#1: why are you crying!? (caring but aggressive)

[pink-gladioli]

dude i stan by the fact that kiyotaka is probably an asshole to most people but he doesn't know it. like if someone doesn't spell it out for him that they aren't doing well mentally he'll just think they're being lazy and/or not caring. and in my mind this comes from his grandfather making excuses for himself that he "wasn't thinking straight" or "was too stressed out" for why he fell from power. It isn't until he befriends Mondo that he realizes "oh crap, people act the way they do because of their emtions just like me. i thought i was crazy" because yeah Taka is overly emtional but that doesn't stop him from trying or caring, especially when it comes to his schoolwork. When he was in a freaking killing game all he could focus on was that he was falling behind on his studies. plus he can also be insentive as hell, again not on purpose, like when he made that joke about Makoto not being able to sleep because Sayaka was in his shower. which makes sense because he spent his whole life trying to be "the best version of himself" to the point he forgot about social interaction. like this man deadass thinks that talking about himself is "forcing my own beliefs, my values, myself on them!" like bro that's called having a conversation. thank god he made at least one friend that understoon him, the man needed it

overall, i love taka. he's so interisting but he'd be a pain in the ass irl

[smusherina]

yard work - chapter 7 (regina george x reader)

fandom: Mean Girls (all media)

pairing: Regina George x OFC/Reader

summary: You'd been in the same class as Regina George since kindergarten. You'd lived on the same street even longer. Once upon a time, when life was sandbox disputes and who got the swing first arguments, you'd even been friends. Now, in junior year of high school, you doubted she even remembered you. The same couldn't be said about you. You definitely remembered her.

warnings(s): i feel like the theme is pretty established by now, still homophobia. negative talk about weight. a brief segment about Mr George's A+ parenting. as in, he's bad at it.

chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 4 / chapter 5 / chapter 6 / chapter 8

You accosted Cady Heron after Ms Norbury's calculus class. You took her by the purse strap and hauled her to the janitor's closet, ignoring all her indignant chirping.

You'd been stewing the whole class, glaring daggers at the back of her stupid orange hair.

"You've crossed a line." You said once the door shut behind you. She was cowering against the wall, looking like a cornered animal. "Those fucking Kälteen bars were too much."

"What? What're you talking about?" She tried to lie, to seem tough like the popular girl she was so desperately trying to be.

"I'm talking about the so-called weight loss bars you gave to Regina." You hissed, stepping closer so you loomed over her. You really wanted to get your point across. "It wasn't very hard to search up what they're really for. You don't mess with someone's body like that."

"She had it coming!" Cady finally relented, looking up at you defiantly. "She- she took Aaron from me and made out with him right in front of me all the time and then she just threw him away!" She yelled, hands clenched to fists and a red flush of rage blotching her freckled face. "All she does is spite me." She added with venom.

"Aaron isn't some trophy for either of you to own." You implored, trying to not react to her raised, aggressive tone. It would be mortifying to cry now. "I'm not saying she didn't do anything wrong, but Cady that's fucked up. You need to apologize."

"Why? Why in the world should I apologize to her? She hasn't apologized to anyone even though she's probably done something to everyone in this hellhole."

"Two wrongs don't make a right. I know that's cliche as hell, but what did you think you'd achieve?"

"We were trying to topple her. Make her lose her status. By making her gain weight, well, she'd get all ugly."

You shivered in repulsion. Regina had already sunken her claws deep into this girl.

"I... I honestly don't know what to say to you." Defeated, you said one last thing: "I'm out. I'm not taking part in your scheming anymore and I don't want to hear about it."

"It's not like you did anything!" Cady huffed.

"Exactly." You sighed. "I didn't do shit." She looked confused at that, but you didn't rightly care.

With that, you stepped out of the closet. This would probably be the only instance you'd step out of the closet, figuratively, in high school. A small victory, maybe.

"What were you doing in the janitor's closet?" You almost bumped into Regina.

Too stunned to hear her speak to you in public, you didn't get to answer before Cady stepped out as well. Her face was still flush and her clothes were a bit messy from you dragging her through the hall.

Regina's expression turned stormy. She seemed to coil back, tension rising in her body as she took stock of the state of you. You could do nothing but stare as she levelled Cady with a murderous look.

When she turned to you, you nearly flinched back. Not only was she angry, furious really, but you'd hurt her. It was clear in the way she was breathing hard and heavy, how she was shuddering the lightest bit, how her lips pinched together. When Regina was angry, only angry, she went cold. It wasn't like this. This was something worse.

"Reg," You tried to say something and went to touch her arm.

"Don't." Don't call me that. Don't touch me. She hissed, hurt turning to fear as she looked around you. People weren't staring, luckily you hadn't caused a scene, but there were always eyes on Regina.

You looked down at your shoes and, with great reluctance, walked away. It was considerably harder to keep from crying now.

Not feeling up to geography, you went to your usual spot. The number of cigarettes you smoked in a day was starting to get a little too much. You couldn't find it in yourself to care now.

Once you arrived behind the bleachers, you tossed your backpack onto the grass and sat on it. The ground was cold and getting colder by the day. Soon enough it'd snow.

What the fuck were you doing? You'd impulsively confronted Cady, angry for Regina's sake, but you hadn't been able to really say anything to her. You'd asked her what she was trying to achieve, and all the while you had no idea of what you wanted.

You wanted everything to be okay. That was vague. You wanted Regina to be not nice, but herself. She wasn't vindictive by nature. You wanted her to apologize, but couldn't open your fucking mouth and say that. You wanted Cady to stay the fuck away from her, same went for Janis and Damien.

You weren't so dumb as to expect you'd be able to convince anyone. You didn't have any weight in these people's lives. You barely existed. For Regina to change, something drastic needed to happen. Something like a fall from grace, you grudgingly admitted. It would change her, but it would also hurt her. You didn't want to do that. Maybe if her dad changed. Then again, even if he changed that wouldn't erase the past. Maybe Cady could move her somehow. Regina had taken her under her wing, after all, though for misguided reasons. Maybe there was something there.

(The pattern was hard to miss. Regina rounding up pretty girls around her. When you no longer measured up to her standards, she got Janis. Then she threw her away. Eventually, she found Karen and Gretchen. Now, Cady was next.)

You heard approaching footsteps and crossed your fingers, hoping it wasn't a teacher. Soon enough, Janis 'Imi'ike appeared before you in all her gothy glory.

"Gimme one." She demanded as she squatted down in front of you.

"That'll be fifty cents." You said back. There was only one person you'd share your pack with for free.

Janis tsked. "Fine." She reached into her pockets and after a bit of rifling handed you a coin. You pocketed it and offered the pack to her.

"Got a lighter?" She asked with the stick in her mouth. You tossed it to her. "Thanks."

You took the lighter back. She didn't say anything for a while. You could appreciate that, even if you didn't want to talk to her at all.

"So, you're out."

"Yup." You took a drag. "Espionage isn't for me."

"Even though you ruined all our plans?" You'd hoped they hadn't realized you were the mole, but you supposed that'd been naïve.

"Yeah. I'm not built for it." You looked at the slowly burning smoke between your fingers. "Y'know, you're not so different."

"What? Me and who?" She adjusted on her perch. The black eyeliner around her eyes made them look huge.

"Regina." She looked about ready to punch you. "What she did to you was evil, I know. It's not about that."

"Then what is it about?" She took an angry drag. It looked ridiculous. Sucking on the filter hard enough to scrunch her lips. You closed your eyes for a moment to not be so amused by it.

"You want revenge 'cause you were wronged. Regina, she..." You didn't want to sell her vulnerabilities to her mortal enemy, but you wanted to try and reach Janis. "She's been hurt too. It's not the same, exactly, but she's not doing this because she's rotten inside."

"You don't know shit," Janis snarled, cig nearly snapping in half in her tight grip. "You're just trying to sympathise-"

"Yes, I'm trying to sympathise with her, is that so wrong?" You interrupted her, frustrated she wasn't listening to you. Or maybe she was and just not liking what she heard. If that were the case, your words meant nothing and you were a fool for trying. Still, you kept going.

"This one time, Reg and I- I mean, Regina and I,-" You knew it was futile to hope Janis hadn't noticed your slip-up. "We were climbing the apple trees in their backyard. We had a great time, sitting up there and eating the small, sour apples, just being kids. When we got back, though, we ran into Mr George.

"Regina had on a white sundress. It was covered in grass stains and bits of tree bark. Mr George got so angry. He started yelling right in her ear, I don't even remember what he said. I was so afraid. Regina just stood there, staring at nothing. We were holding hands and she just went limp. It was as if she was used to it, like she knew exactly what to do.

"Then, he told her to get the dress to Mrs George immediately. And no dessert that day. As soon as we got away from him, I burst out crying. Poor Regina didn't know how to console me, so she just took me to her mom. She was sorting laundry in the mudroom, I think, and as soon as she saw us she just said: "Rick yelled?" Like it was so normal. Regina started crying then too."

You took a drag. "I can't stop you from seeking revenge. But I guess I'm asking you to. I'm asking the same of her. She doesn't need to take her revenge against the world, either."

Janis picked at her nailpolish. All black except for the ring finger, which was a shoddy rainbow. "If you think that sob story's gonna convince me, think again. So what, her dad yelled at her so it's okay for her to, hmm, let's go down the list, uhhh, belittle her supposed friends, degrade random passers-by, steal boyfriends like it's a hobby, breed eating disorders, and so on. Riddle me that."

"Where do you think Regina learned to treat others the way she does? Where did she learn that in order to be safe, she needed to be above everybody, that she needed to be in command at all times? Where did she learn that she needed to be mean to gain that authority? Not just mean, but vicious and cruel and fucking scathing." You raved, voice rising. "Riddle me that, Janis."

"Her daddy issues don't take away the choices she's made!"

"No, they don't, but they explain them. Doesn't intent make any difference to you?"

"You're seriously telling me she didn't intend to ruin my life when she told everybody in school that I was a lesbian?"

"I'm telling you she's a bad person, a flawed person, but redeemable. I'm not asking you to change your opinion, I'm asking you not to take this stupid revenge idea any further." You paused to take a breath. "Janis, I'm... I'm a lesbian too. She's not inherently bad."

"What?" Her voice was like a whisper.

"Yeah. I came out to her when we were, like, eleven." You'd known so early because you'd been crushing on your best friend. Wonder who that'd been. "Looking back on it now, I think she ditched me for you."

"And then she left me too, fucked me over, and moved on to her next victim." Janis looked shell-shocked. Did you really pass as straight so well? Or was her gaydar all wonky? "She- she didn't tell anybody?"

"No, I don't think so. I've never gotten any shit for it. Or, well, I have 'cuz I look pretty butch, but not like that."

Janis just looked at you, cigarette burning away. You took a pointed drag. She copied you.

"She's not homophobic. She just didn't like me." Janis said, mostly to herself it seemed. You couldn't tell what she was thinking or if this information had changed anything.

"Does that make it better or worse?"

"I don't know. It still hurts." You could understand that. "I need to talk to Damien about this."

"Don't spread any of this around." She looked at you sharply. "Obviously you're gonna tell him, I didn't mean that."

"Well. Good." She stood up and stretched her legs. "I'll think about your proposition." She said as she stumped the cig out with her boot.

You scoffed. "Bye." Proposition.

Her consideration would have to be enough for you. You stumped your own smoke as well. There was little time left to contemplate lighting a new one when yet another client came to your outdoor office. You could start charging visitors with the amount of people coming in and out of your alcove.

Regina stood above you, face still conveying not-good things, but the glassy surface of her eyes had disappeared.

"Move aside." She commanded. You shuffled off of your backpack obediently, planting your ass on the damp grass without complaint. Her pants were more expensive anyway.

"I was telling Cady she'd overstepped." You blurted before she could get a word out. "I'm sorry if it was, like, a bad move I just... I felt like I needed to say something."

"Yeah, well, that was stupid. You shouldn't have made it seem like you knew me." You winced sadly. "I don't need you to defend my honour. And you also totally ruined any leverage I had with that."

"I'm sorry." You kept your head down, looking intently at the grass.

"Hmm." She just hummed. You couldn't read her like you usually could, preoccupied with keeping yourself calm. "What are you doing for Thanksgiving?"

Confused by the sudden topic change, you looked at her. She was leaning her elbow on her knee, her temple on her fist. She had on a little smile, like she hadn't just shamed you. You should've probably been relieved. She wasn't mad. But you were still in it.

"Uh, I'm..." You shrugged, trying to regulate. "Dad isn't coming home, if that's what you're asking."

"Okay, you're coming to mine for Thanksgiving." She said so easily. "Mom will be thrilled."

"What? Thanksgiving at the Georges?"

"That sounds like a shitty TV show. Like Seinfeld."

"I'm serious, Regina." You swallowed. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"It'll be fine. If you act like you did the other night, everybody will be charmed." She grinned like that was an inside joke between you two. "Only my aunt and cousin, mom's side, are coming. I think you've met Riley. Aunt Josie is cool."

You were starting to feel sick. You knew her, at least thought you knew her, but her switching up how she treated you whenever she felt like it was getting tiring. What did she want from you? How were you supposed to act? Could you even ask without her getting mad or you embarrassing yourself?

You had conviction in that you liked her, wanted to protect her, and would be on her side, but was that enough? Did you have enough strength to sustain the rollercoaster that was Regina George? It felt as if there was no other option than to keep riding. You couldn't exactly jump off unless you were prepared for certain death.

"I've met Riley." Your tone must've been telling of how drained you were feeling. Regina tilted her head at you.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, just tired." You didn't want to be around people for the rest of the day. You wished you could just go home, nap, and have Regina there. Your Reggie, a little bitchy but funny, the side of her she only seemed to show when you were in private.

"You could go home." Her suggestion was tempting.

"No, dad's gonna yell at me again if I skip any more classes." He'd already called you earlier that month. It hadn't been pleasant, to put it nicely. Fifteen minutes of him berating you over the phone felt like a split second compared to the hour-long rants he'd go on when he was home. So, it could've been worse.

"I'll come over to yours later." She stated rather than asked. Obviously, you had to say yes, however reluctantly. "We could go shopping, too."

"You'd take me shopping?" Now that was new. You couldn't help but be a little pleased by that.

"Grocery shopping."

Oh.

"Mom says it's best to get some of the ingredients for Thanksgiving early." Regina recounted, crossing her arms and leaning against the metal backing. Your backpack had her elevated so she was a little above you. A change in pace.

Even her lower chin looked good. Damn.

"This early, though?"

"You know her. She's neurotic."

"Maybe a little bit."

"So, you'll come?" Resigned, you nodded. "I'll come to yours and we'll go."

"Why aren't we taking your car?"

"It's too recognisable. Duh." Yeah. Of course. How could you forget? "We're going pretty late, too. Less foot traffic."

You hummed. It wasn't as if you could change society. Even if things were different with Regina, you still couldn't be seen getting too cosy with her. You could like her from a distance and that was that. You could be a good friend and that should've been plenty. Really, above anything, you wanted her to be happy. With or without you.

That thought grated on you. You didn't want to lose her. You weren't sure if your choices made it so that you already had.

Why did everything have to be so hard?

Notes: This was originally supposed to be the climax chapter, but it seems we're still climbing. Next chapter then! Look forward to it :)

Taglist: @autorasexy, @wedfan2, @unadulterated-moron, @modernsapphicism, @9unknown0, @sage-rose2000, @massive-honkas, @nattys-swiftie, @likefirenrain, @luz-enjoyer, @dandelions4us, @natashamaximoff-69, @alexkolax, @jareaul0ver, @here4theqts, @charleeeesworld, @natsbiggestfan1, @brocoliisscared, @yellowwallflowers, @scarlettbitchx

(if you want to be added to the taglist, comment that on this post :))

[edenesth]

[7:29 PM]

Stumbling into the shared apartment with Yeosang, you swiftly covered your mouth to suppress any whimpers upon seeing your boyfriend peacefully napping on the living room couch.

After carefully placing your heels by the shoe rack, you quietly tip-toed past his slumbering figure and slipped into your shared bedroom, closing the door behind you with utmost care to ensure he wasn't disturbed from his much-needed rest.

It was only upon reaching the sanctuary of your room that you collapsed onto the bed, tears streaming down your face as you cradled your injured arm close. It had been a horrible day, marked by a minor accident at work amidst ongoing tensions with your boss and difficult encounters with customers. Throughout the day, you struggled to keep yourself together, merely waiting for this moment to release all pent-up emotions.

As you sobbed into your pillows, the door to the room creaked open, causing you to panic. Swiftly wiping away your tears, you sat up, trying to compose yourself.

"Darling, you're back already? Why didn't you come say hi to me first, hm? I've been waiting," Yeosang's voice greeted you as he entered the cosy space, "You know you could've just woken me up..."

His words trailed off as he noticed your bandaged arm and tear-stained cheeks, "I-I'm sorry, Yeo, it's just—" You couldn't stop the sobs escaping your lips at the sight of his concerned expression, cursing yourself internally for being such a crybaby.

Hearing your anguished cries, his heart clenched, and he swiftly moved to join you on the bed. He pulled you close, showering your head with tender kisses, "Hey, hey, it's okay. What happened to your arm? Are you alright? Please, talk to me, darling."

Your sobs only grew stronger in response to his care. Nestling your head against his neck, you stuttered out, "One of my c-colleagues didn't see me approaching and accidentally s-swung her envelope opener toward me. I tried to shield myself with my arm, and that's how..." You gestured to your injured arm, feeling miserable.

"I'm so sorry, darling. Why didn't you tell me? I could have picked you up from work if I had known you were hurt. And don't try to hide it from me; I know that can't be the only reason you're upset." He whispered, his lips gently pressing against your temple as he offered a comforting squeeze, careful not to worsen the pain in your arm.

The following words that left your lips broke his heart, "I d-didn't want to burden you with something so trivial, Yeo. You're already s-so busy; my work troubles must seem insignificant compared to yours."

Drawing back a bit, he cupped your face, meeting your tear-filled gaze, "What did I tell you about thinking like that? Your problems, no matter how minor you think they are, bother me if they bother you. I never want you to keep things from me again, understand? Promise me you'll always come to me first, no matter what."

He couldn't help but chuckle when your only response to that was an adorable wail, finding your vulnerability endearing as you nuzzled your face against his shoulder once more, "Y-you're the best boyfriend ever, Yeo. I l-love you so much."

Placing a gentle kiss against your hair, he grinned softly, "I love you too, darling. More than you can imagine. Now, I want you to tell me every single thing that happened at your workplace today. I'm not usually one for aggression, but I won't hesitate to deal with anyone who dared make you cry."

With a light giggle, you pulled away slightly, "Oh, you wouldn't, you little Maltese."

You squealed as he playfully tackled you onto the bed, glad to see you lightening up and teasing again as he leaned in for a firm kiss.

"A Maltese, huh? I'll show you a Doberman."

ATEEZ Masterlist

This was super self-indulgent. I had a horrible day and ended up getting hurt in a rather similar fashion yesterday. Also wanted to show Yeosang some love after all the hate he's received for his role in my current Seonghwa series HAHA

Speaking of which, part 14 of The Way to His Heart should be out by this weekend! Hang in there, my lovelies! As always, thanks for reading and lmk your thoughts! <3

Tag list: @aurasblue @marievllr-abg @itsvxlentine @minghaoslatina @huachengsbestie01 @evidive @weedforthoughtz @minkiflwr @cheolliehugs @ho3-for-yunho @cereal-simp @itstheghostofmypast @vantediary @green-agent @sharksandminhos @writingwieny @heyitsmetonid

All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[greenunoreversecard]

Kai,llyod, and Cole hc of them with a s/o that's kinda like a child of aphrodite from pjo? A bit more like piper though, they hate their gift and have to deal with cat callers alot?

I got cat called by way older men on the way home so this would be really comforting.

A/N:sorry it took so long to get this out for you. Ik my words can't offer much, but I'm sorry you get catcalled, it's not a fun feeling.

Sugar and spice-> Gn! Reader

individual headcanons of kai, cole and lloyd with a stunning S/O

Kai:

Kai, despite being extremely similar to his element in a multitude of ways, is an utter gentleman.

Hes always respectful of you, and makes sure to ask before he touches you in anyway, and is respectful with his eyes as well

With this said, as you guys grow close and start dating, he becomes uber protective of you.

He knows your very stunning.

And he knows others know that as well.

But alot of times, these people are creepy and go about saying: "hi, your outfit is cool" weirdly

And so he won't hesitate to punt a bitch into the sun

Most likely to throw a punch before a word leaves the creeps mouth.

And if your ever feeling gross and icky bc of the creeps?

Bros pulling out every stop.

Hes getting Zane to make a 10 course Michelin star meal, he's getting your comfort items, a hoodie (yours or his, doesn't matter) and he's becoming a 10/10 massager

Hes getting self care items, and a bath along with movies and cuddles with a side of shoulder to cry on

But if you get angry about the creeps??

He eggs you on. Agrees with you"YEAH BABE, FUCK THOSE ASSWIPES"

he will actively encourage any fist fights fights want to start with them

Hes your number 1 hype man, as well as comforter

Cole:

This man worships the ground you walk on. Just generally

Also drinks the respect tea (all of them do)

Hes always telling you how amazing you look, and even gives advice for anything you may need

Clothes? Food? Whatever hobby your working on?

He just has a eye for style of all categories

Hes generally also more down to earth, and realizes its much more than looks that makes a person

Which is why it takes him a bit longer to confess, as he wanted to get to know you better first (this man is demiromantic and demisexual)

Hes also fucking oblivious

So when people are more... sly about their intentions, like wording and such, he prolly won't notice

But the second he gets wind of what they are tryna pull

Hes super passive aggressive

And he slings a arm around your shoulder, or hides you behind him

Trys to talk it out first, and if they don't catch the hint they will catch his hands

Hes not... great with comfort tbh

His mom's dead and his dad's lowkey emotionally unavailable so he's not good at it

But he will rub your back when you cry, and buy takeout

He'll also prolly ask kai or Jay about how to comfort you better, bc both had either a sibling or parent.

He would ask Nia buts she's a younger sibling with a emotional brick wall of a brother so it's next to never she did some comforting.

Hes a little confused when it comes to comfort but Hes got spirit

Lloyd:

He has always been a little silly

So expect to bark at your aggressors

Idk why I just see him barking at your catcallers

Besides that

Hes always relied more on personality for if he likes someone, like cole

Not that kai doesn't care for personality he does, but looks plays a bigger factor for kai than they do cole and lloyd

Anyways

Off topic

Lloyd doesn't make a big deal how you look. Like doesn't comment on your outfits like cole.

Doesnt mean he doesn't think you don't look nice, bc he thinks you look lovely always

But moreso doesn't give a fuck

Wear a potato sack, or go naked, he doesn't give a fuck he just wants to get to the mall before it closes to he can check out the anime shops

He Def has a idrc additude, especially in dragon rising i feel, so I think if you want compliments you'd have to be outright about it, whereas the other two just kinda;"aww my partner is lovely🥰🥰"

And he's like;"babe, love you to bits and pieces but hurry the fucketh upeth I wanna get there before the fucking store closes"

And bc of that he's also the worst at comfort

Like he's always been told to suck it up so he kinda just is like... cool you done? And stands there awkwardly. He will get better with time, but please explain how to help better for future moments bc he was a Lil scared when you started crying.

Anyways back to the beginning about when mfs are being creepy

Barks at them

Fr barks

Bc it weird them out and he thinks it's funny

Or just tries to be as weird as possible

Like starts acting possessed

Crawls backwards on all fours like the lady from the ring or smth

If generally weirdness doesn't work he fights them

Though he tries to scare them off first

[s-4pphics]

click!: in frame. 1 (e.w.)

SYNOPSIS: you crave redemption more than love. [idk au]

WORD COUNT: 7.7k

WARNINGS: professionalphotographer!ellie, strugglingartist!oc who’s black, ANGST!!, loss and unhealthy grieving, papa issues, verbally abusive parent(PLEASE TREAD LIGHTLY), depictions of therapy and counseling, light discussion of anger management, brief mention of alcohol, bullying, a lil fluff, SMUT!! YIPPEE MDNI, bondage, squirting, bathroom sex, eating out no taqueria, ellie getting sloppy from a hot milf that’s it 

You look like your mom. 

Your father’s admiring whisper yanks you out of the hazy turbulence in your mind. You shovel a handful of caramel popcorn in your mouth. You don’t dare look at him. 

Daughter things, I guess. Your dad simply hums. Silence simmers between the two of you. It’s not comforting. Not like it should be. A bomb is coming. 

Honey, I… I love you. Your father sounds like he's crying and it pauses your aggressive chewing. You finally turn to face him and your fingers twitch when you see his globby tears. They’re heavy as he releases his regrets in silence, just like he always does during this time of year. 

Me, too, dad. 

You’re not sure if you’re lying or not. Some things are impossible to forget, you suppose. 

You eat more popcorn with a permanently damaged heart. 

FOUR YEARS LATER

FIRST DAY WITH DOCTOR BROWN. 

“Some people believe that any form of assistance is… insulting. Whether it be to them as people or… specific traits that they hold that others may find unfamiliar or unsettling. I’m not here to judge or anything of that nature. Just here to help you figure out why specific aspects of your life affect you the way they do.” 

Your arms cross over your chest. Dr. Brown realizes you’re not taking the bait, so she attempts to get you more comfortable. “I think icebreakers could help ease some of the tension. So… What’s your favorit— “

“My dad died last year.” 

Your statement makes her freeze, her smile melting off her face, eyes shifting across her face. She adjusts some papers on her clipboard and clicks her pen. “Alright, hun,” Her gentle tone makes your stomach twist. “Let’s talk about it. What was the relationship with your dad like?” You simply shrug. 

Dr. Brown nods and tries again. “Were you and him close? Your notes say you and your mother were inseparable, just like me and mine.” 

Your nails sink into your cuticles and tears burn in your eyes, “I… I wanted to be. Close.” You whisper. “He wasn’t around like that, though.” 

She scribbles and solemnly nods, “Did he work often?” Your head bobs and droplets stream down your cheeks. 

“I didn’t think I’d care that he died… He was never around growing up, so… like, whatever.” You grumble lamely.

“What did losing him feel like?” 

The end of your mouth curls downward, the familiar searing you’ve grown to loathe, “Like… the world was burnin’.” 

“Elaborate.” She pries softly. 

Another bounce from your shoulders. You readjust in your seat. “I wasn’t even sad. Just…” You trail off, fingers twitching under your arm. 

“Angry. I was angry all the time.” You rush out quietly, face burning with shame. “Just like he was.” You pause when your breath shakes, “I wish I got some of my mom’s traits. My dad’n I are just alike.” You fiddle with the sleeves of your sweater. 

“… You’re not like him— “

“I am— “

“You’re not. You’re trying to put in effort to be better for the future. Could he have said the same?” She’s stern when she speaks.

You’re stumped. You wipe your tears harshly. For the first time, you're at a loss for words. 

WEEK TWO WITH DOCTOR BROWN. 

“Think about the first time you saw your dad lash out. You can elaborate on how you felt, how you reacted, how your environment changed… Anything you feel comfortable sharing.” Your eyes stay glued to your therapist’s couch as you recall the day. Every detail and foul verbiage he directed towards your mother resurfaces and falls at your sock-covered feet. 

It was the morning of your first day of second grade. Your mother spent the entire morning hot-combing your hair, bumping your ends, littering your locks that were bound to recoil in seconds in bobbles and clips. She could tell by your expression that you didn’t like it, but she completed your bright pink outfit with it’s not for you, it’s for me! Sit still!  She never failed to live vicariously through you; Every childhood moment she couldn’t live out was now yours. 

