#his heel turn was bad bc it was the wrong kind of heel

[tacodemuerte]

"wow jack suddenly got good at promos!" YOU FOOLS...HES BEEN SLOWLY IMPROVING THIS ENTIRE GODDAMN TIME!!!

[lordprettyflackotara]

hitchhiker || chapter five || the proxies

no tw for dis chapter ;)

a/n: i hope yall enjoy this calm shit while it last bc shit is about to hit the fan <3

<— previous chapter

“I’m not crazy i’m telling you someone’s been here!”

Brian stood with his hands in his pockets, watching you nervously explore your apartment. Tim and Toby walked after you as you darted around like a pinball machine. “A-are you sure?” Toby questioned. You were examining your jewelry, all of which was obviously fake. Brian watched you palm through all of it, as if you were mentally preparing for the worst. No one would steal your shitty jewelry. “Yes i’m sure. There’s no doubt about it,” You said. Rushing out of the room you turned to the bathroom. You rummaged through your bathroom closet, as well as your medicine cabinet.

“Well did they take anything?” Tim asked. The three men were observing you quietly, trying to ensure they didn’t pinch a nerve. Brian didn’t think you’d realize your panties were missing. After rummaging through your drawers he knew you had more than enough pairs. But as he watched your face turn beet red, he realized he might’ve been wrong. “Yes, they did,” You answered in a stale tone. The men exchanged glances, watching as you anxiously leaned against the bathroom sink. You were gripping it like your life depended on it. “Well, what did they take?” Brian asked. He had to fight back a mocking tone. He didn’t always agree with Hoodie’s approach, but he had to admit he wasn’t fond of you either.

You were visibly flustered, the heat visible across your cheeks. Toby placed a caring hand on your shoulder. “Hey it’s o-okay. You can t-t-tell us. We just wanna help,” Toby said. You placed your hand on top of his, your gaze staying glued to the sink. You couldn’t meet their eyes, embarrassment flooding over you.

“They took my panties.”

A pregnant pause hung through out the small bathroom, your eyes screwing shut in embarrassment. Brian’s eyebrows raised at your confession. Huh. Observant and honest, even when embarrassed. You brushed past them, darting into your bedroom. Shoving open your closet doors you grabbed onto your suitcase. “Woah woah woah what are you doing?” Toby exclaimed, hot on your heels. You began grabbing armfuls of clothes, yanking them off of the hangers. “Something is wrong, I can’t stay here,” You huffed. You admittedly, looked very scattered brained. You chose to leave out the weird shit you had been seeing. You sounded crazy enough.

Tim stepped in front of you, preventing you from shoving anymore clothes inside of your suitcase. “Don’t be ridiculous I think you’re just becoming paranoid. Why do you think your panties were stolen anyway?” Brian questioned harshly. You shot him a dirty look, Tim’s large hands gently placing themselves on your upper arms to prevent you from moving. “They’re red and lacey. It happens to be the only thong I own. I wore it to work yesterday and left it on the bathroom floor,” You spat. Toby awkwardly turned away, trying his hardest to not visibly appear flustered. Tim cleared his throat, looking down at you.

“I don’t think running away is the right thing to do. This is your home,” Tim told you. His mind spun in a circle with ideas, many of which included you going back to their temporary apartment. Which, wouldn’t have been such a bad plan if it wasn’t utterly filthy and trashed. Masky and Hoodie were not kind to the buildings they stayed in. “Why don’t we uh, stay with you?” Tim offered. Toby poked his head over Tim’s shoulder. “We will?” He asked excitedly. Brian shuffled awkwardly over to the three of you, standing behind you. “We will?” He deadpanned.

Tim shot him a warning look. “Yeah, we’ll take turns,” He said firmly. Brian took issue with this for many reasons. Putting aside his distaste for you, he needed to investigate Nova more. From the moment Toby mentioned the vanilla folder, Brian knew something was wrong. Even after he waited for the younger proxy to relay the information he obtained from observing Nova. She was on the Winston case, but Toby claimed to not see the vanilla folder anywhere after he had dropped you off. It was nipping at Brian’s mind, his annoyance growing larger when he couldn’t locate it in your apartment.

Brian needed to know something simple. Very simple. Was Nova solely investigating the homicide of Detective Winston? Or was she going beyond that and looking into the case that resulted in his death sentence? Brian suspected that she was diving deeper. Based on his observations, your stories about her, and Toby’s testimony, she had the firey personality of someone who would. For a split second he thought keeping you around was helpful. But now as Tim sentenced them to babysitting you, it felt more like a punishment for ever thinking so.

