#was catching up with an old friend from highschool and found out my ex is in jail lmao | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

little-diable · 3 years ago

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TomH1996 - Tom Holland (smut)

Happy Valentine's babes! 1/3 Imagines for @venomsilk Valentine's Bingo. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Once lovers, now enemies. Once Highschool sweethearts, now full of hate. But maybe - just maybe - it was a good idea for Tom to visit a camming website, maybe - just maybe - it was a good idea to watch her videos.

Warnings: 18+, sex, p in v, oral (f), cam girl reader, masturbation (f,m), teasing, exes to lovers

Pairing: Rich kid!Tom Holland x rich kid!fem!reader

Valentines Bingo fills: Rich kids x Cam Girl x Exes to Lovers (2.7k words)

Header by @hidingsikki

Tom had his eyes hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses, fingers wrapped around his champagne flute. It was the day of his birthday, a day he hated with a burning passion, wanting to leave his parent’s mansion and the party stacked with people he didn't know behind. The party was yet another show off event where his parents and their friends could flaunt their money, a chance to pay for expensive gifts and alcohol - anything to impress one another.

A few of his friends had been invited and of course she had been as well, the woman he hated as much as he hated the people he found himself surrounded with. But his hate for her reached far deeper than just simple anger flooding through his veins, no, he hated her as much as Demeter has hated Hades, as much as Athena hated Paris.

The two had been the classic couple, Highschool sweethearts that have been with one another for years. Till they had been forced to breakup, due to different colleges and the distance that would keep them apart. But their breakup had been more vile, more angry than both had hoped it would be. Tom's pride had pushed him into waves of anger and hurt, finding reasons to hate her as she had slowly moved on from him. Perhaps it had been a petty move, searching for reasons to hate her - forgetting all about the love he had once fostered.

But it had all changed the night Tom had been browsing through another website filled with cam girls and cam boys, only showing off his toned abs and his cock, pumping himself to the shows he’d watch. And there she was, legs spread, exposing her tight cunt to her viewers. At first he hadn’t recognized her, but the second his eyes had fallen upon the pictures hanging on the wall behind her, (y/n)'s name had spluttered from his lips, sound filling his room.

Perhaps he would tell her about it - at one point - though for now he kept his lips sealed, not wanting to spill her secret just yet. Tom was waiting for the right moment, a moment of weakness he could use in his interest.

The dress (y/n) was currently wearing showed off her legs, legs he wanted to feel wrapped around his waist as he’d bury his cock inside her. A mere memory of the nights they had once spent together. It was a sinful sight, leaving his cock hardening, mind wandering back to her show and the moans that had rumbled through her.

“Tom, darling. Come here,” his mother’s voice ripped him out of his thoughts, forcing him to step inside for a moment. Before Tom could come to a halt next to his parents, his eyes flickered down to his Rolex, wondering how much longer he’d have to stay before he could leave this pathetic party behind.

He caught her eyes from across the room, taking in her frame once again. Fuck, if he could, he’d take her right there and then, for all eyes to see, watching the heir of the Holland enterprise bury his cock in his exe's cunt.

“Why don’t you open some of your gifts?” His mother pushed him towards the stack of neatly wrapped presents, forcing a fake smile onto his thin lips. He didn’t pay any attention to the gifts he unwrapped, mind still hooked up on (y/n) and the wave of anger that would flood through him whenever he’d think of her. Tom’s skin was prickling as if he was skinning himself, leaving his old self behind, engulfed by darkness and lust.

But one gift managed to catch his attention, it was one of the pictures (y/n) had hung up on her wall, a picture of her and Tom, from years back. He heavily swallowed, meeting her smirking features with his glistening eyes. Why would she gift him something like this?

With his heart racing and his palms turning sweaty, Tom drowned the rest of his champagne, murmuring a few thank you's to the people that kept watching him. He pushed himself past his parents, out into the afternoon. It had taken him years to build up his walls, to keep himself distracted from (y/n) and their breakup, every stone had tumbled to the ground the second he had watched her make herself cum. Every minute he had found himself hating her had evaporated into thin air. Only leaving a smoke of pleasure behind.

“I was waiting for a thank you.” (Y/n) was leaning against his Porsche, arms crossed in front of her chest as he stepped closer with his jaw muscles ticking in anger. Spiteful words threatened to claw through him, wanting to taunt the smirking woman. But Tom didn’t get the chance to part his lips, breath knocked out of his lungs as she leaned closer, lips brushing against his ear.

“Next time change your username to something less obvious, TomH1996.” She left him standing with wide eyes, following her frame till she disappeared back inside. The fuck that rumbled through him could be heared from inside, coaxing a chuckle out of (y/n).

The game was on.

—-

That night (y/n) was lying on her bed, with only her bra left on and her soaked through panties exposed to the camera. Her hands danced up and down her thighs, moving closer to her cunt with every moan that bled from her lips. She was still wearing her jewelry, the golden rings Tom had gifted her years ago and the necklace she’d never take off.

“Fuck, I’m so wet. I want to be fucked so badly, wish one of you would be here with me.” Her words echoed through her room, picked up by the microphone of her laptop, bringing joy to her viewers. Deep inside she was hoping that Tom would find his way back to her page, the excitement that had bubbled through her as she had read his username last week had pushed her closer to the edge. She had cum to the thought of Tom with her back arched and eyes rolling into her head.

Something about their relationship kept her on her toes, she reciprocated the hatred Tom felt for her, urged on by the pleasure that would rumble through her whenever he’d spit her name. Nevertheless, she still found herself longing for the man she had once called her own, wanting to feel his hands on her skin again.

(Y/n) pulled her panties aside, her fingertips brushed through her wet slit, finding their way to her pulsing clit. She threw her head back, allowing her moans to fall from her lips like a shooting star darting across the dark sky, missed by the ones that didn’t pay enough attention.

The sound of another viewer joining her stream caught her attention, heart missing out a few beats as she read Tom’s username. He hadn’t changed a single letter - as if he was doing it on purpose. This time she’d put on a show, all for him and the thought of her ex railing her till the sun would rise above the still asleep community. His name burned on her tongue, wanting to bleed from her lips, to tease Tom - but she kept silent, not wanting to stroke the man’s ego. She didn’t stop rubbing her clit, not even as she reached for the toy she had placed next to her, wrapping her lips around it to wet the brightly colored silicone. Slowly, for all viewers to see, she began to fuck herself with it.

Wet sounds were picked up by her microphone, finding Tom with his twitching cock and his hand wrapped around his girth. It had taken him a few drinks, finding his confidence buried beneath a few shots of tequila. He had moved back to (y/n)'s page with trembling hands. Tom imagined her placed on his bed, whines rumbling through her - begging him to fuck her into oblivion.

“I’m already close.” Her eyes flickered down to the comment section, reading through the encouraging words, words to praise the panting woman, wanting to hear her loud moans. Tom had also commented - “moan my name” - written words that were followed by a generous tip. (Y/n)’s fingers picked up their speed, rubbing her clit with his name spluttering from her lips, silently wondering if Tom was currently fucking his hands, while he watched her stream.

“Oh, Tom. Fuck, fuck,” with his name rumbling through her, (y/n) came around the toy. She gave it a few more lazy thrusts, hoping to prolong her orgasm, not wanting to be ripped out of her bubble just yet. But the moment the first wave of exhaustion rolled upon her like an unexpected sandstorm, burying her beneath its heavy blanket, she ended the stream with a "till next time" leaving her.

(Y/n) plopped down on her mattress, eyes fluttering close as she tried to catch her breath. Her thoughts circled around Tom, trying to imagine his sweaty frame pressed against hers, with his muscular arms wrapped around her. She couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if they hadn't broken up, would they live together by now? Would they think about starting a family together? Long lost dreams that were now left behind like a blanket of dust.

Her phone buzzed, forcing her eyes open. Without moving too much, (y/n) reached for her phone, eyes widening as Tom’s name popped up on the screen. It was a simple text, but the pants that left her shot shudders down her spine, buzzing through her like a bolt of lightning.

“Come over. Be quick, I don’t like to wait.”

Perhaps she should have deleted the message, perhaps she should have blocked his number and let him be - but (y/n) slowly rose from her bed and redressed herself with trembling hands. She was out of her house within minutes, feet carrying her down the streets to Tom’s. It had been months since she had last been there, invited to one of his parties, spending time with their mutual friends, only to tease one another with hurtful words.

Tom ripped the door open before she could knock on the expensive wood. He pulled her in as if she was a criminal in desperate need of shelter. She was his dirty secret - at least for this very night.

Their lips clashed together like magnets, tongues getting tangled. Memories of the last kisses they've shared found their way back to the two, reminding them of the endless dates they've been on, the endless nights they've spent together with roaring hearts. (Y/n) tangled her hand in his hair as Tom pressed her against his door. With their chests heavily rising and falling he dragged her towards his bedroom, pulling her in for another kiss as they fell onto his bed.

“I still hate you,” Tom’s words were met with a giggle, eyes finding his as a smile tugged on (y/n)’s lips.

“You know what, Tom. I don’t think you do.” Trembling fingers helped one another out of their clothes, eyes running over their bodies, wanting to burn the upcoming hours into their memories. Curses flooded from their lips as he thrust his hips against hers, rubbing his clothed bulge against her dripping heat.

Tom couldn’t stop staring at her, hands uncovering the parts of her skin he had touched years ago. Her body was a temple he’d worship, he’d burn his kisses into her skin - marks for the darkness to find, nestling in her heart as one orgasm after another would clash upon her like Zeus’ bolt of lightning striking the sky.

“Touch me, please.” (Y/n)’s whispers rumbled through his body like an earthquake, shaking through his body with the silent promise of ripping him apart. While his lips kissed their trail down her upper body, his hands pulled her panties down her legs, gaze flickering to her cunt.

“You’re so wet, fuck, my gorgeous girl.” As if they had never hated one another, their bodies began to mold together, falling back into their old routine. The moment Tom pressed his tongue flat against her arousal covered folds she found herself pushed into another dimension, body hurled into the ocean of pleasure she was drowning in.

He devoured her, kept eating her out with two fingers thrusting into her tightness, spreading her walls with his eyes finding her wide, lust-blown pupils. No words were shared between the two, only their sounds echoed through his room, filling every inch of the bedroom she wanted to stay in till the end of their time.

“I need you to fuck me, Tom." Her rough voice forced him away from her cunt, hand reaching for a condom. (Y/n) watched him roll it down his length, aligning his cock to her heat. Their hands searched for one another, fingers linked together as if somebody could pull them apart any moment now.

With their hearts roaring in their chests, their bodies moved in sync, hips meeting with every ferocious thrust. Their anger was slowly letting go of them, allowing the withered away flowers to be reborn, forming a new bond beneath his sheets.

“You feel so good, so tight.” Tom kissed her throat with his heavy breaths clashing against her throat like a soaring wave of the ocean. He fucked her as if it was his only chance of ever feeling her, hoping to push her over the edge with his name burning on her tongue. She mewled his name, fingers circling her clit as the coil deep inside of her began to tighten.

"Fuck, I've missed you." A tear threatened to roll down her cheek, mind confused by the different sensations that washed upon her like a tidal wave. As if the stars have aligned, their hearts found one another again, begging the two to rekindle their love.

Without another word rolling off his tongue, Tom kissed the tears away, he tightened his grip on her hands, kept her close as he pushed her further towards the edge. He was struggling to sort through the different emotions buzzing through his veins, finding their path to his racing heart.

Fuck, he still loved her, loved her like Orpheus loved Eurydike, would give his life for the one he had pushed away for the past years, "Don't let go of me." The words he spoke sounded pained, just the thought of being ripped from her once again left him crying in agony.

She pulled him in for a kiss, swallowed the other moans and cries rumbling through the two. Tom let go of her hand, he rubbed her clit with his thumb to push her into the open arms of her orgasm. (Y/n) came with his name bleeding from her lips, eyes focused on his, not wanting to miss the expressions tugging on his features.

Tom followed her down the edge, he filled the condom with a string of curses leaving him. For a few more seconds they stayed connected, holding onto one another as the past moments of bliss kept buzzing through them.

With a sigh clawing through Tom he rolled off her, threw away the condom and came back with a hot towel to clean her up. No words were shared as Tom took care of her, only as he found himself placed next to her, he parted his lips, searching for the right words to say.

"I," Tom forced himself to take a deep breath. "I am sorry for the way I've treated you. It wasn't fair. I was hurt that you didn't want to try the long distance thing and just the thought of seeing you with somebody else made me see red. I don't hate you, I don't think I ever did hate you."

"Oh Tom." (Y/n) cupped his cheek, her eyes met his glassy ones. "Deep down I knew why you kept treating me like this and I am sorry for not trying to make things work. You've hurt me, but I don't hate you for it."

Their lips met, slow at first, trying to relish in one another's heat as their hearts kept picking up their beat once again. Tonight they'll linger in their memories with their hands interlaced and their lips pressed together and when morning comes, they'll start a new part of their story, together.

Please like and reblog if you’ve enjoyed reading this, come talk to me about my writing, let’s spill some tea or thirst over our favorite people. xxx

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#Tom Holland smut #valentinebingo #chi's lemon #Tom Holland imagine

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seita · 4 years ago

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the contract girlfriend | semi eita (m.)

