mum, who rarely speaks ill will about anyone, doesn’t tell him this lightly. In fact, she looks almost nervous to be saying so. She trusts him, he thinks, with such a big confession, because she respects he’s old enough to know this. Pride swells in his chest, and it overpowers the other feelings he has. That’s why Robb swallows the anger he feels for Margaery, and only nods.

And he truly is angry for her. She may be a bit annoying, especially when Sansa and her try to get them to play pretend being at a ball as princesses and princes. She may have stomped on his foot when he mistepped during the pretend ball dance. She may find ways to consistently trick Jon into giving her all the sweets their parents had given him after dinner. But, then, he remembers how stormy, how low her eyes had gotten when she yelled at him for asking about playing football with Loras. He knows the deep, dark fears he felt that day his dad left for camping, no matter how irrational it turned out to be in the end. Worse still, he wonders if Margaery will ever feel the relief that he did when his dad comforted him.

‘Do you understand?’ Catelyn asks.

Robb finds that his mum’s words are the first thing that come to him when Margaery barks him out of his reverie. His feet have brought him to the grove of weirwood trees in Winterfell Manor’s vast back garden.

‘Has Sansa made you come?’ Margaery, eyes red and puffy, barks again.

‘No, erm, actually. I came by myself.’

She’s still suspicious, 'Okay...'

‘I have something to tell you.’ Robb sits next the weirdwood tree she’s under, and smiles gently.

‘Oh?’

He scoots a little closer, even as her eyeing becomes more and more dubious of him. ‘Just promise you won’t yell at me until after I tell you my story.’

She bites her lip, possibly to stop from looking amused, and her rolling eyes and dismissive nod is all he needs to tell her about his dad, Jon, and himself.

Present day, The King's Season Debutante Ball

‘I would,’ a girl fixing her long sleeve gloves shamelessly says in a whisper that’s not at all concealed to Margaery’s ear, and eyes Robb up and down in his black tux.

The girl, he assumes is one of Margaery’s acquaintances, considering the wrinkling of Margaery’s nose. Luckily, she moves to other side of the hall. Most of the other girls in ball gowns do the same to gather their escorts for the announcement ceremony, his sister among them. It leaves Margaery and Robb standing by decorative curtains partially hiding the awkward stances they hold.

She must catch the way his eyes trail over her, the same way the girl had done to him, because she finally speaks.

'Take a picture, Stark, it'll last longer.' She even twirls to show that the fabric of her long, pale blue gown, that hugs closely to her curves, also floats in folds of cascading silk as she moves.

‘You know this already, Marge, but, you look beautiful.’

The only solace he has from his chaotic nerves is that he can clearly see that she's just as worried by their reunion since sharing their first kiss as he is. He can tell as much from her still clutching at the cascades of silk from his persistence in openly looking at her this way, leaving her uncharacteristically less sharp in replying.

He still doesn't avert his gaze, and it makes him let out a surprised puff of amusement when she finally relents, 'You know, if you didn't clean up so well, I'd find it far easier to not have to admit what I'm about to admit.'

'Admit what?' Inside his chest is thrumming with the familiar speedy rhythm from when he visited her flat not days ago, and outside he smiles in earnest hope.

'Admit that I've been avoiding what we meant to each other because I was scared that you'd be another person I might lose, a true friend. But, I also want to admit that I don't want you just as a friend, but more...and I'm happiest with you too.'

He comes closer, watching her reaction with a surge of confidence as her breathing hitches at his hands moving to hold hers. She lets go of her dress.

'Any other urgent confessions?'

He feigns a dramatic, surprised look on closer inspection of her, 'You know, on second thought...'

She smacks at his chest with an open hand.

'I'd like to kiss you again,' he says softly, as if he were thinking out loud.

'I'd let you,' she tells him, tilting her head up to him.

Her kiss opens up to him this time, sure and wanting. He responds in kind, moving his lips over hers as if he were making up for the passion he wished he would've shown before. With his hands tying her closer, cinching her waist to be flush against him, he is sure he would stay rooted here until someone would pry them apart. Even Margaery’s fingers weave deeply into his hair, seemingly to tell him she’s wanting to settle too.

Then, he faintly hears Margaery’s name being called, like the mantra in his own thoughts, but he realized that he’s definitely not thinking out loud this time. It’s the master of ceremonies’ voice, with a tone of bewilderment, which they find has absolutely to do with Dickon Tarly and how debutante-less he appears at the top of the staircase on the other side of the hall.

‘What am I going to do about you?’ She jokes, pecking him quickly on the lips before she shuffles in her dress to get them moving, making sure they are still hidden behind curtains and pillars and whatever else might do.

It’s hard to stop himself from grinning madly, before answering, ‘Follow your lead, even if it isn’t a dance.’