“What about our job?” Brian asked through gritted teeth. You shifted to put your clothes back in your closet, avoiding Brian’s daggers being fired your way. “We’ll take shifts,” Tim answered. Toby waltzed around the two of them, distracting you by helping you put everything back on the rack. “Shifts? I have plans tonight,” Brian muttered. Tim cocked his head to the right, signaling him to exit the room. Tim excused the both of them, shutting your bedroom door. “Shes not a kid Tim, she doesn’t need to be babysat,” Brian spat. Tim clenched his fist, his eyes narrowing at his partner.

“Look I know you and your alter are freaky fucks but how could you have been so careless? I was fine letting you snoop around to exercise your theory but that? That’s how you spent your time?” Tim hissed. The men were struggling to keep their voices down, the two of them on edge. “That was five seconds out of a multiple hour long investigation,” Brian argued. Tim leaned against the kitchen counter, crossing his arms. “Yet that five seconds is the only notable thing to have happened right? Did you find anything about your theory?” Tim questioned. Brian admittedly did not. He stood across from Tim, leaning against the kitchen island.

“I didn’t but Tim you just need to trust me-” Brian began. Tim cut him off, taking a step towards him. “Then that’s it. The end. This happens everywhere we go. When we eliminate a target, nevertheless a chief detective, someone is going to investigate it. You know as well as I do it’s not common for them to go deeper,” Tim whispered harshly. He glanced at your bedroom door, making sure Toby was keeping you occupied. “You’re becoming paranoid, both you and Hoodie. Stop it,” He grumbled. Tim began to walk away, Brian quick to grab his arm, the one reaching to rub his throbbing temple. “I need you to listen to me, this is not as simple as it seems i’m telling you-” He started, Tim quick to cut him off again.

This time Tim wasn’t having it, his anger overriding any other words he could’ve said. He turned around, grabbing Brian by his hoodie and shoving him against the kitchen counter. “No you listen to me you fucking freak, you ever, and I mean ever pull a stunt like that again. I will break your jaw,” The brunette threatened. Brian raised his eyebrows, quick to catch on. “Masky stop-” Brian tried to argue, Masky quick to shove him harshly against the counter again. His chocolate orbs were bright with rage, the veins in his neck visible. Pain shot up Brian’s spine, a bruise promising to form tomorrow morning. “I am the fucking leader here. You listen to me. You are going to stay the fuck here with her and Toby. Stop being a fucking prick and accept the fact she makes Toby and I happy,” Masky spat. His knuckles were turning white from gripping Brian’s hoodie so hard.

Masky released him, turning around. “She could make you happy too you know. If you let her,” Masky said, glancing over his shoulder. He knocked on your bedroom door, Brian’s face going pale. He opened the door to you putting your jewelry on Toby. “I’m gonna head out to do some work. I talked to Brian and you are gonna stay here with him and Toby until i’m done,” Masky told you. Curiously you glanced over at Brian, whose eyes were glued to the floor. “Me, Toby, and Brian?” You said slowly, as if you were reprocessing the words.

Masky nodded. “I’ll be back later,” He said abruptly, walking out of the room and out of your apartment front door. Your ‘goodbye’ was hanging on your lips, the words now unspoken at Tim’s suddenness shocking you to your core. Toby tried to not notice your pained facial expression. He could recognize the subtle deepness and roughness when Masky spoke. For you, it probably sounded like Tim just needed to clear his throat. Toby put on his hand on your shoulder, giving you a reassuring smile. “We’ll make the most out of this, y-yeah?” He suggested cheerfully. Although the situation seemed gloomy to you, the man beside you was thrilled he got to spend a night with you.

As the evening turned into night, a storm had swept through your area. Its thunder rumbled your apartment building, the lightning flashing and briefly illuminating the room. Brian was sulking on your couch, his eyes glued to the window like his life depended on it. A soft tap on his shoulder made him glance up, your gaze centered on him. You held out the television remote. “Knock yourself out,” You murmured, Brian’s hand hesitantly taking the remote. He tried his hardest to tune both you and Toby out as he channel surfed. That annoyed him as well. Who the fuck didn’t have streaming services in 2024?

Lazily he rested his head on his hand, his propped up arm providing the support he was too tired to provide. His mind was on auto pilot, his thoughts swimming elsewhere as his thumb mindlessly pressed the buttons. He could faintly smell food, his eyes glazed over with a visible boredom. Toby plopping down onto the couch beside him snapped him out of his trance. "H-hey share the remote. I wanna watch s-south park," Toby said. Brian continued channel surfing, attempting to ignore the younger proxy. His jaw was clenched, his patience thinning. Toby lightly elbowed him. "Cmon when's the l-l-last time we got to watch tv," Toby whispered. Brian rolled his eyes, the televison channel switching to the news.

"In today's news Detective Nova Parker has given her statement regarding head investigator, Chief Winstons death."

Brian's eyes narrowed as he watched Nova step up to a podium on the screen. Her hair was in a tight bun, her face delicately covered in make up. If Nova knew how to do anything, it was how to look put together.