˒ pairing: semi eita/reader ˒ genre: angst, fluff, smut ˒ wordcount: 𝟺𝟹𝟹𝟷 ˒ tags: friends2lovers, fake dating, musician!eita ˒ cw: dirty talk, loss of virginity, virgin kink if u squint: sweet talking, pet names, mean girl ex, mutual pining, unrequited love(?), angst with a happy ending, UNEDITED

+ note: this is a collab along with the other writers for the kkc! i would also like to thank @bokutobabie 𝖿for her help with this plot bc it was kickin’ my ass.

˖˖ summary: when he was an unknown musician, his girlfriend left him. now that he’s made it, he wants to make her jealous at a fancy party so he can get her back.unfortunately, he asks you to be his fake date. the downside? you have a very real crush on him.

⇦ back to navigation.

collab masterlist!

“I have a proposition,” is never a sentence you want to hear when you sit down to lunch with your best friend. Especially when that friend is Semi Eita.

“What..?” you ask apprehensively, taking the cup of coffee he’d obviously gotten to bribe you. You took it regardless, not willing to pass up the offer of free coffee.

“Nana is gonna be at the party this weekend,” he muttered, swirling his fingertips around the rim of his cup. You felt your heart drop into the pit of your stomach at his words, “I want you to come and pretend to be my date.”

Just as you’d expected. Not something you wanted to hear.

Nana was Eita’s first love, his first serious relationship, really. They got together when he was fresh out of highschool, the two of them spending almost all of their time together.

It was when his career as a musician was just beginning, he was playing small gigs and there was nothing really successful. But he was happy. And he thought she was too.

Until she dumped him in favor of a much more famous man. He was a big movie producer and offered her a leading role in an upcoming film. Of course, she took the offer.

She would much rather be mingling with the rich and famous than be hanging out with “a nobody like him”, as she put it. You remembered the hurt Eita felt, the tears and heartbreak it took almost 3 years for him to get over.

“Why?” you finally asked with a sigh, “What will that accomplish?”

“Well if she gets jealous, she might want to get back with me,” he grinned impishly, shrugging his shoulders like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You recognized the look in his eyes, one of determination. So you sighed, nodding your head, “Alright, I’ll be your date.”

He beamed, uttering out endless thanks to you as you went on with your lunch until he decided to go back to the studio. He slipped his hat on low, making sure his mask was in place before hugging your goodbye and leaving you sitting alone at the table.

You sighed, downing the last of your coffee. Your spirits were low; you had no idea what to expect from this party.

Would she fall for it and run back into his arms now that he had had his big breakthrough and became mainstream? She surely must have known by now; his band was already breaking records, wracking up fans by the thousands, his songs were being played on the radio.

Maybe now that he was famous enough, she’d actually want to be with him. Not that she deserved him. And he didn’t deserve someone like that, either. He was too good for her, too good to be treated like that.

You let out another sigh and stood up, grabbing your purse from the back of the chair.

This was going to be painful. You weren’t sure how you would cope with pretending to be his girlfriend all for the sake of him getting back with her.

Surely your heart wouldn’t be able to take it.

Because as much as you tried to hide it, you were irrevocably in love with your best friend.

The entire getup was supplied to you by Eita; from the jewelry to the dress itself. You felt like a different person. Despite the fact he was your best friend, you hadn’t attended one of the big parties since his band’s breakout single.

This particular party wasn’t in celebration of his band, but he was invited regardless so naturally he went. He was still enjoying the high life and was getting used to tasting fame. You were glad it hadn’t actually affected his personality.

“You look nice today,” Tendou complimented with a breezy smile. He was nursing a glass of champagne, which was uncharacteristic to say the least. He had always been more of a whiskey kind of guy.

“Thanks,” you shrugged, “I’m not really a fan of this kind of thing.”

“I know,” he grinned, “You look terribly uncomfortable, that’s why I came over to be such a good pal and keep you company while your darling boyfriend is off galavanting with the people!”

You rolled your eyes, “He’s not my boyfriend, Satori.”

He giggled, taking glee in your embarrassment, “But you wish he was.”

“Are you already drunk?” you raise a brow, making him snicker.

Someone called his name from the crowd and he flashed you a knowing grin, “Eita may be too dim to see it, but the rest of us aren’t!”

You pout and find yourself alone once again. Looking around, you search for your ‘boyfriend’. Suddenly, a heavy arm falls across your shoulders and the familiar scent of his cologne reaches your nose.

“Hey, babygirl,” he coos, making your heart skip a beat at the pet name. He sounds so fond and you feel yourself smiling before he busts out laughing, shaking his head before letting his arm fall from your shoulders, “That’s just so weird. I dunno if I’ll be able to get through this tonight,” Ouch. “Anyway, Nana just arrived so…” he takes your hand but you can’t bring yourself to smile as you feel the ache in your heart at his words.

If he takes note of your deflated behavior, he doesn’t say anything, merely leading you over to the balcony. You breathe in the fresh air and feel the ache in your chest dull.

“Eita? Is that you?” a perky voice makes you cringe.

“Nana,” Eita breathes, tugging you against his side as she breaks through the crowd to stand in front of the two of you.

Her smile promptly disappears at the sight of you crowded in Eita’s arms.

“Eita...who’s this?” she asks, a smile returning but you can tell it’s plastic.

You remembered everything you had gone over with him before the party; the two of you had sat down for a few hours to sort out your story and rules. It had felt like you were making a binding contract with him when you told him no kissing on the lips. It was your only stipulation and you swore you saw a brief downward tug of his lips when you told him before he beamed and readily agreed.

Maybe you were imagining that disappointment in his eyes too.

“This is my girlfriend, _____,” Eita introduced, giving your arm an affectionate squeeze.

“Oh,” she gave you a strained smile and held out her hand for you to shake. When you slipped your hand into hers, she gave it a tense squeeze that made you flinch, “I’m Nana, Eita’s ex.”

“I’ve uh…” you cleared your throat and pulled your hand away, “I’ve heard stories about you.”

“All good I’m sure,” she replied flippantly before setting her sights on him once more, “We should totally catch up, you know? Reminisce about the good old times~”

The sultry, flirtatious undertone made your skin crawl. Even if you weren’t really dating, she thought you were and for her to not respect that made you angry. But still, Eita pulled away and placed a kiss against your temple that set your heart ablaze.

“Sure, why not?” he grinned and gave your hand a squeeze, “You go have some fun, sweetheart. I’ll catch up with you later.”

You gave him a hollow wave as he quickly vanished into the crowd without a second glance your way. You knew this was the end goal but still, to see him walking away hurt. A sense of rejection was seeded within you and you felt your spirits slowly being crushed.

It took all your power to continue on with the party until it felt acceptable to leave. Throughout the party, you kept getting glances of the two of them.

Eita wore a serene smile, his eyes sparkling as he looked at her. Whenever she looked at him with a flirtatious smile and a subtle caress, you felt jealousy pool in the core of your stomach. You wanted to march over there and scream “he’s mine!”. But you couldn’t, because he wasn’t really yours.

He was only pretending to be yours so he could have her.

Your phone vibrated as you downed your final glass of wine, making you look at the screen with a frown.

“I’m heading to Nana’s apartment for the night! See if Satori can give you a ride home, thanks for the help!!”

Your jaw ached from how hard you were forcing yourself to keep from crying. When you tried to find the elusive redhead, you found he was drunk and dancing with two girls so you decided to leave him be and simply call an Uber.

For just a short time, you had simply been a contract girlfriend for him to use. Though you knew it was fake, it still felt so nice to be called his.

So you went home, removing your expensive clothing like Cinderella after the ball and decided to relax on the couch. It was only a little past midnight when you got out of the shower, turning on the TV to watch whatever late night nonsense was playing.

Eita thought that being with Nana again would be everything he wanted. But as he laid beside her, her head resting on his naked chest, strangely all he could think of was you.

When he asked you to pretend to be his date, he hadn’t thought of the possibility of how it would really feel. Sure, he had touched you before, naturally. Sometimes he hugged you and held your hand. But that night, when he placed the kiss against your head, the way your eyes lit up in response had his heart stuttering when he thought back to it.

Truth be told, when you told him he couldn’t kiss you he felt so...disappointed. He had thought of assigning the same rule but decided against it at the last moment, secretly thinking about how nice it may feel to kiss you.

He had quickly dashed that though because of how wrong it was to think of you like that.

Yet there he was, thinking of you with his ex girlfriend back in his arms again.

“Eita?” Nana asked, lifting her head to look drowsily at him, “Are you okay?”

“Um...yeah,” he clears his throat, “I should probably get going.”

“Why?” she whines, “Don’t worry about her.”

“Huh? Who?” he asks, confused.

She giggles and clings to his arm, “Your girlfriend! She doesn’t have to know!”

His heart ached at those words -- true, you weren’t really dating but he felt like he had done something wrong. And for some reason Nana’s blatant disregard that he had cheated with her made him nauseous.

“I...I just want to see if she made it home safely,” he gave her a tight lipped smile and picked up his phone.

She rested against the pillow, head propped up on her hand as she watched him dial you. When you didn’t answer, he gave a frustrated sigh and dialed Satori instead.

It rang a few times before the slurred voice of his best friend answered, “H-Hey man, what’s up?”

“Satori, did you drop _____ off okay?” Eita asked.

The redhead made a confused sound over the line, “What’re you talkin’ about? She never asked me to take her anywhere.”

“What?” Eita frowned, “Did you see her leave the party?”

“Gotta tell ya, man, I wasn’t watchin’ her,” Tendou replied, a feminine giggle in the background making Eita frown, “Wasn’t that supposed to be your job?”

Eita sighed, shaking his head, “Alright, dude, just...let me know if you hear from her.”

“Hah? Why would she call me?” Satori chuckled, “Why don’t you just check on her? Better safe than sorry...I mean, she’s a cute girl, you never know what kinda scoundrels were eyeing her in that pretty little dress tonight. If i was a less honorable friend, she would be the one in my bed right now!”

Eita scoffed and hung up as his friend started cackling gleefully over the line. Eita stood up, shaking off Nana’s grabby hands as he slipped his jeans back on.

“You’re not going back to her, are you?” she pouted.

Eita sighed, “I gotta check on her. No one knows where she went off to.”

“She’s a big girl, c’mon Eita~” she purred, letting the sheet fall from her bare body as she crawled towards him.

He shook his head and threw his shirt on, grabbing his keys off of her dresser before moving to the door, “I gotta see her.”

He ignored her obnoxious whining as he bolted out the door. Any sleepiness that was in his system had evaporated at the worry he felt over you.

The drive to your apartment was quick enough, it went by in a blur. He took two steps at a time up to your place on the 3r floor, not patient enough to wait for the elevator.

The knock on your door made you jump. Throwing the pillow you held in your lap aside, you checked through the peephole to see a familiar head of sandy blonde hair.

Pulling the door opened, you looked at him with wide eyes, “Eita? Aren’t you supposed to be with--”

“I couldn’t get a hold of you,” he breathed, stepping past you to enter your living room.

“And?” you laughed, shrugging your shoulders.

“I got worried! Why didn’t you go home with Satori?” he sighed, sitting on your couch with a huff.

You chuckled again, though it was humorless, “He looked like he was having fun, I didn’t want to impose.”

He sighs and relaxes against the couch. As you sit next to him, for a second things feel normal.

You almost feel okay, as if you could forget about everything happening. It’s so easy to forget your crush on your best friend and the fact he wanted to be with another woman.

It was easy to forget it all until it came rushing back into your face in the form of Nana.

You and Eita were having a lunch date, as was normal for the two of you. Unfortunately, amid his retelling of a story you had heard a million times over, she showed up with an obnoxious screech of his name.

“Eita!” she squealed and rushed over to him, throwing her arms around his shoulders.

You let out a soft sigh, your eyes falling to your half-finished plate.

“Nana…” he greeted, eyes wide in shock, “H-How did you find me? What’re you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you, silly!” she chirped, taking a seat in his lap in a way that was far too comfortable. Suddenly, her gaze shifted to you and the smile vanished off of her face, “Oh, you’re here.”

“Nana…” Eita sighed but didn’t make any move to get off of him.

“What? I thought you were going to break up with her?” she whined loudly, making your cheeks burn as people looked over at the two of you, “You said you were going to dump her!”

“I--” Eita started.

“You should go,” Nana grinned at you, shrugging her shoulders as she hugged Eita closer to her, “Seriously, he’s mine now. He was fucking me at that party instead of you.”

Although nothing about your relationship that night was real, the humiliation you felt at that very moment was. She was smug that she had gotten your boyfriend to cheat on you and was making a spectacle of her victory.

Biting your lip, you reached behind you to grab your purse, “I-I’ll see you later, Eita.”

“______ wait!” he called but you were already rushing towards the entrance.

You had no idea that he was hot on your heels until you reached your apartment. You went to close it only for the foot to intercept it. Looking over your shoulder, you found Eita panting before he was pushing the door open completely.

“_____ I--” he paused, “Why are you crying?”

“I am?” you wiped under your eyes and frowned when you felt the moisture there, promptly wiping it away, “Sh-She completely made a fool of me, Eita. I don’t know what you ever saw in her and I don’t know why I helped you get back with her.”