Your father wasn’t around much. He was a truck-driver, on a constant voyage to wherever he was instructed to go, hundreds to thousands of miles away from solace for months — sometimes years at a time. He missed birthdays, holidays, family reunions; There was always a missing space for him somewhere in your childhood home, whether it be his customized keychain that he forgot, shoes he didn’t pack, a hug he didn’t give. Proof of him was always scattered around somewhere, but he was a shadow. A blank memory. 

So, why were your cartoons interrupted by his booming voice in the kitchen? 

You remember turning the television down, only by a couple digits, your ears honing in on every word he screamed at your mother. You were so confused. Half of those words you’d never heard before. Why was he so mad this early in the morning? 

You knew it was serious when your mother retaliated just as loudly, the cracks and shrieks from her belts sounding alarms in your brain. Your mom’s in trouble! Help her! But how could you? You were defenseless against him. It felt like the day flew by as their aggression intensified, curses nearly shattering the glass of your backyard door before everything went quiet. 

But still, your feet carried you to peek behind the wall that separated the living room from the kitchen. Your attempts at being discreet were pointless, though. When you saw your mother pinned up against the counter by your father, tears streaming down her face as he spat with every whisper onto her cheek, you gasped. Your memory is washy after that, but you remember your mother wiping her tears and slapping that comforting grin on her face. You wish you didn’t remember how broken she sounded when she said alright, baby! Ready for school? Don’t wanna be late! 

You suffered through social studies, language arts, and math. Your mind wasn’t where it should’ve been; You couldn’t shake the fact that your mother could be hurt and she had no one to tell. You just prayed to yourself as your teacher spoke, hoping that your mom would be on time to pick you up at the end of the day. 

Your eyes travel over the teal incisions of thread on your therapist’s seat. You’re still not used to the sound of your own voice. “It’s… it’s a funny story…” You sound so weak. You retell what you can, all while following the tip of your therapist’s scribbling pen. 

Why did it have to be green? Why are the clicks deafening? 

“Ellie, holy fucking — shit, these look fucking incredible!” Yuki whispers, expression impressed as she snoops over the auburn-haired girl’s shoulder, inspecting the aerial shots she’d taken a few hours ago. Editing is a bitch. “I don’t know how you do it. You’re…” 

“A genius, I know,” Ellie says dryly, a soft grin hidden behind the hand that holds her head up. It’s almost eleven. “M’almost done— “

“Nope! Not happening!” Another voice exclaims from the black lounge chair on the opposite side of the room. “You’re not the one that has to lock up every goddamn night! I ain’t stayin’ here ‘til two again! You got two seconds to finish up before I drag you up outta here.” 

Yuki giggles at Saliyah’s scolding, and Ellie sighs. The pictures look almost perfect. Almost. They’re not there yet! All she needs is an hour… or three—

“What did I say! —“

“Alright, alright, fuck.” Ellie shakes her head before closing all her tabs, pulling her flash drive out of the PC before shutting it down. She stands from her rolling chair and snags her blazer from over the back of it, throwing it over her shoulders and grabbing her work bag, camera already securely inside. She shoves the drive in a random pocket before stretching. 

The two girls already have all of their belongings in hand, more than ready to clock the fuck out. Yuki eyes her slyly, sarcasm dripping from her tone, “Oh, wooow, she’s actually taking orders, now? Listening to instructions for the first time? —“

“Can you stop.” Ellie mutters as she follows the girls descending the stairs. “No!” They both say in unison. Ellie smiles. Does she really stay out that often? There’s no way she’s that stubborn. 

All three girls crack jokes as they vacant the building, ensuring all the lights and equipment are shut off and prepped for tomorrow. It’s an early day. 

“Alright, bitches!” Yuki screams into the darkness, bag swinging as her heels click-clack on the pavement. “I want you bright and bushy-tailed tomorrow! Busy day! No time to fuck arou— “ 

Saliyah yawns, eyes droopy, “Girl… fuck you.” Ellie cackles and rubs her tired eyes. She can’t wait to get these six hours in. And see her baby. Saliyah wraps her arms around Ellie’s neck, muttering see you tomorrow, stinker into her neck. Ellie hums and holds her before watching her get into her vehicle. 

Ellie does the same after both girls leave the parking lot, her head falling back onto the headrest, eyes shutting in exhaustion. Today was insane… Fuck, it was incredible. She's always accepted opportunities to take photos in nature. Landscapes are her prestige, but when she got the offer to take aerial shots of the ocean, she couldn’t say no. Just when she thought she’d never get on an aircraft out of fear…  

The shots were mystical, the monsoon winds carrying the waves in all directions as the foams ripple, a scene straight out of her dreams. The second she got off the helicopter, she got to editing. Staying in late to perfect her captures has become a terrible habit, but what can she say? She loves her job. Thank God her coworkers are as sweet as cherry pie and support her bad habit. Besides tonight, apparently. 

Days like this keep Ellie humbled… Most times. She deserves to boast every once in a while. She often thinks back on her college days, how out of touch chances like these seemed. The number of times she was brushed off by respected professionals because she lacked “necessary resources” was astronomical. But look at her now. She had everything she could ever want: a career she’s passionate about, healthy friendships, and the means to take care of her father. 

Well… she has most things. 

She sighs and starts her vehicle, the diamonds in her Rolex sparkling under the street lights beaming in from the window. The streets are calm. Not normally bustling like they would on a regular day. The clouds are coming in; Rain is due. She’s so excited. 

It’s a calm drive back to her small home. She pulls into the driveway and exits with all her supplies, unlocking and entering her place of peace. 

Meow! Meow! 

Ellie clicks her tongue at Pickle, “Hiii, mama. I’m home.” She drops her bag on the small couch near the front door, bending down to pick her up. “You’re heavy, fuck.” The baby purrs and nuzzles into her neck as they enter the kitchen. She sets her down on the counter and opens the fridge for water. There’s soft scuffling from behind her as she sips. 

Ellie turns to see Pickle playing with a pen, rolling it across granite. She swallows her last gulp before sighing, picking up the utensil, the one memory she kept of you. Your colorful fucking custom ballpoint pen. Pickle nibbles her fingers, trying to snatch it back to play with, but Ellie clicks it over and over. 

“Miss her? Yeah?” She whispers. Pickle licks her index. Ellie will never admit it, but she thinks about you whenever she sees her baby. Yours, too.

She hopes you’re alright.

“You said that going to his funeral was different from your mom’s. Do you mind elaborating?” 

You shrug and scoff. “Shouldn’t everybody feel sad when they parents die?” Dr. Brown mimics you, “Not at all. Every reaction to loss is different and not all reactions are symmetrical.” 

“I was angry.” Your statement is blunt and abrasive. 

“Expound.” 

“I wanted to dig him up and spit on him my damn self.” You say, sharp as razor blades. Brown hums, unfazed by your sudden aggression; What the hell do therapists write on those clipboards? “I just… Seein’ all these fuckers I didn’t know talk about how fuckin’… great he was and how missed he’ll be was fuckin’ infuriating. They don’t know shit about that man or the shit he’s done.” 

Sympathy washes over Dr. Brown’s pupils. “See, your temper is the reason you’re here. You’re not obligated to forgive anybody that wronged you, but…” She’s simultaneously stern and empathic, “You do not get to use those emotions to inflict negativity onto the people around you. You’re perpetuating the same harm you wanted to avoid in the first place.”  

You instantly know what she’s referring to and guilt radiates all the way down to your toes. Amaya… Oh, you miss her. Another good person caught in your violent crossfire. Your last conversation was vile, and you hate yourself every day for the things you said to the only person who unconditionally cared about your wellbeing. Tears brew in your ducts, but you blink them away. 

“I didn’t… know what to do…” You didn’t, so you screamed and shouted and told her to never call your fucking phone again. The last thing you berated was the final nail in the coffin for your relationship. You left me, you’d said over and over until the line went dead. You left me alone! I fucking needed you! 

“No one has the answers for these types of situations. Why we react the way that we do to traumatic events will always be a mystery.” She adjusts in her chair, leg crossing over the other. “What I do know is that… you’re fighting grief. You’re choosing not to experience it, and it’s making you lash out on people who don’t deserve it.” 

But how does one grieve the person that made their life… unlivable? Through rage. Rage in its purest form: unfiltered, erratic, sizzling. It’s unrelenting and unforgiving and holds no bounds, prepared to be released at any moment, no matter who’s present. Your father’s home has seen it all at this point: glass shattering on walls, screaming into the closet where all his clothes hang, punching the pillow he slept on every night. 

Everything was exactly where your father left it, and instead of crying, you relinquished hell on the home he left in your name. You’re still surprised it wasn’t engulfed in flames after his funeral. 

“I just…” Harsh sniffles from you, desperately wiping your tears with damp hoodie sleeves, “I don’t know what to do. Nothing feels… real anymore.” 

“You’re real, baby.” This is the most delicate Dr. Brown has ever sounded, tone hushed. “Your feelings are real, your pain is real, but so is everyone else’s. You have to remember that.” 

You’re listening so intently, “What I'd suggest…” You already know what she’s going to say, and you’re petrified. You sag into your seat. 

You owe those two girls an apology.

Flashes of green race across your memory. The meadows are back, and they’re haunting. 

“Three.” You whisper. 

“Hm?” 

“I owe…” A heavy exhale. “Three girls an apology.” 

OCTOBER, 2013 

Ellie’s officially fifteen. She’d give anything to be home right now. 

She was so happy before she left that morning. Her dad woke her up with a heaping stack of iced chocolate chip pancakes that were the size of her head and happy birthday candles. Laughter echoed through their household, following as they cascaded down the stairs to blast music. Neighbors be damned. Everything was perfect. Up until she was dressed and ready and in the car. 

Ellie’s dad held her hand the entire drive. He didn’t comment on her white knuckles as she gripped his digits when he kissed the back of her hand. It took her a second to exit the car when they arrived, so he said the usual. You got this, kiddo. The extra encouragement provided a boost, for sure. She was able to get to class on time. 

Every time a wad of paper or a sharpened pencil hits the back of her head, she regrets not begging her dad to let her stay home. She’s grown used to the snickers, the shoulder chucks in the hallway, but it doesn’t hurt any less.

English concludes and she’s silently packing when her bag gets yanked out of her hand. 

Missed you, stalker, A kid who Ellie doesn’t fucking remember snarks with a dark grin. Where’s that book you always have—

Tyler! The teacher’s voice booms, the class filling with oooh’s, That's enough. Give her stuff back now. 

C’mooon, I can’t talk to my girlfriend? The remaining students burst into laughter and Ellie’s face burns, swallowing the lump that’s forming in her throat. 

How about I call home? Tyler sucks his teeth at the threat while his friends laugh, dropping Ellie’s things on her desk with little care. She wastes no time to flee, shoving her earpods in and synching each trembling breath with the heavy percussion. 

Her dad comes to pick her up an hour later. 

-

-

A light tap on your shoulder tears your attention away from the lengthy equations on the board. Numbers and letters? Your fucking ass; Absolutely not!

You turn to Amaya, who’s smiling wide, shoving a folded note in your hand, rushing you to open it. Your brows crease as you face forward, unraveling the nest crevices and met with… hearts? Glitter? Pretty penmanship? No man wrote this, thank God. 

Hi. You’re really pretty and nice. Would you like to sit with me during lunch? 

Ceniyah 

… Ceniyah? … Thee Cece? The person you’ve been obsessed with since middle school? What the fuck is going on! 

You turn back to Amaya who’s giggling into her palm, catching glimpses of a shy Ceniyah, who keeps her head down, her beaded braids shielding her face. Your face burns and you jerk back forward. It’s not a fucking prank, what the fuck, what the fuck—

Class drags like a bitch, but the bell finally rings, and everyone hustles, shoving books in their bags, running to the cafeteria. You refuse to move, though. Your iron is low and the person you’re in love with asked you to crunch on celery sticks with her. Alone. You're bound to pass out the second you breathe wrong. 

Hi.

You nearly fly out of your seat at her soft tone. She sounds like an angel. You’re going to die. You jump out of your chair and… take in the beauty that she is. She smells like heaven and her skin is perfect, not a blemish in sight. You hope she can’t see your acne scars… and she’s shorter than you. Are minors allowed to get married? 

H-Hey, You hold up the pink piece of construction paper, I, uh, got your note… It’s beautiful. Her smile shines brighter than the sun. She shakes her head and the chains locked on her clips tinker like fairies. 

Are you kiddin’ me! That mural you helped create was crazy. That was beautiful. 

I love you. 

Your eyes go wide. Did you say that? You don’t think you said that… Her smile turns confused and you realize you said that. You almost stab yourself with your pencil. I mean, like, I love how you appreciate art! Like, not m-many people… do that, and stuff…

She smirks and your heart squeezes with delight, And stuff? She inquires with an arched brow. 

I’d appreciate it if you ladies headed to lunch so I can enjoy mine. Your teacher interrupts, And the next note that gets passed earns a detention. 

A soft, floral-scented hand closes around your wrist, over your beaded bracelets and charms. You grab your bag with your last remaining strength and follow her like a puppy, her flowy skirt brushing against the bottoms of your jean-clad legs. 

Best… day… ever. 

PRESENT 

Ellie needs to start doing finger stretches. Her hands are starting to hurt every time she clocks out. 

She’s sitting at her desk, re-editing the infant photos she took earlier today. The twin girls from earlier were absolute angels, smiling and cooing up at the camera behind their matching pink pacifiers. She's never thought about having children… ever, but it might not be so bad—

Meow! Meow, meow! MeowMEOW—

… Nevermind. Kids are not for her. She can barely get this one to act right. The pictures are cute, though. 

“What’s the matter, mama?” She coos down at a doe-eyed kit-kat. “Hungies?” Pickle jumps up and into her lap, staring at the bright screen that displays Ellie’s editing software. Ellie smirks down at her, “What, you wanna try?” 

Pickle blinks up at her. No thoughts, just kibble. 

She decides to save her progress on the photos and give her munchkin some love. The few minutes of head pats and runs are cut short when she gets a pop-up from her email. She pays it no mind at first, but she zeroes in on the subject with furrowed brows. It simply reads hi… an overdue apology. Ellie blinks a couple times before suspecting spam… But who the fuck names a spam email something that cryptic? What the fuck? 

Ellie opens it… and her body goes numb as her eyes follow each word. 

hi, ellie. i’m not sure how to start this off, but i hope it’s decent enough to sit through. i apologize in advance. 

you probably don’t remember me, but we had statistics and used to live together in college. it was only for two months (i think, kind of a blur) but… yeah. i hope it semi-kinda rings a bell. hi again.

this is a very random time to reach out, and i understand any confusion, but i just wanted to apologize for everything. i was terrible to you. i'd never thought i'd become a judgmental person, but i did. i mocked you, i spoke behind your back, and probably ruined your last year of school, and i carry that regret with me everywhere i go. i’m not sure if i'll ever be able to express my remorse properly. 

i’m trying to do better. i want to do better, but i can’t unless i express it. 

you never have to talk to me again, and i understand if you don’t, but if you ever want to have a conversation with me, i’d be more than willing to come wherever you are to do so. or we can exchange numbers if it’s less of a hassle. i see how busy you are. 

thank you if you took out any time to read this jumbled mess of thoughts. i’m very nervous. i hope you continue to live beautifully. 

sincerely, someone trying to start fresh. 

(p.s. i swear i'm not a stalker. you’re really popping on instagram. congratulations on everything.) 

Ellie wastes no time and unplugs her entire PC, the screen going black. Her heart is racing and water surfaces above her pupils. Pickle purrs in her arms as she backs her rolling chair from under the desk and scurries into her bedroom. She sets the kitty down on her bed and clutches her chest. She forgets to count, forgets to breathe as detailed images of you scatter in her head. 

You… what the fuck.

Ellie feels her hands start to shake, so she squeezes them in a fist as she paces. Her gasps are choked and she’s spiraling into panic; She can’t unsee your teary, brown eyes, how you tried to mask your sadness when she stated she was leaving. She was able to convince herself that she’d never see you again, and it took her so long to be okay with that. She’s grown to be okay without your presence.

The burnt trail she left behind has reignited again. She's sinking, drowning, just like she did years ago. 

WEEK FIVE WITH DR. BROWN

“How do you feel now? Be honest.” 

“… Still shitty… but alright, I guess.” You’re hoarse when you speak. 

“Elaborate. What does alright mean for you?” 

You pick at your fingers, “I’m not… I don’t wanna, like, kill myself… if that’s what you’re asking. The ball’s in their court now, I guess. I’m… I’m just alright.” Your shoulders bounce in a shrug. 

“Has anyone answered?” Your head shakes in denial. “Don’t let that jeopardize your progress. However they react to you contacting them is not on you anymore. They either accept it or they don’t, and they’re valid in both options.” 

Dr. Brown pauses and eyes you skeptically, “What?” You ask. 

She shrugs, “One person isn’t on your making amends list.” 

Your reply is immediate, “Probably for a reason.” 

“Do you remember what you told me during our first meeting?” 

Irritation boils under your skin. “I see where you’re taking this conversation and I’m not messin’ wit’ it… Respectfully. Next topic, please.” 

Her hands raise in surrender, “Ay’, I’m not here to make you do diddly-squat. Merely providing perspective.” 

“Right.” 

“You did beat that girl to a pulp, though. I will say— “

“It’s what she deserved.” You say flatly. “She… humiliated me, and when her bitch left, she tried to come back to me. Get me pregnant— “

“Chile, I’m not tryna hear all that— “

You scoff and fall back in your seat, cushions and pillows molding with the curve of your spine. Dina bringing her happy ass to your father’s home after his death was one of the most infuriating experiences of your entire goddamn life. The second you opened the door, you were met with wildfire and permanently scarred. The least you could do is give her a fucking black eye. 

What you did after that… you’ll never regret. Ever. She can blast you on Twitter all she wants; She’s dead to you. 

Dr. Brown sips on her black tea with a pointed stare, “Yes, ma’am?” You say sarcastically. 

“Watch that tone,” That look in her eye… she meant that. You’ll be quiet. “She was wrong for what she did, but you ain’t innocent.” 

“I’m sorry, but I disagree. That one… she can choke. I don’t care.” Dr. Brown is disappointed by your answer, but frankly, you don’t care. That ship sailed and sank like the goddamn Titanic. 

She seems disappointed in your answer, but she lets it go. “… Alright, then.” 

On the brink of a heart attack perfectly explains how Ellie’s been feeling for the past week. The number of times she’s reread your fucking email is genuinely embarrassing, but she’s weighing her options: she either blocks you or accepts your offer. She's never been so conflicted in her life. She desperately needs a fucking break. 

She never takes Saliyah and Yuki up on their offers to turn up on Friday nights, but her rampant emotions backed her into a corner… and now she’s tipsy on the dancefloor of some rinky-dink club. One night of release wouldn’t hurt. 

Ellie really wishes she had a grilled cheese. They’re quite delicious… Probably not the thoughts she should be having with a hot older woman pushing back on her to fucking T-Pain, but she’s hungry! Liquor gives her the appetite of a fucking rhinosaurous, what can she say! 

Saliyah and Yuki are handling business for her, though, giving the lady’s ass very encouraging slaps every time their hips connect. Ellie probably looks like a fucking dumbass as she pumps her fist in the air like an old man, but she can’t remember the last time she partied. Sue her! 

It’s not until the woman stands upright, her sweaty, nearly bare back pressed against Ellie’s button-up, an arm coming up to loop around her neck, slightly shifting her bow tie that Ellie freezes, her fists clenching even tighter in the air. Her core gives a sharp squeeze when she feels sticky, glossed lips imprint on her throat. Her eyes bulge as she frantically searches for guidance from her friends, but they’re no fucking help, as usual! What the hell is miming sex and eating pussy going to do for her? She can barely breathe. 

Her friends shoot her finger guns in encouragement before heading back to the bar. A tongue darts out to lap up her anxiety-induced sweat, and her body tremors, her hands untwisting to land on the girl’s jean covered hips for leverage. She feels teeth beam on her neck and her entire body flushes. 

“You’re adorable!” Ellie hears her scream over the blasting music. Her tongue jumbles as she searches for a reply, but nothing leaves. She just drops her head onto the woman’s shoulder… and nearly flat lines when she eyes the cleavage sitting taut in her halter top. Her heart’s pulses synch with the ones from her clit when the woman giggles. Ellie’s ninety-five-point six percent sure that her nipples are poking through her shirt. 

Her teeth sink into the inside of her cheek when the woman spins to face her, chest to chest, noses almost touching. The woman’s gaze drops to her neck, cunning as a fox as she undoes the first button of her shirt before unraveling the loop of her bow tie. She leans in, wafts of cinnamon flooding Ellie’s nostrils. 

“Come to the bathroom with me?” Ellie’s nodding before the lady can conclude the purr in her ear. Her hand gets snagged and she’s being dragged through the hot crowd, all the way to the back of the club and shoved into the giant restroom. She finally takes in the goddess in front of her: dark hair, plump lips, pretty lashes. The wrinkles by her eyes and laugh lines are sending dopamine alarms in her brain. 

Ellie receives one gentle kiss that makes her hips

grind forward before she hears, “You ever been tied up?” The raven-haired woman mumbles against her mouth. She whines, cheeks burning, “N-No,” she whispers. 

Her perfect teeth shine, “You wanna be?” 

Does she? “I — yeah, I guess?” 

“Put your wrists together,” she hums and Ellie does. Her own bow tie gets looped and twisted around her nimble hands. The woman drops to her knees in front of the trembling girl, massaging her thighs over her jeans, planting kisses all over them, “You gotta name, honey?” 

“Ellie… M’Ellie…” The woman’s hands creep up to unbutton her jeans, the soft hiss of the zipper, “What’s yours?” She only receives a shrug. “Whatever you want it to be.” Her jeans are yanked down seconds later, her… fucking Cartoon Network boxers drenched all the way through. The woman giggles and calls Ellie a cutie pie and her clit jumps. 

Her manicured nails hook under the band of Ellie’s boxers, slowly inching them down until her soft, sticky hairs are on display and her boxers are around her knees, “Gonna let me eat this pussy out, angel?” 

Ellie’s vision whites out. Only for a second, “Y-Yes, ma’am…”

Ellie’s sopping lips and pulled apart, her red, throbbing clit on display for the fucking witch in front of her. “You’re so fuckin’ cute. Anybody ever play with this pretty cunt?” Reality crashes down on her like a boulder as images of you touching her, kissing her flash before her eyes. Her jaw slacks as her words flurry. 

“Just — fuck, just one time.” 

“Yeah?” She coos, massaging gentle circles on her clit, “I'm your lucky second?” Ellie nods frantically. Her knees buckle when a sharp slap lands on her pussy, “Ffuck—“ The strokes on her clit are punishing, fast and non-stopping, the woman’s teeth gritted when she asks, “Steppin’ out on your girl, huh?” 

Ellie moans around her denial while her cheeks glow, “N— agh, s-shit, wasn’t m’girl—“

“Yeah? She touch you like me?” The woman snickers, and Ellie burns red. She’s already so close and she can’t fucking think, “Think m’cummin’—“ Ellie slurs, her tongue thick in her mouth as her walls squeeze down, desperately trying to pull something, anything in as deep as possible. 

“Can feel it. Tell me when.” But Ellie couldn’t. Her orgasm crashes into her like a fucking truck and her body falls forward, legs trembling as it wracks through her in harsh waves. The thighs that try to close are forced open, sharp stings radiating off her skin from the nails that pierce them. Strong suctions attack Ellie’s clit and she sobs, practically riding the woman’s face. Vibrations from satisfied hums stimulate her further, and she swears she’s going to pass out. 

The pleasure builds all over again and her eyes squeeze shut, her hips thrusting forward and into the woman’s mouth. Her optics cycle into her skull when the space right below her clit gets stimulated just right and she rides that edge all over again, but this time, it’s stronger. The woman’s groaning in her pussy like she’s starving, and Ellie can barely garble her warning of another orgasm. 

She squeaks when a gentle finger slides between her walls and she wishes it felt like yours did. Ellie’s bound hands entangle in the soft locks and pull, pushing her head any which way to guide her where she needs. She doesn’t register that she’s whining your name until the woman asks, “Tha’s your girl?” Right on her pussy, and Ellie tips.

She’s so loud when she explodes all over this stranger’s face, wetness coating her inner thighs, dripping all the way down to the bottoms locked around her ankles. You take refuge in the nasty side of her brain as she envisions you between her legs, you making her feel this good. Something about the way you touch her… She thinks it's impossible to replicate till this day. 

When Ellie comes down, she falls against the door, relishing in the steady kitten licks on her twitching bud. One last gentle kiss, and the woman separates from the mess between Ellie’s thighs, chest wet with her juices. 

“Good, honey?” 

Ellie blinks like she’s risen from the dead, short hair clinging to her forehead. She shoots the woman two thumbs up and she chuckles, untying Ellie’s hands and helping her back onto her feet. The woman helps her redress after she cleans herself up, and Ellie’s nose twitches when her own stickiness latches onto her clothes. Her arms fall back to her sides when her belt gets secured. 

She’s winded when she finally speaks, “Um… thanks…” How the fuck does Ellie say goodbye to someone who sucked her soul out?

“No problem…” The woman’s warm hands are soft as they push away damp strands from Ellie’s forehead. The freckled girl nearly purrs. Call her Pickle at this point. 

Ellie steps away from the door so that the fucking seductress can exit. The woman backs away and unlocks the door with a gentle smile. “You should text her.” 

Ellie’s stomach churns. “… What.” 

“The girl that’s not your girl.” That’s the last thing she says before stepping out. Ellie’s heart plummets when her eyes lock with Saliyah’s, then Yuki’s. Her friends gawk at her disheveled appearance, lipstick stains littered all over her button up. Ellie’s not nearly as embarrassed as she should be; All she can think about is you. 

“I think I’m in trouble.” Ellie states mindlessly.

“Doesn’t look like it.” Yuki snickers and pulls Ellie out of the bathroom. She hides her face when she’s met with the long line of people desperately needing to piss. 

WEEK SEVEN WITH DOCTOR BROWN.

“You look bright.” 

You feel brighter. Just a little bit. You’ve finally gotten your locs retwisted. 

“Amaya texted me back.” Dr. Brown seems impressed at your statement, happy for you. A small smile makes its way onto your face. 

“Yeah? What’d Ms. Producer say?” 

“She, um… She wants to have dinner.” 

“Oh? And what’d you say?” 

“I said of course and then sobbed until I got here.” Dr. Brown chuckles, “When’s the big meal?” 

“In two days. I got a hotel near where she’s at, so… Yeah. Probably won’t see me for a little.” 

“Good for you, honey.” She says proudly, “Heard from any others?” Your head shakes. It’s not surprising that Abby and Ellie haven’t reached out to you. They don’t owe you any closure, even though it took you a while to accept your karma. 

“Progress is progress, nonetheless.” Her tone reverts back to stern, “Remember… when you see that girl, don’t expect anything to come from it. She’s going out of her way to speak with you, not the other way around.” 

Your head bows shamefully. You're incredibly nervous to see your best friend… if you deserve to call her that anymore. Anxiety isn’t foreign to you, but you’re anticipating the worst for your meeting. You’d give anything to mend your relationship with Amaya, but how’re you going to be able to overcome the guilt of abandoning her?

You can’t remember the last time you went to the campus coffee shop. 