"After investigating my mentor, chiefs, and most importantly, friends death. I suspect that there is not only foul play but something more. But I know what it is in reference to," Nova paused, looking down at her previously written notes. With shaky hands she grabbed a piece of crumbled up paper, holding it to the rows of cameras. "This symbol, whatever it may mean, is very sacred to its creator. This is what Detective Winston was investigating. After indulging myself in the files, this is not the first time that this has happened our detectives," Nova continued. Flashes from photographs beamed off of her face, a large umbrella shielding her from the light rain.

"It makes me sick these terrorist have not only terrorized our community, but our country. I will not rest until those responsible are caught and Detective Winston and his family are given justice," Nova said proudly. Cheers and claps came from the crowd of onlookers, the piece of paper still held high in Nova's hand. "The last thing that I would like to say, is that if anything happens to me. The ones behind this symbol caused my death. I will not rest until our community is safe again. Thank you."

Brian sat dumbfounded, looking over at Toby for his reaction. He hadn't noticed his absence, the brunette chatting with you in the kitchen. Brian had to pick his jaw up from the floor. He was right, this entire time. He felt a wave of emotions, ones he was trying his hardest to control. On that very piece of paper, was the proxy symbol.

"Dinners r-ready!" Toby called, alerting Brian. The older proxy slowly rose from the couch, quickly switching the channel to a different one. Brian hadn't expected you to make him dinner, especially not with how distant he had been from you. He slowly approached the kitchen island, watching you hand Toby a bowl. It appeared to be chicken soup, a grilled cheese accompanying it on a white plate. Toby took his dinner to the couch, immersing himself in whatever was playing on tv. You abandoned the chicken soup, turning to a different pot on the stove. "What, am I not good enough for your chicken soup?" Brian mumbled.

You took the lid off of the unidentified pot, revealing another soup. "I made you tomato, It's your favorite right?" You asked. Brian's frustration faded, an unusual feeling of embarrassment washing over him like a violent wave. "Um yeah," Brain agreed. You poured his soup into a bowl, handing it to him. "Are you a vegan or vegetarian? I didn't make you a grilled cheese since I wasn't sure," You told him. Brian raised an eyebrow. "How did you figure out I'm vegetarian?" He questioned. Temporarily how flattered you made him feel made his worry about Nova subside. "You ordered a veggie burger at the restaurant, remember?" You asked. Brian tilted his head to the side. You remembered that? After how he treated you?

You weren't as oblivious as he thought you were.

You handed him the last grilled cheese, finally pouring yourself a bowl of chicken soup. You turned around, the small bowl the only thing in your hands. "Do you not like grilled cheese?" Brian asked. You shook your head, the two of you heading over to the living room to eat with Toby. Toby occupied one end of the couch, Brian making himself comfortable on the opposite end. You gulped, a tad nervous to be sitting beside Brian. "No I do, I just used my last slices of bread to make yours," You said simply. You crossed your legs, your gaze landing on whatever Toby put on tv. Brian tried to pay attention, his stomach churning as he looked down at the delicious meal you had selflessly made him. He swallowed as he dipped his grilled cheese into the soup, his mind wondering elsewhere.

Brian knew he should have been thinking of Nova and ways to take her down. You were a key advantage of that plan. The Operator would not be happy the proxy symbol was broadcasted the way it was. His biggest rule was that the proxies nor any creep was to make a spectacle of themselves. He would not be happy. It would only be a matter of time before he found out. Brian ate more of his soup, his eyes glazed over as he stared at the floor. He should have been thinking about Nova. But instead all he could think about was you. Were you really worth the risk Tim and Toby were willing to take?

Before he knew it your hand was on his shoulder, causing him to jump. "Sorry, I didn't want to bother Toby," You whispered. You pointed at the the younger brunette. His head was resting on your thigh, his chest inhaling deeply as he slept. "I was going to ask if you could help me with something," You whispered. Usually Brian would've argued, but now you intrigued him. You slowly got up, careful to ensure Toby didn't wake up. He nodded in agreement, the two of you setting your dishes in the kitchen. He followed you into your bedroom. Unsurely he sat on your bed, watching you close the door.

The setting felt oddly intimate, the dim fairy lights you had strung across the walls the only sources of light. The pitter pattering of the rain outside was the only sound Brian could hear. You walked over to your cluttered dresser, grabbing two packets of paper. "I was going to ask Tim or Toby but uh, you know," You say shyly. You hand Brian a packet, his eyes scanning it curiously. "What is this?" He asked you. You sat beside him on your bed, careful to not touch him. "It's an um, script for this crime sitcom coming out. I wanted to try out for the lead. I just need someone to practice with," You explained. Brian skimmed the lines. To him it seemed like the dorkiest lines ever written. "We don't have to I can ask Tim when he comes back," You say. You reached out to grab the script, Brian quick to yank it away.