“I know, look…” he ran a hand through his already messed up hair, “I feel the same, alright? I’m sorry I pulled you into all this, _____, I really am. Alright, I told her to get lost.”

You sighed and took a seat on your couch, “She only wanted you back because you’re famous now. You know that right?”

He chuckled and sat down, nodding his head, “I guess I was just...hoping for something I guess.”

“What?” you asked.

He shrugged, “I don’t really remember anymore,” he confessed.

“Well,” you didn’t quite know what to say, simply leaning back on the couch to appear relaxed, “I always wondered why you didn’t date after her anyway.”

He shrugged once more. How was he meant to say that he didn’t want anyone impeding on his time with you?

“I guess...no one really came along, you know?”

You nodded, “I guess it’s the same for me.”

He snorted, “You’ve never even dated anyone before.”

“You don’t have to bring that up!” you whined, playfully shoving his shoulder.

He laughed, melodic and pretty, “I think it’s cute. What’s your story then?”

“Eita, we’ve been friends since high school, you know everything about me,” you smiled, feeling your cheeks warm at the soft look he was giving you.

“Yeah but…” he bit his lip, fingers inching closer towards you, “You’re...pretty and sweet. There’s plenty of good looking guys around me that have tried flirting with you before. Hell, Satori even said he was into you.”

You smiled and shook your head, “No, none of them are right…”

“Who is right then?” he asked, unable to hide the hopefulness in his voice.

“Eita…” the smile falls from your lips, your heart hammering in your chest as he moved closer towards you, “I…”

“Hm?” he hummed, his nose brushing against yours, breath fanning over your lips.

“I...I won’t regret this, will I?” you asked.

His breathing stuttered against your skin and he shook his head, bringing his hand up to cup your cheek, “You won’t.”

After those words left his mouth, he brought your lips to his in a sweet kiss that was perfect for a first. You could tell he was experienced, knowing exactly how to move.

There was something sweet lingering on his tongue that you found utterly addictive.

You wish you could find it strange or even scary to wind up in bed with your best friend. The fact your entire relationship was going to be changing should have concerned you but all you felt was anticipation.

He hovered over your body, the two of you stripping your clothes with unhurried ease. His body was firm from working out, a habit he never let go of from his time as a volleyball player.

His hands were calloused and warm as they touched your body, caressing your breasts in a way no one ever had. The feeling of him thumbing over your nipples had your back arching in arousal, your panties becoming soaked embarrassingly fast.

He was hard and throbbing in his jeans, the constricting material almost painful but all he really cared about in that moment was seeing all of you.

Hooking his thumbs into the band of your panties, he pulled the material down. He cursed under his breath at the strings of slick that attached to the fabric.

“You’re so wet,” he breathed, licking his lips as he tossed your panties over his shoulder to be lost somewhere in your room.

“Sh-Shut up, don’t tease me…” you mumble, feeling embarrassed by your body’s own reaction to him.

He smiles, pressing a soft kiss against your knee, “I’m not, baby. It’s sweet...I love knowing you react so honestly to me.”

“Eita…” you whined, reaching up to cover your face as he spread your legs.

“Hmm?” he bites his lip, sliding two fingers between your folds to spread them apart.

Your hole clenched around nothing, drooling more slick for him to gather on his fingertips. He used it to rub smooth circles around your clit, the sweet moan that fell from your lips at the pleasure he so easily gave you.

“I’ll get you nice and prepped, baby,” he cooed, the nickname making your heart soar.

You were so wet, making it easy for him to slide two thick fingers into your pretty cunt. You clamped down tight around the digits, making his cock throb at the mere thought of what that would feel like around his hard cock.

Twisting his wrist, he crooked his fingers up to hit your sweet spot, his thumb coming up to circle around your clit. The inexperience of your body made it so easy for him to bring you to the edge.

You had never felt this, no one had ever touched you so intimately so your body was more reactive than ever.

Reaching down, you wrapped your hand around his wrist, meeting his gaze with wide eyes. He smiled, capturing his bottom lip between his teeth.

“You cumming?” he asked, though he could very easily feel your walls spasming around him.

Still, you nodded, mouth falling open but no sound escaping, “E-Eita…”

“C’mon, baby,” he groaned, fasting his pace to fuck your dripping cunt. The sounds were wet, lewd and if you were with anyone else you would have been completely ashamed. But it was Eita, the person you trusted the most in the world. He groaned as your body began to quake, “Let it go, pretty girl. Cum for me, that’s it.”

At his encouragement, you released with a shrill whine of his name. He eagerly fucked your gushing cunt through the high, only slowing when your back met the bed again.

Pulling his fingers from your hole, he was mindful of your sensitivity. He still couldn’t resist placing a fleeting kiss against your throbbing clit before sitting up to meet you for another heated kiss.

Your body was still trembling as you wrapped your arms around his neck, your thighs spread open around his waist. His clothed cock hovered above your sensitive core and he made sure the rough material of his jeans didn’t make contact.

“Please, Eita, c-can we…?” you asked, biting your lip, too embarrassed to utter the words.

He smiled and nodded, brushing some hair behind your ear before sitting up to discard the remaining clothing on his person. His skin was pretty, tanned and built. His cock reached his navel, dripping precum down the length which he used to easily slick his cock up with his fist.

The sight of your best friend jerking himself off over your naked, trembling body felt beyond taboo. But it only made you more eager to have him.

“Please, Eita...I want you,” you breathed.

He flashed you a smile and sat up on his knees, sliding the dripping tip between your folds. Brushing past your clit, you whined at the sensitivity.

“It might hurt a bit, pretty baby,” he whispered, positioning himself at your entrance.

You had already guessed it. He was big just by looking at him. But nothing compared to when he began to sink into you -- that’s when his size really became apparent.

“Ah, Eita!” you whined, digging your nails into his shoulders.

He hissed but didn’t stop you, eyes falling to where his cock was steadily stretching you open. When he got halfway in, he pulled back until the head remained within your clasping walls. With an experienced roll of his hips, he pushed his cock back in, this time easily bottoming out.

“Fuck!” you squealed, back arching.

He could feel you gushing, dripping down his balls. There wasn’t a single sign of pain in your features so he quickly began to move, the both of you riled up and eager to have each other completely.

Everything felt so right, so sweet. Having him in your arms made you feel so happy.

“You’re mine now, baby,” he groaned, burying his face in your neck, “All mine. N-No more, fuck, of this friend shit...I love you.”

“Eita,” you whined, tears pricking your eyes as you hugged him tightly against you, “I love you too. P-Please make me cum.”

“Fuck, I’ll get you there, baby,” he promised, reaching between your bodies to find your clit. Your walls immediately clamped tight around him as he played with your little bud, “C’mon. Cum for me. I wanna feel you cream, pretty baby. Can you do that for me? Show me how good this cock makes you cum.”

His filthy words, whispered in his sweet, deep voice were enough to throw you over the edge. As you squeezed around him, trembling and gushing through the amazing orgasm, he spilled within you. A soft whimper of your name fell from his lips as his balls throbbed, cock spitting out load after load until you were so filled, it dripped from your cunt.

Finally, the both of you stilled. He leaned back to look in your eyes, tucking some damp hair behind your ear before pecking your lips.

“I meant it, you really are mine now,” he said.

You nodded, “You’re all mine too.”

“Well,” he gave you a teasing grin, “You have to share me with my millions of adoring fans.”

“Don’t be so full of yourself,” you giggled, biting your lip as he pulled out, “You have thousands at most.”

“Oh, way to bruise a guy’s ego,” he laughed.

You were grateful to have him, everything with him was so easy. Everything between you was fine, perfect even. And you didn’t have to worry about ever losing him to another girl again.

#haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #eita x reader #semi eita x reader #eita semi x reader #haikyuu smut #hq smut #eita smut #afton.writes

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thedeathdoctor · 4 years ago

Text

Kinktober Day 1: Voyeurism

The Boy: Brahms Heelshire x Reader

Peephole

Your first few days at the Heelshire manor passed smoothly enough. Sure, the day-to-day routine differed from what you expected it to be when you accepted the position, but it didn’t bother you too much.

After your five years in college, you had earned your degree, as well as a newfound difficulty with regular sleeping, eating, and sometimes bathing. The days consisted of you rushing to class and office hours and meetings, assignments barely completed in your remaining free time, and in the margins you kept yourself alive. Graduation came and went and then you were alone, degree in hand, a shell of yourself. You felt like the human shaped doll you cared for, hollow and fragile.

You followed the schedule the Heelshires had given you. Despite being an adult, you felt that it was a good routine for you to stick to as well. It was a hell of a lot better than being in the mental hospital anyway, where they literally did treat you like a preschooler, complete with requiring you to ask them to fill your water bottle. Here, Brahms was your child and your companion. Doing things together helped you; caring for Brahms allowed you to care for yourself by extension.

Outside of the schedule, you found yourself reading more, painting more, creating more. You found yourself daydreaming out loud to Brahms frequently. You would wax on about places you have seen and have yet to see, your old friends, the family you still talked to on occasion. All of it, including the pain, the divorce of your parents that never went through but should have, how you only made it through highschool because your ex promised he would make the family you always wanted only after you both graduated, the breakup after you realized that he wasn’t putting in any work into the future that he said he wanted, and the miscarriage you told no one about. Brahms was a good listener, and honestly, that was really all that you needed lately. Someone to be there while you work things out, out loud.

After putting Brahms to bed, you usually took some time to yourself to unwind and relax. It took a bit to allow yourself to enjoy such a luxury, but regular bubble baths in their fancy, claw-footed porcelain tub became an integral part of your self care routine. Firstly, you found it convenient that you could wash yourself without having to towel dry your hair afterward every time.

And then you discovered what wonders the handheld water faucet held.

-------

You were unaware of the large, virile man lurking in the walls of the manor, and of the discreet peepholes scattered about the house. Invisibly, the living Brahms spent nearly every moment of the day with you, admiring how you cared for the doll, and longing to one day take its place in your arms. When you spilled your heart and soul out loud to your silent audience of one, he listened intently, hanging onto every word you shared. The mask he wore weighed especially heavily on him those times, a reminder that no matter how perfect he was for you, he was still too irredeemably broken to deserve you. And so, he graciously shielded you from his presence by continuing to exist in the walls, a shameful thing that wanted to live freely in the house - not as a part of it but as its resident, together, with you.

Trapped in a constant state of yearning.

The closest he could get to you was by watching you, and holding the clothes that he had stolen from the bottom of your dirty laundry bin. They smelled of you the most, and when he couldn’t find your scent on them anymore, he would carefully place them back in the bin, at the bottom. He soon realized that it was much easier for him to steal your panties - you had a colorful variety of them that you chose to wear at random. Truthfully, you had no idea how many you had, only that you had enough of them.

And so, as you slipped into the steaming, bubble filled tub, hungry eyes followed you from the unremarkable gap in the bathroom wall. Brahms held up a pair of your worn, lacy panties to the mask and breathed in your scent. His right hand palmed the crotch of his wrinkled trousers, massaging his cock through the fabric as it grew and stiffened. You took a large yellow sponge and began to gently wash up your arms, first your left, and then your right, leaving a trail of bubbles running and dripping up to your shoulders. You moved onto washing your shoulders, and his body shuddered involuntarily as he imagined gently wrapping his bulky hands around your graceful neck and pressing kisses from your shoulders to your jawline.

The sponge dipped below the layer of bubbles, giving him a moment to pry his eyes away from your body and work on freeing his straining cock. His fingertips frantically fumbled with his pants opening - mentally cursing his large hands for their clumsiness - and letting them fall around his thighs. Cradling the shaft in one hand, he grew into his full length with only a minimal amount of slow massaging. When he held it at the base, over half of it cantilevered from his grasp, two throbbing veins on either side led down his erection to his deep pink head. Precum drooled from the tip, beading up and spilling down in generously viscous strands. He wasn’t sure if it was adequate enough for your standards, and more so felt that you would find it just as grotesque and repulsive as the rest of his body.

Returning his attention to you as you washed the rest of your body, he stroked himself lazily, anticipating what you usually did next. You drained the bath and carefully washed the remaining bubbles off with the hand faucet, making sure that you wouldn’t find dried soap clinging to your skin in the morning. Water ran down your exposed body as you rinsed yourself, before propping your elbow up on the edge of the tub and letting the stream of water find its way between your thighs. You let it trace your vulva in large circles, all the sensitivity in your body migrating towards it and leaving the rest of your body in a soft, blissful paralysis. The circles slowly tightened until it settled on your clitoris, the water pressure teasing it gently, methodically as you coaxed your first orgasm out of your tightly wound body.

Brahms stroked himself faster with you, trying to pleasure himself at your pace. His movements jerkily slowed, however, as you came. The first time he had watched you, he had spent himself entirely, and afterward could only listen from his resting position as he reclined sleepily against the wall as you worked yourself over and over. From then on he had forced himself into a form of restraint in order to last longer alongside you. He studied your routine attentively, as he did with all other aspects of your life. You would orgasm clitorally a few times, then finish by adding your fingers as well.