When Amaya sent you her new address in the middle of your old college city, you sobbed for half an hour. You’re not sure why considering the entirety of your graduating class is gone (hopefully in hell); It’s a mix of emotions coming back here. The baristas that used to work here have been replaced with new bushy-tailed freshmen with under eye bags. The coffee isn’t the best, but it’s oddly nostalgic. You feel fucking old just looking at their bright customer service smiles.

Your attention gets snagged away from your steaming cup when a sharp gasp echoes from behind you, nearly spilling your drink all over your flannel when someone calls your name. Anxiety spikes in your gut when you see… 

Who is that? 

“Oh my goodness! Sweetheart!” An older woman with gray hair and a cardigan places her hand on your shoulder and your eyes bulge out of your skull. “It’s so good to see you!”

What the fuck is going on? “You... You, too, uh… ma’am!” You put on the most believable smile you can. Is your memory really this fucking bad?

“Students don’t usually stick around after this long! Our major was pretty small, you know how it is.” Major… Students… Graphic design… Professor! Your memory clicks but her name doesn’t. What the fuck is this woman’s name! You feel like a cunt all over again! 

“I’d love to catch up if you’re sticking around!” 

“Um… yeah, of course.” Her smile is bright when she enters the line. Relief floods through you when she gets to the service counter and one of the baristas says good morning, Professor Meyers! 

You silently thank the Lord. 

-

-

“What brings you back to town, honey!” Professor Meyers asks excitedly. 

“Um… just missin’ school, I guess.” You lie. Fuck this school. 

She swallows her sip of tea before pausing, “Wow. First time I heard that. I didn’t see you at graduation!” 

Your chest concaves and your face burns, “I, uh. I didn’t graduate. I dropped out.” Professor Meyers' expression drops, pity written all over her face. 

“Wh— Why?” 

You shut down her interrogation, “I just… stuff happened. I couldn’t handle everything all at once.” Her eyes sadden and she places a comforting hand on top of yours. 

“I’m so sorry, honey. Whatever it was… I hope it’s okay, now.” 

“Getting through it.” You shrug, feigning nonchalance. The air is suddenly suffocating. 

“Y’know… if you’re interested…” Professor Meyers’ tone is suggesting. Your brow quirks at the woman plotting in front of you. 

“Some of the art profs are always looking for some extra help for the introductory courses. Your rough drafts were always pretty spectacular.” 

Your body burns. “Thank you.” 

She smiles and reaches into her bag in the other chair, pulling out a small card and handing it to you. “This is my contact information. I can set you an interview with Professor Ronson if you’d wanna join the little alumni support team.” 

You accept her card, “But I’m not… I didn’t graduate— “

“Oh, hush now! If you go to college, you’re an alumni! These exclusive rules are outdated!” Professor Meyers stands with her bag and tea. “I gotta run, but please consider it! It could be a great marketing opportunity for you!” 

You're left to simmer in your thoughts as she rushes out of the cafe. You didn’t even have the chance to tell her that you haven’t touched a canvas since your father’s funeral. 

You waltz into the upscale restaurant with tied lungs. Prepping an outfit for tonight was a hassle; You were forced to rummage through your father’s closet for suitable attire. You can’t remember the last time you made a purchase for yourself. 

You feel out of place standing here with the… upper class. They’re dressed to the nines and it’s incredibly intimidating. Your eyes cast downward to your wrinkly shirt and blazer; Why didn’t you bring a fucking iron? 

“How can I help you, miss?”

Your eyes bulge when they lock with the host’s and gut churns with discomfort. Your legs wobble closer to the counter, “I— there’s… reservation…”

The host stares at you with utter confusion, “Oh, sure! What’s the name?” 

“Um… Amaya— “

“Ms. Robinson?” The host’s eyes fill with glitter, “Oh my gosh, when I saw her walk in earlier, I was like, no way she’s actually here. This is crazy! But it was really her! I couldn’t believe— “

Another host interjects, “My apologies, ma’am! She’s a bit, uh, excited. Your table is right this way.” The host begins walking, and your feet move on autopilot, “Would you like a menu?” 

“No. I’m good, thanks.” You won’t be able to keep anything down anyway. 

You move through bustling walkways, ears filled with bouts of obnoxious laughter and corny jokes with each table you pass. 

Your heart stutters in your chest when you see the isolated leather and rosewood booth where Amaya sits, her back to you. There’s two glasses and a bottle of… something on the table. 

“Ms. Robinson! Your guest is here!” 

Amaya, filled glass in hand, cranes her neck and meets your flitting gaze. Her eyes are stagnant, unmoving, and your nerves wrack. She looks fucking immaculate with the slit in her black dress, smokey makeup, heeled

shoes. She’s dressed down for a fucking funeral. Yours. 

You’re actually not ready to see her. You’re not ready at all. 

-

-

“You want a glass?” 

Amaya’s tone is cold. Colder than the dripping neck of the bottle right in front of you. “N-No thank you.” 

She scoffs laughter around the rim, “Shocking.” You scramble for a reply, anything to say to the woman oozing impatience in front of you. 

“I’m sorry.” You whisper. She sets her glass down with an unsteady clink. 

“You said that already.” She states, brown eyes sharp. “Why are you?” 

You scratch at your ear, trying to mask the tremors in your fingertips, “Because… I — I wasn’t…” 

“I don’t hear from you for months,” She spits, “And then I get a phone call from my drunk best friend screamin’ at me, tellin’ me that I fucking left her to grieve by herself… because I’m selfish and money hungry… Right?”

Angry tears sizzle in Amaya’s eyes as she continues, “And I still come and visit you… only to get a door slammed in my fuckin’ face.” 

You’re completely frozen; You can barely look her in the eye. Your hands are clenched together under the table, nausea creeping up your throat. “I… there’s no excuse for what I did— “

Amaya’s eyes are void, “Why did you do it.” 

“I don’t know how to explain it,” you rush out, desperate. You’re losing her, “He — I was just — I couldn’t control myself and I screamed and yelled and blamed everyone for what happened. I was just so mad and I couldn’t stop— “

“Abby called me two days ago.” 

You gasp, “S-She did—?” 

“She told me she hated you.” Amaya says plainly. The remaining shards of your heart dissipate like dust, leaving your mouth when you whimper, “O-Okay.” Tears stream down your cheeks and neck, harsh sniffles filling the small corner of the restaurant. “She hasn’t, um… never mind.” That’s why she hasn’t reached out, you suppose. Well deserved. 

“I don't… hate you, you know that, right?” 

You sob, palms in your eyes, “S’okay if you do. I deserve it.” 

She shrugs, “I don’t. I’m just very disappointed in you.” You nod in agreement, in understanding. You accept that this is probably the last time you’ll ever see someone you considered a sister. 

“I’m so sorry, May— “

“M’gonna head out. I’m,” She wipes a tear and grabs her bag, throwing a hundred-dollar bill on the table. “I… I don’t hate you.” You cry as you watch Amaya gather herself, stand, and leave without another word. You heave and attempt to dry your face with the fresh napkin but they won’t stop flowing. 

It’s difficult, accepting that you’re undeserving. That you’ve dug yourself into a hole that you can’t escape. It’s dark and cold and you’re desperate for comfort but it never comes because you chased it all away. You eye the tall bottle that sweats; Very tempting, but you leave it where it stands. The blame for your downfall is yours to take; The only reward you can receive now is from your upkeep. To dig yourself out from beneath the maggot-infested dirt. To resurface and recover what you can. 

You’re unsure how long you sit here crying. Devastation sets hard in your tummy when you stand to leave the restaurant, ignoring the judgmental stares from the annoying, old fuckers that wouldn’t stop glaring at you. 

The air outside is fresh and soothing as you walk, right past your parked car. Past the young people mingling and taking pictures. Past the girl doing graffiti on the old building across the street. Something beats in your chest when you eye her spray paint cans, brushes in her hand, the bright colors all over her bare arms. Her passion is evident, even from a distance, and you miss that. That feeling that takes over when you create something that no one else can replicate. Her style is unique to her just like yours is to you. 

Color sparks in your soul for the first time in a year, and you know what you have to do tomorrow morning. 

taggiesss yasss n slayyyy @dyk3ang3l @ellieloml @inf3ct3dd @fromminaa @womenofarcane @sawaagyapong @mina-281 @aouiaa @bbglmfao @i00rii @sakiigami @starologist @southelroys @diddiqueen @trackinglessons @ellieswhorcrux @villainousbear @p4ison1vy @tohoko @yuckyfucky @dollyfleurs @elsbunny222 @sevsbimbo @amiorca @alittlextrahoney @gato-chino @topiatwin @r3wbeef @elliesatchel @muthafuckingstargirl

[anonymousewrites]

A Not-So-Disastrous Romance (Book 1) Chapter Sixteen

Kusuo Saiki x Reader

Chapter Sixteen: Taking Teruhashi Out (on a Not-Date)

Summary: Makoto (ew) shows up, and Saiki has to take precautions for his own life to not have more trouble. Luckily, he has (Y/N) to help him.

            Saiki crossed his arms and contemplated throwing Makoto out the window for the hundredth time since he met him. Saiki had been looking forward to this event all week. (Y/N) had finally come over and was going to show him how to properly make coffee jelly at home, but as soon as they’d gotten set up, Makoto Teruhashi had barged his way in crying about how Teruhashi was angry at him (rightfully so, he was being perverted as usual). He had ruined the entire night, and Saiki’s sanity wasn’t certain it could take much more of Makoto’s rambling.

            A single glance at (Y/N)’s weirded-out face confirmed they felt the same way and wanted him gone as soon as possible.

            “So, that’s what happened, and Kokomi hasn’t said a word to me since then,” said Makoto, finally finishing.

            “Go home, you perv,” said Saiki.

            “Please, please, do.” (Y/N) nodded aggressively.

            Unfortunately, Makoto ignored them to wallow in his own sadness and decided to talk some more. “To think we’re having a lover’s quarrel—”

            “You’re really not,” said (Y/N).

            “—I’m in such a pickle,” said Makoto. “Oh, by the way, when I say ‘lovers’ quarrel,’ I mean between Kokomi and me.”

            “We wish you didn’t,” sighed (Y/N).

            “I’m the only one who can have a lovers’ quarrel with Kokomi,” said Makoto.

            “Get to the point so you can get out,” said Saiki.

            Makoto leaned forward. (Y/N) leaned back. “Tomorrow my drama will be filming in my neighborhood. A lot of industry people will be there, too. Once they notice Kokomi’s beauty, that’s it. What do you think will happen if they scout her?!”

            “Don’t care,” said Saiki.

            “She’d be very successful,” said (Y/N), knowing Teruhashi would do very well due to her beauty and people’s love of her.

            “Yes! Right after her debut, she’ll be cast as the heroine in a TV drama,” said Makoto. “She’ll be the heroine in plays and movies. She’ll be in many commercials! She’ll even be stealing work from other popular actresses.” He scoffed. “I won’t allow it! Kokomi has no interest in showbiz. So, I’ll give you permission to tell her to avoid the filming location at all costs. But don’t say anything else, four eyes. Don’t even make eye-contact. You can’t even get within ten meters of her!” Makoto glared at Saiki.

            “That’s unreasonable for anyone,” said Saiki.

            “Well, I’d prefer to tell her myself, but we’re having a lovers’ quarrel, so don’t screw this up.” Makoto rose and left the room.

            “I don’t usually dislike people, but he really creeps me out,” said (Y/N), shivering.

            “And now he’s gotten me involved,” said Saiki.

            “Hey, don’t worry, I’ll tell Kokomi so you don’t have to be more involved,” said (Y/N) brightly.

            “Thank you.” Saiki was so grateful to have (Y/N) in his life. They really were incredible.

l

            “My brother came to see you?” said Teruhashi. “Oh, I’m sorry he caused you trouble.”

            “That’s putting it lightly,” said Saiki.

            “It’s nothing,” lied (Y/N).

            “But, uhm, why is Saiki standing all the way over there?” said Teruhashi.

            (Y/N) looked behind them where, ten meters away, Saiki stood. “Your brother.”

            “What?” said Teruhashi. “Oh, my, I’m so sorry about him.” She smiled sweetly. Stupid big brother! He’s giving Saiki trouble! I have to offer a token of apology. Hmm Ah! She looked up to see (Y/N) and Saiki walking away since they’d given the message. “W-Wait, Saiki, are you free after school today?” That’s right, apology. Saiki, how luck you are to get this opportunity. I have to apologize, so my hands are tied.

            Why aren’t you considering (Y/N)? thought Saiki.

            “Would you like to…go out for some tea on our way home?” said Teruhashi, looking eagerly at Saiki. “Or go to a neighboring town since they’re filming here?”

            (Y/N) felt their heart drop since this was so much like a date, and no other guy in school would even think about saying no. They hoped Saiki would, though. It would hurt if Saiki wanted to date Teruhashi and not them. It really would.

            I’ll treat you for a date! Now feel honored! Even though this is only as a token of apology. Teruhashi glanced at (Y/N). And (Y/N), although I like you, you get a lot of attention from Saiki, and it’s my turn as the perfect pretty girl. Now, come on, and say “oh, wow.”

            Saiki, about to say no, paused and decided to say something else that would create problems for him, but it would make a point to Teruhashi about her thoughts about (Y/N)—that was one thing he didn’t let slide.

            “(Y/N) and I are free this afternoon. We’ll accept your apology.” Saiki turned and walked away.

            Teruhashi’s jaw nearly dropped open as Saiki, seemingly (and actually) unperturbed, invited someone else out with him and her when she had given him the chance to be alone with her.

            (Y/N) found themself grinning. “See you later, Kokomi!”

            “Right, yeah.” Teruhashi raised a hand, still in shock. But he should’ve said, “oh wow…”

            “Didn’t want to be alone with her?” asked (Y/N) teasingly.

            “If I said no, her followers would’ve hated me. I don’t want that attention,” said Saiki. And, in a more truthful sense, the rudeness would hopefully make Teruhashi stop liking him as much (which, apparently, he’d have to try some more). Also, Saiki got more time with (Y/N). He didn’t mind that.

l

            After school, Teruhashi, Saiki, and (Y/N) ended up at the next town over. Unfortunately for Saiki, attention was coming to their group as everyone watched the perfect pretty girl grace their streets with her mere presence. Additionally, Saiki was dealing with Teruhashi’s fantasies of him saying “Oh, wow” and how she believed he was totally in love with her and freaking out about the chance to be close to her.

            Luckily, Saiki had (Y/N) walking alongside him, and Saiki could put up with a lot to spend time with them.

            “What’s that guy near her doing?” whispered one guy.

            “I bet he’s her funding source,” sneered another.

            “I wanna punch him from behind,” said a third.

            I don’t want to deal with that, though, thought Saiki.

            “Kusuo, Kokomi, do you like sweets?” said (Y/N), saving the day (in Saiki’s mind) yet again. “I saw an ad for a café nearby that looks super good.”

            I’ll have some cake with (Y/N) before leaving.

l

            Closed. The café’s sign was turned around to say it was closed.

            (Y/N) sighed, disappointed. “I really thought it would be open. Sorry, Kusuo, Kokomi.” They really were sorry. They wanted to have a nice time with Saiki (and Teruhashi), but it hadn’t worked out.

            “Well, we can always go over to the shopping district,” suggested Teruhashi, eager to try to get some of her own ideas in to impress Saiki. “We came all this way. Let’s find some good new places. Let’s go!”

            Unfortunately for Teruhashi, an hour of walking at her direction passed, but they found zero restaurants. Teruhashi’s glowing smile had fallen into a sickly attempt at one due to exhaustion. (Y/N) was feeling peckish, and Saiki was also losing interest in continuing to follow Teruhashi. That being said, it was fairly fascinating to see everything not work out for Teruhashi.

            “E-Excuse me.” A boy nervously stepped forward and blushed. “May I help you with something?”

            “We’re looking for a place to get some tea,” said Teruhashi sweetly, her glow returning.

            “O-Oh, yeah, sure!” said the boy excitedly.

            “Hey, I saw her first!” shouted another.

            “I’ll show you the way,” offered another from the crowd.

            Never mind. Everything worked out for her.

            “The sun is harsh today. Please borrow this parasol,” offered a man.

            “Here’s a coupon to the café,” said the first boy again. “I’ll go ahead and reserve a table for you.”

            “Wow, thank you,” said Teruhashi, smiling.

            “Oh, wow!” said the entire crowd.

            “It’s amazing how everything works out for her,” said (Y/N). They laughed. “I need some of that charisma.”

            “I think you’re fine the way you are,” said Saiki. Besides, he’d watch out for them. As long as he was around, they’d be alright.

l

            At the café, Teruhashi continued to be surrounded by other men while (Y/N) and Saiki sat across from her eating cake and drinking tea. She was satisfied, though, for now, since she had a whole group of people going “oh, wow!”

            Saiki made me totally forget it, but now I remember. I’m a perfect pretty girl! Having recharged her confidence, she turned back towards (Y/N) and Saiki, eager for more “oh, wows.”

            Yare yare. Teruhashi really is tough. I’ll just get through this and hurry home with (Y/N). I wonder if they’re done filming.

            (Y/N) sighed happily as they finished their tea. This is nice. I’ll have to come back here at some point when there aren’t as many people crowded around. And I should bring Kusuo.

            Saiki straightened as he heard Makoto and his director thinking about how they were changing location. They’re coming this way?! He took another bite of his cupcake. I should really do something soon. He took his time savoring the sweets.

            “These were delicious, weren’t they, Saiki, (Y/N),” said Teruhashi.

            “Yeah, they were super good,” said (Y/N), smiling.

            We took our time, but this town is big. Hopefully we won’t run into him.

            Nothing worked out for Saiki, though, and due to the ground, Makoto and his assistant decided to stop at that café.

            Saiki stood. We better leave quickly.

            “Are you ready to go, Kusuo?” said (Y/N).

            Saiki stared at them and then out the window. (Y/N) observational skills paid off, and they saw the blue hair of Makoto Teruhashi in the van outside.

            “You’re right, it’s time to go,” said (Y/N), standing. “We finished everything, after all.”

            “Can we wait a bit?” said Teruhashi. “They want me to shake hands with them, so…” She smiled and let the line form, focusing on being the perfect pretty girl.

            “Kusuo, what do we do?” whispered (Y/N).

            “I’ll flip the sign.” His psychokinesis flipped the open sign to closed.

            They tensed, but the two men walked back to their van instead of walking in.

            “We did it,” said (Y/N).

            “We should still probably leave in case they return,” said Saiki.

            (Y/N) nodded vigorously. “Good idea.”

            “6,850 yen, please,” said a waiter.

            “Oh, I’m paying!” said Teruhashi, smiling and walking over. “How much is it?”

            “Oh, you are? Two hundred yen, I guess,” said the waiter, blushing.

            “Oh, that cheap? And I have coupons,” said Teruhashi happily.

            “Then it’s twenty yen,” said the waiter.

            “I hope I get reborn as a pretty girl in my next life,” said Saiki.

            “I think you’re fine the way you are,” teased (Y/N), smiling at Saiki.

l

            “I wonder if they’re done filming,” wondered Teruhashi. “But Saiki, (Y/N), what do you think?”

            “We’ll go straight home,” said Saiki.

            To support him—since (Y/N) knew at this point Saiki wanted to really go home, so they wouldn’t push his boundaries—(Y/N) nodded. “I should probably get my homework done sooner rather than later.”

            Saiki paused, his clairvoyance showing him that the film crew was at the train station. He nearly sighed. It appeared they’d be stuck here a while longer.

            Teruhashi perked up, deciding that Saiki must be fighting with his own insecurity about hanging out with her.

            (Y/N) tilted their head, understanding they were facing another obstacle.

            “Hey, if you’re not in a rush, you and I could hang out some more, Saiki,” said Teruhashi. She smiled. “Even if (Y/N) heads home, you don’t have to go.”

            “Well, Kusuo and I were going to do homework together, so I guess I have to wait,” said (Y/N).

            Teruhashi deflated slightly. I thought I’d get some alone time with Saiki. It’s almost as if (Y/N) knows to stick around.

            They are good at covering for me. Saiki liked that—yet another characteristic in a long list that he liked about them.

            “Oh, look, I haven’t been to a place like that for a long time!” said Teruhashi as she led them to an entertainment arcade. “There are so many choices!”

            This might actually be a fortunate turn of events in terms of making Teruhashi hate me, thought Saiki.

            “A karaoke place, so cool!” said Teruhashi, trying to hint to Saiki. I don’t feel like bowling. I wanna go karaoke.

            With that, it was decided.

l

            “Another split? I have no luck today,” laughed (Y/N) as they, once again, had a terrible turn in bowling.

            Since Teruhashi didn’t want to, Saiki had absolutely wanted to. This would help get her to lose interest in him.

            “Strike!” announced the computer screen after Saiki went.

            Teruhashi deflated.

            The entire game, Saiki made sure to humiliate (Y/N) and Teruhashi with his “skill” (psychic power). That way, Teruhashi would really lose her feelings for him. It was a little mean, but Saiki was eager to have her stop chasing him around. It caused him trouble. At least (Y/N) wasn’t embarrassed and just laughed at their own lack of bowling ability.

            Still, Teruhashi wasn’t done yet, but Saiki was up to every challenge.

            When she saw a claw machine with a gorillabbit, he instead won the strawberry stuffed animal and handed it to (Y/N). They turned red and fought to thank him normally, trying to rationalize that Saiki was just trying to frustrate Teruhashi. (Obviously he did it just to annoy Teruhashi, not because he saw them looking at it earlier and thought they’d like it). Teruhashi deflated once more.

            When she challenged Saiki to table tennis, he beat her terribly. History repeated itself in darts and video games. Soon, Teruhashi was just sitting on a bench with a blank look on her face, disinterested and disappointed in everything.

            Maybe we went a little far. “Is she going to be okay?” said (Y/N), looking at her faraway stare.

            “She’ll rebound once someone says ‘oh, wow’ to her,” said Saiki.

            “Let’s head home,” sighed Teruhashi.

            “Good idea,” said Saiki.

            “It is getting late,” said (Y/N).

            “I’m exhausted,” sighed a voice behind them on the bench facing the other direction.

            (Y/N) and Saiki’s eyes widened, and they whirled.

            It was Makoto and part of his team. Because of all the people, Saiki hadn’t differentiated Makoto’s thoughts from anyone else’s, and now they were right there near them and Teruhashi.

            “Four eyes?” said Makoto, blinking. “Other one?”

            I don’t even get a name?

            “Kokomi?!” cried Makoto, seeing his sister walking away. His surprised gaze turned to anger as he assumed Saiki was on a date with Teruhashi (which was bizarre since (Y/N) was also there, but Makoto doesn’t have a good head on his shoulders).

            “What’s wrong?” asked his assistant, walking over.

            “We have to go,” said Saiki, standing and grabbing (Y/N)’s hand. He pulled them behind him, and they followed quickly.

            “Hey, Kokomi, come on!” said (Y/N) brightly, and when she looked confused, Saiki made a drastic move and dragged her along by the hand.

            “They held her hand! Get those two!” shouted Makoto, and his people looked around wildly to try to spot them.

            I thought he didn’t want her to get attention! thought (Y/N) as Saiki pushed Teruhashi into a photo booth.

            “Hey, what—” The flash went off, and Teruhashi blinked before looking back at Saiki. In the haze of light, she drew her hand back. Oh, my! How dare he take my hand and push me into a photo booth. He wants photos of me that badly?! So selfish. And yet…why am I this excited? To know he was willing to be so confident, so forward…wow.

            Saiki nearly stared in astonishment as Teruhashi went back to liking him even more, but he just retreated to another photo booth to avoid the search party Makoto had instigated. He and (Y/N) stood silently as the men ran past and the photos flashed in the other booth to keep Teruhashi distracted (and, now, invested in her fantasy that Saiki wanted something to remember her by).

            Saiki sighed. “Yare yare. She likes me even more now.”

            “I’m sorry, Saiki,” said (Y/N), giving him a half-hearted smile. “But she does seem to really like you.” And although I think I like you for other reasons and am more aware of it, I can understand.

            “I should have let you take her hand,” said Saiki.

            (Y/N) shrugged. “Everyone makes a mistake.” They smiled and lifted their hands, still holding each other. “And my hand was already taken.” They spoke teasingly, but there was a warmth that, if Saiki knew their thoughts, he’d see as affection above that of friendship.

            Saiki looked down at their hands and contemplated it for a moment. Although he was not one for physical touch, he’d initiated this, and now that he was holding (Y/N)’s hand, he found he didn’t want to let go. They were warm, and it was comfortable. Just like talking with them or spending time with them, it felt natural to be this close to (Y/N).

            “Do you want to take a photo?” said Saiki.

            (Y/N) brightened and looked at him. “How did you know I wanted to?” They knew he couldn’t read their mind with their germandium earrings on (which they would never take off).

            He didn’t. He just knew that he suddenly wanted to capture this moment, to remember how nice it was to be with (Y/N), the person he had a crush on. “You mentioned you like having photographs to remember moments to Yumehara while we were Okinawa on the beach.” And I hope you had fun with me, even if I was focused on getting Teruhashi to stop liking me.

            (Y/N) smiled. “I’d love to, Kusuo.”

            Saiki really liked hearing the word love and his name in the same sentence when it came from (Y/N).

l

            Saiki looked at the photobooth pictures in his hand in his room. Carefully, he placed it on his desk, leaning against his plant, so he could see it clearly. He sat quietly and looked at it with a now-familiar warmth glowing in his chest.

            Three photos stared back at him.

            One had Saiki looking emotionless as usual while (Y/N) beamed and raised their hands—still entwined—like a superhero in the air.

            The second had (Y/N) making half a heart with their pointer and middle finger while Saiki looked at it.

            The third has Saiki completing the heart, still no expression, but his gaze was firmly on (Y/N)’s joyful face.

            As he looked at the pictures, Saiki smiled.

Taglist:

@elaemae

@painstakingly-juno

@characterreaderwriter

@melovepurple

@sleep-7372

@w0mank1sser

@geminigengar

@noodleryworld

@leonardo-dabitchy

@janezee12751275

@xenop0p

@ex160-blog1

@futureittomainn

@boogiemansbitch

@dmitrytherat

@yuriisclumsy

@sixxze

@constellationguy

@k03ume

@sweatyinternettrash

@paastaboi

@unorthodox-gob

@girlswhopanic

@h-i-g-h-w-a-y-t-o-h-e-l-l-l

@drowningfishy

@rinwho

@izzieg3987

[dotster001]

Hello, I really enjoy your writing and I hope you have a nice day! Could I request housewardens + Floyd reacting to knowing Yuu/MC who they know as chaotic, problem seeking, lazy, and just overall a terrible student (with a nice heart tho) used to be at the top of their school, and was the teacher's pet? They had a lot of pressure to never have fun because it could ruin their future, but now they don't have a future, or a reputation, and they won't be great at any subjects anyway (since it's not their world and they are magicless) so they just decided to be a force of chaos, they can't be #1? Then why even try?

Sorry if it's long:( if you decide to do it, thank you very much (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡

A/N: was this a call out post? Yes. Yes it was. 😂

3k followers Masterlist

Before he finds out about your past, he's just annoyed. So lazy! You need to at least pretend you care about school! You're no better than ADeuce! Be a better example, prefect.

After he finds out…oh God…that's him isn't it! He's always been top of his class! He's always had outside pressure to be the best! He's got a lifetime of repressed emotions whirling inside of him! 

He's having a complete mental breakdown, spiraling a little bit, and, unfortunately, you're going to have to calm him down. Hopefully, you're stable darling! Cause one of you has to be! 