“You want to be the lead in a crime show called New Yorks Masterminds?” Brian asked, raising one eyebrow. You chuckled, hiding your face with your own script. “I know the title is awful but everyone starts somewhere,” You say bashfully. Brian grabbed the top of your script, guiding it downwards. Your face was bright pink, the sight making Brian give you a small smile. “I’ll help you learn your script,” He agreed. The script to Brian meant absolutely nothing, but seeing your passion acting out the terribly written main character amused him. He was starting to understand why Tim and Toby were intrigued. It went beyond your good looks. You were smart, kind, and selfless. For a brief moment he felt bad about the way he had perceived you. You were still a risk, the Operator not wanting the proxies to interact with anyone more than they should.

But Brian felt, something. Something odd. Something he hadn’t felt in a long time. “Oh cmon Matthew it was a good case,” You recited. Brian glanced at his script, following its directions. He leaned forward, wiping the side of your lip to clean up the smudged lip gloss the script called for. You looked down at the next bit, your eyes widening. “We um, we don’t have to continue this. We can call it a night,” You say quickly, rushing the words out. Brian felt confused, his eyes looking down at the paper.

Matthew kisses Rachel.

Brian felt himself getting flustered. “Yeah that’s fine,” He agreed quietly. You awkwardly scratched the back of your neck, tossing the script aside. “Sorry I didn’t know that was in there. I haven’t even kissed anyone in a long time and I don’t think i’d even be good at it-” You began to ramble. Brian couldn’t explain what he did next. Maybe it was desperation to feel something. To feel a woman. To feel you. He leaned forward, pressing his lips against yours. Your eyes widened, before fluttering shut and accepting the kiss. His large hands found your waist, pulling you closer. His kisses were needy, his breath hot as his tongue swiped across your lower lip. Fireworks exploded around the two of you, the hairs on the back of Brian’s neck standing up.

You accepted him with ease, his tongue exploring your mouth. You groaned softly, Brian’s large hands pulling you into his lap. You straddled his hips, wrapping your arms around his neck. It was only when you both ran out of breath that you pulled away. Both of your faces were red, from flusteredness and lack of oxygen.

“Was that enough practice or do you need more?”

“I think I need more.”

Maybe you weren’t as bad as Brian thought.

—> next chapter

[almostempty]

dieter's party (dieter x f!reader)

Dieter’s party (dieter bravo x f!reader) | wc: 3k | other fics 

summary: after fighting with your bf and reluctantly attending a party, you find yourself complaining to the host who offers to let you sleep off your emotional hangover headache in the pool house. when your boyfriend finally shows up, it’s a welcome surprise and you accept his apology in the form of sex. but, when you wake up in the morning you’re faced with another surprise. 

note: this is my other version of the accidental adultery trope, only it’s the involuntary cheating/wrong bed trope bc that’s what i thought the prompt was originally! other version is here with stalker!frankie. (this is like a month late for the actual challenge but time is an illusion idc; it’s for u bb @auteurdelabre) 

warnings/tags: explicit mdni, smut, this IS noncon– but it’s not dark vibes (like how the wrong bed trope in media is somehow played off as a ~hehe whoops~ ???), infidelity/cheating, oral sex, piv, prone bone, drugs mentioned at the party but reader and dieter are sober, boyfriend frankie, again, i repeat, this is noncon- but they’re not real and also they’re into it, REAL LOOSEY GOOSEY flimsy plot pls don’t poke at it there are already enough holes to drain ur pasta, kind of ooc dieter tbh  

standard warnings for me at this point: unprotected sex with no consequences bc it’s fiction; f!reader is able-bodied otherwise, no specific descriptions; no y/n, likely many mistakes aka no beta and limited editing on this bish 

You sit sideways on the lounge chair, digging your toes into the sand and massaging your temples. The voices from the party behind you are easier to tune out as you look out over the water. The adrenaline rush of your anger has passed, and now you’re just left with a throbbing headache. 

It’s not a bad view. But you resent it anyway. You’ve been abandoned by your friend who dragged you to the party in the first place. She’d assured you that it would be low key, just some people on mushrooms having a bonfire on a private beach. The names and the drugs didn’t sell you on it, but the free night at a fancy beach house was appealing

You didn’t know anyone else, and she’d assured you she’d stick with you until your boyfriend showed up. But so far nothing had gone to plan. The cute little beach house is actually more like a mansion. There is technically a fire on the beach and people on some kind of hallucinogenics, but there’s also a party by the pool, and rooms filled with people on the main floor of the house. 

Your friend folded immediately–swooped up by the hot production assistant that told her about the party. You weren’t keen to follow them as they disappeared in search of a quieter room in the house to play tonsil hockey. 