Dizzy and lightheaded with the past few orgasms now settling down into your body, your free hand wandered past your hipbones and cheekily massaged your clit before parting your labia with a gentle finger. Brahms’ movement hitched, imagining his fingers replacing yours, feeling the sensitive, soft skin as it slicked his fingers with your warm juices. A thought crossed his mind - what your taste would be, and if it could possibly be better than your scent - as he held your panties up to his mask once more. He found himself adrift in his fantasies, the feeling of pressing you down into his mattress, feeling your lithe body squirm beneath him as his thick fingers worked themselves into you, your sighs and screams echoing throughout the estate, your taste on his lips, his other hand firmly holding your hips as he teased a cascade of orgasms from you, surrounded by your sweet, dizzying smell, you, you, you it was always you, who I ever needed in my life, please stay here with me and be mine forever- bonding you all to himself forever, entwining the two of you physically, emotionally, spiritually, biologically for all eternity.

In the bath, you tipped yourself over into the rush of your final orgasm, letting a breathy moan rise from your lips, the sound bringing Brahms to a climax so overwhelming, the first spurt of his thick, milky cum hit the slatted boards inside the wall before he remembered to catch the rest with a cloth. Behind his mask, his mouth fell open as he let out a faint, deep moan, and fell to his knees. The sound startled you out of your comedown, and half cognizant, you froze up and called out to the house you knew to be empty.

“Hello??”

#my writing #filth #smut #brahms heelshire #brahms #brahms imagine #brahms x reader #Slasher imagine #slasher x reader #slasher imagines #slasher fandom #slasher thirst #slasher fucker #Kinktober 2020

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beyoncesdragon · 4 years ago

Text

title: catch up now?

× pairing: Idol!Jungkook x Interviewer!Reader, old friends from highschool kinda stuff, abandoned but maybe rediscovered love on both sides.

× summary: Three years are a long time. In three years, many things can and will change. But three years hadn’t been quite enough to change how two people feel about each other.

× warnings: a little teeny bit angsty but it’s nothing, really. Mainly fluff, some flustered, overly eager Gguk and old memories coming up.

× wordcount: 2k

× a/n: Not gonna lie, this might be one of my favourite pieces I've ever written. I really hope you enjoy this too! it’s somehow inspired by ‘Love Maze’ (BTS) and also ‘50 Proof’ (eaJ). Will probably not have a pt.2

main masterlist | bts masterlist

When he had read the name of the interview host - or hostess more like - Jungkook had already felt the familiar tingle in the pit of his stomach that he had thought had disappeared over the course of time. Yet, he wasn’t surprised that it was still there.

He had however not dared to hope that it could actually be you, there sure were other people called (Y/N) (Y/L/N), who has pursued their dream of becoming an interviewer, media person, whatnot. He didn’t even know if you had actually graduated uni and made it in the job, hence he hadn’t seen any of you in about four years of him debuting now. He had occasionally checked out your Instagram or Twitter, yet he shied away from following you on any social media platform. You weren’t really public about your work or personal life on both, you mainly retweeted stuff (he found out about your love for Bingsu and Makgeolli ice cream like that) and posted a few selfies or landscapes. He hoped that you had been able to pursue your dream of traveling around for a bit, in South Korea and outside of it. Though again, he didn’t know.

Jimin was seated right in front of him and Jungkook couldn’t help but nervously play with his hyungs honey blond dyed hair. Jimin chuckled surprised yet amused about his open display of nervousness and turned around slowly.

“Everything okay, Jungkook-ah? You seem more nervous than usually.” He remarked, making Namjoon look over to the maknae in wonder. “He does, right? I thought so too. Did something happen?” Jungkook only shook his head.

Not yet, he thought to himself.

The cameras around them started to blink all at once, the light has been set up correctly and the camera and sound team had settled down around them in the dark. Manager and publicists stood somewhere in the back, swallowed up by the dark. The only person that was missing still, was you. Or the person called (Y/N) (Y/L/N), Jungkook tried to tell himself.

Suddenly there was a soft laugh from somewhere off the scenes and his heart tripped over its own beat and finally, finally, you stepped into the light.

You looked pretty as ever, grown into your features entirely, like a lotus flower finally in full bloom. Jungkook had to swallow dry. The light coral red of your lip balm complimented your skin and the subtle almost invisible make up you wore, accentuated your already beautiful features even more. You hadn’t changed your hair much, but it was a bit longer and looked so soft in the bright light. His eyes almost subconsciously darted to your fingers, searching for evidence of a possible relationship. He was almost ashamed how quickly he ended up thinking about this, his own boldness making him even more flustered. (There was no formal looking ring on your ringfinger though, to his relief.)

There was a warm smile on your lips as you bowed deeply to them all, greeting them respectfully. The boys returned your greeting immediately and a bunch of annyeong haseyo-s sounded through the studio. Jungkook felt Namjoon look over at him again, a piercing gaze Jungkook knew he wouldn’t be able to withstand if he met it. So he just kept looking at everything but Namjoon...not that this was hard to do when you were right in front of him.

“Thank you so much for being here with us.” You said with a smile, looking at everyone with the same look of respect and polite distance. Like you were supposed to, at work, as a professional. Like you didn't know them personally. Everyone, including Jungkook.

He felt his heart drop to his stomach. Could it be that you...forgot about him? It couldn’t really be, right? How would you actually be able to, you really...in this moment your eyes crossed again and something flickered in your eyes, a facade crumbled for a few seconds only. It was an amused twinkle, like a cheeky wink and a minimal curl of your lips.

Acknowledgement.

And Jungkook’s heart did multiple flips, breath caught in his throat and eyes widened.

You had started with the questions, keeping the conversation light and flowing. The vibe in the room was comfortable and built up on mutual respect - yet Jungkook felt as if he was sitting on red-hot needles. He wanted to talk to you, ask about how you had been, what you were doing (if you had a boyfriend) if you were happy, if you got a cat, how your mother’s little business was going (he’d anonymously purchased countless items, to support your family), if your favourite colour still was cyan blue and your still religiously bought Pajeon and Makgeolli on rainy days, if you ever spent a second of your day thinking of him (because he did).

Him, your somewhat ex-best friend from highschool, him, the one you spent hours talking to in the ungodly hours of the morning, him who you had lost your first kiss to (though lost wasn’t the right word: you gave it to him more like). Him who you had poked fun of when the first girl approached him in his Rookie days and he’d been flustered to no end.

Him, who had promised to you that he wouldn’t abandon your friendship and yet the two of you drifted apart anyways.

Not for the lack of trying on either side though. Jungkook’s schedule had just become even fuller, his nights shorter, training longer and fans more obsessive. And you had seen each other less often, greetings were shorter and late night talks turned into good night wishes over text quicker.

You on your part weren’t mad, a little disappointed maybe. Sad for sure, but not mad. After all, you had expected it to turn out like that. So had the rest of your little circle, Haneul, Hwang, Kyong and Myunghee. Whilst the five of you had supported Jungkook on his journey with all you’ve got, you all tried to overcome the obvious pain of him drifting off.

Some (mainly Hwan and Kyong) with working harder in school for example. You did that too, but sometimes you also partied a little harder, were awake at three AM a little more often, missed him a lot more. It hurt letting someone you love go.

Jungkook and you had always been a bit...closer. Why you didn’t know, how you couldn’t possibly explain. But you were and him rising into the heights and new dimensions of being an idol destroyed this almost completely. This strange world of fame, those walls of flashing cameras, the flow of expensive goods and seas of screaming people, that was his world. He was a star, figuratively and somewhat literally. He shone more radiant, higher, longer, prettier and too bright for an innocent, young love to coexist.

So you stayed behind, soon having lost his number due to him having to change it, his contact information soon had less to say than what you could find on the internet.

His new hair colour? Well, you could google it. Height? Current weight? Several fan sights knew the answer. Achievements? The internet again.

It was strange, ridiculous to some extent. And it hurt. But you couldn’t blame him, so you never did.

⋄

When you had heard that you would be interviewing BTS last week you could help but feel scared. You hadn’t seen him face to face for three or so years, three years with no FaceTime, texting, three years of not seeing his bunny smile, smiled just for you.

And when you had seen him again, laid eyes on him for the first time in thirty-five months, you realised that nothing you ever felt for him had faded away. It was all the same again, your heart still jumped in your chest and your stomach still fluttered whenever he did as much as breathing. The only thing that had changed was his height and him having had the biggest glow up you had witnessed in your life, yours included – though this Jungkook would disagree vehemently.

This Jungkook who got pulled out of his thoughts and memories almost violently, as you directed a first question at him only.

“I…” he started, gulping hardly, having forgotten the question already halfway.

“Sorry I can’t – how have you been?” you stopped shortly, stunned and a tad confused at first. You hadn’t expected him to be so bold. Or clumsy, for that matter. Yet you couldn’t help but giggle, and all the unsaid words and ignored truths between the two of you disappeared into smoke, taking all tension with them. Just like that.

“I’ve been fine, Gukie. Busy. Long-time no see, hm. How about you?” somewhere behind the cameras someone dropped a pen and there were multiple gasps being heard. The rest of the bangtan boys didn’t look any better; Jimin had his mouth open, Taehyung was looking back and forth between the two of you, Yoongi just froze, Jin and Hoseok had clasped their hands in front of their mouths and Namjoon just looked like someone poured a bucket of ice water over his head.

But Jungkook? Jungkook was smiling widely, his bunny smile, smiled just for you.

“Busy too. Yes, very long time no see.” He replied sheepishly, a small laugh escaping his lips as he looked around the dead silent studio. “Why…how do you know each other?” Yoongi finally asked, eyes snapping back and forth between the two of you.

“Well I guess we have to tell them now. We know each other from back in Highschool. We were pretty close friends back then.” You explained softly, giving him a small smile. Jungkook nodded quickly. “My apologies. I didn’t wanted to completely ruin the interview but…I haven’t seen you in three or so years. Sorry.” You waved it off. “It’s okay, Jungkook. We will catch up later, alright?” Jungkook nodded, making the mistake of looking over to Namjoon, who looked like he finally understood everything. “Is that why you were so…never mind.” He ended in a mumble and Jungkook was glad he did.

⋄

The second the interview was officially finished and all the cameras shut off, Jungkook was on his feet and approaching you. He didn’t even care about formalities anymore as he just wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into a tight hug.

The first thing he noticed was that he couldn’t nestle his face in the crook of your neck as easy as he had been able to do in high-school. The second thing was that you had changed your perfume into something more flowery and fresh. The third thing he noticed was how much he liked having you in his arms again, especially because he could now rest his head on top of yours.

The first thing you noticed was how broad your Kookie had become. Broad and tall and firm everywhere. The second thing you noticed was how he smelled more expensive, faintly musky but still very much like Jungkook. A scent you could pick out from a thousand, unique and everything you loved. The third thing you noticed was how familiar and how looked after you felt in his arms, how protected from every harm. You had missed this feeling.

“Aigoo, Junkookie!” Jin yelled from behind, causing you to chuckle embarrassed and trying to break the hug. But Jungkook simply tightened his arms around you, having no intentions of letting you go any time soon.

“Just ignore them. They’ll leave, eventually.” His voice was muffled by the skin on your neck, since he had now buried his face there, taking deep breaths.

“And we?” you asked with a small laugh, not moving either. “We stay. We catch up. Got a lot of that to do.” Sounded good enough to you…just that you had expected them to make a bee-line for the exit after the cameras cut due to their busy schedule.

“Catch up now?” you asked after a few seconds of him still having his arms around you, unmoving. The young man shook his head.

“No…not right now.” He took a deep breath, hiding his face in the crook of your neck, mumbling against your skin and the fabric of your blouse.

“In five minutes. Let me just hold you for a little while, you…you have no idea how much I missed you.”

If he only knew.

— ✩ thank u for reading ✩ —

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joycob · 4 years ago

Note

May I request an angst/fluff with Sunwoo where you're both friends and you have a crush on him but he's dating another girl, but then they like break up and everyone thinks he's sad about it but a few days later he confesses to you? Thank you~

Sunwoo | Honesty

word count : 1.2k { i got a lil carried away ehe }

idol! sunwoo x fan! female! reader

includes: angst, fluffy ending

a/n: sorry anon that this took so long but i hope you enjoy !!

( ˘ ³˘)♥︎ keep reading below !

The school semester had just started back up after the long christmas holidays. The halls were filled with tired adolescents grogging and groaning about their overdue math projects. The crisp winter air bit at your cheeks leaving them a bright rosy red as you stood outside the corridors and waited for your, as expected, late best friend Kevin. You watched as he got out of the car and turned to face you with a semi-apologetic smile.

“Save the apologies Keb let’s just get inside it’s -15° out right now!” He nodded quickly and followed you inside the corridors. As soon as you both entered the building, an audible groan excited your lips at the sight infront of you, earning a playful smack from Kevin. “I swear if i see them one more time i’m going to get sick.” “Oh just face it Y/n you like him, and you’re jealous.” Kevin smirked and patted your shoulder. “Unfortunately sweetie, you don’t hide it well.” He gave you another sympathetic look.

“Oh look who’s coming right now! I think I hear my teacher calling me.. good luck loser.” Kevin shot you a wink before running down the busy hall. God only hoped Kevin would actually arrive to his class let alone on time. You laughed silently to yourself at your best friends goofy running style before you realized the situation ahead of you; Sunwoo and his new girlfriend e/n— walking towards you.