That's one way to go through life. He chooses to nap his life away, but if you wanna be a chaos gremlin, power to ya!

He says that, but he wants you to be less of a chaos gremlin, and more of a body pillow. Chaos gremlin ex gifted children, and depression ex gifted children get on like oil and water. *Sighs* you really make him work, don't you?

That said…he'll recruit Svanannaclaw lackies to your cause. And he'll find your lifestyle. You can cause as much chaos, and be as lazy as you want. All he wants in return is for you to return to his arms when you are done.

And hey, maybe he can be your new purpose- No! He didn't say anything! Sevens, your herbivore ears are so faulty, what is he gonna do with you?

He thinks you're another Floyd at first. The high levels of energy, followed by the drops, he's used to dealing with it.

But once he gets your origin story, he's going to make you an offer. Help him with his restaurants. He'll feed, clothe, and house you. All you have to do is say yes.

You can still be chaotic. You can still have your drops. But at least now you'll have a place to focus your energy. It's not much, but, in his opinion, it's a deal you can't walk away from. Please don't walk away from it. You'll hurt his feelings 😢

You're so cool!!!!! You let him party whenever he wants!!!! And you have so many great ideas, like baking 97 cupcakes at three in the morning!

Maybe Jamil brought it up because he cared, maybe it's because he's tired of having to keep up with two gremlins it's definitely the latter but eventually he brings up that, hey, you seem a bit nihilistic. Explains what that is to Kelim, and now Kalim makes sure to spend double the time with you! Usually doing chaos stuff much to Jamil's chagrin

He won't bring it up with you, but his theory is that if he can become a reason for continuing on, of he can be part of your purpose, maybe things will be okay!

Ah Vil. A high achiever, who, like Riddle, is very distressed that you are clearly wasting your capabilities.

But let's say you have a breakdown. And during that breakdown you spill the tale of your life. He's gonna place his hands on your shoulders. Then aggressively shake you.

Pull yourself together! Do you want him to give you the pressure you had from before? Because he will if he has to! But he knows you don't want that, so snap yourself out of it and act like the Queen he knows you are! You have him, and a whole life ahead of you! He can help you find a purpose for your life! Now stop crying and drink your smoothie!

It might take a while for Idia to notice. Cause, well, he's sort of in the same boat as you. And noticing means he has to notice his own lifestyle choices...and...well...he doesn't want to do that.

So you both will live in innocent bliss as you game together, and nap together, and raid the pantry together at two in the morning, and skip classes together.

Once Ortho bursts the bubble, both of you will probably be placed in therapy. Good luck!

You amuse him to no end. And you speak to him like a normal person. You pull him along on adventures. Honestly? He has no desire to dig into your reasons for it. In fact, deep down he knows you're probably going through something, but he'd rather not know.

Which is why when Lilia tells him to dig into it, he pouts like a kid who was told to clean his room. Might even kick a rock around about it. He really looks like a pouting child.

But once he gets your life story, he'll perk up a bit. You want a purpose? He can give you one! Himself…I mean have you considered working in the libraries of the valley of thorns? It would give you uninhibited access to information about this world. Plus, you would still have the time to be lazy and fuck around if you wanted since he's really the only one who visits the library… oh, which library? His private one. Why do you ask?

Floyd won't help you. He will only enable you. He loves chaotic Shrimpy! He also loves that Shrimpy sometimes just wants to nap! You're perfect! His soulmate!

Nope, nope, nope, shrimpy is just like that, no need to ask questions!

Stop, stop, stop! That's how Shrimpy is! Don't ask about their past! Don't question their motives! Don't "help" them! They're fine!

[pedrithink]

understand ✩ jude bellingham

request: can you do jude and the reader arguing during their vacation and she starts crying when they're at the beach but she doesn't want him to notice but he notices and starts apologizing

"I'm just telling you that I felt uncomfortable, that's all." You exasperate as you cross your arms. Is it so hard for Jude to understand your side?

He shakes his head impatiently. "And I'm telling you that no big deal happened."

"They were practically all over you, Jude. They were hitting on you and ignoring my existence." You roll your eyes to keep tears from escaping your eyes.

"And why does that matter? I'm with you, you know that." Jude runs his hands over his own face somewhat aggressively and, whispers. "There's no need to create a giant problem over a situation as silly as this."

"You seem to be schismatic about not understanding my side." You cross your arms. "The point is that they kept sending little papers with their instagram, sending drinks, and had the audacity to come to our table and talk to you while I stood there watching everything like an idiot." You swallow your tears and stare at him with glittering eyes. "And you did nothing."

"What did you want me to do? Please, love. They're just fans."

Jude's impatient voice only makes your heart tighter, and the moonlight, the sound of the breaking waves, and the sand invading your shoe do nothing to improve the situation.

Faced with this situation, you can only take a deep breath and hope that this is the dream and that you are not arguing while you are in such a paradisiacal place, hope that Jude understands 1% of what you are feeling right now.

"We traveled here to have fun on my vacation and look at the kind of ridiculous thing we're discussing in the middle of a party." He grimaces in dissatisfaction.

You don't have the guts to say anything else for the next 20-30 minutes and Jude much less.

You are surrounded by the noise of the party, the crashing waves and each other's pained, dissatisfied sighs.

Jude stood beside you, head down. In a way that he didn't need to face you for the moment. He knows that you need this moment of silence to think about everything you've said to each other in the few minutes you've come outside the party to talk.

But at no time does he dare leave your side. Whatever the fight may be, you don't leave each other's side without working it out.

It all started because of some women who didn't care that Jude was holding hands with you, that he was kissing you relentlessly and insatiably. They didn't care that he was with someone else and it bothered you because Jude wasn't able to say "Enough" to them, according to him, it was an unnecessary fight to buy.

You guys normally don't argue, you don't like it. You avoid it as much as possible and always respect each other's opinion and space, but this situation left you completely out of place and you tried to express this with the intention that Jude would understand your side.

Your eyes fill with tears when you hear Keshi's "Understand" playing in the background in the inner part of the party, the light touch of the music along with the sounds of the waves makes your heart squeeze because this is your song.

take you by the hand, you're the only one who understands.

Tears escape and you try to hide them as you bite down hard on your lower lip trying to keep the sobs from escaping your lips.

You don't want Jude to see you crying, but you can't stop more tears from flooding your face.

He is the person who understands you most in the whole world, so why does it seem that now you are not being understood?

Jude takes courage to look at you and is startled when he sees you crying. His heart shatters into a million pieces and the urge to pull you into a hug becomes immense, he can't resist and pulls you around your waist. "Hey, no. No, my love. I'm sorry, don't cry."

Jude's arms grab your waist and you try to avoid it, but you can't resist melting into his embrace either. "Please forgive me." He whispers as he strokes your hair. "I thought it was something silly, but now I can clearly see that you have been affected by it. Not knowing how to express myself properly is one of my biggest fucking flaws. I hate that about me."

Jude says the last sentence in a low way, he wanted to throw himself into the sea and disappear for a few minutes. He feels so ashamed for putting you through such a situation.

Jude's hands walk to your waist and pulls you back so that your eyes stick to his, he always liked to talk looking into your eyes. "Hurting your heart was the last thing I wanted in the world. Forgive me, my love."

"I know and understand that you didn't mean to, Jude. But, this lack of positioning hurts." You explain as you dry the trail of tears from your face. "It may be silly and insignificant to you, but it makes me insecure."

His eyes soften and you can even see a trail of tears forming on his edge. "I didn't mean to hurt you, I just thought I was making the right choices, trying to avoid a fight or something, but clearly I wasn't. It hurt you and I promise that from now on I will review my attitudes."

His hands walk over to caress your back. "I value you so much, I really do, and I honestly don't know what my life would be without you. I know I let you down, and in the end, I feel like it hurt me more than it hurt you because I can't handle the idea that I hurt you. I love you too much.” He whispers. “I didn't mean to hurt you like that."

You hug Jude by the neck and give him a light kiss on his lips, you know that he didn't mean to hurt you and this conversation (not the fight) was even good for you to clarify some points and prevent more situations like this from happening again in the future.

Jude makes you feel complete.

[theocddiaries]

Vanessa: Wade, don’t be stupid, if he’s going to the town hall, it’s because he really wants to marry you. Wade: No, he’s going because he’s a stubborn dick who always wants to be right. I know him. He’s caught a hint of doubt in my tone, and now he’s gone to mess with me. He’s twisted like that. Colossus: You’re really making a mountain out of a molehill, Wade. Vanessa: And I spent a hundred dollars at the hair salon. Wade: Well, you look the same. Negasonic Teenage Warhead: What a bullet you dodged, huh? Yukio: Hey, come on, sit down and let’s talk about it… Wade: No! My suit will wrinkle— Vanessa: See? You care because you want to get married. You’re the one throwing a tantrum. Wade: You’re right… I have the love of my life waiting for me at the altar; I’m an idiot. Negasonic Teenage Warhead: The good news is that I don’t think Logan has realized it yet. Vanessa: I think he has, and it’s even more beautiful that he still accepts you. Wade: I’m so excited that your passive-aggressiveness doesn’t hurt me. [runs to the door] But you’re sitting in the backseat because I still have dignity! [AT THE TOWN HALL] Logan: He really left me hanging. I thought it was a bluff, but he’s not coming. Erik: With all the people drooling over you, why complicate your life for no reason with that moron? Gambit: Don’t listen to Satan; happiness gives him hives. Erik: Are you badmouthing your students about me? Xavier: No, you’ve earned that reputation on your own… Wade [runs in]: Logan! My love! Logan: Wade? Wade [throws himself into his arms]: Forgive me; an idiot overturned on the road, and we had to change direction. Negasonic Teenage Warhead [to Vanessa]: What a giant bullet you dodged. Colossus [crying]: Hush, girl; this is beautiful in its own way. Wade: Are you sure about this? Logan: … Wade: I was joking; you know how I am when I’m nervous. Laura: Damn, does that mean he's day to day self is his quiet version? Wade: Respect your new other dad. Laura: What if I object and ruin the wedding? Wade: What if I make your life so miserable that I get you to emancipate? Laura: You’re already doing that. Wade: Oh, no, now I’d be trying to do it consciously. Erik: Isn’t this making you grateful I turned you down back in the day? Xavier: It’s for things like this that my students call you Satan.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

[stinmybubs]

" Doing It For ME." Pt.3

Summery: The quirkless girl finally moving on. A new path ahead of her, her own that she can carve out, instead of following behind her first love Izuku Midoriya. But nothing ever stays. And its time to say goodbye to the Bakugou Family.

WARNING: PTSD Attack!!!

M. Izuku x AFAB! Reader x B. Katsuki

Pt.1 | Pt.2

Katsuki Bakugou. He is horrible at expressing he is horrible at expressing his emotions, when he first saw you, sitting there all alone on the bench he couldn't help but pity you, especially after the day he had he felt nice so he let you in.

Slowly but surely your presence became something he needed, it didn't help that you always hung around Izuku all day which pissed him off, but in the end you always came home with him.

But now that school is over, you looking for jobs and a good high school while he was getting into UA, he was afraid you two would drift. That he would loose you.

Katsuki Bakugou loved you. He never will admit it, he never will say it but he knew he did. But seeing you crying and hugging Deku on the last day of school made him livid, to the point where he couldn't even look at you for days.

His jealousy was his downfall.

You, oblivious to his love, you were confused why the rowdy boy was ignoring you at home. It disheartened you, he was the only thing you had left. This home was the only thing you had left.

“Hey! Katsu? You’ve been ignoring me I just-“ you followed him into his room, shutting his door so you could have this private talk with you. What startled you was him suddenly slamming you against the wall, hands gripping your shoulders.

“Ah! Katsu- that hurts..” you wince confused at his sudden aggression. “Stop botherin’ me…how about you go to your lover Deku so you two can be a happy quirkless couple.” Katsuki grinding his teeth, the grip on your shoulder tightened.

“Wha-what’s are you talking about!? Stop it you’re hurting me!” You could feel your heart begin to race, memories of your father beginning to flash through your mind until all you saw was your father standing in front of you.

Your body filled with fear, tears welling into your eyes as your breathing begins to quicken. “Please…” you couldn’t breath. You started to panic and you started to struggle. Wriggling around so he would try and let you go.

Katsuki’s anger and jealousy consumed him, not realizing what he was doing to you until he saw your face morph into a horrified look. A look you have your father the last day you saw him. Shit. Katsuki quickly released you realizing you were starting to have a PTSD attack.

“Hey..- hey it’s okay. Shit Y/n I’m sorry!” You collapsed to the floor and begin to crawl away, struggling to get back on your feet and out the door.

“Y/n!” You couldn't hear Katsuki, all you heard was your father yelling. You felt like a kid again, the day after you found out you couldn’t develop a quirk. Your father had slammed you into a wall screaming curses at you.

You quickly run into the bathroom, trying your best to make yourself smaller in the bathtub. Trying your best to keep your crying as quiet as possible. Crying until you passed out in the tub.

You and Mitsuki were packing your things, preparing you for the hospital.

“Thank you Mitsuki…for everything…for accepting me into your home. I just don’t think I can…” she cut you off hugging you. “It’s okay I understand.” Mitsuki began to tear up.

“Take care of yourself okay? Promise to keep in touch.” Mitsuki Bakugou. The mother you never had, she gave you the world, if only you could repay her.

Dragging your small luggage, you turn to look at Katsuki “it’s okay Katsu…it’s not you, I just need to work on…my...uh goodbye. Thank you so much, for everything.” You give him a big smile, wiping your tears before entering the bus.

Leaving everything behind.

Katsuki wished he could stop loving you.

He wished he had never let you in.

While in the hospital you had talked with various councilors about your future, giving you classes to see which course you wished to take while you were taking therapy. Diagnosed with PTSD, and Severe Anxiety disorder.

They said being a hero was out of the question, being quirkless and having PTSD of grown men being violent wouldn't mix well, so many factors were involved you didn't know if you could even have a future job anywhere. You needed a job that nothing to do with violence, was nowhere near the violence and where you could work on your own with no triggers around you.

"Have you ever thought of taking the support course? Inventors? You wouldn't have to interact with anyone as long as they put in a commission." Your head perked up, the sound of being helpful to Izuku from behind the scenes sounded like a dream.

"That sounds great! But...where do I start? I've never touched any sort of mechanics in my life!" You stated. Only being in the hospital for a few months, hearing from Mitsuki that Izuku and Katsuki had made it into UA.

"We can help you by setting up some classes, take it over this and you can transfer into a real high school when the time is right. Recovery is very important!"

So began your new passion, something of your own. Something you can do for yourself and for others! You finally can be useful for once in your life. But you decided that you didn't want your name out there at all, you wished to go under a hero like name, an alias.

Protea, a flower that represented strength, courage and resilience.

Time felt faster than ever, you spent your days hauled up in a garage making little gadgets and gizmos, taking everything Izuku had told you about hero's in consideration. It was almost like art, with a lot of welding and math.

This little hobby helped you move forward, but not forget. Something to keep your mind occupied was the healthiest thing you can think of, especially building your portfolio for the various support courses in the different schools. It was a shot in the dark but you submitted one for UA as well, you knew you couldn't do it but there wasn't any harm in trying.

Maybe you couldn't be Izuku's future, but you could help make a path for him.

From afar of course.

When your counselor brought the various envelopes from the schools you submitted your portfolio and application to. You were terrified, the fear of being rejected swallowed you whole.

"Deep breath Y/n, I know for a fact you'll get into one! Youve been doing a great job, and your progress has been amazing!" Your counselor placed the envelopes on the desk in front of you.

You let out a deep breath, slowly opening each one some were just regular letters and others were these flashy video tapes, the one you paid attention to the most was UA, your hopes were high wishing and praying that you hear the words of acceptance.

"Congratulations Y/n! You have been accepted into-!"

Your eyes widen, a smile creeping across your face.

I'll finally can make use of myself....

I can help!

AN: I imagine in this society certain hospitals are different and better! Mitsuki wanted you to have the best care! I used my own experience with PTSD and fear of men yelling in this! Thank you all so much Xoxo Stinmybubs! Also the school you think she's gonna get into might not be it. ;)

[winterpeta1s]

About Jax's change in Episode 2 and why I believe it's intentional

I know it's hella late to give my take on this but idc let's go.

I know a big portion of the fandom believes that Jax hasn't changed at all and he was the same jerk from pilot to episode two, and that people dissapointed about him just had the wrong headcanons, which is very possible and i understand why they get that idea. Jax was a very popular character based on headcanons and ships mostly.

But after rewatching both eps, i respectfully disagree, in my personal opinion Jax did have a change and worsening in behaviour from Episode 1 to Episode 2. it could as well just be that he had more screentime this time and more lines to fully show his true colors, but here is what i think

There was change, it wasn't that big, but it was there.

In episode 1, Jax is shown to be a much more laid back character, unbothered, casually mean and cruel. Pranking and pushing people around him (just like in episode 2, yes) but he wasn't shown to be angry.

In episode 2, we get a more annoying version of him, maybe because we see him more. But he is more irritable, goes out of his way to be aggressive, he is not unbothered, everything bothers him, almost like a frustrated teenager to be honest. He craves violence, he craves chaos and is willing to do anything to get it. Paired with his frustration at everything around him(which we didn't get to see in the pilot, he didnt care about things around him at all)

In this scene where he looks heartbroken that he didn't get to see violence, you could just laugh because it's kinda funny how annoyed and desperate he is, but i believe there is more to it and this is how he actually copes with things around him.

There were bits of the episode where i thought he was about to cry, he was angry and annoyed but looked about to cry. Could perfectly just be the new details in animation and his model but after all, im gonna theorize anyway.

I don't know if he cared about what happened to Kaufmo or not, but something in the pilot seemed to set him off. Maybe the abstraction as a reminder that he could end up like that anytime soon, maybe he couldn't get it out of his mind. Or maybe is something else.

But in my opinion he was acting extremely irritable and trying so hard to find entertainment in violence as a way of coping, and he was already irritable looking for something to get distracted with

Im not implying that he is a good person or a sensitive guy deep down or anything like that, in fact i believe he's going to become even more antagonistic as the show goes on and this was just a small glimpse of it.

In the end, this is just a theory and character analysis, which i'm not claiming to be true

[sohnric]

millennium bug – e. sohn

pairing: eric sohn x fem! reader

genre: 90s au, twenty-five twenty-one au, brother's best friend au, childhood friends au, fluff, slice of life, coming of age. older brother! sunwoo. essentially just eric being baek yijin. oct-nov scenes inspired by weak hero class 1. no plot just vibes im sorry

warnings: minimal swearing and thats all lol

word count: 19k

a/n: posting a fic for a new fandom is always so scary pls be nice to me deobiblr bc im literally abt to cry. also yes i am calling this a 2521 au bc the plot is so heavily inspired it might just be one. a special thank you goes out to @csenke for dragging me into stanning this group i am enjoying myself 🤞

there are some pros and cons to not having friends growing up. cons: you're always forced to tag along with your brother and his group wherever he goes. pros: his childhood best friend is kind of hot.

JUNE OF 1999

Being Kim Sunwoo’s younger sister is no bed of roses sometimes.

Sure, you get the occasional excitement of having him bring you rollerskating with you down the hill or the ever so rare moments of him defending you in front of your mother when you two have done something wrong (while never saying he was in on the bad act as well, of course), but more than often, you are met with his disgusted looks and insults whenever the two years older boy passes by your room and casually bangs at the door just to spite you.

His snarky looks are especially ones to remember. Maybe it’s because he offers them to you often– much like in this very moment, completely unprovoked, and completely not by your fault.

“But mum–”

“I already told you, Sunwoo,” your mother looks at him with a stern look in her eye, the one that makes chills run down your spine, “you can go if you take Y/N with you.”

“But nobody’s bringing their sister! Mum, come on–”

“Take it or leave it, young man.”

And see, your brother may be 19 years old, but he’s still in need of getting permission to leave the house if it includes an overnight stay. It’s an unspoken rule he always follows, since he’s usually granted the right to leave, but the result of his conversation was different than what he expected this time. And see, you may be just two years younger than him (one year left until you are an adult), but even though your mother is too busy to take care of you and entertain your slowly adultling self on most days because of her highly demanding job, she always makes sure that you don’t stay alone for long, and that’s exactly why (you realize, contrary to your brother) she insists on making you tag along on Sunwoo’s trip to the beach house with his friends.

The male grunts and turns on his heel, not giving your mother another response– and with this, you know she won. And that means you’ll have to pack your bag soon, because you know that there’s no way Sunwoo would miss going to the beach house with his friends– even if it meant making his little sister tag along.

And sure enough, Lee Juyeon’s minivan pulls up into your driveway only a few hours later, and the sound of the honking outside is enough for your older brother to aggressively drag you outside of the house, shutting the door behind you and hollering an angry “Bye mum!” to your mother. Your figure is handled with the least amount of care possible as you’re thrown towards the white van, the door opened and 5 heads already peeking out with expecting eyes, waiting for your brother’s arrival.

“My mum made my stupid sister go with me, so I hope we have space for one more,” Sunwoo huffs as he throws his bag into the trunk, slamming it with more force than was necessary (boy does he know how to throw a scene), an encouraging voice of none other than Juyeon– the driver himself– landing in your ear. 

“Sure, just hop in!”

With that, your feet finally unglue themselves off the ground and bring you into the vehicle. You’re familiar with his friends– since a scenario like this hasn’t happened for the first time and you had to spend your fair time with Sunwoo’s circle growing up, mainly because you never really had many friends yourself. You’re not close with any of them, though, and you’re sure you haven’t seen half of them for ages. 

Lee Juyeon is the responsible one of the group. You’re comfortable with the fact that he’s the driver, since you’re not entirely sure if you’d trust any of the other men in this space behind the wheel (you fear the day your brother gets a driver’s license. You'd bet a million dollars that he’ll die while driving recklessly one day). Next to him on the passenger’s seat is Choi Chanhee, his best friend, carrying a map in his hands and twirling it in all possible directions to get his friend on the right track. In the three-seat behind those two is Ju Haknyeon, Ji Changmin and your brother himself, and in the very back of the whole van, almost in the trunk, you’re sat next to Eric Sohn– your brother’s childhood best friend.

“Hi guys,” you offer a greeting to all of them, settling into the uncomfortable leather seat (that’s peeling off, just by the way), watching as the rest of the men pay you no mind and ignore your voice, falling into a comfortable conversation with each other.

Sighing, because this always happens– your brother gets too annoyed because he has to bring you with him all the time, and you imagine his friends aren’t fond of the fact either– you settle deeper into the seat and cross your hands on your chest, looking outside of the window. You can’t imagine enjoying your trip now, since you feel like you’re a nuisance, a child they have to take care of (yes, it embarrasses you just the tiniest bit, you have to admit. Although, you do enjoy getting out of the house from time to time), and the fact that your feelings were probably more than justified and also true has you pouting, an unsatisfied feeling weighing at your lungs.

“Hi,” a voice resonates from your side, the sight of a smiling Eric peering at you taking you off guard. You didn’t expect anyone to react to your greeting– not so delayed anyway– and the sight of your brother’s best friend carrying on in the conversation with you has you shocked beyond belief. “Excited?”

Finding yourself hum in agreement– how much you are still excited for the pool and for the sun, you’re not really sure– and although you are upset, something about his open and nice demeanor has you visibly relaxing, the sparkles inviting themselves back into your eyes. “I’ve never been to the beach,” you admit, seeing Eric gasp at you in surprise.

“Really?” he asks. “I go every year with my parents.”

“Well,” you hum, “you know how my mother is…” you sigh, chewing on the inside of your cheek. It’s easier to joke about it than to actually let the fact get to you– with your mother being the main news anchor, she is too busy to actually go on trips and form bonds with her own children sometimes. That’s why you spent most of your childhood at Eric’s family’s house in the first place– this is what made you the closest with Sunwoo’s same aged friend. His parents were nice enough to let you stay over and have sleepovers whenever your mum had to leave suddenly and take week-long trips abroad, or have emergency shifts during late evenings. 

Eric hums, sympathizing with you. “Well, at least you get to experience it now!”

“Yeah,” you awkwardly nod, playing with the hem of your jean shorts. It’s the shorts you made yourself by cutting the legs off your favorite pants after you grew out of them and they got too short, and they’re starting to look a little worn-out now. Maybe you should beg your mum to get you some new clothing.

The conversation between the boys grows in volume, doing nothing to help you to relax in the crowded vehicle. You can’t really find a place to fit yourself in and talk, the topics too unfamiliar for you and the feeling of not even being welcome in the discussion sitting heavy on your chest, when a finger bears itself to the flesh of your thigh, making you snap your head around to gape at the source of the contact. Eric looks at you with a boyish grin, sparkles evident in his eyes.

“Wanna see something?” he asks.

“Sure.”

The male digs around his backpack, hands searching through the contents of his bag for only a couple of seconds– since he’s the neat one, contrary to your messy brother– before he takes out a small gadget: a square with a little screen on top, a silver, circular button space sitting big in the very middle of the device. Eric throws the thing into your lap, smiling when you take it into your hands and examine it with curious eyes.

“Have you seen one before? My dad got it for me last week,” he boosts, satisfied with your reaction to it. 

Your mother’s job pays quite well– meaning that you usually have the latest gadgets, the latest trends– but if you’re being honest, you haven’t seen one of these in real life before. Yes, you caught a glimpse of an ad for it in the town center, on one of the big billboards while passing by to get to school in the morning, so you know that it’s an MP3 player, but still; this was your first time touching one and examining it in real life. 

“How does it work?” you ask, watching as the boy scoots from his seat to the middle one, so he is now sitting directly next to you, before he takes out wired headphones from the first department of his backpack and turns the little square over in his hands, finding where the jack goes.

“You put those in,” he says, plugging in the headphones, “and then you press this…” he explains, taking the device out of your hand and pushing on the power button for a few seconds, “and then it should play.”

Watching him with expecting eyes, the boy finally puts the MP3 player back into your hold. Then, his fingers swiftly put the respective earphones into your ears– like you’d do to a little kid that has no idea how they work, making you a little flushed at the action– and after that, you’re left with the sound of an unfamiliar song playing in your ears, making the sound of the chatter in the van completely tune out. Eric keeps on watching you, a sense of pride in his eyes as you nod at him, all excited with the new explory, before he takes one of the earphones out of your ear, grinning.

“Cool, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “The song is good,” you dumbly say, watching as the boy next to you pridefully nods at the compliment, resting his back against the car seat. 

“It’s the H.O.T album. My dad says they’re good,” he mumbles, moving the headphone he took from you and placing it into his ear, making you nod at him in acknowledgement. The action has your insides bubble with disappointment, thinking that the fun is over as you reach for the other earphone as well, offering it to the male.

Eric looks at you with a shocked pout, shaking his head. “No, we can share!” he says, pointing towards your ear. “If you want, of course.”

The action has you smiling, a shy nod escaping out of you as you reach and put the earphone back into your ear, letting yourself fall deeper into the car seat, listening to the song from Eric’s MP3 player. You’re grateful for his presence– he didn’t have to keep up a conversation with you. He could ignore you, just like the rest of his friend group always has. Maybe it was something about the two of you growing up together that always made the boy at least a bit more affectionate towards you than the rest.

You spend the car ride to the beach house with Eric leaning on your side, listening to music and his occasional blabbering about how his previous days went. 

Somehow, you're glad the seat beside him was the only vacant one when you arrived to the vehicle.