You don’t really blame her. Your boyfriend was supposed to be meeting you anyway. Or, at least, he was before you’d got in another argument before he went to work. You’re miserable when the two of you are on bad terms. 

Frankie and you are both stubborn and can dig your heels in over the smallest arguments. Currently, you don’t actually know if he’s giving you the silent treatment or if he’s just working late. Either way, you figure you’re allowed to be a little pathetic over the situation. 

Yet, you can’t even slink off to have your moody moment watching the waves and the stars. Someone is walking up behind you causing you to sigh. Stiffening, you turn to address none other than the life of the party himself, Dieter Bravo. 

He’s undeniably nice to look at, but you’re still moping. Emotionally hungover and irritable. And stuck at loaded jagoff’s party full of nobody you particularly want to get to know. 

“Party is that way,” you point past him towards the pool surrounded by drunk people with shiny white veneers and ugly jewelry. He’s unfazed by your snark and sits down next to you. 

“Thought you could use some company.” His voice is low and sexy in a stupid movie star way that makes you roll your eyes. 

“That’s not even a clever line,” you chastise him. 

He flashes a grin at you that makes it hard to keep up the glum aura. 

Whatever they say about actors looking better in person rather than on camera is true, and even more so when they’re sitting so close you can smell their expensive cologne. He’s dressed more casually than the rest of the party, but you wonder if it’s part of the quiet luxury mystique with the four hundred dollar t-shirts or if you’re overestimating his net worth. 

Dieter likes a challenge. The more you try to shut him down, the more he turns on the charm and flirts with you brazenly. You aren’t immune. He’s fucking hot, and that builds up your ego. You figure it’s harmless to flirt. You’re busy complaining about the social climbers in attendance and how they must be inflating the ego of whichever rich asshole is throwing the party, when he cuts you off. 

“And which one are you? Social climber or rich asshole?” He asks, squinting at you like he’s going to take a guess. You play into it, making a few exaggerated model poses–framing your face with your hands and batting your lashes–for him to base his decision off of. 

He grins at you with a dazzling smile that makes you break character and laugh. But he doesn’t laugh with you. He just keeps his eyes on you, his sparkling dark brown eyes. Suddenly the moment feels charged, you didn’t realize you were so close, face to face. 

“Time’s up,” you say, “I’m neither.” But he’s looking at your lips now and you’re hyper aware of your heart beating faster. Until his hand slips onto your knee and you balk, turning away with a sharp inhale to recenter yourself. 

“Don’t you have a girlfriend?” you give him a glare and he frowns briefly. 

“Like that’s real,” he scoffs and turns to watch his pseudo-girlfriend flirting with someone by the pool whose hair gel shines under the string lights. 

“Oh.” You didn’t realize. “Sorry.” 

For a moment, there’s a vulnerability between the two of you that draws you in, wondering what’s behind the curtain with Dieter. His hand, still resting on your knee, squeezes you slightly, and you snap out of his spell. “Well, my boyfriend most certainly is real,” you say. “Unless he doesn’t show up tonight,” you mutter, “then maybe he won’t be much longer.” 

Dieter hesitates as if he might have something to add, but you grimace. You don’t want to answer any follow-up questions. He’s too close for you to think clearly. You stand, brushing off his hand, and give him a smile. “I’m going to do a lap. Maybe find my friend or my boyfriend before the sun comes up,” you sigh and give him a final look before you walk back towards the house. 

Eventually, Dieter follows. 

You go through the motions, introducing yourself to people, laughing along with whoever you find yourself standing next to, and always staying aware of Dieter’s presence. You avoid his path as the two of you mingle and socialize with different clusters of people. But you keep finding yourself catching his eye in every room you enter. 

You weave through the house, pilfering some snacks and avoiding anyone’s attempts to talk one on one. You catch a glimpse of your friend, still entangled with her work crush, and continue on your path. 

The later it gets, the less tolerance you have for the other partygoers. You find yourself back on the chair on the beach. Alternating between staring at your phone, debating composing a text to Frankie, and watching the waves break along the shore. 

It’s not long before your suitor returns, joining you on the lounge chair again. Just as close, if not closer, than earlier in the evening. 

“No luck?” he asks. 

“Avoiding you?” you quip, and he shakes his head. 

“Finding your friends.” 

“Friend or boyfriend,” you emphasize for both of your sake, but he only smiles in return. “What about you? No luck with… whatever your goal was?” you ask. 

He sighs deeply at that. “There’s no goal. I’m just the host.” 

“Oh,” you blink. “I didn’t know this was your…thing,” you wave your hand towards the party. 

“Would you have treated me differently if you knew?” 