“Hey y/n! How was your holidays? You didn’t come over on Christmas, my family was a little worried.” As soon as Sunwoo said that you could tell his girlfriend had gotten upset. Clearly wanting to escape the situation and truth be told, you felt her pain. “Sunwoo we aren’t 10 years old anymore.. traditions are bound to be broken.” With that you left a dumbfounded sunwoo behind as you headed towards your classroom. The urge to blink back tears was real, but you couldn’t let him know now as your ship of chances had sailed long ago.

Sunwoo and you were really good friends. Since birth, both of your parents were divorced and worked together meaning you two were always left to play and keep each other company. You were just two neighbour kids having fun, until you realized you had feelings for him.. and truth be told you knew it was bound to happen at some point, there was not one thing to not love about that boy. But from then on you distanced yourself, you no longer wanted to hang out at the park with him and his friends, you declined all of his phone calls and ignored his texts. Highschool came and you had every class together but not one word was spoken, you still liked him.. but couldn’t bear to have your heart broken.

Your judgement was right, and soon rumours had surfaced that he was dating the one girl who you’d hope to see him never with, for his own sake. The girl that every guy got a chance with merely because she found it entertaining. Anything to protect her ego you supposed. However, you didn’t want to believe it was real until one day as you were finally about to confess to him he had walked out of the school doors holding hands with E/n. Your heart undoubtedly shattered but who were you to complain? You were the one who distanced away from him.

“Y/n? Y/n !” You snapped out of your daydream as your teacher snapped his fingers infront of your face. “Finally, your back to your senses, now, whats the answer to question 1a.” Your mind drew a blank and your cheeks flushed pink in embarrassment. “I..i’m not sure sir.” He flicked his tounge in disapproval, “and this is a perfect example of somebody who doesn’t want to get far in life.” Your not going to lie, that hurt a bit.. but was he wrong?

*dinngggggg* “thank the lord i’ve been saved by the bell.”

Exciting the classroom you happily made your way to the cafeteria eager to indulge in some warm food. Immediately after entering the caf you locked eyes with Kevin who gestured for you to come sit at his table. “Hey babes how has your day been?” he asked as he muched on his cheetos. “To be honest, it could be better but you know how it is.”

“I do.. all too well.” Kevin sent you another wink before both of you adverted your gaze to the shouting across the cafeteria much with the rest of the attending students.

“YOUR NOT LISTENING TO ME!”

“YEAH WELL YOU NEVER LISTEN TO ME!”

“HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW WHAT FOOD YOU WANT? IM NOT JUST A BUILT IN MIND READER!”

“YOURE MY BOYFRIEND YOU SHOULD KNOW THIS STUFF!”

“WELL CLEARLY WE MIS CLICKED OR SOMETHING!”

“IM DONE. WE’RE DONE!”

You and Kevin watched with your mouths wide open at the sight of Sunwoo and his Girlfriend.. well ex girlfriend fighting publicly. “Did I just see and hear that correctly?” Kevin asked stunned. “Y/n?... Y/n!” You blinked a few times trying to register what just went on but after 2 minutes you were on solid ground. “Woah that was intense.” “You can say that again... I wonder whats going to happen now. This is unbelievable, look at all the boys and girls following e/n but are we realizing there is not ONE girl trying to go help Sunwoo?! disgusting.” Kevin picked up his lunch tray and walked away from the table leaving you rather confused. However, he was right, nobody was there to help Sunwoo.. and that only made you realize how selfish you had been. Simply only caring about your feelings instead of being a responsible and proper friend.

You watched as Sunwoo grabbed his bag and walked outside into the cold wintry temperature. Trying to be as nonchalant as possible you followed him out to were he was sitting, on a bench by the campus gates. “May I sit here?” you gave him an apologetic look but before you could sit down he stood up and gave you a great big hug. “You’re speaking to me again.” Tears welled up in your eyes as you felt him relax in your embrace, you had hurt the poor boy. “Sunwoo.. i’m sorry.” You pushed away— breaking the short lived hug. “It was my fault.” He looked at you with a confused expression, his eyes showing hurt mixed with a little bit of hope. Sunwoo was bracing for the worst, yet he wanted you to continue.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you Sunwoo. I was protecting myself.” you kicked a little clump of snow and watched it roll away from it’s comfortable spot. “Protect yourself from what Y/n?” you sighed at Sunwoo’s words. “From my feelings. From the fact that I was so in love with you it hurt to even look at you because I knew you only seen me as your best friend.” Actual tears began to fall from your eyes, rolling down your cheeks but Sunwoo was right there, catching them all before they could touch the ground. “So all this time, I thought you despised me.. but you actually, liked me?” his mouth formed a small smile and you let out a scoff. “Try more of the term, love.”

“Well.. Y/n what you didn’t know was that this entire time I was madly in love with you too. Next time, do me a favour hm?”

you looked up at him slightly confused.

“Be honest with me”

#tbz #the boyz sunwoo #the boyz #sunwoo #sunwoo imagines #the boyz scenarios #sunwoo scenarios #sunwoo fanfic #joycob

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stargaze-issei · 4 years ago

Text

— "𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮" (𝐭. 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐨 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭; after losing you, todoroki moves on with his life. you know you never stopped loving him, and he's desperately wants you back. but life has a funny way to do things.

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞; angst.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬; none.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭; 1.8k

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞; this is a continuation from this ficlet, so probably there are a few things you won't understand if you haven't read it. anyways, enjoy.

you had moved on, and to say it had been hard was an understatement. you absolutely believed todoroki was your soulmate, but when you found out what he did, it simply devastated you. even thinking of him made your heart ache. you knew you made the right choice, getting out of every shared space you two had, distancing from everything that reminded you of him. transferring to shiketsu was by far the best way. of course, you had to leave all your friends, but they would always be one call away.

for todoroki it was the other way around. no matter how hard he tried, everything had a piece of you in it. his room was full of memories with you, all the times you fell asleep on his bed, your study sessions that always ended up in something more, you dancing and singing to mamma mia's soundtrack. he ended up staying at midoriya's most days, but even then, he would think about you. it was his default mode, somehow, his mind always went back to you.

he shut down completely after seeing you with yoarashi, no one could make him talk about his beloved or his feelings. he started to go to the gym more often, train alone in the woods at night. he barely slept, and as soon as he woke up, he'd start exercising. he was so tired that he didn't think of you. that was his way of moving on, though in every sense of the word, he never actually did.

*.✧☆ﾟ.*･｡✧*⊰⊹ฺ

focusing all his life in becoming a hero, he came first of the class with a big gap. at his twenties, he opened his own hero agency. since your break up, he never had another partner, too afraid that no one could be like you, make him feel what you did.

in your case, after graduating you went to work with mirko. everyone knew you being her sidekick. it wasn't weird to hear about your ex boyfriend on the news, he had achieve all his goals in life, and that made you happy. you no longer held any remorse against him. he was a good person who made a mistake, of course you had forgiven him.

"so, [hero name], you've been going up in the charts like a rocket, could you be thinking about starting your own agency? some heroes, like shoto, are already making their way through the industry" the interviewer asked you. for the first time since highschool, someone asked you about todoroki as a hero.

"i love working with mirko, she's amazing and i think i still have a lot to learn from her. i do admire heroes like shoto, he's undeniably good at what he does, but i think is still too soon for me" you smiled when you mentioned him. even after all those years, when todoroki watched that interview, he caught on those little details. it felt good hear you saying his name again.

*.✧☆ﾟ.*･｡✧*⊰⊹ฺ

it's confirmed! pro hero y/n and yoarashi inasa are getting married! the rumors were confirmed by a picture posted on their social media accounts showing their engagement rings and captioning "she said yes/he finally asked". we are w–.

to todoroki, it was extra hard that you were marrying you highscool boyfriend. he couldn't stop thinking, if he hadn't messed up, you would be marrying him. an hour later, midoriya called.

"how are you?" even though izuku was trying to not be obvious, shoto knew what he meant.

"in another timeline, y/n and i would be getting married".

*.✧☆ﾟ.*･｡✧*⊰⊹

todoroki finally met someone, you heard on the gossip chanel. great, that was great, he deserved to feel the happiness you felt with inasa, right? of course he did. he was an amazing boyfriend, any person would be lucky to have him, you were happy for him. that was what that knot in your throat was, that sudden urge to cry. come on, you couldn't be so selfish, you were getting married with another man, you broke up five years ago, why were you so upset?. it's not that you dreamed about him at least twice a week, or that you heard his voice clear as water even when you hadn't spoke in so long. you love inasa, stop having those thoughts. you decided with whom you'd be spending your life with years ago, it was about time todoroki moved on too.

"...and i didn't know what to say, but he was so persistent. anyways, i told him we were going to discuss it, what do you think?" your fiance's hand was moving in front of your eyes, trying to catch your attention back.

"can you repeat it, please? i-i got distracted" he smiled at you, kindly. he always did that. no matter what you did, inasa was the kindest person to you, because he genuinely loved you.

"one of my advisors gave me a list with all the pro heros we had to invite to the wedding, i told him we'll talk about it" he pulled out a paper from his briefcase with a lot of names printed on it "give it a look while i take a shower" he got up, kissing your head on his way to the bathroom. most of the names were your old classmates from u.a. and shiketsu, some of your teachers and heroes of the moment.

ground zero, red riot, creati, charge bolt, shoto, cellophane, deku, froppy[...].

you stared at his name for longer than you thought, because inasa came out of the bathroom only with a towel, asking your opinion on the matter. he knew you dated todoroki back in highschool, but obviously didn't think you had feelings for him now. because you didn't. you didn't, you couldn't.

"yeah, okay, let's invite them".

*.✧☆ﾟ.*･｡✧*⊰⊹ฺ

todoroki's jaw almost hit the floor when the invitation arrived at his mailbox. his girlfriend, a model he met at an event, laughed at his reaction. were you actually asking him to go to your wedding? it seemed like a cruel joke to him. the cruelest of jokes.

"isn't she one of your classmates from u.a., baby?" his girlfriend asked, taking the paper out of his hands. he never talked about you, with anyone, not even with midoriya. your chapter had been closed by force, locking all your memories away. but that lock was always on the verge of breaking, something as small as saying your name could unleash his buried feelings.

he was so confused. his irrational side was screaming to accept the invitation, eager to face you again. but he knew it would hurt him. he knew it, if he thought about it enough, he still remembered how his heart break years ago. his mind kept wondering back to you, how beautiful you would look in your white dress, your eyes filled with excitement. it was too much for him to handle.

"yes, i will let them know we're going".

*.✧☆ﾟ.*･｡✧*⊰⊹ฺ

somewhere in yourself, you wished todoroki hadn't replied. in that same place, it hurt to see the "plus one" option marked. right, he had a girlfriend. a girlfriend he most likely cherished, in some level at least. it was okay, you had a boyfriend, a boyfriend you were going to marry in two months. both of you had moved on. maybe repeating that to yourself would convince you.

*.✧☆ﾟ.*･｡✧*⊰⊹ฺ

he got up that morning and went for a jog, like when he was a teenager trying to get off his mind the girl who broke his heart. we could say he was trying to do the same thing.

the only reason you got up in time was because uraraka knocked on your door. inasa had gone to a friend's house at night, arguing he wasn't going to see the bride before the wedding. if it was supposed to be the happiest day of your life, then what is that pain in your chest?.

"you have to hurry, the ceremony starts at four, we're meeting midoriya at three and you haven't even showered!" todoroki practically was forced into the shower by the girl, he had no will to get himself ready. what was he thinking? he clearly loved you, as much as always, why did he agree to see you marrying someone else?.

everything was ready, just as planned. like in the movies, you were expecting some sort of crisis to happen and could cancel the wedding with an excuse, but it wasn't the case. things were perfect. your hair, your dress, your make up, even the guests arrived just on time. you felt like puking.

not a single thing was out of place, that was certainly planned by you. he could see your unique touch in decorations, colors, even how tables were distributed. and he could point at everything yoarashi had done, because it didn't match at all. it was like a stain in your perfect design, a stain he couldn't remove or avoid anywhere he looked.

uraraka had to grab your arm when the music started to play, and push you out to the aisle. inasa was waiting on the other side. he looked so beautiful and happy, his eyes overflowed with love. but your eyes got lost in the crowd, searching for a certain pair of heterochromatic eyes.

you were like an angel fell from heaven. todoroki expected you to look pretty, but it was mind blowing. he was standing next to a pillar in order to get a perfect view from you. he felt his legs weakened when your eyes connected.

"do you, yoarashi inasa, take this woman to be your wife, to have and to hold[...]?" you couldn't see todoroki from the altar, and it was unbearable. all you wanted was to look back into his eyes again.

"yes, i do" inasa's voice was so determined, that you realized what was happening. before you knew, the priest was saying your vows.

he couldn't watch. he tried, but just couldn't. when he said the priest saying your name, he had to turned around.

you were sure that with one look, you'd knew if shoto still loved you. that was all you needed to go back to him, to see his eyes.

"[...] till death do you apart?" it was now or never. you turned your head, heart beating like a drum. please, please, love me.

oh how much he loved you. as you once said, his undying love for you was so big, that's tearing him apart. a single tear left his eye.

he wasn't even looking. he didn't love you anymore. a lonely tear ran down your cheek. you were too late, you had lost him. "yes, i do".

he had lost you, again.