‘You are used to it by now,’ she quips, eyes bright with unmistakable happiness. She points to where his family sits with the crowds all seated for the halted ceremony, and giggles at him stumbling when his mum nearly spots them.

End.

#robbaery #robb stark x margaery tyrell #robb stark #margaery tyrell #got fanfic

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amnachil · 5 years

Text

The College Society Chapter 1 Part 9

Enjoy !

Liam Friday October 27

For the first time during his whole life, the young lad expected the day to be as long as possible. (The last day before holiday, the day where they all were supposed to be excited... He felt ashamed). (He betrayed generation and generation of students praying for holidays). Anyway, evening came way too fast, and Liam felt depressed when he saw the first students leaving the campus. (He definitly was ashamed... Part of him asked for more lessons, even mathematics, and he started to get worried about his mental health). Sure, he wanted to see his siblings Chloe and Luka, but he hated the idea of a week with his father.

"Rebbie is leaving with this guy again..." stated Nick.

They were comfortably preparing their stuffs, but his roommate made a break to spy the black girl across the window. She was in the park with a mexican dude they already saw before. He even went in her flat once, unlike them. (Thinking about this, Liam blushed. He could easily picture what they did this night and it was so awkward). (Plus, Nick and him had listened across the wall part of the conversation... They were so immature...). The unicorn had teased him for days afterwards.

"Dude, I don't know what you're thinking, but stop it, because you're turning into a wonderful tomato." mumbled his roommate.

"Yeah, sorry."

The brown lad went back packing, but glanced at Nick. Strangely, this latter seemed irritated everytime Rebecca was hanging around with the mexican guy. Since their argument, he was acting oddly. Liam even heard someone call them "the two weirdos" once. (He did not really understand why he was considered as a weirdo but Nick fitted perfectly the description right now). (Okay, maybe he was a bit weird, but not as much as Nick, obviously). Anyway, the lad just wondered why his roommate have been so moody those last few days...

"Hey, Liam, this is earth, are you there ?"

"Sorry, was just thinking... Why are you so angry towards Rebecca ?"

Nick grunted. He wasn't especially happy to have this conversation.

"Because she's an ass ? We helped her and she never says thank. And she insulted me without any reason right ? You know, I think I had some feelings for her, but it's over now. So yeah, I'm sulking."

Liam nodded, dumbfounded. He didn't expect Nick to answer. (And moreover to admit he was sulking !!).

"Anyway, thank you for your concern but let's not talk about it again okay ? And your father's here."

As the freshman expected, his dad's house was huge. A mix between the castle and the mansion. Isaac Strucker had taken advantage of all this years far away his family. When he was a kid, Liam thought he was a kind of superhero, but quikcly, he understood the sad truth. His father just have been too busy getting rich to take care of them. (Once he realised this, the young lad often pictured his father as a villain in a dud). They didn't talk much during the ride, mainly because Liam avoided any conversation as much as possible. And he wasn't impressed by the manor. I came only to see Chloe and Luka.

"You'll see, it's even bigger once you're inside." assured his father.

Liam didn't answer. His mother had told him two days ago she had been summoned for a new trial about the children custody. And he's certain to win. Thinking about this, the boy opened the door, and a girl jumped on him.

"Liam ! I missed you so much !"

"Hi Chloe." he replied, suddenly happier.

His sister was a beautiful and nice girl. Now almost 15 years old, she got a well shaped body, mixing feminity and athletics virtues. While Liam hugged his little brother Luka (who was almost 5 years old now), she examined him.

"Mom told me you weren't eating enough. Are you fine ? Did you make some friends ? How are your grades ? Have you enough money ?

Well... Some things never change... When he was in highschool, he called her "mother number 2". (Everyone can understand why).

"He's perfectly fine." answered his father for him. "And I'm sure he'll enjoy his week with us, right Liam ?"

"I guess..."

The young lad was too busy with Luka to even argue with the old man.

"Yeah, you made sure he'll..." muttered Chloe. "Did you know he invited your bestfriend ? Nate's coming this evening."

Liam nodded slowly. Wait... What ? Realising what she was saying, he looked his father, stunned.

"You... invited Nate ?"

"Of course." answered his dad. "He can stay only for two days, but that's better than nothing, isn't it ?"

Rebecca Sunday November 5 – Monday November 6

At the next door, Nick was saying goodbye to his mother, while Liam already went back to his bedroom in order to sleep. As for her, Rebecca came back in the campus two days ago, right after her victory at the New York tournament. She took part yersterday at a championship with the college's team. I wonder how their vacations went... She might have been looking at Nick for too long, because he glared at her angrily, and she blushed a bit. He's still mad...

"Hey Rebbie. Am I early ?" asked someone behind her.

The black girl tunerd back and smiled. As always, Emilio was perfectly dressed, and looked in great shape. He came closer to kiss her, but feeling Nick's stare, she held him back and brought him in her flat. Once sure her neighbour could not see them, she let her boyfriend kiss her.