YOUR SEVENTH BIRTHDAY, 1989

You don't quite remember when you met Eric for the first time, if you’re being completely honest. The first memory you have of him is of your seventh birthday party, although you’re almost certain the boy’s been present at some point of your life before– at one point, you think you saw a picture of him and Sunwoo, two chubby toddlers, watching you as you laid on a blanket on the ground somewhere in your photo album. As far as you’re concerned, he may as well have been there when your mother brought you back from the hospital– although you think he must have been too young for that back then.

The first memory you have of Eric Sohn is the day you turned seven– a gloomy, sad day that in the moment, you prayed you wouldn’t have to remember in the first place.

It was already established that while your brother is the social butterfly, you don’t have a big friend group. Actually, you could count the number of your friends on one hand, and since the amount wasn’t as big, your mother allowed you to invite them all over to your house to celebrate your birthday with you. 

She baked a cake, she decorated the living room, hell, she even took a day off from work– something you deemed special, for it doesn’t happen often– and as you sat on the floor of your living room, the cake standing proud on the small coffee table, waiting for your friends to arrive, you hummed a song under your breath, the clock slowly passing the time you agreed for them to come over and celebrate.

At first, you didn’t mind it– everybody gets late sometimes, it’s okay. It was just a birthday party, and you had a lot of time. Not everything had to be set on schedule.

But the closer the clock moved to being one hour, than two after the time your friends were supposed to come, you grew worried. Your mother’s nervous pacing around the living room and her heavy sighs as she sat next to you on the floor, smiling at you in what you can only explain as sad way made you more and more anxious about the fact that you only had three friends, but all three of them seemed to not care enough to come celebrate your birthday with you. And as your mother finally took the final bow in the form of a soft hand on your inner thigh, her tone gentle as she called your name– “Y/N, I think we should light the candles,” you began to tear up.

You were supposed to eat the cake with your friends. You were supposed to hear them sing the birthday song to you. You were supposed to turn on the radio and dance around with your classmates, eat the sweets and unwrap the cheap, but heartfelt gifts they brought along with them to celebrate your birthday. 

But none of these scenarios were happening, and you felt incredibly, incredibly lonely and sad. Forgotten, if you will. Not cared for, definitely.

Hiding your face into your hands, you started to cry. This disappointment was too big for your small heart to take, and you no longer cared about the cake, the candles, the seaweed soup your mother cooked for you to celebrate, the gifts, or the party. All you wanted to do was hide in your room and never come out– something about the whole situation felt deeply embarrassing, and to this day, the moment before the whole day turned around still makes you feel a bit ashamed of yourself. 

Too busy crying, you didn’t notice your older brother watching you with big bambi eyes, a worried glance sent your way each time your sobs grew louder and louder. And maybe the boy only wanted to taste the cake (he’s been bugging your mum about it since the very morning, but he was always sent off with a scolding look telling him that he’ll get a slice when everyone arrives), but no matter what his true intentions were, his actions still managed to pull your seventh birthday party together in a way you never imagined.

The sound of the front door faintly resonated in your brain somewhere in the middle of your aimless sobbing, but you paid it no mind, thinking it was just Sunwoo going out to the yard to kick the ball. See, your older brother had never really known what to do when you cried growing up– it didn’t matter if he was the reason for your tears or if anyone else was. If he was the reason for your emotional outbursts, he tried to shut you up with his palm and get you to stop crying before his mother found out and gave him a scolding, but if someone else was, the small boy sometimes turned angry at the source. Kicking his classmate that once made a snarky comment about you and made you tear up or punching his friend when he was too harsh with you was all he knew to do in these situations, so he wasn’t the one to comfort you with words or hugs. It was only natural for him to escape in this situation.

You were brought to a state of shock and surprise when a hand landed on your shoulder, a familiar voice breaking you from your emotional turmoil.

“Why are you crying? We have to eat the cake!” you heard, your big, sad eyes meeting the small figure of the boy living next door, your brother nervously stepping from one side to the other right behind his best friend. “Can you light the candles, Mrs?” Eric politely asked your mum, pointing towards the cake waiting sadly at the coffee table, the figure of your mother leaving your side only shortly to get the matches from the kitchen and illuminate your face with the small flames.

Confusion mirrored your features as you watched your brother and his best friend sing the birthday song to you while your mum lit your candles, both boys clapping and dancing around, acting silly just to get a laugh from you. You didn't know how Eric got there, but you guessed there are some good sides to having him as your neighbor. The energetic boy did his best to brighten up your mood a bit, and when you blew out the candle, making a wish, Sunwoo even went as far as smashing your face into the cake to bring in the full birthday authenticity.

That got him a slap to the back of his head from your mother, as well as made you stand up from your position– no longer making you look like a disappointed bulk of pity– and chase him around the room, icing falling off your nose to the laminated floor. You got your revenge and smeared the chocolate all over his forehead (he let you chase him down only because it was your birthday and he really, really hated to see his sister cry, but he won’t ever tell you that) and as the three of you sat back down to the floor, watching your mother slice the cake and offer it to you on small white plates, you realized you suddenly weren't as sad anymore.

“What did you wish for?” Eric asked you, mouth full of cake and face messy with chocolate.

“I can’t tell you,” you hummed, eyebrows furrowed. “Then it won’t come true.”

“You probably wished for that doll you saw in the store the other day,” Sunwoo snickered as he swallowed, having you glare at him and send a sharp kick to his shin, unwatched by your mother (thankfully), as the boy fought you back, having no mercy.

Music suddenly filled the room as Eric stood up and put the radio on, his 9 year old brain smart enough to know how the device worked, his small figure dancing away to the songs playing on the single radio station you could play without carefully sorting out the antenna so it faced the north, and truly, you didn’t know how it happened, but it had you standing up and dancing around, exactly how you'd imagined doing with your friends from school.

The day wasn’t ruined– quite the opposite, really. It was one of your favorite birthday parties, and ever since then, Eric was invited to every single one you had after. And while Sunwoo may act like he doesn’t hate anything more in this world than having a younger sister, every time you feel like a burden to him, you remember this very afternoon.

You will never tell anyone what you wished for that day– but just to let everyone in on the secret, 

it was to somehow, just like Sunwoo, find someone like Eric for yourself as well. 

JUNE OF 1999

Standing at the side of the pool, eyes squinting from the inevitable force of the sun, you’re starting to regret your decision of coming along just a little. See, you usually don’t protest whenever Sunwoo aggressively drags you around and brings you everywhere he’s supposed to, because even though you love to see your brother angry (especially when you’re the reason behind the emotion), you’d also hate to see him miss out, but now, as the scorching hot sun is having no mercy on every exposed inch of skin– and believe me, there’s a lot of it, since you’re wearing your swimming trunks– and the sweat on your forehead is no longer culminating in beads, but rolling painfully slowly down your forehead, you do admit you’d be a little bit happier in the shade of your little room than here, watching the guys play volleyball in the comfort of the freezing cold pool.

And as the only female around the house, you settle with the patriarchy and bring out a small folding chair and a camping table alongside with a big, sharp knife, struggling to hoist up the giant watermelon you got in a grocery store on your way to the beach house, with the intention of cutting it and serving it to the guys later. Who knows, maybe they’ll like you a little more after that. 

The knife sinks into the thick green skin of the watermelon easily, and so as you accompany yourself with the excited (and not so excited screams coming from the losing side of the game– mainly your brother himself), you cut up the fruit into halves, then quarters, and as you stare at the moon crescents settled on the camping table, you decide to play nice and cut up the fruit into smaller triangles as well, to really get on everyone’s good side.

The yearning for male validation awakes in a woman pretty early on in life. It’s an inevitable misfortune.

“Told you Sunwoo’s all talk but no game!” you hear Haknyeon yell out as the game seemingly ends, the younger boy lunging at him in the pool, fighting him for the truthful words. Glancing at the commotion, you notice the guys slowly getting out of the pool, making you heave out in victory– you’re finally gonna have your turn in the pool. Well, if they don’t decide to occupy it again before you even get a chance to get in.

“Y/N! You cut up the watermelon?” Eric asks a very obvious question, walking up to you with beads of water all over his half-naked body. His dark hair is damply sitting against his forehead, making him look like a wet puppy, but as the male gets closer to you, he drags his palm through the locks and pushes them back, revealing his forehead– a sight sweet to your eyes, but you refuse to pay it much attention in the heat of the moment. It’s just the sun making you delirious as the idea of finding him attractive flashes through your brain, that’s all. 

“I did! Take one,” you smile, watching as the rest of the guys walk over to your little stand– while also obnoxiously swatting out water out of their hair like dogs, refusing to use towels like normal people– and finally, there it comes: appreciative smiles appear on their faces as they each take a piece, biting down on the fruit with delighted sighs.

Sunwoo walks up to you with a surprised look on his face, sighing as he messes with your hair. “If I knew you’d be our servant, I wouldn’t have even minded you going in the first place.”

“You do something nice for people and they jump on the chance to exploit you,” you hum, shaking your head in disbelief. “That’s just like you, Kim Sunwoo.”

“No, that’s just me having older brother privileges.”

“I hope you choke on that, you know,” you bite at him, pointing towards the piece of sweet watermelon in his hands, the smile on his face turning bitter. There’s a satisfied look on your face when your brother does, indeed, choke on a watermelon seed a few seconds later– and they say dreams don’t come true.

“You didn’t have to,” you hear Eric speak up from the other side, your head turning to face the male, his features appreciative and warm. “Thank you,” he beams. There’s redness on the tip of his nose and his forehead, signaling his quickly approaching sunburn, and you can’t help but laugh out at his clueless, Rudolph the red nosed reindeer self. 

“What’s so funny?” he asks, furrowing his eyebrows at you in question.

“Nothing,” you peep, “you just look like you forgot to use sunscreen,” you mumble, watching as the male gasps and touches his face, a horrified expression overtaking him when the skin under his fingertips burns to the touch. 

“I didn’t forget! It must have rubbed off in the pool,” he mourns, “I must look stupid!” 

“Only a little,” you tease, a grin overtaking your features. See, there’s something about the fact that you’ve known Eric for the entirety of your whole life that makes you more prone to teasing him– you’re familiar with your dynamics and just how far you can go, so his next actions startle you just the tiniest bit as the male looks sternly at you, throwing the half-eaten watermelon slice to the camping table. You thought you had the risks calculated– apparently, you didn't.

“What did you say?”

Examining his features, seeing no signs of anger– just the stoic, fakely-offended face of your brother’s childhood best friend– you shrug. “That you look a bit stupid with your face like that.”

“Oh, okay,” he nods, “you’re going down for that.”

“What do you mea–”

Your words are cut short when the male lunges at you, his arms enveloping your thighs and holding you up. The contact of his cold skin from the pool and your heated figure makes goosebumps appear all over your body, your hands instinctively reaching around him to support yourself as he walks closer to the pool– his intentions are suddenly painfully clear and you start to panic. 

“This will teach you to respect your elders,” Eric huffs, the turquoise surface of the water slowly coming into your point of view.

“Stop! Stop-stop-stop,” you squirm, kicking your feet and trying to take down the predator, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, alright?”

The male takes a halt for a split second– making you foolishly believe he’ll let you off– before he breaks out into a devilish grin and continues to walk to the edge of the pool. “Too late.”

“Eric!” you scream, the volume of your voice resonating through the whole beach, your heart thumping wild against your ribcage with the awaiting process. You’re not even sure what you’re scared of anymore– you can swim and you bet the water will feel nice against the scorching sun– but still, you’re absolutely terrified as the male has no mercy on you, carrying you steadily towards the water. “At least let me tie my hair first! You can dump me in after, I promise,” you mourn, trying to buy yourself more time.

“Alright,” he nods, waiting at the very edge of the pool, leaving you to take the purple scrunchie off your wrist and gather your hair together, preparing to tie it into a bun so it doesn’t get in your way when you’re in the pool. The hair tie is just at the tips of your fingertips, the first loop over the hair ready to be done, when a scream cuts out of your throat.

The feeling of falling suddenly overtakes your body, leaving you no time to prepare yourself for the impact of the cold water against your skin and all up in your nose, since you didn’t pluck it when you were dumped into the pool. The fall only lasts a split second until you’re below the water, the force of it resonating in your ears, and when you finally act on your instincts and stand up in the pool (it wasn’t even that deep in the first place, only reaching to your upper stomach), you cough out all the water and pray to gods you don’t throw up chlorine into the freshly cleaned pool. After you’re done catching your breath and getting oxygen into your lungs again, you do your best at getting all the hair out of your face. 

There is laughter landing into your ears as soon as you manage to get all the water out of them by leaning your head to the side and violently slapping each one, and when your eyes look up, you see an amused Eric Sohn bending over in his waist at your disheveled appearance. 

Grunting and pointing a finger to the criminal that almost made you drown, you huff out. “I’ll kill you! Just you watch.”

Your scrunchie nowhere to be found, forever lost somewhere outside of the beach house, you think, as it flew off your hand in the impact of the attack, shock makes your figure shake alongside of the coldness of the water, making you audibly sigh. 

Yes. You do regret coming along just a little.

JULY OF 1999

Somewhere along the way, Eric Sohn starts acting as if he’s your second older brother. Sure, you’ve known the male your whole entire life and he’s seen you grow up, but it took him 17 years of your life to come to a point where he gives you equal amount of attention whenever he’s over at your house than he does to your brother, and even asks Sunwoo if you’re coming along with them whenever they leave to hang out somewhere else. It’s a change that comes naturally and slowly, and you welcome it unknowingly– the revelation shocks you on a hot summer day, though, when the idea finally comes to you in full force.

You would even argue and say Eric acts more like your brother than your actual sibling does– he asks if you’ve eaten and listens to you when you talk (which Sunwoo never does, well, except from when he’s arguing with you). Eric even compliments your outfits sometimes and lets you borrow his MP3 player from time to time– Sunwoo would never share his things with you, no matter how hard you pleaded and threatened to tell your mum. Yes, your brother's an adult and you’re one year away from becoming one– you still resolve your conflicts through your only parent, though. Some things, you never grow out of.

“I wanna try using the skateboard now, Sunwoo,” you order sternly when the boy finally reaches your destination. You’ve been sitting on the sidewalk for quite some time now, since your brother and his friend decided that they’re gonna try out their new skateboards on the hottest day of the year. Your town doesn’t have fancy skateparks and ramps like the ones you’ve seen in the music videos on TV, so you don’t really know what initially made the two buy those things, but you do admit that even driving up and down the road in front of your house does seem a little fun– so much you’d love to try it.

“What a shame we all wish for things we can’t have,” he shrugs ironically, shaking his head at you from his position above. The male reaches down for his bag, taking out a water bottle and putting it against his plush lips, all while you glare at him from below, still seated in your initial position. Eric comes up to you two, squishing at the soft plastic bottle in Sunwoo’s hold, making the water splash your older brother in the face, leaving a winning grin to be shared between you and the shorter boy, an expression that makes you all warm on the inside. See, at least Eric always has your back.

“You can try mine, if you want,” the latter shrugs, offering you a smile.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he nods, “why not?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, “I just didn’t expect you to offer, since as you saw, my dear brother just refused when I asked…” you mumble, standing up from the sidewalk and taking the skateboard into your hand. Eric offers it to you with an outstretched arm and watches as you put the board on the floor, squinting at it with much examination.

“Do you know how to ride it?” he asks.

“No,” you shake your head, “but I mean, if Sunwoo can do it, how hard can it really be?” you joke, seeing as the said boy glares at you, finally finishing his water and dropping the bottle to the ground. 

“I’ll remind you of that statement when you eat shit on the pavement,” he shushes you, rolling his eyes. 

Not paying more attention to the grumpy being that is your own brother, you relocate your attention back to the skateboard on the heated road. You’re lucky you live on a street where cars don’t often drive by, since your neighborhood is on the very edge of the town, so you don’t really fear being run over by a pickup truck. What you do worry about, though, is your lacking sense of balance, which you discovered when you learned how to ride the bike for the first time. While your brother was a professional in no time, it took you weeks to get it right, and so with the idea of riding a board that provides you zero sense of security, you get a bit worried for your own life.

Dragging your hair out of your face and aimlessly trying to tuck it behind your ears– there’s no use in trying though, as the strands slip out just as fast as they found their place– you keep staring at the board only a few centimeters away from your feet, mentally calculating your next move. There’s a noise of a backpack being opened and rustling around in the background of your miserable thoughts, and when you look up to see what’s going on, you notice Eric offering you a small, purple bundle of fabric. 

“What’s that?” you ask, even though the answer is clear as the day– you recognise your own scrunchie with no problem. You’re just surprised to see it in his hold. You thought it was forever buried somewhere in the beach house, since you weren’t able to find it after you got out of the pool, no matter how hard you tried.

“Oh,” he shrugs, amidst a little too nonchalantly, “I found it and figured it was yours, but I forgot to give it back to you then… it seems like you need it now, though,” he offers you an explanation, lips pressed into a thin line that slightly signifies a smile.

“Ah,” you gasp, nodding as you take the hair tie out of his outstretched palm, gathering your hair into a bun and tying it up on the crown of your head– the staring contest you’ve been having with the board is much clearer now, when you don’t have your messy strands in the way. The idea of Eric keeping your scrunchie after finding it at the beach house makes your stomach do a weird kind of turn– you guess it made you a bit weirded out, if you’re being honest.

“Want some help with that?” he asks, pointing towards his skateboard.

Nervous, cracking your knuckles as you meet his eyes– he looks a bit amused, but still genuine– you nod, admitting defeat. There’s no way you’re getting on top of that board without help and not falling down. It’s always better to be safe than to be sorry, and so when Eric laughs airly at your composure and takes a few steps closer towards you, you let the male lead you, finding comfort in his secure words and actions.

Eric offers you his arms to hold when you try to get on the skateboard. He is peering at you from under his eyelashes when you put one of your legs onto the wood, his grip on your forearm getting firmer when you try to get your other foot on as well– and you must admit that you suddenly don’t feel like you might die anymore when there’s someone holding you and standing by your side. 

“See? It’s not that hard,” Eric mumbles, his voice low and reassuring from the proximity. You notice your hands sweating a little when his palm envelopes yours– damn the sun and its unbearable heat making you embarrass yourself– but he doesn’t mention it as he firmly holds you and meets your eyes. “I’m gonna drag you around a bit so you get used to it before trying yourself,” he says before taking a few steps forward, preparing to be your own type of personal driver.

Having him instruct you and help you around makes you feel more comfortable on the board. Sunwoo would never do such a thing for you– he’d enjoy watching you fall down and break your neck and possibly die– so you’re more than happy to have someone in your life that takes care of you in ways your older brother refuses to. 

The skateboard moves forward a little, starting slow, but then picking up speed as Eric jogs a little, making you laugh at the action. He does not have to go above and beyond, but he still does– but you guess it’s good for him to let out his energy somewhere. After a while, he looks back at you and meets your eye with a warm gaze, making you nod at him reassuringly and hold up a thumb of the hand he’s not holding right now, signaling that you’re okay and enjoying yourself. That has the male let go of your hand and let you take the road with the laws of physics, moving forward by yourself with the force he created. 

It’s nice. It’s fun. 

Yes, you totally understand why Eric and Sunwoo wanted skateboards after seeing them on TV. Hell, you want one now.

“Try it yourself now!” Eric encourages you as the board naturally comes to a stop under you, and his smiling face is enough for you to take initiative and nod, relocating one foot off the wood and placing it on the floor, then kicking it and making yourself move on the simple vehicle.

A moment of surprise envelopes you like a warm hug when you manage to not fall off and keep your balance, the joy of it making you try to go faster on the board, kicking once, twice against the pavement with the sole of your old, beaten up shoe. “I’m doing it!” you yell, glancing back at Eric standing on the sidewalk, watching you with excited eyes. The male offers you a victorious holler, something that makes you break into a laugh, makes your confidence blossom in marvelous ways.

Confidence rises in you so much you try to take a U-turn and go back to your teacher– perhaps showing off that you really got the hang of it now, or something– but as you try to maneuver the board and turn right, there it comes: the moment where you realize that you were, once again, too overly-confident in your abilities that are, sadly, very poor. Your body sways from side to side, your poor balance laughs at you and points an accusing finger at your attempts, and, well, to put it frankly, your whole life flashes in front of your eyes and the moment plays in slow motion as you lose the board from below your feet– the wood flying somewhere to the opposite side of the road, not at all where you meant to go in the first place– and your body inevitably comes crashing to the ground.

Awaiting the hard pavement meeting your nose and breaking it, you brace yourself with palms outstretched in front of you, the last remains of self-perseverance entering the sane parts of your brain in what you think are the last seconds of your miserable life. Another moment of surprise greets you when your yelp is muffled against something soft and your hands don’t hit the hard pavement, your ears filled with a grunt that belongs to another human swiftly chiming in and catching you before you fall.

Firm hands hold your waist– the touch somehow familiar, enveloping you in a strange sense of deja vu– and even though your body goes limp in terror, the male has you back on your feet in no time, his palms on the exposed skin of your stomach. The realization has you burning up as you look up and meet Eric’s eyes, gasping at the closeness of his face to yours. 

“You okay over there?” he asks as you unconsciously study his face– you never noticed his nose looked this nice up close– before you wake out of it and nod urgently, breaking away from his hold. You’re not gonna try to calculate the effort he must have put in just to chime in and catch you from where he was standing in such a short moment, but something about the passing thought of it has you weak in your knees from gratefulness. 

“Uhm- yeah,” you nod, kicking the pavement with your stained shoes, “I just… miscalculated my skills, that’s all,” you sheepishly hum, hearing the boy snicker at your shaken-up composure.

Watching him take off and retrieve his skateboard from where it wandered off against the curb– much to his golden retriever energy– you sigh and prepare to go sit back on the sidewalk, having enough of new experiences from the shock still lingering in your fingertips. You take a glance down the road, seeing your older brother cruising on the street– when and how he got there, you truly have no idea– when you hear Eric, who seemingly has different ideas for your next actions, call at you from the middle of the pavement.

“Where are you going? Come back!” he asks, having you look at him in surprise, mouth agape and eyes big, staring at him. He now has the board under his shoulder, but puts it back on the road and points at it, shrugging to himself. “I’ll push you down the road, it’s gonna be fun!”

“Eric, I’m literally going to die–”

“No, you’re not. Come on, I promise,” he says, but still, he doesn’t have you convinced. Your feet move against your best conclusions, though, and when you come to a halt right in front of your companion, he offers you a boyish grin. “Sit down on it, that way you’re more balanced. I swear you’re not gonna fall off, okay? I got you.”

“You promise?”

“Yes,” he nods, determined.

“Pinky swear,” you mumble, holding up your pinky finger– all thoughts of seeming childish pushed to the side in the desperate moment– and the male in front of you shakes his head in disbelief, breaking into a laugh.

“Cute,” he huffs, “yeah, okay. Pinky swear,” he nods, interlacing your pinky with his and bumping his thumb against yours, the seal foolishly making you feel more secure as you follow his order and take a seat on the skateboard, your hands gripping the bottom of the wood so hard your knuckles turn white.

“Okay, ready? 3, 2, 1–” he chants as he pushes you, two steady hands coming in contact with your shoulder blades, force making you move on the board, wheels taking you down with gravity. The sound of Eric’s shoes hitting the pavement fills your ears as you go faster, and as you finally get to the part of the hill that takes a downwards slope, he offers you a final push, sending you down the road. 

Wind makes your hair fly back, your surroundings blurring as you yelp and scream, but you can’t say you’re not enjoying the ride. Eric was right– it was fun, you liked it, and something about the gesture had you all warm on the inside. The breeze has you cool down a little in the summer heat, and the board continues to move even as you pass your older brother standing at the bottom of the slope, away from your trajectory. 

Body relaxing when the skateboard finally slows down, you let out a heartfelt laughter. Turning back and seeing Eric jog down the road with a humongous grin on his face, you offer him two thumbs up above your head, watching as he returns the gesture and makes his way back to the two of you on the bottom of the small hill.

The truth is, this was the day you realized Eric Sohn has always found his way to make you feel included and safe. 

You can’t help but feel grateful.

AUGUST OF 1999

“Sunwoo, you have to tie a knot here and then– no, you dumbass, you’re doing it completely wrong,” you mourn as you watch your older brother with a mess of thread in his lap, a focused scowl on his face. There’s a fan standing across from you, blowing cold air into your face, but you still feel yourself grow heated with frustration as Sunwoo just can’t help but not understand the art of making friendship bracelets. It’s not like you’re forcing him to do them– he was the one that asked you to show him how to, muttering something about offering one to his classmate Yeji once he’s back in school– so in theory, he should be putting in effort, no? 

Or maybe he is. Maybe he’s just… incompetent.

“I don’t get it,” Sunwoo hums under his breath, sighing as he leans against the sofa in your living room, the two of you sitting on the floor accompanied by his best friend squinting at you from the opposite side, a comic book in the latter's hand. The myth of men not being able to multi-task is quickly thrown into the bin as you watch Eric pay equal amount of attention to the comic book and the dialogue between you and your brother, and when Sunwoo seems to give up on the art of making friendship bracelets, his best friend can’t help but laugh.

“You’re giving up already? This is how you want to get a girlfriend?” you poke your brother to his side and take the threads off his lap, examining the mess of a safety pin and meters of yarn, all knotted up and not coming along in the shape you taught him to at all.

“It’s not to get a girlfriend, I just-”

“Sure,” you roll your eyes, huffing as you roll his poor attempt at friendship bracelet into a ball and throw it to the corner of the room, making a mental note to pick it up and throw it to the bin later. “You know what, just give her this one and pretend you made it,” you mutter, taking a bracelet you'd already made to demonstrate in between your fingers and throw it into Sunwoo’s lap, the older one catching it and examining it under his nose.

“That looks pretty good,” he hums, making you snort at his appreciative comment. The bracelet is pink and red, the colors just screaming romance and cute energy, which is exactly what a girl needs to be swayed by your brother. You can’t really believe a bracelet will make her swoop into his arms, because truthfully, with your brother’s face and manners, every living thing is keeping a fair distance, but hey, it doesn’t hurt to try, does it? Maybe his classmate is… majorly blind? That might do it?

“Of course it looks good,” you scoff, “that’s because I made it,” you nod, averting your gaze towards your lap, threading your fingers through the yarn you attached to a safety pin on your sweatpants to keep the growing friendship bracelet in place. 

“Then why is the one you’re making right now so ugly?” Eric asks, pointing towards the creation. 

Glancing up at the male slowly, mentally throwing all different kinds of curses at him for daring to talk badly about your craft, you huff. “What do you mean, ugly?”

“The colors… they don’t… they don’t really go together,” Eric sheepishly admits, scratching the back of his neck, quickly averting his gaze from you and gluing it back into his comic book. You think that if he doesn’t stop being a smart-ass and throw jabs at your artistic choices, he’s gonna have to protect his comic book with his own body– and you bet he’d do that, because he borrowed it from the library. The fees for damage are high.

“That’s just… not true at all,” you muse, but groggily take a look at the creation once again, but now, thanks to the remark, seeing it in a completely different way. Shades of orange, brown and purple stare back at you amidst a little disappointedly, and as you thread the yarn and make a couple of knots to end the bracelet, you can’t help but feel a pout growing on your face from the realization. Eric might be right. It does look a little bad…

“Whatever. Your taste is just bad,” you snap as you finish off the craft piece, unclasping the safety pin and sliding the bracelet off the inside, freeing it from the hold. Eric laughs a little at your frustrated state– similarly to what you do when you manage to get Sunwoo upset– and with that, you sigh and put the bracelet on the coffee table.

“I’m going out to the store to get some chocolates,” you say as you stand up, goal clear in your mind, “have fun, losers.”