#todoroki imagine #todoroki shōto #todoroki shoto imagine #todoroki shoto angst #todoroki x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #todoroki shouto #todoroki shoto #todoroki bnha #todoroki mha #todoroki drabble #todoroki angst #bnha x reader #bnha angst #mha x reader #mha angst #bnha x y/n #mha x y/n #– star's; originals! [❀]

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bujorulgalben · 3 years ago

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✿ very sorry sending danylo too lol

basic relation notes / accepting! (some will be more developed than others!!) “send me a ✿ and i’ll fill out the template below. bold for things i could definitely see or want, italics for things i could see or am unsure of and striked out for things i don’t want or cannot see.”

FRIENDSHIP.

childhood friends / work buddies or coworkers / family friends / friends with benefits / smoking buddies / adventure buddies / fake friends / recently friends / party buddies / friendship of need / dying friendship / circumstantial friendship / partners in crime / old friendship / [ your muse ] is the good influence / [ your muse ] is the bad influence / [ my muse ] is the good influence / [ my muse ] is the bad influence / opposites attract / ride or die / frenemies / roommates or flatmates / penpals / exes to friends / enemies to friends / other .

ROMANCE. honestly? don’t see any of that here.

childhood sweethearts / [ your muse is mines ] childhood crush / [ my muse is yours ] childhood crush / exes / exes to lovers / forbidden lovers / highschool sweethearts / secret relationship / opposites attract / long distance / unrequited [ from your muses side ] / unrequited [ from my muses side ] / unrequited [ from both sides ] / skinny love / friends to lovers / enemies to lovers / spurious relationship / power couple / newly entered / soulmates [ metaphorical ] / soulmates [ literal ] / awkward / turning toxic / toxic love / cheating [ on your muse ] / cheating [ with your muse ] / other .

FAMILIAL.

siblings [ half ] / siblings [ step ] / [ my muse ] is an older sibling figure to your younger sibling figure (matriarchal mamaica strikes again) / [ my muse ] is a younger sibling figure to your older sibling figure muse / [ my muse ] is a parental figure to yours / [ my muse ] is a child figure to your muse / guardian figure / legal guardian / adoptive child / foster child / [ your muse ] is taken under mines wing / [ my muse ] [was] taken under yours wing / other .

ANTAGONISTIC.

dangerous to each other / dangerous to others / unpredictable / rivals (honestly? i see them as crafts rivals. egg painting rivals. it’s harmless trash talking and good fun.) / petty / developing into sexual or romantic tension / based off family matters / based of off circumstance / based of professional matters / based off misunderstanding or lies / conflict of ideology / betrayal / hero - villain dynamic / enemies / fight club / friends turned enemies / lovers turned enemies / exes turned enemies / other .

here we go then lads:

i gotta say that while her relationship with danylo doesn’t fall into the extremes of either love or hate, the fact that their history has been so peaceful - especially in this neighbourhood - is commendable in itself! anica has a fond spot for danylo, and i remember mentioning in that voice post a while back that i really like the idea of her brother often hosting dinners for the two of them. this little pocket of the neighbourhood on the prut river is a calm one; which is, again, rare. it’s celebrated for that fact!

anica’s matriarchal streak extends north and she can be pretty dang nosy in danylo’s business. a meetup for coffee often, but not always, comes with an ulterior motive to fish for gossip. even if it is, it’s done with a smile. there’s always a healthy gift of flowers. they often meet up in the heat of summer; even if danylo isn’t too fond of forests, and anica feels uneasy on the plateau. they meet halfway. they find a way.

they have always found a way to keep things at least cordial between one another. 10/10 she will restock his fridge, patch up his jeans, then catch a whiff of the eau de gasoline which clings to danylo, and struggle to not hose him down. danylo thankfully knows better than to let anica drive anything when visiting.

#these two are just cute! good neighbours!#omggg don't apologise btw!#anica grows sunflowers in her garden and sends danylo at least 6 photos #''haha made me think of you !! ))) x''#it's what they deserve.#geroyam

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darkmulti · 5 years ago

Text

Yandere!Ateez reaction

When you breakup with them and get back together with your ex.

Scenario: you break up with your boyfriend ______. Because he’s overly possessive and get back together with your ex.

⚠️Warnings: violence, mentions of non consensual sex, death

——————————————————————————

Hongjoong

Getting back together with your ex. After you blew him. Hongjoong was sure that he had you wrapped around his fingers. But when you disobeyed him and avoided him for two weeks just to get back together with you ex. that’s just cold.

Hongjoong was furious. He wanted to take you and fuck you into submission. But he kept it cool. He was planning to kidnap the both of you on your next date.

And so he did. He of course had some help and knocked you guys out with gas, and when you woke up your boyfriend was chained to the wall and with his shirt off and hongjoong had a knife in his hand slitting it across his stomach. You were tied to a chair in perfect sight to watch it all.

You remained quiet, because you were in a state of shock. Your boyfriend then made eye contact with you, which made hongjoong turn around and look at you.

“Ah, look who’s awake. This is what you get for leaving me.”

“Hongjoong please let him go, I’ll give you my full submission just let him go.”

“Is that so?”

He called in some people taking your now ex boyfriend away and hongjoong came over to you and kneeled down to eye level.

“We’re getting married, so I can keep you forever and I’ll even have a ring to prove it.”

Seonghwa

“What the fuck are you doing in my house?”

Seonghwa slammed you against the wall and pinned your hands above your head.

“Let me go!”

He then kissed you forcefully, biting your lips so hard they bled.

You tried fighting back but you couldn’t.

“Seonghwa please.”

You cried out

“Please what?”

He said teasingly

“Stop!”

He then looked at you.

“why should I?”

“Because I’m dating Baekhyun.”

Seonghwa stopped and looked at you.

You only smirked.

“He’s dead.”

“What?”

“He’s dead, I killed him. And now you belong to me.”

Your eyes widened and started to tear up.

Did seonghwa really.

“You disobeyed your master, and now you're gonna be moving into my house.”

Yunho

He really played you like that. Crying in your arms telling you that he’ll change. But it just got worse from there and you really regret taking him back.

Yunho has practically trapped you in the house. You would only go to school and come back home. You weren’t allowed to go out, the only time you could leave was if Yunho was by your side every second.

You had enough and broke off with him again.

And when you did your ex had asked you to get back together bc he was going through some tough times.

So you said yes and went over to his house not knowing Yunho had put a tracker on your phone.

He followed you to his house a couple cars behind and when your destination was here, he was furious.

You were going back to your ex’s house and that is never a good sign.

You rang the doorbell and he let you in, while Yunho was in his car planning on how to take you back.

He got out of his car and entered through an open window.

Meanwhile you and your now boyfriend were preparing for a movie night. Your boyfriend went to go get some snacks like old times and Yunho took this chance to get in and snap his neck.

Your boyfriend let out a scream as you got up frightened. You quickly but discreetly make your way to the kitchen, to be pinned against the wall by a very angry looking Yunho.

You didn’t even say anything and Yunho dragged you out of the house, and that’s the last place you’ve both been seen.

Yeosang

Yeosang had underestimated you. He thought you would’ve taken a phone with you but when he found your phone laying on the night stand he panicked.

He went out and searched everywhere for you.

Police station, cafes, any public place you could possibly be.

He then stopped for a little while.

He realized he needs you to settle down, and then he’ll start looking again. And so he did. He laid back for a little and his plan had worked.

It worked too well. He let you settle long enough for you to get back together with your ex.

When yeosang saw this, he immediately went towards you.

“Hey Y/N, long time no see.”

Yeosang spoke with the most innocent voice

Your eyes widen at the sight of yeosang and you grab your boyfriend's hand pulling him with you.

Yeosang pulled out a gun on your boyfriend's stomach.

“Y/N you come with me I won’t shoot him.”

You look at your boyfriend and his face is covered in fear.

“Okay, just put the gun away yeo.”

“No, come stand beside me.”

You did as told and he put the gun down and grabbed your hand.

“Darling we have a long night ahead of us.”

He said and pulled you with him.

San

You had moved to a different city far away from the one you previously lived in. And now you need a job to help you pay for an apartment. Because all of your savings money has gone into your apartment.

So you searched for a full time job and found a perfect one. It was as a personal assistant but the starting pay was good. So you gathered your résumé and got into you professional clothes.

You arrived at the office job by walking and as soon as you entered in you were greeted by a familiar face.

“Y/N is that you?”

“Oh my god, I haven’t seen you in ages”

You both smile and hug each other. It was your ex boyfriend, from highschool. You two were love birds back then but ended it after he had to move away.

“So you're here for the job interview?”

“Yes”

Your ex had now hired you and you were his personal assistant. You guys were working for a huge makeup company and were in charge of designing the product.

You and your ex had gotten along, and went for drinks to catch up with each other. You became close friends again and later on he had asked you out.

You agreed immediately and the two of you started dating. It had been four months with you away from San and you haven’t heard of him since. You became a little worried that you may have killed him when you knocked him out with the vase.

But sooner or later his face showed up. And right now it was too close to yours. San had you slammed against the wall while opening your blouse and leaving hickies on your neck.

You went to your boyfriend's house for dinner at his place but when you walked in his dead body was the first thing you saw. You ran over to him but before you could make it San had put you in the position you were in now.

“You fucking whore. You’re now my assistant. I bought the entire company and your office is in the basement. I expect you to be at the office at 6:30am sharp. If you're late, just wait, you’ll see.”

Mingi

You left him again. And his stalker side had come out.

Mingi was stalking your 24/7.

He would watch you change, cook dinner, go to the grocery store. He was always watching.

But the one time he wasn’t, you got asked out. By you ex.

Mingi absolutely hated him. Even after you broke up and got together with Mingi, he would still flirt with you. It was clear he still had feelings for you so you didn’t want to be rude and reject him. So you said yes to the date.

You were getting ready and mingi was watching. He saw you change into a red dress and do you hair and makeup. You looked beautiful, but for someone else.

And that broke his heart in a million pieces but at the same time angered him. He wasn’t about to let you date him again.

Mingi crawled through your window while you were in the washroom and turned off all the lights. He then went towards you with a handkerchief in hand.

After that you blacked out. And mingi held you hostage until he made you fall for him again.

Wooyoung

You went on your date with Taemin. You wore a beautiful blue dress and Taemin wouldn’t stop complimenting you. It made you blush and it was a really nice dinner. You learned a lot about him, and he told you he really liked you and didn’t want to use you as a toy.

Usually he would just take the girl back to his place, have sex, then bye. But he took you on a real dinner.

Taemin has dropped you home and you thanked him for the wonderful dinner. He leaned in to kiss you and so did you. It was your first date and you had already kissed him. But you were alright with that.

You smiled and he went back to his car as you opened the door to your house.

You entered your house, but got pushed against the door with a hand grabbing you throat making you look up. It was Wooyoung. You could smell his cologne.

“What the hell are you doing in my house?” You spat at him.

“What the hell are you doing kissing Taemin on the first date with him. You fucking whore thirsty for every mans attention, I see. My dick isn’t small either. It’s enough to make you cry under me. Now be a good doll and strip for daddy.”

————————————

Edited🔐

#san #ateez yandere #ateez smut #ateez #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #mingi #yeosang #ateez reaction #wooyoung

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pickalilywrites · 4 years ago

Text

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

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

My First Love Come Back to Me

Eretra. Big AU.

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

12788 words.

Read on Ao3!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then you’ll be fine,” he tells her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, congrats!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m well. How are you?”

“Good,” Eren answers.

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

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

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

Eren winces but doesn’t say anything.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You do?”

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

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

“Oh, you don’t have to -”

“Or you could visit me?” she suggests.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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seeds-and-sins · 4 years ago

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The Seeds accepting you, a young kid, into their family would be like...

• To the surprise of others, cult members and sinners alike, your acceptance into the family happened the moment you met them.

• Your drunk father was being the abusive piece of shit he was at one of Joseph's Sermons and Jacob Seed intervened without hesitation.

• Within weeks John Seed found a way to legally remove you from your father's custody and assign the family as your permanent guardians.

• John pulled some strings even further and your father was sent to prison for child abuse. Needless to say, you won't see him for a while.

• The Seed siblings, at first, had a hard time figuring out who you would live with.

• So you had a room at each of their abodes, free to live with any one of them, whenever you so chose.

• John would spoil you with an endless array of gifts and excessive affectionate hugs and forehead kisses. He would take you flying in his plane whenever you stayed over at his ranch. He even let you fly it one time, but don't tell Joseph.

• Family dinners every friday night were your favorite.

• John would make the meal and it would suck, but nobody wanted to hurt his feelings, so he never would know.

• Jacob would secretly pass his food down to his wolf sitting under the table, motioning for you to be quiet about it with a wink.

• Family conversations sometimes turning into bickering...

• "Unicorns are real! Okay?! The Bible says so!"

• Joseph and you had a garden together that the both of you would work on when you were at his compound. He would read scripture to you, teach you lessons about the world, and talk to you about the collapse.

• Jacob was more about tough love. He had high expectations of you in terms of being efficient when it came to protecting yourself, surviving in the wilderness, and acknowledging your surroundings. (But every now and again, he would allow you to sleep in his arms if you had a nightmare about your abuse, or were afraid).

• Faith, you went to when you had emotional issues, or questions, or when you wanted female company. You both would have sleepovers and she would give you all the sweets you could imagine.