"What was that ?" he asked soflty. "Are you ashamed or something ?"

Are you kidding ? In the contrary, dating Emilio made her felt proud. Son of mexican immigrants, he obtained a scolarship for his running perfomances, and started to study law. Now a junior, he and Rebbie shared a lot in common, like a passion for sport. Besides, he was 1m89 (6'2"), and weighted 79 kg (174 pounds) of pure muscle. According to her, he definitly was perfect.

"Sorry, it's just... Well, I told you Nick and Liam helped me after some guys had attacked me..."

"Yeah, I remember. We still don't know who are those assholes."

Rebecca blushed. She kept a part of the story for her, since Chelsea was a member of their running team...

"Well, that's not the problem. I thanked Liam, but not Nick... And I feel bad about it."

She knew it was wrong, but she couldn't find the bold to speak with him. However, Liam had barely listened to her, and had probably forgotten everything. Emilio took her hand, and smiled softly.

"Each time you're talking about this Nick, there is a problem. Just... You know what, forget about him. I mean, you're in College now, and the good thing is... We're thousands of students. You have troubles with a friend ? Change."

"I don't know..."

Part of her knew he was right. After all, Nick and her shared nothing except a floor. But for an obscure reason, she felt the need to be her friend.

"You're torturing yourself Rebbie. College isn't supposed to be so complicated. You don't need him, you know dozens of people who are at least as likeable as him."

"Yeah, right. Anyway, can we talk about something else now ?"

After all, Nick wasn't that important.

The next day, after class, Rebecca had an important meeting with Bob and her doctor. Almost everyday, her coach watched her body measurement, but on the first monday of each month, she had to consult the doctor. Usually, she didn't fear those meetings, because she always was in great shape, but this month was a bit particular because she was dating a guy. Maybe the doctor will know that... She didn't say it to Bob yet. Anyway, she did everything the doctor asked, and then waited for his checkup.

"You are perfectly fine Rebecca. Even better than in October." stated the MB. "Your statistics are similar to those of Olympics athlete."

She smiled, satisfied, but the doctor continued :

"However, in order to keep this great body shape, you've to train as much as possible, and to be in an stable environment without any wrong behavior."

"What do you mean ?" she asked, suprised.

"Relationship are a factor of stress, and stress isn't good for you. The better is to clean up yours acquaintances and to keep only the most necessary. For example, do not stay with junkies, drunks, or overweight peoples. They all have bad influence on your behavior."

He paused to let her retain the information. Nevertheless, Rebecca felt insulted by this senseless speech. What's the point of being a national runner if I can't even see whoever I want ? Is this the life Bob wants for me ?

"Oh, and one last thing Rebecca." started again the doctor. "The most important is to avoid love stories as much as possible. You can't allow yourself any distraction."

She opened her eyes wide, and was outraged :

"Are you serious ? Bob, do you agree with those craps ?"

Her coach looked at her, and nodded slowly. She then realised something. He knows. He knows about Emilio and me... Bob already met the mexican runner, and he largely preferred him to Nick, but... Not as my boyfriend. The doctor and her coach were asking her to break up in order to focus on her training. But that's not gonna happen. She could't be efficient if she had no life. Strangely, she thought about Nick, who was free to do whatever he wanted to without any constraint, and she felt angered.

"I understand what you're asking, but I refuse to do it. How am I supposed to focus if I'm sorrowful ? Eventually, I'm glad you know about Emilio and me Bob, but you have no right to control this relationship. I'm seeing whoever I want, whenever I want. Clear ?"

She may have been more agressive than expected, but at least, her coach seemed to have understood. He lowered his eyes, and nodded.

"Fine, I get it, you want some freedom. And you're right. Emilio can be your boyfriend, your lover or whatever, it's okay. However, I don't want you to be friend with junkies, alkies nor overweight people. Please."

Well, if you knew... She didn't know any people overweight, except maybe Pete, but he was not his friend. As for junky and alky, the only one she knew was a really good swimmer and Bob wouldn't even imagine him high.

"Alright, fine. I'm free to see people, as long as they don't have bad influences. Are we good ?"

"Yes we are." nodded Bob. "Don't forget, the Olympics Games is our goal."

"Yeah, I know."

Rebecca stood up and left the doctor's office, pensive. Why was she thinking about Nick, and how would he have reacted, instead of being happy to be with Emilio ? This is so weird...

Pete Wednesday November 8

A loud belch crossed Mike's lips when he slumped onto the couch. His both hands rubbed his bloated belly, and he moaned, near to a food-coma. As for him, Pete felt quite the same for his own tummy. Usually soft, it was hard as a rock, and completly stuffed. Of course, the young lad knew this feeling now, finishing severals time per week like a balloon, but it still was enjoyable. His roommate looked at him and smiled :

"Mate, that was a fuckin' good meal. I'm suprised I managed to clean my whole plate."