“You’re still collecting the stickers from these?” Sunwoo asks, a mischievous smile growing on his lips. The teasing is inevitable and coming very soon, and there’s nothing you can do about it– you’re fully aware, which only further makes you want to escape the situation more quickly. Rolling your eyes at your brother’s antics, you move towards the door. 

“Yes, Sunwoo, I am. They’re cute and make me happy, do you have a problem with that?” you point an accusing finger at the male, having him shrug, tongue poking the inside of his cheek.

“You’re such a kid,” he huffs, averting his gaze from you when he lands the comment, the jab coming straight at your fragile heart.

“Okay, then,” you note, “I’ll just have my pretty and cute bracelet back, and you can get your girlfriend something else-”

The male quickly regains his previous composure, swatting his hands in hurry just to make you halt in your sentence. His eyes are big and his mouth is a little agape in terror as he tries to save his ass, plea written all over his face. “I was just joking! Don’t be so petulant… go get your cute stickers, they’re so fun!”

Humming to yourself, your face is tugged up into a victorious smile. “That's what I thought. So, as I was saying, have fun, losers.”

“Wait!” Eric suddenly calls for you, making you turn on your heel in the middle of your escape, eyes peering at the male. “Don’t I get a bracelet too?”

The request catches you off guard. There’s a certain kind of spark in Eric Sohn’s eyes as he asks the question, and you can’t really place it in any category, but it has you nervously shrugging at the preposition. You’re not really sure why Eric would want a bracelet from you, but to avoid confrontation and also the weird leap of your heart surely leading you into cardiac arrest, you only shrug and move back inside of the living room, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you scan the surroundings, searching for something.

“Sure,” you nod, taking the ugly bracelet off the table and offering it to him, “you can have that one.”

You hold a staring contest with the older boy for a couple of seconds, his head undoubtedly swirling with arguments and comments about the apparel of the friendship bracelet, but he’s smart– he must know the survival of his beloved comic book must be at stake. So, he only nods and smiles at you, outstretching his hand to you and nudging his head in its direction.

“Okay,” he hums, “tie it for me?”

A second comes by– a heartbeat, really– in which you chew on your bottom lip and gasp at the request, but still, you nod and come closer, crouching down to be at his level and taking the thread into your fingers. You wrap the bracelet around his wrist, making sure to leave a bit of wiggle room before you tie a knot, bringing the ends together, all while feeling the eyes of Eric glued to your face, watching every micro expression flash through your unsettling composure.

When you’re done, making a move to hide your hands behind your back and standing up, your limbs bump into each other and send an unspoken sense of electricity all through your body. The sensation is so strange you don’t meet anyone’s eye before you leave the room, yelling out a goodbye as you hurriedly open the front door and run out to get fresh air (it’s August, though. The air is humid and only makes your head spin more).

You clear your throat before you take off to the grocery store. It's only when you're halfway there that you realize you'd forgotten to bring your wallet with you. It's okay, though– you take this chance to walk around, regaining your casualty.

You bet Eric will take the bracelet off in a matter of a week.

SEPTEMBER OF 1999

The leaves start turning orange and the weather a bit colder when you become hyper-aware of your shifting composure whenever Eric Sohn is around. The way you feel heat rushing to your cheeks whenever he calls you cutie, a nickname he’s had reserved for you since you two were little kids, the way you feel weak in your knees whenever he casually brings his arm around your shoulders or when he bends down to tie your shoelace in the middle of the sidewalk. You don’t really know what those sudden changes are, yet, you feel a bit embarrassed by them whenever they take place. You don’t think it’s normal to feel this way around your brother’s best friend, and the more you hang out with him, the more you wish you read less books as a child– because now, you’re also hyper-aware of the title those feelings may have. 

Still, it only comes to you on one September afternoon– you wake up from blissful unawareness and jolt with the quickly opening pit in your stomach at the strange revelation.

“Eric! Sunwoo isn’t home, though?” you mumble, confused as you notice the boy standing on your doorway, a plastic bag in his hand and a red Nike jacket enveloping his frame.

“I know, he said he’s hanging out with Juyeon hyung today,” he nods, “I brought you something, though,” he says, holding up the bag and making sure you get a chance to see it, offering you a boyish grin.

“Oh?” you gasp, furrowing your eyebrows at the male. When you do nothing to invite him inside, he does so himself– slightly nudging you in your side as he passes your figure and enters your house. He acts like he owns the place, and by the amount of time he’s spent in your home, you’d think he does– he doesn’t, though. The only thing he owns is just a lot of audacity.

The male takes off his shoes in the entryway and walks his way over to your room– a surprising act, considering he’s spent the least amount of time in this very place– and when he’s sure you’re following his every move, he empties the contents of the bag to the middle of your freshly made bed. Watching as approximately ten items fall out of the plastic, your eyes widen with surprise as you recognise your favorite chocolate– the mini bars with stickers inside, the ones you collect and stick into your journal and look at in the middle of the night, giggling to yourself and kicking your feet at the adorable pictures in your make-shift collect book.

“Woah,” you gasp when the male looks at you, seemingly awaiting your response, and when he gets the wished outcome, pride overtakes his features, shrugging to himself.

“My mum got some for free because she bought a lot of cabbage for kimchi yesterday,” he explains, “I thought of you when I saw them, so I bought you some more.”

“I- you-” you stutter, emotions too big for your own good swelling all inside your fragile, little self, hands running into your hair and tugging at the roots to wake yourself up from the dream. “You didn’t have to!”

“We got them anyway, and I know you like the stickers,” Eric shrugs, scratching the back of his neck, completely ignoring the fact that he said he bought you some more, your heart skipping a beat at the sentiment. Clearing your throat, you tentatively take a step closer to your bed, gathering a bar of chocolate into your hand and opening it, taking a bite.

“You can have the stickers if you give me some chocolate,” Eric says close to your ear, almost as if he was creating a masterplan, to which you eagerly nod and plop onto your bed, moving the bars of sweets into one pile. As you continue to munch on the first one, you unwrap the sticker and look at it, praying to yourself as if you were checking if your lottery ticket was worth any cent– hoping you get a sticker you don’t own yet.

The image of a cute panda would cheer anyone up even in their darkest moments– not you, though, as you mourn and sigh, disappointment clear in your features. 

“What?” Eric asks, eyes big pools of worry.

“I already got that one.”

“Ah,” he nods, seemingly understanding– much to your surprise, “well, we got 9 more tries, let’s get to eating.”

Wrappers are rustling in your bed sheets as you and Eric eat the concerning amount of chocolate, gathering the stickers in a little pile on top of your notebook, promising each other to not look at the stickers as you go and just make a grand reveal at the end. Eric’s full cheeks are a sight you enjoy, telling him he looks like a squirrel– to which he sends a light flick to your forehead, telling you you don’t look much different– and soon enough, the nine bars left disappear from your plain sight (you only had 3 and Eric ate the remaining 5. He’s a growing boy, though, so you understand. He needs to get his undying energy from somewhere.).

“Ready for the reveal?” you ask, locking your gaze with Eric.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

With that, you get to the pile of stickers in the middle of your bedsheets. Looking at the first one, there’s a happy squeal cutting out of your throat, the image of an adorable yellow duck warming you up with euphoria. 

“You don’t have that one yet?”

“I don’t,” you nod, “this is just perfect.”

Eric nods and watches you with a certain kind of warmth in his gaze as you open up your notebook and stick the newest addition to your little sticker farm– or a ZOO, however you wanna call it. The next sticker from the pile is added as well– a brown, big bear– and the next one too, the most adorable colorful parrot slapped to the corner of your page. 

The rest of your stickers are the ones you already own, though– a displeased look takes over your features at the knowledge, but still, you can’t help but beam at the fact that you have 3 new additions to your collection, and they were a gift from Eric Sohn himself. Someone who doesn’t make fun of your childish habit. Someone who feeds your little interest, watches you with excitement in his eyes as you indulge. Someone not like your brother. 

Someone you could never see the way you see your brother.

“What do you do with the duplicates?” Eric asks, pointing to the sad pile on the top of your notebook. His figure is closer to you now, since he wanted to watch you stick the animals into your notebook, his crossed legs almost pressed against yours on the small bed.

“Well, usually, I just throw them out,” you shrug, “but since you’re here…” you muse, the idea plopping into your head like the newest discovery you should probably patent, peeling the back of one of the dog stickers off and swiftly turning towards your companion, mischief sparkling in your eyes.

You put the sticker on his left cheek, making the boy jump. “Hey!”

Giggling, taking another one of the stickers and pressing it to the middle of his forehead, Eric starts to fight you, your bodies wrestling on the bed. You don’t think he puts much effort into getting you off him– that, or he’s insanely weak– and in no time, his face is adorned with all different kinds of animals, his hair messy from tussling in your bedsheets. The image has you laughing before you realize you’re basically straddling him on your bed, his big eyes gaping at you from below, his appearance enough to make something in your brain short-circuit and make you leap off him, clearing your throat.

Heat rushes into your cheeks as you take a seat next to him, playing with your fingers. You pray for anything to come and ease the awkwardness you caused, and sure enough, today must be your lucky day. “Hey, look here!” 

You call for the boy as you swiftly take your polaroid camera off your bedside table– the one that belonged to your dad, the one you fought with Sunwoo about, the one your mum said was yours because Sunwoo is too careless with his things to keep it safe– and snap a picture of the puppy-like boy, laughing at the fact that now, you have the image of him looking dumb and covered in stickers forever. Or at least until he doesn't take it away from you– which he attempts quickly.

“Hey!” he yelps again, huffing as he lunges at you, trying to take the picture out of your grasp as you drop the camera into your soft sheets. Your feet take you to the living room, navigating through furniture, and when you don’t hear footsteps follow you, you think you’re safe– Eric does have a lot of energy, but chasing you around gets tiring for him quickly when he knows you'll never let him win.

Entering your room once again, prepared to find him on your bed like before, you’re taken by surprise as a shutter sound goes off right after you open the door, a polaroid picture taken of your face making you temporarily blind at the flash.

“Eric!” you whine, hating that there’s a picture of you standing shocked at your doorway now forever in the universe– not really caring that the boy just got you back with the exact stunt you pulled on him just a few minutes ago. Before you get a chance to blink out the blind spots in your vision caused by the flash and run after him, though, you feel him gently press you out of the doorway and slip outside, the sound of the front door opening and closing after him resonating along his slowly disappearing, amused laughter.

Serves you right, doesn’t it? 

Sighing, you shake your head and take a seat on your bed, the picture of the boy still in between your fingertips. You only take a look at it when your vision comes back to normal, and as the image of Eric covered in stickers, hair messy and cheeks rosy below the animal print comes into your sight, the revelation arrives the same second a starstruck smile plays with your features.

And with that, you’re absolutely terrified. 

Throwing the polaroid picture onto the bedside table and lunging yourself into the sheets, you scream into your pillow and wish for the feelings to disappear– because in what world does a crush on your brother’s best friend ever come to a happy ending?

OCTOBER OF 1999

Once October hits, you find yourself home alone more often than you’d like. Sure, you don’t mind having some me time to read comic books or watch the TV uninterrupted in the living room, but still– alone turns lonely pretty quickly, and somehow, you start to regret the fact that you’ve been relying on your older brother and his friends for so long instead of making some connections on your own.

Sunwoo started to play soccer at school– something is telling you that he might go far if he keeps it up– and that’s why he’s been stuck at practice every single day, coming home late in the evening all tired, but happy, so you’re not really complaining. Eric works in the little bistro downtown now, since he wanted to make some money and not rely on the allowance Mrs. Sohn gives him every month, and it’s not like you were that close to begin with, but the fact that the boy is now too busy to meet you is making your spirit fall just the tiniest bit. And with your mother always being at work, you find yourself alone in your room, laying in your bed and staring at the ceiling. 

Sometimes, you journal. About anything and everything, really. You don’t really think you’re ever gonna read back the entries once you’re older, since they would just be a reminder of how miserable and boring your teenage years really were, and that’s why you allow yourself to be authentic. On most days, you write about your assignments for school. Sometimes you bad mouth a classmate or two– gossiping with the diary pages, because you don’t really have any human beings to do so in real life– and seldom, you allow yourself to get into topics that evoke the slightest bits of existential crisis in you.

Topics like college. Growing up. Your lack of hobbies and social interaction with the outer world. The newly found crush on Eric Sohn…

Okay, maybe you do write about the boy with brown hair and dark eyes a little too often. You can’t help it, though– when he’s not giving you any new interactions to dwell on, you have to just pick apart the old ones. You think it’s a natural reaction.

And that’s exactly what you’re doing one October afternoon, the lamp in your room on, since the evening comes faster when the weather is colder, as you’re laying in your bed and kicking your feet back and forth, chewing on the end of your pencil. The sound of your doorbell resonates through the house suddenly and startles you, making you jump awake from your delirious delusions.

Mentally going through the list of possible visitors you could have– because it can’t be your mother or your brother, since they never forget to carry their house keys– you’re lost, not really finding any fitting candidates. Furrowing your brows, lost in thought and frankly, a bit confused, you plant your socked feet onto the wooden floor and walk over to the front door just in time for the bell to ring again. Scratching the back of your neck in nerves, thinking of precautions you could take for your own safety– since your front door doesn’t have a peep hole and you don’t want to open the door to a complete stranger– you clear your throat and yell over the door.

“Who is it?” you ask.

“Delivery!” a voice calls through the door, making you huff. 

“I didn’t order any food?” you yell back, confused. “Sir, there’s another house behind ours, sometimes the mailmen get confused and we get their mail. Maybe try there?” 

“The address is right, though?” the voice calls again, and somehow, it sounds kind of familiar… no, it can’t be, you dumb goose. You’re just imagining things because you’ve spent the last 20 minutes writing about the curve of his nose into your diary.

“There must be a mistake-”

“Come on, Y/N, open the door,” the voice on the other side mourns, the mention of your name making you jump, completely startled. The tone the man says it in is sweet like honey, though, so familiar in your ears, that you mentally want to slap yourself– so you weren’t dreaming. It is him.

Dragging your hand through your hair to smooth it down, praying you look at least a little presentable– although in your stained sweatpants and the Pokémon shirt you inherited from Sunwoo when he grew out of it, you doubt that’s even possible– you open the door and try to offer Eric a warm smile. “What are you doing here?”

“Food delivery,” Eric shrugs, pointing with his thumb in the direction behind his back, where his bike undoubtedly stands up against your gate.

“Oh…. but I already told you I didn’t order anything,” you mumble, confused. Studying his face– because a girl can indulge when she has the opportunity, am I right? – you notice his hair has grown a little longer, falling into his eyes. You bet it’s hard for him to see, but you must admit it looks nice, and you almost tell him, before you catch yourself and break away from the sentiment. 

The male snickers. “I know, I was just joking,” he says, “I did bring you food, though.”

“Why?” you ask, confused when he bends over and picks up a plastic bag off the ground, a container of food inside, the warmth of the contents making condensation appear all over the red sack. 

“We made this by mistake and it was just gonna be thrown out if nobody took it,” he shrugs, “and I figured you haven’t eaten yet– or if you did, you just had those cold kimbap rolls from the store– and I wanted to get some warm food into your stomach.”

“Ah,” you gasp, nodding at the explanation. It does explain the source of the food really well, but truthfully, it explains nothing about the fact why Eric thought of bringing you the food instead of taking it home with himself– he’s a foodie if you’ve ever seen one. The idea of him worrying about if you were fed or not is equally as strange and interesting in your head– still, you clasp your hand around the bag and take it, the smell making you involuntarily hungry. “Thank you.”

Eric only nods at you, a smile beaming at his face. “Well,” he sighs, “I’d love to stay longer and hang out, but I’m still on the clock, so…” he mumbles, taking a hesitant step backwards towards his bike, eyes never breaking contact with yours.

“Oh, right,” you nod, “that’s okay. Have a fun day at work!” you muse, watching him as he grins and finally retrieves back his bike, opening up the gate to your property and escaping, waving at you as he gets on.

“I’ll see you soon!” he calls as he rides off, your eyes following him until his figure disappears behind a corner, your ears buzzing with excitement and your lower lip trapped between your teeth with the innocent promise.

Walking back into the house, you grin as you close the front door behind you and carry the food into the kitchen. You quickly get the containers out of the damp bag, putting them onto the wooden table, and gasp when you find a sticky note on the very top one, a messy handwriting scribbled in a rush, but stuck to the food with care.

Eat well and don’t skip meals, Y/N-ie!! – Eric x

Not being able to battle your smile anymore, you decide to open up the containers and stuff your mouth with the food instead– only to find your favorite dish inside, staring back at you in what seems to be a dream that’s too good to wake up from. 

And sure, you are delusional, but are you delusional enough to believe that this wasn’t all a coincidence? You’re not so sure.

Still, you eat the food with feet kicking back and forth as you sit in the silent kitchen, the empty house no longer feeling so lonely. When you’re done, you throw the trash out– everything but the sticky note, which you glue into your diary a few minutes later, hoping to keep the memory forever.

NOVEMBER OF 1999

The world around you is dark as you step outside of cram school, your eyes are tired and your skin is prickled with goosebumps in the chilly air. You despise going to cram school, but your mother told you you have to– since you didn’t have any athletic features that could get you far in life like Sunwoo, you had to be good at studying, or else you won’t get into university. There was a lot of work ahead of you, but since you didn’t really have anything else to do in the day, you didn’t protest and went anyway.

The days are usually very long and you get off very late, resulting in you being tired almost all the time. When you get home, you undress yourself and change into your sleep clothes and doze off until the morning, when you have to wake up and go to school again– it’s an exhausting cycle, but you know you have to endure it for your own sake.

Walking down the steps that lead out the cram school building, you stretch your body and huff, cursing at yourself for the fact that you didn’t bring a jacket– you forgot that evenings get really chilly, and frankly speaking, you didn’t have much time to think when you were rushing to get ready in the morning. You’ll just have to get through it, you think to yourself as you walk in the direction of your house– the last bus to your neighborhood already left an hour ago, when you were in the middle of revising division– your sneakers kicking the stray rocks below your feet as you tug the sleeves of your hoodie lower, desperately trying to feel more heat.

“Do you never watch where you’re going? That’s gonna get you in trouble one day, you know,” you hear a familiar voice say, the joking tone making your heart skip a few beats as you place the owner of the saccharine voice to its face. Looking up, slightly alarmed at being caught in such a distressed state, you gasp.

“I was… watching my step, I guess,” you shrug as you come into a halt in front of him, shivering both under Eric’s gaze and the cold weather at once. “What are you doing here? Deliveries?”

“I just got off,” he says, “so I figured I could stop by. Sunwoo said you’re going to cram school, I thought you might enjoy some company on your way home.”

Gaping at his explanation, you nod, completely startled. The idea of your brother talking about you in front of Eric, the boy you have a very embarrassing, very big crush on scares you, to say the least. See, it doesn’t really matter that the boy grew up with you, pretty much seeing you at your lowest whenever he was around over at your house when you were both just little kids– the image of Sunwoo telling Eric about finding you sobbing at your comic book (the scene got too sad, nobody can really blame you) or about how your favorite jeans ripped right before you had to go to school one morning is terrifying. You don’t really want him to know about these things. He may act like your brother sometimes, but you never really saw him in that light in the first place.

“Well, then,” you clear your throat, “it’s… it’s good to see you,” you say. Eric shows you his boyish grin as your lips utter out the words, and you can’t help but mirror it, your eyes locking with the male. As if you just took a step back, your eyes see him in a light you’ve never seen him before– as if this was your first time meeting your brother’s best friend– and something about the sentiment has your stomach feeling all uneasy, heat rushing to your face. His hair is styled in a way that tells you that he didn’t really style it (or if he did, it looked truly effortless in your eyes, so props to him), pushed back a little and revealing his forehead, a few of the strands carelessly falling into his eyes. His jawline is sharper than how it was when you first met the boy, and with the realization of a foolish teenage girl, you have to admit that Eric Sohn grew up to be a very attractive, attentive man.

“You’re cold?” he says, although the sentence sounds more like a statement rather than a question, before he shakes his head at your antics and heaves out a sigh. “You should’ve taken a jacket with you when you went, you know it gets cold in the evening,” he scolds you. In those times, he reminds you the most of your brother– because although you and Sunwoo act like you hate each other sometimes, you know the older male still cares about you. He just hates showing it, which translates in his scolding tone whenever you do something wrong or against his wishes. 

In those times, Eric reminds you the most of the way your brother treats you, and you somehow hate it. You despise the fact, because that means he must only see you as someone like his younger sister– he never had one, so maybe he just likes to compensate for it by taking care of you all the time. Maybe he feels responsible to do so because of Sunwoo. The thought makes you equally as nauseous– you’d never want him to hang out with you just because he feels like he has to. 

“I didn’t have time in the morning,” you grunt, rolling your eyes at him. You avert your gaze from the male, for it makes you slightly uncomfortable after your previous thoughts, so when the noise of a zipper being pulled down and the weight of fabric on your shoulders brings you back to reality, you snap your head around at him all alarmed. 

“What? Wear it,” he says, head shrugging towards the direction of his jacket on your figure. “You’re gonna catch a cold if you don’t.”

Trying to wrestle out of the red material, you squirm in the hold of the windbreaker– Eric’s hands gripping each side of the jacket, as if predicting your next moves, making sure it stays on you and doesn’t fall down. His strong arms tug you closer to him to make your fight more difficult– and he’s successful with his efforts, because the proximity of him and his smell engulfs you and unarms you, heat rushing to your cheeks as you halt in your movements.

“Stop,” you mourn, “I don’t need it.”

“Yes you do,” he insists, “so stop being a baby about it and wear it.”

Staring into his eyes, as if to mentally tell him to stop what he’s doing– to stop how he’s treating you, how he’s making you all weak in your knees and sleepless at nights because of how much you think of him and hope he’s doing well each day, to stop being so gentle with you and taking care of you, because it brings all sorts of both doubts and delusions into your head– but he doesn’t back down. You’ve known him for quite some time, you should already be aware of just how stubborn he can be.

“Arms in,” he hums, holding on to the jacket and waiting for you to wear it properly. One thing about you– you can always admit your defeat. So, with a sigh, you put your arms through the sleeves of Eric’s red windbreaker, shrinking a little under his firm gaze. He looks at you with a look full of something you can’t decipher, and it’s all making you so, so insanely lost in the many thoughts and feelings swirling around your head, not helping your current state.

“I already have a brother, y’know,” you mumble in a moment of weakness, looking at your feet– your dirty white sneakers almost touching his from how close you are standing right now, “so you should stop treating me like one.”

A moment of silence overtakes you two, and you suddenly feel like you’ve done something wrong. Still, Eric’s hands are holding on to the sides of the opened jacket, keeping you close to him. “Hm?” 

Clearing your throat and shaking your head, you snicker to yourself. “Forget it.”

“No- I mean,” he blurts out, tone of voice a little nervous, “do you see me as your brother figure?” he asks, tone of voice more quiet now, more gentle.

Breathing in the crispy air, taking a moment before you reply, you shake your head in disapproval. “No,” you say, “no, I don’t. I- I don’t think I do,” you say, scared of what your answer will bring out of him. You don’t really know why, but at this moment, you feel insanely fragile– as if any bad move could make you break in his hands, waiting for him to glue you back together. 

Metaphorically, he does just that. “Good,” he nods, leaning down towards you, hands gripping the zipper of his jacket and zipping it together, making sure no cold can get to your bones as his fingers tug it up towards the very top, under your chin. “Because I’ve never seen you as my sister either.”

His answer once again startles you– but when you take a step back from the situation, you think it was in a good way. His hands grip your shoulders for a second as his eyes meet yours and he offers you a warm smile. “Come on, let’s get you home,” he says, tugging you towards the fence where you find his bike, his motions guiding you like a rag doll sucked out of all life.

“Hop in,” he motions towards the back of the bike, where the basket would usually be– Eric moved it towards the front, though, leaving enough room for you to sit at– and as you do, he takes a seat in front of you and looks back at you over his shoulder. “Hold on tight so you don’t fall.”

Like in a trance, your arms sneak around his middle– this was the first time you had this kind of physical touch with him, and just the thought of it makes you want to scream your throat out– before the male takes off on the bike, riding towards your neighborhood. With the cold wind slapping your face, you foolishly rest your cheek on his shoulder blade and close your eyes, enjoying the closeness of his body keeping you warm. 

If anyone asked you about the action, you’d tell them you were just tired.

DECEMBER OF 1999

Socked feet make their way through the room, the sound of footsteps resonating on the laminated floor, as the short male comes up to you with a bowl of potato chips in his right hand and a bottle of soda under his left arm. Eric Sohn sighs at you, shaking his head in disbelief, before he places the items onto the coffee table and takes a seat next to you on the floor, opening up the bottle and pouring the three of you drinks.

“Can’t believe I’m spending New Year’s Eve with you losers, of all people,” Eric snickers, having you roll your eyes at the male and grumpily furrow your eyebrows at his sentence.

“No one’s stopping you if you wanna go, y’know,” you grunt as you take the filled glass off the table, taking a sip of the sweet drink and sighing at him. If he’s gonna take a leap into the new year with you while making you annoyed, he may as well leave now and do whatever his initial plan was– once again, no one’s stopping him if that’s what he wants to do.

“I’m just saying,” he shrugs, “it would’ve been so much more fun if we all went to Juyeon hyung’s. Everyone’s there celebrating, but we’re stuck here in your room.” 

“Well, Eric,” your brother smiles ironically at him, shrugging to himself, “it’s not like it’s my fault you’re not over at Juyeon hyung’s right now. You chose to spend the new years here with me. My mother prohibited me from going there, not yours.”

The argument has the male shrug, his eyes averting your brother’s gaze once his comment gets a bit too honest and realistic. It’s true and he’s right– it’s not like Eric’s mum told him he can’t go celebrate with his friends, because she didn’t. Eric’s mum trusts him and wants him to have fun and do what all the kids his age are doing. Your mum, on the other hand, is making you and Sunwoo stay home for New Year’s Eve to celebrate with your family, because, as she quoted, New Year’s Eve the only time she gets time off work, and she wants to spend it with her kids– forget the fact that you’re currently sitting locked in your room with your friend, protesting the family time just because you can– and when Sunwoo told her she has to stop treating him like a little kid, she told him she has all the right to do so, because he is her kid. And that’s how the party he was supposed to attend with Eric (the party you foolishly thought you’re gonna have to tag along to, not hating the sentiment as much as before now) got canceled from your brother’s plans.

“Well,” Eric chews on the inside of his cheek, “I did it for you two. Be grateful.”

“Whatever,” you hum, “let’s turn on the TV. I bet there’s some variety show on.”

Eric heaves out a sigh as he reaches for the TV remote, clicking the power button and making the boxy device in front of you light up. Your mum got you a TV in your room when you complained about being too bored one November day, and although the box of entertainment didn’t really help like you imagined it to, you’re glad it’s of service at least today. Instead of the expected variety show, though, there’s news on– the face of the old announcer looking at you with a serious look on his face, the professional tone making chills run down your spine, for he reminds you a bit of your mother when she scolds you. You think that’s a common news announcer trait. 

“As the year 2000 approaches, computer programmers realize that computers might not interpret the 00 in the software as 2000, but 1900. The softwares currently running only use a two-digit code for the year, excluding the 19. The data was excluded because the data storage is costly and takes up too much space. Activities that were planned on a daily basis could be damaged or flawed,” the announcer says, making the three of you look at the screen with interest. Maybe it’s true that when you get older, you get more interested in news– you think it’s good to know what’s going on around you, although the topic discussed right now might not even concern you in the slightest.