• Family photos where they all are extra and try to get single photos with you. (There might be a fight over who is the favorite parent, but Jacob doesn't call himself parent as much he does guardian).

• Joseph has one really cute photo of John, Jacob and you, that he hides in his journal. It was the day you got officially baptized and as Jacob was trying to help you out of the river, John and you yanked him in.

• You started playing basketball at your highschool, now that your father was gone you had more confidence to explore your interests. And the Seeds were more than enthusiastic about you being more active and social.

• At home games, they would be the ones cheering for you in the stands, the loudest spectators, even Jacob would participate in the madness (mainly to threaten the referee for calling fouls on you).

• Jacob and John worked with you often to make sure that you were the best player on the team. Jacob more so, would force you to train as much as possible.

• The coach let Jacob take over practice one time, since he usually watched on the sidelines. No one made it to the end of pratice, except for you.

• One of your fellow team mates going, "I hope your dad never runs practice ever again."

• Jacob yelling, "Cull the herd!", aggressively, anytime you got the ball.

• Joseph pulling you aside at half time and explaining, "My child, remember when I said violence wasn't the answer? Yes, well, this might be the one time where I am wrong."

• John bragging about you to the opposing team's parents, "Oh look! There they go again! Out running all of your children and scoring on them."

• Your sophmore year you almost failed math, you had good grades in your other classes, but the teacher wouldn't budge. It was your worst subject.

• At away games, it was almost like the whole cult was there to cheer you on. They would take two massive buses of members who would come see you play.

• Your math teacher never called for a parent-teacher conference ever again. Your grade became a C shortly after that meeting.

• John calling your math teacher and saying, "It would be a shame if (insert random blackmail information) became public."

• You being the best in PE class, with none of the kids being able to catch up, because Jacob Seed trained you every early morning. You were a force to be reckoned with.

• When you started dating, the whole family was very protective of you.

• Jacob and John were more direct when it came to threatening your boyfriend/girlfriend about being good to you.

• "If you try anything, I will carve the sin from your flesh myself. No one will be able to save you, and when I am done with you, well..." John's words fading into a deep chuckle, with that leering smile on his expression.

• Jacob crossed arms, stern posture, "Hmm, I hope you know where you belong, you pathetic weak little-" He stopped at Joseph's glare, "Especially where your hands belong, or else you'll lose'em."

• Your first ex ended up finding snakes in their pillow case before they went to bed one night. Jacob swore 'he had nothing to do with it' and John couldn't stop smiling.

• Faith and Joseph were sweet and kind, but their words had a warning lurking beneath them.

• "My child, you are so full of life. I would be very disappointed should something happen that would require that life to be slowly taken from you. I will pray for you." And Joseph traced a cross onto their forehead, which they couldn't have know that that meant they were marked.

• "It's so nice to know that they think you deserve them." Faith placing a hand on her chest, mockingly being kind to your date. "They are so giving and genuine aren't they? Let's hope they are right... for your sake."

• Your boyfriend/girlfriend had to ask permission before taking you to the local drive in.

• Jacob and John stopping you before you leave, "Don't forget that one neck breaking move that I showed you" and "Do you have that knife that I gave you last Christmas".

• When they give you the talk, Jacob was completely absent from the conversation, John wouldn't stop nervously pacing, and Faith and Joseph were mainly doing the talking.

• Jacob piping in at the end, to Joseph's aggravation, "Just make sure you wrap it up, kid."

• "Only when married can two partners share eachother in such an intimate and loving embrace," Joseph explains.

• Jacob admitting, "Ya'know kid, I actually don't mind having you around, and I don't like having anybody around."

• Joseph always saying, "After I lost my daughter, I never thought the Lord would gift me with another child, and then... and then we found you."

• Take your kid to work day, where John takes you to one of the Project's many court hearings at the Missoula courthouse.

• "My daughter/son would be a better lawyer than you ever could be and they haven't even become a lawyer yet."

• All the other cult members practically babysitting you, or watching your back while the Seeds did the Lord's work.

• Jacob giving you your very own Judge, that follows you around the Veteran's Center and elsewhere when he is busy.

• John Seed tried to cook for you one time and it came out horrible, so you both just started get pre-made meals in the mail.

• Prom night at the Hope County Highschool was a night to remember because John, Joseph, Jacob, and Faith all chaperoned.

• When no one wanted to dance with you in fear of your four parents, the Seeds each had one dance with you.

• John, Faith, and you pranked Jacob into beating up your PE teacher, with a disapproving Joseph on the sidelines.

• You all ended up back at the ranch anyways, for a family dinner.

• When you graduated high school, John Seed revealed his secret stash of wine to you, "You are old enough in my book."

• You having trouble figuring out what you want to do in life.

• "Whatever you do, whether its here with us, or not, we will support you."

• Jacob swelling with pride when you join the Army (but secretly afraid because he doesn't want you to go through what he went through), John nearly crying when you explain you want to become a JAG, and be a lawyer like him.

• John calling you to talk about the family and complain, Jacob rarely calling or accepting your phone calls (he doesn't like phones so much, but you know he cares), Joseph and you communicate through letters, and Faith always FaceTimes or Skypes you.

• When the first seal is broken, the Family urges you to return home to help prepare for the collapse.

• Even as you rushed to get back, there was not enough time.

• You don't make it back before the collapse and end up stuck in someone else's bunker, an individual that you soon come to be friends with.

• Joseph gives you a frantic welcome, crying and holding you in his vice grasp. He explains what happened, how Jacob, John and Faith were killed.

• When the seven years ends, you head straight to Hope County, your bunk mate and you head your separate ways. You look for your family with all of the energy you have, and you find them. There is only one left.

• And then you cry and feel guilty, because you blame yourself for not getting back in time. But Joseph talks you out of that guilt and explains to you that what we do now will be in their honor.

• Ethan being slightly jealous when Joseph shows you more love and affection than him.

• Joseph and you talk about them often.

• And he introduces you to the man you would call your brother, Ethan.

• Together, the three of you try to build what your family had always wanted.

• Joseph stating with so much appreciation and gratefulness in his voice, "You came back safe to me, you came back home. I am proud of you, and John, Jacob, and Faith would be so proud of you too."

• And you never once realized that the Judge was, in fact, the murderer of your beloved parents.

• At least you had Joseph and Ethan...

• Since the day Jacob punched your dad across the jaw in the church, "I know what it's like. No one will ever touch you like that ever again", he promised.

• The day that John stood in a court room and fought for you, "You are one of us now, and we Seeds protect eachother."

• The day that Joseph wrapped a blanket around you, "I knew you would come to us, to be part of our family."

• And the day that Faith held you in her loving embrace, "Everything happens for a reason, my little flower."

• That was the day you became a Seed.

#jacob seed #john seed #joseph seed #faith seed #farcry 5 #far cry deputy #reader #growing up #guardianship #taking care #the Seeds basically raise you #abusive relationship with biological father #Jacob saves you #sad ending

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westcoastrry · 4 years ago

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Tracing The Stars Chapter 2

Blair's POV

I wasn't originally planning on going to Gabe's party. I stopped partying ever since my break up with Justin just before summer started. I needed a break from my old lifestyle. So much happened junior year, and the last thing I wanted to do was party, but maybe it wouldn't be so bad. I would be with Harry, and we have been acquaintances for quite a while. We used to run in the same circles and always found ourselves at the same parties and smoke sessions.

Before heading off, I told my Dad I was going to Gabe's party while Harry was in the showers. He was very much wary about it at first, given everything that happened Junior year, but when I told him I was going with Harry, he was completely fine with it.

Harry was a stand-up guy, and everyone in Eastwood knew it. Both his parents were lawyers, so he was loaded. Before his accident, he was on his way to being the number one soccer player in the county, and he was the most attractive guy in our school, which meant a string of girls ready to bow down at his feet. You would think all of this would completely go to his head, but it didn't. I had never heard a bad thing about the guy. He had also been playing varsity soccer on my Dad's team since freshman year, and I wasn't lying when I told him he was my Dad's favorite. When Harry had his accident, my Dad was with him every step of the way to make sure he could have the best chance at a full recovery.

"I trust Harry Blair, but please call me if you need anything, and I mean anything." My dad says, handing me my coat.

"I will, Dad. I promise."

"Be safe, bub." My dad says, pulling me in for a hug and planting a kiss on the top of my head.

I make my way to Harry, who was leaned up against his car with his eyes glued to his phone. He was freshly out of the shower with damp hair, black skinny jeans, and a simple white shirt. He has changed quite a bit since summer. He seemed a little more buffer, probably because of all the physical therapy he is doing for soccer. His hair has also grown much longer.

"Ready?" I ask, walking over to the passenger seat.

"Your chariot awaits Miss Parker.”

+++

The ride was fairly short, considering Gabe's house was only about a ten-minute ride from the school.

Harry and I made small talk during the ride with soft music playing in the background. He asked me what I've been up to this summer. I told him not much, just finishing the last of my testing and touring colleges.

He asked me what I wanted to do in college, and I told him I wanted to study music.

"Since when were you a singer Miss Parker?" he asks jokingly.

None of my friends knew about my singing. It was something I kept to myself.

"It's my hidden talent Mr. Styles," I say back sarcastically, wiggling my eyebrows at him.

We also talked about our post highschool plans. I told him I wanted to go to NYU, and he told me he wasn't sure yet. Harry used to have lots of scouts waiting to snatch him up for their school, but the scouts disappeared after his incident. Harry was right behind me for the top academic spot at Eastwood High, so even if he didn't have soccer to get him into school, he always had his impressive grades.

All eyes were on Harry and I when we walked in together. People were probably going to think we are fucking, but it is senior year, and I could give a damn what other people had to say about me at this point.

Gabe throwing a party is nothing new, but this party was special because we were seniors, and this would be the last "It's a new school year here is an excuse to get drunk" party that Gabe could throw.

"Oh wow, Styles! You brought the woman of the hour with you." Gabe throws a whistle and winks at me, and I can't help but blush at his actions.

I knew Gabe meant no harm with his innocent flirting. He did this with everyone, and it was his personality. Gabe was just like Harry; he could never harm a fly.

"Blair, I haven't seen you all summer. If I must say so myself, you look beautiful."

"Thanks, Gabe. I've missed you," I respond genuinely.

"Harold, where have you been! I thought you were gonna skip out on my annual bonfire."

Harry pulls Gabe in for a hug before responding. "Sorry, dude, I was at the field. Needed to get some practice in before tryouts tomorrow."

"He has nothing to worry about, though," I interject quickly. "He is getting back to his old self."

"Good. You got to get your number one spot back." Gabe says, handing Harry and I a beer.

"Nah, I'm driving, man," Harry says, declining the drink.

I also decline mine, knowing the alcohol would only heighten my anxiety about being here.

"B!"

I turn around abruptly to see my old best friend Megan coming up to me with open arms.

Megan and I haven't talked all summer. Not only did she party a lot, which was something I was trying to avoid, but she ran in the same circles as my ex, someone I didn't want to see.

There wasn't any bad blood between Megan and I. We simply just lost contact over summer, which was partially my fault.

"I have missed you so much!" She says, partially jumping on me.

I was stunned by Megan's actions. I thought she would be mad at me for not talking to her this summer, but she seemed more than happy to see me.

"Alright, get off of her Megan, I need someone to roll my blunts for me, and you sure as hell not going to do it," Gabe says, gesturing for me to follow him outside.

Harry follows right behind me, and I'm grateful that he has stuck close by. I think he sensed I was nervous and didn't want to leave me alone.

Harry took a seat next to me on the chair outside by the fire. Gabe handed me some weed and sheets to start rolling, and I didn't mind. I used to roll for the group all the time. It was very nostalgic.

"Fireball Blair?" Gabe asks, handing the half-empty bottle to me.

I wasn't going to drink at first, but I started to feel comfortable in this setting, and a little drink won't hurt.

I was wrong.

A little drink turned into me, finishing off the bottle of fireball.

Gabe, Megan, and a couple of other people had smoked all four blunts I rolled for them, and it was like old times. I was actually having fun.

I also noticed that Harry hadn't smoked or touched a drink. He probably was trying to be in the best shape for tryouts tomorrow.

A good bit of people had already left, and it was just a small group of seniors still hanging around.

Gabe and I were dancing around each other while Harry was standing in the corner, smiling at me. He was standing next to a brown-haired girl who I have never seen before. She was talking to him, but he didn't seem like he was paying attention.

I never noticed his dimples. They were the cutest thing.

The music stopped, which caused Gabe to stop dancing with me, and a familiar tune came on.

Know I had the time of my life.

"Oh, for fucks sakes!" Gabe curses. "Who has the aux?"

"No, wait!" I yell at him. "I love this song!"

In a drunken haze, I run over to Harry, pulling him out from the corner of the room.

"What are you doing?" He asks, shocked by my behavior.

I intertwined my fingers with Harry's, stumbling my way to the main part of the yard.

"Dance with me," I say, standing up on my tippy toes whispering in Harry's ear.

He lets out a throaty chuckle. "How much have you had to drink love?"

"I'm not even that drunk," I responded, pouting at him. "I'm having fun. I haven't had this much fun since Junior year."

He looked like he was going to say something to me, but I stepped away from him, leaving him with a puzzled look on his face.

"What are you doing?"

"You better catch me, Harry!" I scream before I get a running start.