“Worse, maybe?” you laugh genuinely. “I’ve got a few complaints to lodge. Too many people, too loud, nobody is any fun,” you list them off on your fingers, “honestly–” 

“Why are you here?” he cuts you off. 

“I don’t know,” you pause to think about the real answer. “Thought it would be better than being miserable at home, a friend convinced me, thought it would be fun to stay at a fancy beach house with my boyfriend. Some combination of those?” 

You pick at something invisible on your dress. Avoiding the heat of Dieter’s gaze. “Now, I’m just stuck outside with a headache. Why are you here?” you counter. 

“I just told you. Did you take something from the guy in the studded jacket?” 

“No. I mean, why are you outside with me? Aren’t there drugs you could be doing? Or there was that guy begging you to do body shots in the kitchen?” 

“Kind of bored of it all,” he muses, scratching thoughtfully at his bearded jaw. 

“Maybe you need a more intellectually stimulating scene,” you suggest. It was more a grumpy dig at the belligerent attendees, but he seems to be genuinely considering your suggestion. You let yourself ogle his handsome features as he thinks. Then his eyes light up and he snaps his head towards you.  

“Do you want to go to the pool house?” he asks. 

Your eyes narrow into a fierce glare and he raises his hands in surrender. “No, I mean there’s a bed. You said you have a headache. If you want to lie down.” 

“That’s not where the orgy is happening?” 

“No,” he snorts, “I think there’s a sex party across the street, though, if you’re interested,” he smirks at you. You roll your eyes at him exaggeratedly and give him a playful shove. “You wish, Bravo.” 

You take him up on the offer to lie down, though. There’s a code to unlock the pool house, giving you a private little escape. 

You decide to send the code to Frankie, letting him know you’ll be here all night. Hoping he still decides to show up. You enlist Dieter’s help. He repeats after you, “Broad, brooding, brown hair, brown eyes?” 

“Exactly,” you confirm. “If you see him, tell him where he can find me?” 

“Of course,” he agrees with a chuckle. 

You spring to your feet, eagerly seeking out your solitude. Halfway across the yard you look back over your shoulder to mouth thank you at your generous host. He gives you a nod and a wink that is criminally hot. 

You let yourself in and explore the space. It’s bigger than your apartment. You pass the living space and mini kitchen, down the hall to find the bedroom. It’s like a luxury hotel suite. You slip out of your shoes and crawl directly into the bed. 

Dieter is still dumbstruck by you. Your our smile, your prickly yet playful aura, your sexy confidence. He lingers outside, caught up in his daydream of you, before he resigns himself to circling back through the house. He shares a few stories, laughs at some jokes, and does his best to enjoy the rest of the night. But his eyes constantly wander back to the the pool house. 

He’s drawn to it like a moth. Except–it’s dark. The lights are off. 

You’re wrapped up in a down duvet and crisp, clean linens. The noise from outside is significantly dulled, most people filtered back into the main house or down to the beach. 

You drift into a hazy slumber, fading in and out. Unsure of the time, too stubborn to check your phone afraid of being disappointed the sun rises before you hear from your boyfriend. It’s still dark out whenever you peek at the windows though, so you keep drifting back off, hoping to wake up to your man. You’re rolling over to stretch, once again, when you hear a soft knock on the door. 

“Yeah?” you reply, not fully awake. 

The door swings open, and he can see you in the glow of the light from the hall. 

You’re luminous even in the near dark, and he pauses before the critical thinking skills come to life and he can see the scowl on your face. “Sorry,” he starts. 

Dieter had been wavering since you walked away from him. Wondering if he was reading the right signals. If you looked back hoping he was following. If he was the brown eyed prince you were really waiting for. Now he worries that he waited too long in his indecision. 

You squint, eyes aching from the bright light in the hallway, only able to make out the silhouette of the broad shoulders in the doorway. 

“Sorry, I thought you might still be up,” he trails off, in that familiar gravelly voice. 

“Fucking finally,” you groan. “I thought you were going to just leave me here.” 

Finally? He was right. 

“Just get in here, please.” You toss the corner of the duvet back, inviting him in. 

He’s still smiling in the doorway, thinking of something perfect to say when you lose patience. 

“Look, you can either get in here and show me how sorry you are for making me wait for you all night, or you can fuck off–but don’t just stand in the doorway blinding me. Please.” You huff, covering your eyes and rolling onto your side to bury your face in the covers. 

You hear the door shut before you feel the familiar weight of his body slipping into the bed behind you, and it’s comforting to finally have Frankie here. You thought you’d be left tossing and turning until the sun came up. Wondering if he was upset or just late. 

He rests his hand on you, feather light but deliberate. You melt into his touch, stubborn words forgotten at the familiarity of his body heat. He moves slowly, tentatively caressing your shoulders as his nose grazes the back of your neck. 

“Finally,” you murmur sleepily, arching you back to press closer into him, moving on instinct. 