“Banks, which calculate the interest rates on a daily basis, could face real problems. Interest rates are the amount of money a lender, such as a bank, charges a customer, such as an individual or business, for a loan. Instead of the rate of interest for one day, the computer could calculate a rate of interest for minus almost 100 years!” 

“Oops,” Eric lets out next to you, a reaction so far away from what a real adult would think of the situation. See, you are all just kids, after all.

“Centers of technology, such as power plants, are also threatened by this issue. Power plants depend on routine computer maintenance for safety checks, such as water pressure or radiation levels. Not having the correct date could throw off these calculations and possibly put nearby residents at risk,” the announcer continues, the information coming out of his mouth suddenly making you hyper aware of the reality you’re experiencing right now.

“Do we have a nuclear power plant nearby?” you ask in a hushed whisper, watching as the men next to you almost comically widen their eyes, shrugging.

“I’m not sure,” Sunwoo peeps.

“The worst of all, this software and hardware issue could cause such a big problem in nuclear energy facilities, where nuclear bombs and missiles could be set off, causing the world to go into utter chaos, or worse, an end,” the announcer concludes, the last word making you gasp in terror. 

“An end?” you chirp, sitting up straight in your seat as you look at the two men, now equally as terrified. There’s something in Sunwoo’s gaze that makes chills run down your spine, the reality crushing down on you with heavy measures. 

“I knew I shouldn’t have fought with mum. What if the last words the two of us exchanged before we die are the harsh words I had said yesterday?” your brother mourns, seeing as his best friend chews on his bottom lip, lost in thought.

“What did you say to your mum?”

“That- that I’ll never forgive her for ruining this for me,” he mumbles, his voice breaking at the end, “and… other things,” he adds, the hint of incoming panic making his best friend frantically wave his hands around and try to make your brother relax before he has to deal with the breakdown. If the world is ending, this is not how any of you want to go.

“It’s okay, don’t worry,” Eric says, clearing his throat and pointing to the TV, “look! The show is on, we should watch before the year ends,” he proposes, taking the remote into his hand and turning the volume up to hopefully drown out Sunwoo’s thoughts and have him focus on something else. And it works– noting that your brother has an attention span of a 5 year old– he can hardly remember what he was worrying about just 30 seconds ago.

Still, the thought keeps bouncing around your head like a child in a bouncy castle. The words of the news anchor keep repeating in your brain, making your ears ring as you look at Eric from the corner of your eye, watching his angelic face. Oh how you hate disturbing the peace now that you’ve all calmed down– but still, you can’t deal with the worries alone. Checking the clock hung above the TV, noticing there’s at least 5 minutes left before midnight, you clear your throat, feeling your whole body on fire.

“Do you really think the world is gonna end?” you ask, cracking your knuckles in a nervous manner. Looking at Eric, pupils shaking, you find your brother’s best friend seemingly lost in thought. The music of the variety show program serves you three as a background sound now, none of you paying attention to the TV anymore, instead, focusing on all the things you've done wrong in your life and how somehow, this feels like karma for all of it.

“I dunno,” Sunwoo shrugs, “I mean- they said it’s possible! It was on the news, and they wouldn’t lie on the news…” he nervously mumbles, scratching the back of his head. 

“That’s what’s worrying me,” you sigh, “we shouldn’t have turned on the TV.”

“It was your idea in the first place!”

“And I’ll carry the burden into my grave,” you admit, gulping as you press a forced smile onto your lips.

Momentarily looking back at the TV, you desperately want to keep the thought of the world being over out of your head before you spend your last minutes on this earth going crazy– but now that you started, you can’t keep thinking about it. “Man, the world can’t end yet. There’s so many things I haven’t tried yet! I’m too young to die!”

The men don't reply to that– you presume they’re too busy trying to find other things to occupy themselves with instead of the inevitable– which has you dissatisfied as you throw your body back into the sofa, heaving out a sigh. Seconds go by painfully slow but also painfully fast at the same time, given the circumstances, as you listen to the cheerful song playing in the background and nudge your friend into his upper arm with your pointer finger, feeling his arm encircle your shoulders and pull you closer to him. The contact of his fingers on your upper arm makes you squirm and break out into a smile, feeling a particular lightness in your stomach at the action, a sensation that has you in shock. 

“I’m gonna talk with mum before we die,” Sunwoo suddenly calls as he stands up from his seat on the floor, sighing to himself, “I can’t go with the thought of her being upset with me,” he sentimentally adds before he’s out of the door, rushing towards the living room.

The space falls into momentary silence now that your brother is gone, having you chew on your bottom lip with nerves. You think now is the time to beg for forgiveness with the higher forces– I'm sorry for not studying well. I'm sorry for being rude and ungrateful towards my mum. I'm sorry for being greedy– when the sound of Eric’s voice resonates through the place as he speaks up again, waking you up from the anxious slumber, the clock now striking 2 minutes before midnight. “What would you wanna do before you die?” he asks.

The question is simple. You presume he wants simple answers– things like getting into college, getting a good job and making a lot of money, growing old– but as you lean away from him and get back to your place on his left, your eyes locked with his, you’re left clueless. There are so many things you have yet to achieve, and the idea of not being able to pushes a burden to your chest, but at this very moment, you can’t really name one. 

Shrugging, you chew on the inside of your cheek as your eyes scan his face. His firm eye contact has you a bit flustered, making you shrivel in your seat, and as the sound of the TV morphs from the song into a countdown from 55, you’re overwhelmed with the thought that your friend is insanely pretty– and he always has been, you just hated admitting it to yourself for the past few months, despite still being fully aware– and that now, when the world ends, you’re dying unkissed and alone.

Well, not completely alone, since Eric’s here. And he’s always been here– your whole life, since you can remember, and he’s here now as well, even though he should’ve been at Juyeon’s house. As the clock strikes 30 seconds away from midnight, your eyes involuntarily travel down to his chapped lips, all air knocked out of your lungs, the thoughts in your brain picking up on speed the closer you come to the end.

You’re dying soon. You’re dying in 30- now 29 seconds, and you’ve never kissed anyone before. You’re dying before you get a chance to hold hands with someone and have a partner, and you’re dying before you get a chance to tell Eric how you feel about him. There’s 28 seconds left until the end and you’re just staring at him like a coward, because you don’t really let yourself indulge in the silly warmth of your heart whenever you’re around your friend, but god, you can at least admit it to yourself before you die.

And as the clock gets closer and closer to midnight, now only giving you 20 seconds before it all ends and a missile lands on the top of your house, blowing up the whole town and making you all disappear, Eric’s question repeats itself in your brain. What would you want to do before you die?

The answer is suddenly painfully clear as you take action– leaning towards the boy on your right, face closer to his than it’s ever been before, your eyes counting all his eyelashes and focusing on his surprised, yet unmoving face– and as you hear the countdown reach 15, you close your eyes and press your lips against his. 

The contact makes you weak in your knees as your hands reach to his face to steady him, your own firework show erupting in your stomach, and suddenly you’re completely content with dying tonight– because at least you’re with Eric, at least you did something. You kiss your friend with something close to an unsaid confession, your lips staying on his throughout the rest of the countdown, the taste of soda you’ve both been drinking the whole evening mixing in the contact of your skin. You’re not sure you’re even doing this right– again, you’ve never kissed anyone before– but it doesn’t matter to you much as you let go of your worries, aware of the fact that in a few seconds, nothing will matter anymore when neither of you are going to be around to say anything to each other after the kiss is over.

The countdown rings in your ears– coming down from 5 as you scoot yourself closer to Eric, 4 as you run the pads of your thumbs along his cheekbones, 3 as you still in your movements, 2 as you notice your knees bumping into each other on the ground and finally, 1 as you get ready to die, kissing your first and only love– when the sound of cheers and fireworks from the TV fills your ears instead, the world around you stilling and completely unchanged.

Your kiss started in 1999 and ended in 2000. Your love for him passed a century.

Eyes fluttering open and your mouth letting go of his, the image of the boy with his lips slightly parted, eyes closed and cheeks rosy comes to you in the yellow light of your room, making your heart fall down to your stomach. He looks absolutely angelic, his hair slightly messy and the fabric of his shirt a little disheveled in the front, and even though you’d love to indulge in your foolish desires and kiss him some more, you’re quickly taken aback with the noise of the door to your room opening and making you jump away from Eric, your brother appearing out of thin air in the presence of your room. It serves you like a weird kind of reality check, Eric’s eyes opening and looking at your brother, and even though you two haven’t been caught, the male clears his throat and bites down on his lower lip, looking almost guilty.

Oh no. What have you done?

Suddenly, you feel insanely silly.

JANUARY OF 2000

“You’ve been awfully quiet the whole day,” Sunwoo mumbles from beside you, his whole body engulfed in a pile of snow, “not that I care, but are you okay?”

“I thought you liked it when I don’t talk,” you mutter, playing with the frozen white all around you, seated on the red plastic sled at the top of the hill. You got tired after dragging it up from the bottom, and when you noticed that the rest of Sunwoo’s friends– Eric included– are still on their way up, you figured you could use up the time to relax and sit around for a while. It’s been quite some time since all of Sunwoo’s friends gathered to hang out at the same time, which made you surprised to see that your own brother invited you to tag along with them as they decided to go sledding on the second day of January, using up their break to best of their abilities. Which is also why you didn’t say no to the invitation– you thought sitting at home and moping around wouldn’t help you much.

“I do,” he says, nodding, “that’s why I’m asking what’s up– so I know what to do when I need to shut you up later,” Sunwoo hums, making you roll your eyes at the masked worry.

Shaking your head in disbelief, you scoff. “It’s nothing.”

“Sure,” he shrugs, “so you’re just going through puberty?” he teases, to which you take a handful of snow into your palm and lunge the white at him, satisfaction running through your veins when the snowball lands into his unsuspecting face, the male coughing and swatting his arms around to defend himself.

“Hey!” your brother screams at you once he gets the ice out of his eyes and his mouth, his body jumping into a standing position before he chases you around, the bubble of a laugh escaping your throat for the first time these days– they’re not wrong when they say malicious joy is the best kind of joy.

Running at the top of the hill, not really looking where you’re going– instead looking over your shoulder to see Sunwoo’s actions, preparing yourself to duck if he decides to turn your small quarrel into a snow fight– your legs get tangled with the red sled you left before you started a war with the angered man, a yelp cutting out of your throat as you get prepared to fall over and knock your teeth out.

Your body comes in contact with something half-firm, half-soft, and as your feet slip and the snow-covered ground disappears from below your legs, two arms wrap around your waist and steady you, making sure you don’t get hurt.

Turns out Eric Sohn is there to catch you every time you are about to eat shit. You hate this kind of deja vu.

As you open your eyes (that you had closed on instinct, not wanting to see your own death) once you’re sure you’re safe and sound, the world around you invites itself into your ears in an overwhelming noise. The laughter of Sunwoo’s friends– some hollering at your fall, some at the redness and last remains of snow covering your brother’s face– and the hushed arguments over who’s going down first– with Haknyeon screaming that he’s stealing Sunwoo’s (yours) sled and Juyeon following him. After all those happening in the matter of a few seconds,  you realize you’re left on the top of the hill alone with the male, terror shaking through your insides.

Clearing your throat and taking a step back from him, you tuck your hands into your pockets and avert your gaze from Eric. You two haven’t spoken since you decided to kiss him on New Year’s Eve, and with the awkward tension in the air, you don’t feel like doing so ever again in your whole entire life. 

“Thanks,” still, you hum.

Eric seems a little more light-hearted than you, shrugging as he replies to you. “Haven’t I told you to start watching where you’re going?”

“I’m not good with listening sometimes,” you mutter, huffing. Taking a look around yourself– noticing that there are no sleds left on the top of the hill, therefore, if you wanted to escape the situation, the only way down would be to roll around like a human version of a snowman, you once again admit your defeat, standing around nervously and shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

The silence is uncomfortable. It makes you want to dig a hole in the snow and bury yourself alive, to suffocate under the weight of the icy cold and never see Eric’s face again. You know that you ruined whatever friendship you had with the male– by being stupid and foolish, not really thinking about consequences (because there were supposed to be none and you were supposed to be dead), and the weight of the guilt makes you want to puke and hide away. 

Still, Eric comes out of his way to talk to you. Honestly, you’re kind of surprised– he should be disgusted with you. Realistically, he should be the one avoiding you, not the other way around.“They’re gonna take long to walk back up,” he notes, “wanna get hot chocolate with me?”

“I’m good, thanks,” you shake your head, not once breaking eye contact with the overwhelming white of the hill.

“Come on,” he sighs, “it’s just around the corner. They built a hot chocolate stand because they knew kids would come sledding here. Honestly, it’s an astute business tactic, but I promise the hot chocolate actually tastes nice,” he says, nudging you slightly with his arm, as if to make you look at him and change your mind.

“Thanks, but no,” you definitely say, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“Are you avoiding me?” he asks, tone of voice casual– as if it was the most normal thing in the world, as if nothing ever happened and he was genuinely curious about the reasoning behind your actions.

“I’m not, I just don’t really like hot chocolate,” you sheepishly mutter, trying hard to avoid the topic.

“So you are avoiding me,” he hums, as if it wasn’t obvious before– and not only because you’re a bad liar. Plus, you love hot chocolate. Somehow, you think Eric knows.

“Look, Eric,” you sigh, running your hand through your hair, “can’t you just drop it?”

“No,” he shrugs, shaking his head, “and that’s why we’re talking about the reason why you’re avoiding me over a cup of hot chocolate. Let’s go.”

His persistence is terribly overwhelming sometimes. You wonder how the male does it. “I already told you-”

“You owe me for the stickers and the meal and everything,” he corners you, and you know you can’t argue with that. He’s kind of right, you suppose– you never paid him back for all the chocolates or for the free meal he brought you that one evening. And that’s exactly why you find yourself sighing as you follow him, mentally preparing yourself for the talk.

You hate how he can always get his way. Walking up to the stand, you crack your knuckles in the pocket of your jacket, nervously coming up with possible arguments to tell him. I didn’t kiss you on purpose, it was an accident. I only did it to know how it feels. We are both supposed to be dead, it’s not my fault the world didn’t end like it was supposed to! Each sentence sounds more stupid than the previous one, and so with that, you shake your head, wiping the thoughts away, smiling at the elderly lady in the stand. You’re just gonna have to be honest, you figure. 

“Two hot chocolates, please.”

Rummaging through your pockets to find your wallet– you do owe Eric, so it’s only natural for you to pay– you’re caught off guard as the male next to you swiftly takes out his own and unzips it, preparing to pay for you. 

“I thought I owed you?” you mumble, hand reaching to tug at his forearm to stop him, to which Eric only grins at you and sighs.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you have to pay,” he says.

“I think that’s exactly what that means.”

“Just take it,” he huffs as he brings out a note from his wallet, the force making something else fly out and fall to the ground with it, having the boy swiftly crouch down and pick the item up, attempting to hide it before you get a chance to see. And now, you don’t have 20/20 vision, but you recognise your face when you see it– that, and you also recognize the small white sheet to be a polaroid picture, and as far as you’re aware, you’re the only one who has a camera in his circle.

The boy hands you the drink with red-tinted cheeks. The idea of him carrying a picture of you that he took back in September makes you flush as well, and when your gloved fingers accidentally meet as you take the cup from him, he forces out a laugh. “We can talk about that after you tell me why you’re avoiding me.”

His nonchalance has you relaxing only for a few seconds. The boy walks with you as you try to heat up your cold hands on the boiling surface of the cup, and when you see a bench a few meters away from you two, you instinctively take a seat.

“So?” he becomes you, eyebrows rising as he takes a sip from the melted sweetness.

Sighing, you try to come up with the best way to go around this. Do you apologize? Do you promise to never do it again– and you won’t, even though you want to so badly and his lips look surprisingly soft today? Furrowing your brows at the war in your head, you place the cup on the bench next to you and put your head into your hands, hiding away from him when you realize the only way to do this is to be completely, utterly honest.

“I’m just so embarrassed, Eric.”

The only noise meeting your eardrums in the moment is the faint yelling of the crowd sledding in the background, your companion remaining quiet for a bit. When he sees you won’t explain yourself, he goes ahead and asks the question. “Why?”

“Do I really have to spell it out for you?” you sigh, not believing his so casual composure.

“Maybe,” he laughs, the airy sound taking all breath away from your lungs.

Well, not all of it, since you have enough oxygen to go on a tangent, it seems. “Because I kissed you, goddamnit. And- and I don’t even know why I did it, honestly, I’ve never thought of kissing you before! It’s just- when I heard the world is ending, I realized I hadn’t had my first kiss yet, and that just felt like such a miserable way to die, and then you asked what I wanted to do before I die and I couldn’t think of anything else,” you say, progressively taking out your head from your hands and facing the male, big eyes staring into his soul. 

To your surprise, he doesn’t seem mad. Or disgusted. Or any of the reactions you expected, really. Eric stares at you with a soft, but amidst a little star-struck look in his eyes, and you’re suddenly painfully aware of every slight shift in his composure.

“Did you kiss me because you wanted to kiss me, or because you thought the world was gonna end?” he asks, awaiting your answer.

And if you’re being honest, 2 days after New Year’s Eve, you do admit the thought of the world actually ending sounds a bit stupid. Why did you even believe that theory? Why did they talk about it so seriously on the news? They tricked you into ruining your own life. 

But still, nothing can be done about it now. “Both,” you admit, shrugging, “I… I kissed you because I really didn’t want to die unkissed, but also… I wanted it to be you, y’know? Like… I thought we were really going to die, and so I thought kissing you might be a nice way to go. I really wanted to spend my last moments with you, I guess,” you sheepishly say, averting your gaze from the male.

Eric offers you his silence again after you’re done explaining. While you do admit you feel a little tense to hear what he has to say, you also realize you feel lighter now that it’s out in the universe and out of your system. A major weight was taken off your shoulders with the confession, and suddenly, you’re kind of glad that your friend was so assertive and insistent on talking about this– who knows how long you’d go before managing to face him. You think you could honestly go on… forever.

Taking a sip of the luscious liquid, you feel your body warm up once the anxiousness slips away from your bones. The boy next to you hums, making you face him with expecting eyes. “Then why were you avoiding me?”

Sighing, you shake your head. “I just told you. I’m starting to think you’re the one that’s bad at listening.”

“No,” he laughs, “that’s still you. Because if you were good at listening, you’d remember me telling you that I’ve never once seen you as my younger sister.”

Shrugging, kicking the pile of snow in front of you with the tip of your winter boots, you’re not quite following. “So?”

“So you should’ve realized that I’m not doing all of this,” he theatrically swings his arms around, “for nothing, you know?”

“All of what?”

“Taking care of you. Feeding you, helping you collect those stupid animal stickers, walking you home…” he mumbles, sighing. “Keeping your picture in my wallet,” he adds with a playful tone, making you smile.

“I thought you were just being a good friend,” you shrug.

“I don’t keep a picture of your brother on me at all times,” he says, tugging off his gloves. The sleeve of his jacket rides up a little as you watch him take his cup of hot chocolate off the bench, surprised (and flooded with warmth) to see the ugly friendship bracelet you made still adorning his wrist.

Grinning to yourself, excitement welcoming itself into the tips of your fingertips, you shrug. “So?” you mirror your own question from a little while ago, wanting him to say it to you instead of relying on your own brain– you think there’s still a possibility of you just being too delusional to see the reality for what it really is. You need to make sure you’re not imagining things.

“So,” he starts, sighing to himself as he turns a little in his seat to face you, “you should stop avoiding me, because I liked the kiss. And you. And we should probably do it again, because I didn’t get the chance to kiss you back the first time,” he says, once again taking all oxygen out of your lungs with the casualty of his preposition.

Locking his eyes with you, having you two staring at each other like two rays of sunshine warming up the cold January, he grins. “How does that sound?”

“Good,” you breathe out, “very good.”

The male takes it as an invitation as he scoots himself closer to you on the bench, his body turning a bit to face you. His free hand cups your cheek, leaning closer to lock his lips with you like he asked you to, your eyes fluttering close at the proximity, the fuzzy feeling in your stomach already expecting to kiss him again. The situation feels a little too idyllic to be real, though– you should’ve expected it to get ruined again.

Something cold and wet comes into contact with the side of your face, and when you sharply open your eyes, you see Eric staring at you with shock and terror in his eyes, the snow dripping down the side of his face as well. Whoever threw the snowball has good aim, you think– managing to target two people at once (even though your faces were that close to each other that it probably wasn’t even that hard), and before you get a chance to look around and see who cut off your kiss, there’s a scream coming from the left side of the two of you, the sound of feet quickly darting in the snow landing into your ears.

“Eric Sohn, what the fuck do you think you’re doing with my sister?” the voice hollers, and before you get a chance to react, the said male fastly stands up from the bench and runs to the other direction, laughter resonating all throughout the place as Sunwoo and his friends chase their shortest friend down.

Snow starts falling as you watch your brother tail his childhood friend, and with a foreign sense of warmth, you get reminded of the birthday wish you made while blowing out the candles on your seventh birthday.

You wished for someone just like Eric. You didn’t know the universe would be so kind to give you him instead.

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - THERE IS SO MUCH ON RIGHT NOW, it's crazy-making!

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

July 2024 Week 1

Ongoing Series - Thai

Wandee Goodday (Sat YT) ep 10 of 12 - I am with Dee, noodles do solve everything. The brothers were SO GOOD together. I’m getting to really love a back drop in BL, it’s like the mic drop of gay boys smooching. This is such a good show. I had a big grin on my face while also crying a bit. Everything I want from a BL is happening right here, in front of my eyes.

Did they gloss over the trauma a bit? Yes. Do I care? No. I don't like dwelling in trauma in general, mine, friends, online, or in my BL.

The Rebound (Weds Gaga) ep 2 of 12 - All Thai mafia is gay… again. Yes, it’s still great. No, I have no idea why they’re dropping so many eps at once. That’s not normal for a Thai drama. But I’m not gonna complain except there’s a lot on right now. I like the side couple too. I also like Frank’s poor little rich kid side dish action. I mean, Meen is an ult for me, but Frank is giving excellent second lead syndrome. Suspiciously aggressive and a touch stalker, but I don’t mind a boy that sus if he that cute. And of course, with the mafia involved there is kidnapping.

Look, is this the best show currently airing? No. Which is why it slid a little in the standings. But that's only because Wandee hit it out of the park this week. Frankly, this may not be the best BL airing right now, but it’s the best BL for me.

Sunset X Vibes (Sat iQIYI) ep 4 of 12 - That oppa bit was fucking genius. (You get it right? If you don't, I can explain.) And I immediately adore the secretary character as a result (I typed that as "reslut" and that works too.) Pleased to have such a "rich man and his spoiled boy" dynamic it going already. A dynamic I am personally IRL familiar with from the 90s. Also, kiddies stop filming adults at play! Sheesh.

I pretty much love all the couples in this show. It’s lots of fun. SamYo’s cat and mouse thing is delightful. Meanwhile, the mains are so sweetly hesitant about kisses and everything (hilarious coming from this pair). I love them and their awkward first time, or whatever is going on.

Do you know what? After that "oppa" comment this lead pair makes me feel a little bit like I’m watching a gay K-drama, similar style of personalities and everything, even the random martial arts ability. And the outing. I'm getting Business Proposal vibes. Nothing wrong with that, I was weaned on K-dramas.

All in all, great episode.

My Stand-In (Fri iQIYI) ep 11 of 12 - Yet again I spent the entire episode saying "poor Joe" over and over again. This time I didn’t cry though.

The pat way to end this is to have Joe walk through that door and then wake up back when he was about to get into the motorcycle accident. So that none of it ever happened. I suppose we’ll see what they do next week but I hope it isn’t that.

We Are Cute (Weds iQIYI) ep 14 of 16 - Do you know what this friendship group reminds me of the most? The old Love Sick music club boys. This is just the college version... 10 years later. (Love Sick was one of the few shows where I mostly didn’t yell “no singing” at the screen (also Ingredients). In my defense, I didn’t know any better back then.)

As boyfriends, PhumPeem are even more puppy/cat paring. And I am even more delighted by it. And them. In fact, this show is ALL puppy/cat pairings. I’m not mad about it.

"I’m hugging you so you won’t feel hungry" is the weirdest pick up ever. But Phum is weird. 

This Love Doesn't Have Long Beans (Fri iQIYI) ep 1 of 8 - The PittBabe team behind a new restaurant set BL full of hidden agendas and starring my new favorites SailubPon. I’m reminded so much right off the bat of PokeTongue’s side dish couple in What’s Zabb Man. Interesting, considering that came from Pon’s former studio. Love the call out of obnoxious content creators (not to mention corporate property developers). I like the chef character, he’s nicely complex. In fact, so far I like most of the characters, it’s a good range of different personality types. The plot is a little contrived and complicated but I don’t mind because the characters are such fun.

The Trainee (Sun YouTube) ep 1 of 12 - Reported on this last week already but here's what I said:

Gun still looks like he’s just out of high school. Madness.

The set for the print shop reminds me of Mork’s dad’s place in ‘Cause He’s My Boy? I swear GMMTV has only 3 sets.

I wasn't looking forward to this show at all. Maybe I just needed more of a break from OffGun? Cooking Crush happened yesterday.

Whatever, because I was absolutely riveted by this first episode.

I’m enjoying The Trainee a lot. Like, a lot a lot. It's not higher up just because there is so much good content from Thailand airing right now.

My Love Mix-Up Th (Fri YT) ep 5 of 12 - Still a chaos muffin no matter which country. So earnest. So cute. Talking stage commence!!!

Love Sea (Sun iQIYI) ep 4 of 10 - I got so bored I started looking up ways to organize my sunglasses. Trash watch here.

Knock Knock Boys (Thurs Gaga) ep 6-7 of 12 - The exes are odd. I like that Latte finally got some backstory.

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

I Hear the Sunspot AKA Hidamari ga Kikoeru (Japan Weds Gaga) Ep 2 of 10 - I’m still enjoying this quite a bit. It’s paralleling the manga quite closely, which is nice. But it’s not gonna be a particularly exciting drama if this continues. The manga is rather quiet (pun intended to amuse not insult).

Takara's Treasure AKA Takara No Vidro (Japan Mon Gaga) ep 1 of 10 - Look, if some kid followed me to college and changed the whole course of his life because I was nice about his dead bird? I'd be skeeved as fuck too. It's odd and uncomfortable, in that way Japan loves. Visuals are on point but can't say I'm enjoying it as yet. Still, it is JBL, and so I am intrigued and open to all possibilities.

It's airing but...

The Last Time (Thai Fri YT?) - Convoluted story of loss and possible reincarnation or something. Can't find it.

OMG Vampire (Thai Sun ???) 10 eps - I've put the search on hold for and y'all can let me know if it's worth tracking down once it ends?

In case you missed it

Blue Boys finished it run. I like it quite a bit. This felt a lot like a Strongberry short series. It’s very curtailed and could’ve used some legs but I've been trained into ignoring that for Korean BL. Short has always been their thing. Essentially, two boys who were acquaintances in high school are reunited and it turns out always had crushes on each other. It’s definitely an extrovert meets introvert scenario, and this being Korea, they can’t resist a tiny love triangle in the eleventh hour. But it all came out fine in the end. It has great kisses and higher heat than is normal from Korea. All in all, a surprisingly charming offering. Recommended with some reservations around the brevity of plot and character development. 8/10 

The Time of Fever AKA Unintentional Love Story 2 (Korea movie) trailer released to Korean theaters 5/25. HoTae & DongHee, side couple from Unintentional Love Story are back! Same actors, same character names. I love them. Devastated this hasn't had international distribution. I demand you tell me the moment you find it!