Pete smiled. To be honest, he also was astonished by Mike's appetite. At start, when he had begun putting some caloric poder in their plates, the young blond lad had thought it would have no effect on Mike, who was 192 cm (6'4") and built like a strong bodybuilder. Little did he know, when he had started this, how addictive was this poder. It had grown their stomach's capacity and craving for greasy and caloric food. Pete now ate as least twice that he had been used too. But after all, it exactly was what he planned... Except Mike now did the same. Even during the holidays, back in his family, the football player couldn't fix his diet. A month and a week after the beginning of Pete's plan, the effect started to be visible. The beefy guy now had a little belly, hanging over this most of his clothes. It was not obvious, like for Pete, but still noticeable. Moreover, with the added weight came another effect the blond lad did not planned at all. Mike became lazier. He reduced his training, and spent more time watching TV or playing videogames. He's always on the bench, and he feels sad about it... Consequently, the gaining became even more important. Pete first felt guilty, but then he realised Mike didn't even notice his burgeoning belly, but it helped himself to gain his own weight. Being two to binge together was way easier. I may be able to push it further... During the holidays, the young freshman took advantage of his mother's cooking to pig out as much as possible. And on Monday, Theo had said Pete was hotter than ever, and this latter had felt so proud that he decided to gain a bit more weight, depiste being already at 79 kg (174 pounds), that is to say 6 kg (13 pounds) gained since he started his plan. But he wanted more.

"Dude, you know there is still dessert ?" he asked to Mike.

His roommate, who was half asleep, opened his eyes.

"I... burp... Sorry. I think I'm full..."

"Oh come on. I mean, I made a pie, you know ? Just one slice with me."

After all, Pete did not expect to eat more than one slice too. His pastry was way too rich. Mike closed his eyes and swore discreetly.

"One slice, I might handle this."

Pete put the pie on the coffee table, right under Mike's nose. The delicious smell overwhelmed the room, and both boys, despite being stuffed to the max, felt the need to take a bite. The blond lad slowly cut two slices, and gave one to his roommate before he sat down in the armchair with his own piece. At start, his stomach grumbled, and he hesitated. Maybe I already ate enough, eventually... His body was telling him to not consume anything more, and it was probably wise to listen. However, Pete looked at Mike, who was eating his portion, firstly with attention, but soon faster and faster. A glint of delight gleamed in his eyes, and the short guy knew he had to eat too. He took a first mouthful, and the taste electrified his body. The fullness went away as soon as his brain asked for more, and Pete swallowed with ecstasy. Jeezus, that's so... so good. He finished his first slice just after Mike, and they both took another without even think. Animated by a gluttonous longing, they devoured the pie, taking break only for breathing and belching. In no time at all, the pie was gone, and both boys slouched in their respectives sits.

"What... burp... What the hell what that pie exactly ?" asked Mike while rubbing his even more distended belly.

"Honestly, I don't really know." confessed Pete.

He bleched loudly too, and because he was feeling packed in his pajamas, took off his top. His bloated tummy expended freely while he explained :

"I stole the recipe from Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey, the best cook of my club... He forgot his books one evening, and I looked some stuffs."

Mike whispered something inaudible. He was so stuffed that he felt sleepy now, just like Pete. This latter stood up slowly, and headed towards his bedroom. Even walk in those conditions was hard, but he managed to enter and lock the door behind him.

"Look's like you outdid yourself, my sweet love." laughed a beautiful voice.

Pete looked at Theo, and smiled. I didn't expect him today... The junior was uncatachable, and the freshman loved that too.

"Maybe..." continued the captain. "Maybe we should make of this night an unforgettable night, should we ?"

He pointed out severals candies and treats he had bought with him. Pete grimaced, unsure about it. He already ate a huge meal, and pushed his limits far beyond what he expected. His body would definitly not be able to eat again. Theo came closer, put an hand on his lover's tum, and whispered :

"Or are you too full to enjoy this moment with me ? Shall I leave and come back another night ?"

The idea revolted Pete. I want him.

"Stay." he almost begged. "I'll do anything you want me to."

To be continued

Well... We’re getting close to the end of the 1st chapter !

As a reminder, the main plot is following Liam’s struggles in College. There will be weight gain, but it’s a very slow process since he has a lot of stuff do deal with.

The Rebecca and Nick’s side story is coming to an end, since Nick made his feelings clear. However, we’re not done with the two and there are still playing important role :)

Now the main question is : will Pete have is happy forever ending ? Our little feedee is completely under his feeder charm tbh

Part 10 next week !

#the college society #cs #Liam #Rebecca #Pete #weight gain #Roommates getting fat together #Liam doesn't like his father #Me neither #chapter 1 #part 9

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