“Yeah?” his voice is low, husky and rich. Your favorite thing about him. 

“Mmhm,” you mumble, pushing back against him. “So late…” Your body responds to his presence, a heat stirring that’s impossible to ignore. 

Dieter’s ego flares. He knew there was something simmering behind your jabs. 

“You sure about this?” he whispers against your warm skin, hand sliding up your side. 

You assume he’s worried you’re still mad at him. Or maybe he thinks you’re too tired. You reassure him with whispered affirmations and a soft moan as your back arches instinctually, pressing closer to him, drawn to his warmth. 

It’s the breathy please that spears hot down his spine. Hearing you beg for him, it’s more permission than he needs. He kisses your neck, unhurried, letting his lips linger on your skin as his hands move along the dips and curves of your body. There’s a tenderness in his touch that surprises even him. 

He doesn’t rush, savoring the sounds you make, the way your body responds, and hoe pliant you are for him. Encouraged, he moves lower, rolling you onto your back, and settling between your legs. The sensations are overwhelming. Blurring the lines between dream and reality as he goes down on you with expert precision. 

He always knows how to make it up to you without needing words. You run a hand through his hair and when he groans against your soft, wet cunt it draws you to the edge. He’s greedy as you shudder and wriggle beneath him, eagerly sucking at your clit until it’s all too much. Lost in the moment, you’re floaty, murmuring praise between moans as you come undone beneath his skilled mouth. 

When you tell him to fuck you, he doesn’t hesitate. He rolls you onto your stomach, sliding his cock through your sopping folds, coating himself in the mix of your arousal and his saliva. 

“Oh, fuck,” his raw desire for you makes your tongue go numb. Unable to respond, until he starts to ease into you and the stretch, the angle, the intimacy of his body covering yours–it makes you both groan loudly. He fits against you so perfectly. You’re too drunk with the pleasure to question any unusual differences. 

Too lost in the heat of it all. He presses kisses into your spine while thrusting slowly, languidly, and deeply inside of you. When he lowers his chest against your back you can feel his heart beating loudly, like it’s calling to yours. With the heightened sensations and his velvety rich voice in your ear, he urges you closer and closer to a hypnotically intense, rolling orgasm. 

When your thighs tremble beneath him and you beg him to come for you, his body responds like he’s under your spell. Throbbing and pulsing inside of you until his weight collapses on you. He rolls you to you side with him, staying connected, limbs tangled like vines and he’s mesmerized by you. Listening to your breathing as you fall asleep in his arms, sated and secure. 

When you wake up in the morning, groggy and confused, the first thing you notice is the wrong smell. It’s not your boyfriend’s–it’s Dieter’s. Cold panic floods your body as you realize you’re in the wrong man’s arms. You try to pull away but Dieter’s still asleep, trapping you under his heavy arm. 

A dense, searing mix of guilt and arousal swirls within you like lava as you register his hard cock pressed against you and your recollection of the night starts to clarify. It makes you hesitate. 

Dieter, feeling your movement, tightens his grip around you and shifts. He’s hard and leaking against you and your traitorish pussy is slick between your legs, throbbing like a siren song for him to fill you up again. 

His body unconsciously grinds against you. Your heart races, mind scrambling to make sense of everything. Every kiss, every touch, the way he’d been so gentle and tender. It wasn’t your boyfriend at all. But he made you feel so desired, cherished. Things you haven’t felt in a long time. 

Your breath catches in your throat. The shock is dizzying, but there’s a quiet moment of mutual awareness as his breathing changes. You know he’s awake. Waiting on you before he dares to move again. 

Without thinking you press back against him, heart fluttering in your chest. It’s instantaneous. He flips you around and you’re finally facing him in the soft light. Barely able to take in his besotted expression before your lips are drawn together in an impassioned kiss. 

Your mutual arousal reignites like a blazing fire in the quiet early morning. It’s wrong. But in that moment, the connection between you feels inevitable. It’s as if it had always been building, a force of nature you couldn’t stop. 

The shock and guilt fall to the side. Regret doesn’t get enough light to grow. The anger at your boyfriend’s absence whispers convincingly in your ear. 

None of it matters when you lower yourself onto his cock, eyes fluttering shut, as his hands knead your thighs. None of it matters when you watch the lust cloud his eyes and his plush lips part as you start to move. None of it matters until you’re startled by the jarring sound of your phone buzzing on the night stand. 

You’re frozen in place as the buzzing continues. Dieter grabs the phone, reading the name on the screen. His other hand trails over your hip moving with purpose until his thumb draws a slow, firm circle around your clit. 