He seemed to get the hint from what I was about to do because once I reached him, he picked up by my hips, holding me above his head, recreating the scene from dirty dancing.

At that moment, I realized that this was the first time a boy other than my Dad has touched me since my breakup with Justin.

And I didn't mind.

#harry styles fic #harry styles smut #harry styles #harry styles angst #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #Tracing The Stars #TTS

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darklingichor · 4 years ago

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Odd Thomas, Forever Odd & Brother Odd by Dean Koontz *MAJOR SPOILERS* Long post

I've written a little bit about these before. My goal was to listen to all seven of the Odd books plus the two short stories... I couldn't make myself do that.

I use to really love those books. I use to really love Dean Koontz, just recently, the writing has started to annoy me. Since I haven't read any of his new stuff since Saint Odd came out, I can't say it's because the writing has changed. I think I have changed, I'm just not sure in what way. So, I'm going to look at the first three books in the series because 1. I like them the most (sort of). 2. Because I honestly feel like the series should have either ended there or jumped to Saint Odd. 3. Because I'm going to see if by writing about them, I can figure out why reading Koontz in my 20's was like a breath of fresh air, but in my 30's it feels like when the air conditioner is some how making everything too cold, yet not cooling things down at all: uncomfortable and bafflingly frustrating.

Odd Thomas is a 20 year old fry cook in the small california desert town of Pico Mundo. He's seen as sweet but strange to all but a few people in town. He grew up with a mostly absent father, a crazy mother and a loving but wild grandmother, the last has already gone to the great beyond, so what family he has, he has found.

He has a girlfriend named Stormy, they've been together since they were sixteen, his boss at the Grill where he works, Terry, who has an encyclopedic knowledge of Elvis Presley, a 300 lb mystery writer named P. Oswald Boone (Little Ozzie), his landlady who is afraid she'll turn invisible, and the cheif of police.

Odd also sees ghosts, or The Lingering Dead as he calls them. He trys to help them crossover. Sometimes it's as simple as talking to them (though they don't speak back, "the dead don't talk") oftentimes is complicated and dangerous. Hence why his close relationship with the cheif comes in handy and also why it formed. He has other gifts. The occasional prophetic dream that usually only gives him bits and pieces to work off of, he sees these spectors of calamity that tend to show up right before something bad happens (like an earthquake or a shooting) they are black shadow things that Odd calls Bodochs, and psychic magmatism, where he can find anyone he's looking for by wondering around with a clear picture in mind.

Everyone in his circle knows about his gift other than his landlady who is slightly and gently insane.

There is one other person in his circle, the ghost of Elvis who Odd had been trying to help crossover since he was in highschool.

The first book takes place over the course of three days.

To avoid a blow by blow, I'll summarize. After an eventful morning during which he helped a murdered twelve year old cross over by catching her killer, Odd goes to his shift a the Grill. There, he sees a creepy little man that reminds him if a mold and fungus, followed by a group of Bodochs. He finishes his shift, goes looking for the guy he's dubed Fungus Man.

He eventually finds his way to Fungus Man's house, breaks in and finds it unnaturally cold and silent. He discovers a room that is pitch black except for a small red light. He soon finds that what has made this room so black and the house so cold and quiet is the mob of Bodochs occupying it. After the Bodochs stream out, Odd is able to see that the room is an office and Fungus Man (aka Bob Roberts) is obsessed with serial and mass murderers, he has a file cabinet full of folders on them and posters of famous murders on his wall. Bob seems to be planning something, but Odd doesn't know what, as his only clue is a planner page in a folder from the killer cabinet. The folder is labeled with Bob's name and the date is two days away.

A series of happenings eventually leads to odd trying to stop a horrifying plan

*SPOILERS STOP READING RIGHT HERE IF YOU DON'T WANT TO KNOW THE END*

So, Bob is a satanist in cahoots with a couple of other satanists to shoot up and blow up the Pico Mundo mall, among other places. He is able to stop them from completing their goal, but some people do die, including Stormy who was working at an ice cream shop at the mall.

Forever Odd

It's months later and Odd has moved into Stormy's apartment. He wakes up to find the ghost of one of his best friends's stepdad at his bedside. Strangely, Danny, a guy with brittle bone disease, with whom Odd grew up, was not mentioned in the last book.

So, the ghost of Danny's stepdad convinces Odd to go to his and Danny's house. Once there, Odd finds stepdad's body and discovers that Danny has been kidnapped.

What follows is a slightly weird story.

Odd eventually finds Danny and his kidnappers. One is a bug-shit woman Danny was talking with on a phone sex line. To impress her he told her about Odd. She's into her own twisted form of the Vudun religion and decides that Odd can show her the lingering dead and wants him become one of her crew. She kidnapped Danny to lure him out.

Danny is rescued, bad guys defeated, and Odd decides he needs to get out of Pico Mundo for a while.

Brother Odd

Odd has spent the last several months at the St. Bartholomew's Abbey, in the California Mountains, as a lay visitor among the monks and nuns. The Abbey is also home to a a community of disabled children. Odd becomes close with four people in particular The Mother superior, The Priest at the head of the monks, Brother Knuckles, an ex mob guy turned monk, and Brother John, a wealthy guy turned monk. Only the first three know of his gift.

Waiting up to see a snow storm break, Odd finds Brother Timothy unconscious or dead on the grounds. He is then clubbed on the back of the head and knocked out. A search for Brother Tim leads to a strange mix of science and the spiritual that I for one found really cool.

** SECOND SPOILER**

Elvis crosses over in this one and Odd contemplates becoming a monk. Two reasons I think that this should have been the last one. Another reason is that he comes very very close to connecting with Stormy though a conduit to the otherside. Third, this is the last book where Odd is truly Odd.

See, Odd hates guns and will only use one as a last resort. In the first, Odd takes out most of the bad guys with a baseball bat, in the second, bug-shit lady was killed by a cougar, the bad guy in this one was killed by someone else.

Although his ability to see and help the lingering dead is not the main focus of the second or the third, it's still something he does. There is character progression from the first to the third. When we meet Odd he is trying to carve out a life dispite his traumatic childhood and while trying to do right with the gifts he has. After he loses Stormy, the second commitment becomes more intense, because of his conviction that the only way he will meet Stormy on the other side is to live his life in the best way he can, and that means using his gifts to help people. He's sadder, slightly less heedful of danger, but still fully committed to flighting the good flight, in his unconventional way.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again, in the fourth through the seventh, the train is derailed, possessed, and also on fire.

Not only does his primary gift take a back seat, but the fight he is flighting isn't between the forces of good and evil, or even between justice and injustice, it's a culture war.

And the side of the war that Odd is on is peopled with climate change deniers, dooms day prepers, anti-government people who supply other "good guys" with guns, other anti-personnal gear, tech that circumvents federal guidelines. All the "bad guys" are anyone with any sort of power judges, lawyers, cops, corporations, politicians. Their victims are the hard working Americans, the waitresses, the truck drivers... Strike that. The victims are the Christian hardworking Americans who evedently are being "persecuted in their own country" (this might be a different rant for a different blog but I maintain that there is a big difference between Persecution and Denial of Entitlement. Persecution is being in danger of being harassed, hurt, killed or imprisoned for your beliefs, ethnicity or culture. And when that happens justice is less likely to happen for the person or people targeted. Denial of Entitlement is when a person, or people, cry injustice because they either can't dress up their persecution of others in their beliefs, or can't force those beliefs on others, through law, or through being amazingly obnoxious).

Not only are anyone in power corupt, they are satanists, not are they satanists, they are the same sect of satanists who attacked Pico Mundo, not only are they the same satanists that attacked Pico Mundo, they have an actual connection to Satan. Like they can call up demons and monsters.... Yet for some reason they still use bombs, guns and weponized diseases to wreak havoc.

Now, if Koontz wanted to showcase some characterization of how to fight against a corupt system, that's cool, I mean I'm all for calling out people in power. But this vears into government lizard people territory, and if that was the type of book he wanted to write then that's cool too,but he essentially highjacked Odd's story to do it.

I have a hard time believing that when Odd picked up the ghost of Frank Sinatra at the end of Brother, and walked off into the sunset, that the original intent was to end up in the middle of a plot to plant nukes around the country and then, accompanied by pregnant girl who is some how The Virgin Mary's mother, to a house where time travel is possible and mutant pigs fade in from a post apocalyptic future and want to eat people, where they pick up a sort of dead, sort of immortal child, who is neither of those any more. Only to then to leave them to go on a road trip with an old lady, who some how has connections to the metaphysical, and a microchip planted in her ass that makes it to where she doesn't have to sleep, to rescue kids kidnapped by the powerful satanists to be used as human sacrifice. Along the way, they meet up with some fighters in this coming war, who while they do not wear tin foil hats, they have the cheerfully bloodthirsty air of cult members waiting for the end times. (Side note about the roadtrip book: Deeply Odd is the most boring, yet weird book I have read since Breaking Dawn. Say what you will about the crazy pigs and time travel in Odd Apocalypse, it's at least interesting).

And then to end up back in Pico Mundo to fight said satanists. The in increasingly nonsensical plots really just there to deliver commentary on how the world has gone to shit and everyone is to focused on the material.

Again, remember that Odd is pretty apolitical. He's never voted, owns only the clothes on his back, prefers Shakespeare and old movies to tv, which I figure also includes the news. How does this not equal out to a kid being a patsy for this group, which essentially takes over the narritive. I mean, yeah, he's still doing his thing, but he has many of his moves ditcatated by this group. This includes carrying a gun, all the time.

Again, Odd hates guns. Granted, by the last book, he has spent three books killing people with guns while talking about how much he hates killing people with guns, but up till the last two books, his hatered of guns is seen as a virtue, and then suddenly, he's an idiot if he doesn't arm himself to take a piss.

This makes very little sense to me. Odd is a simple guy, he wants to live his life as long as he has to, do right by the dead and make his way back to Stormy, all the while perfecting his pancake recipe. How the fuck did we get from this to "Everything is shit, there are three type of people, those in power who are working for the devil, those on the side of the angels and the idiots who don't see what's going on. And dispite all the supernatural stuff, we still need to busta cap in someone's ass.

I know that Koontz is Catholic, and I speculate that he had a renewal of his faith somewhere, but also somewhere along the line he took a turn into conservative libertarian territory if that is a thing that can exsist.

I feel like originally, the idea was to have Saint Odd follow Brother Odd, at least in some incarnation. It makes sense, the satanist sect want to come back and finish what was started, and take out the town and Odd, who cocked it up to begin with. In the first book Odd describes Roberts and his cohorts as playing satanists but just using it as a delivery system for their sick want to kill people and be famous for it. It follows that others who are also playing at being satanists would come back to town to get revenge for their fallen brethren. This also trucks with Forever Odd where the bug-shit lady was playing at being a Vudun, and with Brother Odd where people played at being faithful.

This is how ai think it should have gone:

Odd goes from the Abbey, where he is shown, yet again, that evil is a human driven force, that those who wallow in pride, in want of adoration and perfection can be the down fall of themselves and others, back to his home town to defeate these sad delusional people once and for all.

Odd goes home for Christmas at the end of Brother, decides he wants to take vows, and goes about the process of becoming a man of the cloth. Maybe he goes back to St. Bart's, and he figures out a way to help the lingering dead from there, or, after he is confirmed in whatever capacity, he goes back to Pico Mundo and works along side Stormy's priest uncle. He sort of Father Dowlings it until he passes.

Instead, suddenly the structured feel of all of the supernatural things, which (implied by the third book) are based in science and the laws and rules of the universe that God laid down, turns into... Magic?

Doesn't matter how or why, what matters is there is a war! And the little fry cook shall lead them!

Seriously. Five years of Christian School has me seeing the turn that Odd's story takes, a couple of ways.

First it is either an overworked Christ story, where Odd is swept up in a war between the oppressed and the opressers, even though his life and mission is mostly one of mercy. In the end being a sacrifice that saves millions (by preventing the spread out f a weponized strain of rabies) but his sacrifice will only be remembered by a handful of people at first. The difference is of course that Odd buys into the culture war even though it make no sense.

Or, it's a Saint's story. Struggle, strife and miracles. See, it use to be that to be canonized, you had to have three miracles. His miracles? Well, first, his helping of the dead to cross over could be one, the preventing of whatever demon the satanists summoned in Deeply Odd, could be another, and finally, somehow managing to send Little Ozzie the manuscript for Saint Odd after Odd himself had already died, could be the last.

Either way, books four, five, and six are completely unnecessary.

So why does knootz's writing annoy me? It's self righteous and condicending. Poking fun a people who watch tv, enjoy unsophisticated things, bemoaning those who don't see just how stupid it is to buy into media, and how people are just marching their own way to misery because they just don't Get It.

It's the same time of people who look down on adults who do kid stuff sometimes "Why would you read John Green when you can read Dickens? Why would you watch Inside Out when you can watch Citizen Cane?"

Why would you eat coco puffs? Adults don't do that!"

I'm sorry, have I outgrown fun? A book is a book, a movie is a movie, breakfast cereal is breakfast cereal and you should be able to watch anything you want on tv without being shamed by a book that has an exploding cow in it.

#book #books #odd thomas #dean koontz #spoilers #revisit 7 8 and 9 #Book blogging 2021 #revisit

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