Next Week Looks Like This:

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

July Releases to Come

7/10 Century of Love (Thai Gaga) 10 eps - trailer here, DaouOffroad are back, this time as fated mates in a quasi historical paranormal moment. San has spent many lifetimes waiting for his lost beloved, to reincarnate from her death a century ago. But if he fails to find her within this century's time window, he will succumb to a tragic death. And this time she's a boy. Very much Director Who Buys Me Dinner meets First Love Again, hopefully better than both. I love this pair and think they can handle the premise, it's whether the storytelling is up to the challenge. I'm curious to see but I have reservations.

7/24 I Saw You in My Dream (Thai Weds WeTV) - Dee Hup is behind this one so I have high hopes. Younger boy chronically teased his whole life by the older boy next door suddenly starts having horrific prophetic dreams about his bully and must save hime.

7/26 4 Minutes (Thai Netflix or iQIYI?) - Great is a university student from Faculty of Business and the son of a wealthy business owner. Out of the blue, he gains the supernatural power to see four minutes into the future.

7/29 Battle of the Writers (Thai ????) - trailer here, TutorYim return and while I adore them, I really hope this is better than Middleman's Love. Won't be hard. However: that premise! Ugh. Something something authors fighting - save me. Why don't writers understand that nothing is more boring than writers?

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

Product placement du jour! Also the only product placed in a BL that I regularly enjoy myself.

Yes I cried. I'm a sap.

The faens in the wive's positions! So cute.

All Wandee

(Last week)

Streaming services are listed by how I (usually) watch, which is with a USA based IP, and often offset by a day because time zones are a pain.

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @sunflower-positiiivity @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire @mestizashinrin @bl-bam-beyond @small-dark-and-delicious @saezurumurmurs

Sigh, Tumblr in it's infinite wisdom doesn't like too many tags.

There's these tricks, remember.

[janeyseymour]

Unexpected- pt 2

Part 1.

Summary: Melissa is nothing if not caring through the rest of your pregnancy.

WC: ~3.65k

Since you and Melissa have reconciled, things have been moving quickly between the two of you. You’ve had the discussion that this cannot be some little fling- that if she’s serious about being with you, she has to mean it. She assures you that you’re all she wants- you tell her the same. But that doesn’t stop those doubts that you aren’t it for her from coming into your head, especially now that your body really is starting to change and grow. You have the smallest bump that is really only visible if you wear a tighter shirt.

You’re examining yourself in the mirror one day after school while Melissa is in your apartment getting dinner together (you’re craving chicken nuggets and broccoli with peanut butter, to which she looks at you with disgust; she shrugs though and promises you she’ll get it together while you go take a well-deserved nap after the day you had with the kids). Your bump isn’t really all that big right now, but you’ve seen pictures of your mom carrying you. If her pregnancy is anything to go by, you’ll be huge by the end of this. And… you’re not sure you’re ready for that. Your emotions get the best of you, yet again, and you burst into loud and aggressive sobs.

Down the hall, Melissa hears. Her heart breaks- she knows that you’ve been wildly hormonal, and she hates seeing and hearing you so upset. The redhead makes her way towards your cries, and she finds you holding up your shirt looking in the mirror as you sob.

“Oh, hun,” she sighs softly as she pulls you into her arms. The sobs that shake your body only make her hold you tighter. “Sweetheart, what’s goin’ on?”

“I’m- I’m gonna g-get so f-fat from this kid!” you wail. “And then, you’re gonna- you’re gonna leave me!”

Melissa sighs. Not this talk again. “Baby, how many times do I have to tell you that isn’t going to happen? I’m not leaving, ever. You’re mine.”

“But how can you be so sure?” you cry into her chest.

She turns you around in her arms so you can see yourself in the mirror. You instinctively try to turn away, but she holds you in your place as her hands wander down to your stomach. She kisses your temple, and then your cheek, and then she cranes her neck to kiss your lips. “Because have you seen yourself? You’re… stunning. And you aren’t going to get fat, you’re going to be growing a baby. That is such a beautiful thing.”

I’m going to be huge,” you groan as you wipe at your tears aggressively. “My back already hurts, and my rings already barely fit… and I’m barely four months in!”

“You’re already almost halfway there, and you’re so small now as it is,” your girlfriend tells you as her hands trail away from your stomach and to your back. She gently starts massaging your lower back, and you practically melt into her touch. “And when you do pop, who cares? You’re still you, you’re still gorgeous, and you’re still doing something that is so beautiful: creating a life. And I promise you, Y/N, I’m gonna be here for all of it.”

“Even when I’m a bitch, and I get fat, and when I’m in labor and cursing and yelling at you?”

“Yes,” she chuckles softly as she kisses away your tears. “I told you, I’m in this.”

“I know,” you whisper. “I’m sorry… I just got emotional. You know I’ve never had the best outlook on my body, and I- it still gets to me sometimes.”

“I get it,” she nods along. “But I’ll always be right here to tell you that you are absolutely gorgeous and I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Now, why don’t we go finish up dinner together, and then when that’s done, I can help work out some of the soreness in your back?” she suggests. 

You nod.

By the time you fall asleep that night, you’re feeling much better thanks to your girlfriend’s words and her magical touch.

—

Now that you’re in your second trimester, you’re body is changing and growing, and Melissa is always there to help soothe the not so nice thoughts that haunt you.

You’re out shopping for maternity clothes because you’ve started to show a bit more. You’ve been putting this off, and she finally told you that maybe you should consider buying some maternity clothing because you can’t keep wearing the same pair of jeans with a hair tie to extend the button any further.

“You think I’m getting fat?” you look at her with anger.

“Honey, I never said that,” Melissa sighs. You’ve been in this mood lately where anything she says is somehow equated to something bad about you. You’re trying to pick a fight at this point, and she knows that whatever she says will set you off, but she still tries. “You’re body is just growing to accommodate the little peanut, and I think you would be more comfortable in stretchier things as opposed to trying to squeeze.”

“So I’m getting fat,” you fold your arms over your (significantly bigger than usual) chest. “You know what? Fuck this.”

You storm off to your room, and she rubs at her temples. Melissa has been walking on eggshells with you lately, and she can only hope that your moods will start to subside, and quick. After leaving you to stew for about five minutes, she follows you into your bedroom and wraps her arms around you.

“Are you feeling better?”

You nod as you lean against her. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” she promises you as she kisses your temple. “Better me than your kids.”

Along with your growing and changing body, your mood swings are at an all time high, and… unfortunately for you, so is your sex drive. Just one look at her, and you’re craving her. Sometimes, you have to wake her up in the middle of the night to help… get rid of those feelings. She doesn’t mind, but you know that it’s wearing her down a bit waking up two times every night to take care of you. She hopes that your absolutely insane sex drive will simmer down at least a little bit, but she’s happy that she gets to be the one to help take care of you in those moments. She jokes with you that you are insatiable. And you are, always asking for more. 

—

You’re about twenty-three weeks along when you feel the baby kick for the first time.  You’ve felt little flutters here and there, but this is one that you very much feel. You’re sitting in the staff lounge in the morning while Melissa makes your tea when it happens. You let out a soft gasp, and she’s immediately at your side.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay? Is it the baby?”

“It kicked,” you say softly as you lay your hand over where the baby had kicked you. “I felt it.” You take her hand in your own and place it on your stomach. Almost immediately, you feel another little kick, and you look to your girlfriend to see if she could also feel it.

You know she can, because her eyes almost immediately well with tears. “Wow. That- That’s the baby.”

“Yeah,” you whisper as you lean in and kiss her cheek. “That’s our baby.”

When everyone else comes in, there a bit thrown by the emotion the second grade teacher is showing.

“What’s wrong?” Barbara asks quietly.

“Nothin’,” Melissa replies softly, her hand still on your ever-growing stomach. “Felt the baby kick, is all.”

The solemn face that the kindergarten teacher has is replaced with a grin as she claps her hands together joyfully. “Oh, now that is wonderful to hear.”

—

As you continue to grow in size, Melissa is always doing everything she can for you to make you more comfortable- both at school and at home.

At school, the redhead kicks Mr. Morton off the couch in the break room when you need to lay down and take a nap during lunch periods- glaring around the room and daring anyone to wake you. She takes over your recess duties so you don’t have to freeze your ass off or be on your feet for too long. Melissa has Ashley make all of your copies for you so you don’t have to run back and forth to the office. The second grade teacher makes sure that your tea mug is always full, and that you’re always stocked up on the food that you’re craving that week, even if it goes against everything she believes in food wise. 

And at your apartment, the redhead has taken over cleaning. She pretty much has you sitting on the couch with your feet up at any given moment, claiming that you overexert yourself at school with the kids as it is and you need to take it easy. You always roll your eyes and tell her that you’re pregnant, not broken. She just hums and kisses you before continuing on with her cooking and cleaning. At night, Melissa massages your shoulders, rubs anti-stretch mark cream over your stomach, and works out the soreness in your feet. That often to leads to quite a few rounds of sex, and when it comes time to turn in for the night, she’s spooning you, her arm draped around you and kissing your temple. For someone who’s pregnant, you’d say you’re sleeping pretty damn comfortably with your girlfriend around. 

—

It doesn’t hit you until you’re around thirty-two weeks pregnant that you haven’t put together any sort of baby registry, haven’t thought about a nursery… how could you let that slip your mind? Pregnancy brain was really getting the best of you as of lately- it actually has this entire pregnancy.

“Shit,” you groan to yourself as you lay in bed, exhausted.

“You okay?” Melissa calls. You just groan in response. You hear her run into your room before you can open your eyes. “Babe, are you-”

“I’m fine,” you sigh as you roll onto your other side. “I just realized I haven’t planned any sort of thing for a registry, or a baby shower, or… God, I’m an idiot.”

“No you aren’t,” your girlfriend kisses your head and starts to prop you up. She situates herself behind you and starts rubbing at your back. “It slipped your mind, and I knew it did, so I took care of it.”

“Took care of what?”

“The registry, and you can’t tell anyone I told you, but the Abbott crew is throwing a surprise baby shower for you,” the redhead says softly.

You turn to look at her in shock. “What?”

“I ain’t sayin’ nothin’ else so at least it’s a surprise as to when it’ll be,” Melissa smirks. She kisses you gently as she continues to work out the knots in your back.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” you whisper.

—

It’s two weeks later that you’re over at Melissa’s house in her bedroom watching a movie while she cleans her house. After, the two of you are supposed to be going to dinner, so you have one of the flower dresses on that the two of you bought.

Little do you know, the entire Abbott crew is quietly setting up your baby shower downstairs.

She comes up around four, asking if you’re awake and ready for dinner. You struggle to get out of the bed, but you smile at her once you’ve found your footing. “Peanut and I have been ready for three hours.”

“We had lunch three hours ago,” your girlfriend deadpans.

“I’m eight months pregnant,” you roll your eyes. “But yes, I’m ready.”

You start to make your way towards her, but she doesn’t come to hold your hand like she usually does. “What? Do I have bedhead?”

“No,” she says softly. “You look absolutely stunning.”

“We’re already dating, and you’re already considered the second mother to my child,” you chuckle. “No need to flatter.”

“I’m serious, babe,” Melissa reaches forward and pulls you in as close as she can. “You are… the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

You kiss her gently before reaching for the bedroom door to head down the steps. She holds your hand the whole way down, and as you reach the bottom step, you hear a chorus of, “Surprise!”

You instinctively jump, not ready for that, and your eyes flit up to see that Melissa’s downstairs is decorated beautifully and the entire Abbott crew is standing there with smiles on their faces.

“Oh my god,” you whisper to yourself, hands cupping your mouth. “What- how?”

“You thought we weren’t going to celebrate the newest member of the Abbott family?” Ava asks you. “C’mon, now.”

You turn to Melissa. “You weren’t really cleaning, were you?”

“Considering you came in to this house a few hours ago and none of this was set up, no. I was helping pull off the best baby shower for my best girl.”

It’s a small little get together, but you wouldn’t ask for it any other way. It’s beautiful, it’s simple, it’s perfect.

When it’s time for gifts, Barbara pulls out a rocking chair from one of the closets, and it has a bow on it. “This is from Gerald and me,” she tells you. “I found having a rocker was one of the best things.”

You open present after present, each of your coworkers absolutely spoiling you and your future baby.

Once you’ve made your way through the various bags and boxes, you grin at them all with tears in your eyes. “Thank you… thank you all so much.”

“There’s one more gift,” Melissa tells you gently. “But we have to go upstairs for it.”

“What?” you ask. “Guys, we really don’t need anything else.”

Melissa insists though, and everyone makes their way up the steps towards the second bedroom that your girlfriend uses for an office.

“The office?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

The redhead turns the doorknob and pushes open the door. It’s no longer her office, but it’s instead a nursery.

“Surprise?” she says nervously.

You walk in, and tears pour down your face as you see the small little touches that everyone has put into the baby’s nursery. 

“How did you guys-” you cut yourself off as a choked out sob comes out. Immediately, all of your coworkers turn concerned. “Happy tears,” you whisper. “Really, really happy tears.”

The Abbott crew looks relieved at that, and you continue to look around.

“It took us… quite some time to put this together,” Melissa admits. “But we all pitched in to do our best for you and baby.”

“I’d say you did pretty damn well,” you let out a watery chuckle. You hug her tightly before pressing your lips against her own.

“There’s one more surprise that comes with this one though,” your girlfriend pulls away from you just slightly.

“And that would be?”

“Barb?” Melissa turns to her work wife for a brief second, and when she turns around, she has a ring box in her hand. She gets down on one knee and opens the box. Inside is the most beautiful ring you think you’ve ever seen.

“I told you when we first got together that you’re all I want,” the redhead says quietly. “Told you I was in this for the long run, and I meant it.”

“I thought you didn’t want to get married again,” you whisper.

“I told you it would take an absolute freaking miracle for me to get married again,” she corrects you. “And you’re that miracle for me… you and peanut. Marry me?”

You nod immediately, tears once again taking over. There are cheers behind you, but all that you see and care about is the woman in front of you as she stands and kisses you soundly. Her free hand makes its way to your belly, and she can feel a flutter against it.

“Baby’s happy we’re getting married too,” you laugh as you pull away. 

She slips the ring onto your finger, promising that you’ll get it resized once you aren’t pregnant anymore.

“If you couldn’t tell, this was also my way of asking you to move in,” she says seriously.

You roll your eyes with a chuckle. “Of course.”

“You hear that guys? We’re on moving duty next week!” There’s a chorus of groans and long faces, but they’re quickly replaced with beaming ones when you show off the ring on your finger.

You don’t know how the manage it, but all of your stuff is moved into Melissa’s house the following week, and you know you’re home.

—

Being as heavily pregnant as you are right now in the dead of summer is no joke. You’re sweating your ass off, and you wish that you could enjoy the nice summer air like you usually do. But you can’t, because if you even step outside of the air conditioned house, you drip in sweat.

“You’re almost there, baby,” Melissa tells you softly as she rubs your swollen feet.

You look down at your stomach as your hands rest there gently. “Get out,” you grumble at your baby. “I’m ready.”

“Peanut’s not though,” your fiancée laughs.

“Should be,” you groan. “My due date was four days ago.”

“They say that first time mothers usually go over.”

That night, the braxton hicks contractions are a bitch. You just can’t get comfortable in bed, and all you want to do is sleep. But this damn baby is keeping you up.

It’s one in the morning when you finally give up going to bed and quietly extract yourself from Melissa’s hold. You opt for walking around the house instead knowing that usually gets them to ease up or go away. But they don’t. It’s about eight minutes before another contraction hits you. And then another eight. And then another. And that’s how you know you’re in the beginning stages of true labor, and these aren’t just contractions getting your body ready- it’s about to be time.

You labor by yourself for the next hour and a half, wanting the redhead to get as much sleep as possible before this baby comes. Finally, they have you doubling over in pain. You know that as much as you want her to be well-rested, you want the support that you know Melissa will provide. So you head into the bedroom. 

“Baby?” you shake her gently as you stand on her side of the bed. “Melissa.”

She wakes with a small jolt. “What? What is it, honey? I’m too tired for sex right now.”

“I’m in labor,” you reveal, and her eyes nearly bulge out of her head at those words.

“What?”

“Have been for… maybe the last three hours?”

“And you didn’t wake me?!”

“I wanted to be sure it was really labor,” you sigh.

She’s out of bed and running around to get everything ready before you can even make your way out of the bedroom to follow her. “Honey,” you call. “Slow down. We don’t need to go to the hospital yet.”

“And why wouldn’t we?!”

“Because they’re still like seven minutes apart,” you tell her. “When they get closer together, we can go. But right now, I just want to stay comfortable at home, maybe get a meal in before we head there.”

She’s whipping up a batch of pancakes for you in an instant.

You labor at home for about another two and a half hours before they start to get close enough together that you can justify heading to the hospital. She’s there through it all. Helping you move around, making sure you’re as comfortable as you can be right now in this state, doing everything she can for you.

When you finally tell her you’re ready, she has the baby bag in the car, and she’s helping you outside. You’re fine in the car until a particularly strong contraction starts, and you let out a small whine as the pain hits you enough to reach for your fiancée’s hand blindly and screw your eyes shut.

They get you into the room quickly, Melissa’s threats helping you get there faster. And then you’re hooked up to a million different wires and left to continue this process.

It’s long and painful, and you couldn’t even guess how many times you’ve cursed at Melissa or screamed at her to get out, but she never does. She’s always right by your side and doing everything she can to help you through this.

It’s nine in the morning when you feel the urge to push, and it’s another hour and a half of crying and begging for the baby to just get out before it’s finally here.

“Congrats, Momma,” the doctor says softly as she sets the baby on your chest. “A beautiful baby girl.”

“Oh my god,” you cry as you look down at your daughter. “Oh my god.”

“You did it, honey,” Melissa whispers as she presses a delicate kiss to your sweaty forehead. “We have a baby girl.” Then she stretches out the hand that you had in a death grip through most of your labor.

It’s a bit before it’s just you, your fiancée, and your baby girl.

“Do we have a name?” Melissa asks you gently. “I know we were between a few, but ultimately it’s up to you.”

“Caterina,” you whisper as you stroke your little one’s chubby cheek. “Caterina Grace.”

Those green eyes that you’ve fallen in love with look to you with tears in her eyes. “Caterina?”

You nod and kiss her before placing the softest kiss on your daughter’s temple. 

“Caterina Grace, the love of my life,” Melissa whispers. 

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[quack-quack-snacks]

Time Will Tell - Chapter 25

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The Time Will Tell Glossary

Warnings: Short description of wounds, that's pretty much it. Word Count: 1,469 Author's Note: Dudes i might need to start reusing gifs there are like none from season 1 omg.

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Eun-yu and Yu-ri were both sitting beside you when you woke up, covered in different clothes and bandages on your hand and waist. 

But not Hyun-su.

It made you a little disappointed but you decided not to dwell on it as Yu-ri started to summarize your medical report. 

“The cut on your side isn’t too deep so I was able to glue it together with some tissue adhesive and you won’t need stitches, but it bled a lot before we were able to stop it. That, mixed with exhaustion and most likely the large bruise on your back, is the main reason I think you passed out. I’d suggest not moving around too aggressively but walking should be okay.”

You nodded along in silence, thanking her when she was done and she left.

“Is Hyun-su okay?” You asked Eun-yu after a minute. It was then you noticed she looked dangerously close to crying as her eyes were staring at your side during the entire time Yu-ri was speaking. 

She scoffed lightly and glared at you, wiping at her eyes before the tears could fall. “That’s really what you’re asking? Why not focus on yourself for a bit, would you?” She scolded but sighed when your gaze was unwavering. “He’s fine. He’s around somewhere.”

The sound of desperate and angry screaming interrupted you before you could speak and both of your eyes went towards the entrance of the nursery. 

With a shared worried glance between the two of you, she helped you up and with your arm around her shoulders the two of you walked towards the noise where a crowd had formed. 

“-and more importantly, take care of yourself,” you heard quietly as you got closer. Your face brightened to a smile when you saw Hyun-su standing next to both of your little siblings.

You - and the girl holding you up by extent - stopped a few feet behind everyone. It was then you saw Mr. An kneeling in front of Seung-wan who looked like he’d been thrown to the floor. Just as he began to rise, Eun-hyuk spoke up to your left.

“Meeting in the nursery room. 10 minutes.”

You groaned in annoyment at having to walk back to the place you just came from, and it seemed to capture everyone’s attention again because they turned around to look at you. 

“You’re awake,” Eun-hyuk said. His face remained blank but you could hear the relief that slipped through with his words. You nodded at him with a grimace of a smile. 

“Unnie!” "Noona!" Su-yeong and Yeong-su both shouted at the same time. You watched the smiles grow on their faces as they started barrelling towards you. Su-yeong luckily caught Yeong-su’s arm before he could crash into you and hug you too tight while you were still injured. 

You unhooked your arm from around Eun-yu’s shoulders and held them open for the nine and six year olds. “Just be gentle, yeah?” You told them and they stepped forward tentatively, Yeong-su wrapping his arms around your legs and Su-yeong wrapping hers around your waist. You didn’t have the heart to tell her that her hand was directly pressing against your wound and making pain shoot throughout your entire torso, despite how light her touch was. Instead, you just gritted your teeth and returned the hug they gave you. 

Once they pulled away, the pain dissipated and you smiled at them. “You go ahead, I’ll meet you in the nursery, yeah?”

They nodded and ran off with Jin-ok not far behind them. You turned around, preparing to ask Eun-yu to help you go back but instead seeing Hyun-su several feet closer than he was before. He stood less than three feet away and scanned over your body with a distressed look on his face. You shot a reassuring glance over at Eun-yu who looked at you worriedly before huffing and walking off with the rest of the group as they passed by. 

“Could you help me get back, Cha Hyun-su?” You requested, really hoping he would say yes since your other option of help just walked off at your quiet plea. 

His eyes shot back up to your face and he nodded, gently maneuvering your arm over his shoulders so he could help you hobble along. It was less of helping you and more of completely carrying your weight with his supernatural strength. He might as well have been carrying you bridal style, but you didn’t think either of you could’ve handled that level of closeness. 

The two of you walked back to the nursery in silence, each of your cheeks burning. You were the last ones to get back, obviously, and once Eun-yu saw you at the entrance she sprung up. Hyun-su reluctantly handed you off to her and she helped situate you down on the bench she was originally sitting on before sitting herself beside you. You shared a look with the messy haired boy and a glint of a smile casted on his lips before he walked over to the seat behind you, waiting for Eun-hyuk to start talking. 

The boy in question had been drawing a blueprint of the plan he was about to explain on the blackboard behind him before he turned around. “We need… to venture outside. We only have five days worth of food. We’ll search the nearest convenience store first.”

“Isn’t it too dangerous?” Jae-heon asked from his spot leaning against the pillar. It was the first time you noticed him wearing a sling for his arm. 

“We’ve been preparing,” Eun-hyuk tried to put him at ease. “Mr. An scouted out the area, and Mr. Han is working on the car.”

“Hang on there, four-eyes,” Byeong-il interrupted worriedly. “Who’s going, then? Are we going to draw straws?”

Everyone looked around anxiously at his words, also worried about the deciding process. 

“It’s an important mission. Those most likely to succeed will go.”

You scoffed but couldn’t be surprised when a few residents tried to subtly look at Hyun-su. It annoyed you that they were still using him despite ‘setting him free’ but you also knew he probably would have volunteered if it wasn’t already a given that he was going. 

If you thought Eun-hyuk would have disagreed with you going with them before, you knew he’d completely veto the idea now with you being hurt. Not to mention, Hyun-su would probably be on his side with you staying behind no matter what the state of your health was in. 

But you would have joined them in a heartbeat if you could. 

The next day passed by quickly, especially since you slept for most of it. Your body was exhausted with it still fighting to regain the blood it lost from the most recent monster attack. 

You hadn’t even figured out Ji-su was sick until barely 15 minutes before the team left to get the materials needed for Eun-hyuk to perform the surgery.

“Appendicitis?” You asked incredulously. Hyun-su nodded. 

“We’re leaving soon to get everything Eun-hyuk needs,” He explained and it was then you realized just how long you really slept. 

“You don’t think there’s any way I can convince Eun-hyuk to let me come with you, is there?” You tried to joke. 

In a way that made your heart swell up with pride at being the cause, he laughed under his breath. “Even if there was, I don’t think I’d tell you,” he answered honestly. 

“Damn. I feel so betrayed. I thought we were friends Hyun-su,” you playfully acted offended. 

He seemed to sober up when you said that, looking at you with an intensely serious look. “We’re friends?”

Your heart broke as his eyes scanned your face, looking for any sign of trickery or deception. 

There wasn’t any. 

“Of course, we’re friends, Hyun-su. I… I care about you a lot.”

Coward. 

His face softened at that and the small smile returned. “T-thank you.”

You lightly pushed at his shoulder. “Don’t thank me for being your friend, idiot. You’re easy to like, so be nicer to yourself, okay?”

He seemed surprised but wasn’t able to reply when Eun-hyuk, Sang-wook, and Yu-ri all appeared in the doorway. “It’s time,” he told him, shooting you a glance and a nod before heading towards the basement. 

“I have to go,” Hyun-su said quietly with a solemn tone, a frown slowly tugging at his lips. 

“I know,” you told him just as quietly. “Just come back to us in one piece, okay?”

He nodded but kept quiet, and you could tell he didn’t want to make any promises he wouldn’t be able to keep. Then, with a short and final glance over his shoulder, he followed after the group. You watched him until he walked completely out of sight and sighed. 

“Please come back to me safely, Cha Hyun-su.”

~

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The Palestinian Cause: A Long-Standing Struggle and Endless Sacrifices🇵🇸🍉

Since 1948, the Palestinian cause has symbolized a continuous fight for land, identity, and freedom 🌍. Palestine, especially Gaza, has endured waves of wars and aggression, resulting in immense destruction and indescribable suffering. Civilians in Gaza, who have been under siege for years, face harsh daily conditions: electricity is scarce ⚡, clean water is limited 💧, and economic opportunities shrink with every new crisis.

Our Family’s Story Under Siege and Bombardment💔🚨

My name is Ahed, I’m 33 years old, and I’m from Gaza, Palestine 🇵🇸. I used to work as an aluminum technician, but my work has struggled since our home was bombed, and we lost everything 🏠💔. I live with my wife Maysoun (29 years old) and our three young daughters: Fatima (9 years), Iman (6 years), and Noor (1 year) 👨‍👩‍👧‍👧. At one point, we dreamed of giving our children a quiet life filled with safety and joy, but the war had other plans.

Our humble home in Gaza no longer exists. It was destroyed by an airstrike, and we’ve been forced to flee multiple times in search of shelter. Today, we live in an old school in southern Gaza, lacking basic necessities, as we face the threat of bombing and the scarcity of food and water every day 🚸💦.

Imagine the fear a 9-year-old like Fatima feels when running to escape bombings, or the struggle to comfort my youngest, Noor, who cannot yet understand why the world around her feels like it’s falling apart 🥺💔. Iman, at 6, clings to her mother, fearing we may lose her too 😢.

A Message to the World✉️📢

Now, I’m sharing our story not just to talk about our suffering, but to call on you to stand with us. We are facing immense challenges, but we hold onto hope that someone cares and will reach out to help 🤲. We need your support, whether by sharing our voice with the world 🌎 or by helping us get through this difficult time.🙏❤️🙏