“You better answer,” he says, handing the phone to you, “think it’s your boyfriend.”

dividers by @cyberangel-graphics

General tags 💗:

@lovely-vamp-princess @gothcsz @auteurdelabre @adoreyouusugar @swankyorange

[slxtarchive]

𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐲 ⍟ 𝐣𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐛𝐛𝐞𝐫

PAIRINGS. jake webber x jealous reader

SYNOPSIS. you and jake got invited to a tara yummy party and saw how girls were drawn to him causing you to feel an unavoidable sting of jealousy in your chest.

WARNINGS. angst, arguing, reader being extremely jealous (not cuz she’s insecure just bc of how the situation looks. she’s a bad bitch!), angst to smut, cowgirl, praising, bratty!reader, dom!reader, sub (kind)!jake, edging, pet names! mdni 18+ !

THOUGHTS. this one is pretty good? idk im writing this one half asleep i hope you enjoy!!!

WORD COUNT. 1.5k

“thank you!” you told the bartender as you carried yours and jake’s drinks. you danced to the music, swaying your hips as you passed the clusters of people and toward jake. you looked up to scan the room for his familiar red hair. when you spotted him you instinctively smiled until you saw he was talking to three girls. you shrugged it off but as you got closer you saw how close they were and how giddy they got whenever jake spoke.

your jaw clenched as you became green-eyed at the few girls that were having way too much of a fun time. what made matters worse was that jake was laughing. not just laughing but cackling. his dimples were apparent as the party lights flew over his face for 2 seconds.

you took a breath and walked up to them. “yeah! it’s so crazy but like…you handle it so well.” one of the girls said twirling her hair between your fingers.

“here’s your drink.” you muttered to your boyfriend as you pushed it against his chest spilling it a bit in the process. his facial expression changed quickly as he noticed your hostility. “gonna go to the bathroom.” you made an effort to smile toward them but failed. you turned on your heels and darted to the restroom in irritation.

you did your thing touching up your face and making sure your hair wasn’t too crazy. you felt yourself calm down but you knew once you walked out, those feelings were going to arise once more.

the night went on and you got frustrated even more as you noticed jake was still in deep conversation with the same three girls. you visibly rolled your eyes as you sat down on one of the couches sipping on your drink. you felt a little tipsy a few minutes later and decided to dance. besides, you didn’t need anyone to dance and have a good time — so that’s what you did.

as the night went on you had fun by yourself. you were accompanied by tara for a few minutes before she got whisked away by her other friends. it was around midnight when you got tired of being alone. you went around the room searching for jake. as you reached him it was just one girl left. you tugged on his arm. “m’ready to go.” your eyes brows were furrowed as you refused to make eye contact with him.

he looked down and smiled until he heard the tone in your voice. “whats wrong?” he questioned not sure where your hostility came from.

“nothing, i just want to go home.” you huffed, combing a hand through your sweaty hair. jake obliged bidding goodbye to the girl before taking your hand in his and leading you out of the building. as soon as you got out you removed your hand from his.

once again jake shrugged it off assuming you had still been off because of something at the party. you drove home and did what you needed to do to get into bed before you laid down. you were quiet as you pulled the covers over you.

“y/n?” jake called out from the restroom. receiving no response he turned off the light and walked into the bedroom. “y/n..” he spoke again, he knew you hadn’t been asleep. it usually took you awhile to fall into a slumber.

he walked up to you. “y/n.” his tone more serious.

“what…” you groaned not feeling like speaking to him.

“why are you ignoring me?” he put his arms up. he was starting to become irritated at your silence.

“i’m not ignoring you.” you turned over on your back to look up at him.

“then why are you acting so… just not you?” his hands were clenched in fists which you noticed.

“maybe because you were practically flirting with those girls at tara’s party? you saw them. they were all giggling and laughing and ‘oh jake you’re so strong!’ and you just stood there and let it happen.” you sat up as you explained what made your blood boil earlier.

“are you serious?” he asked in disbelief. “baby, i wasn’t flirting! they just came up to me and i didn’t want to be rude.” he explained but you were reluctant to give him the attention.

“whatever jake.” you took a long deep breath as you tried to calm yourself down and avoided picturing the scene you had just described, in your head.

he sat down beside you. “y/n, i’m yours. why are you acting like this? you know i’m yours.” he placed a hand on your thigh. you continued to stay quiet secretly loving the way his hand was rubbing your thigh.

he then leaned forward stopping beside your ear. “need me to show you?” he purred. you hated how wet you immediately became as he suggested what he said. your heart began to race as his hand trailed higher toward your center. he moved a finger lightly on your clit sending a jolt of electricity up your body.

you couldn’t help but spread your thighs allowing him more access. he moved your sleep shorts to the side along with your underwear and made contact with your clit. your mouth fell open at the sensation. “pretty pussy, just f’me?”

you refused to nod or speak. jake noticed you biting your lip. he felt himself harden at how much arousal had been oozing out of you and couldn’t help himself as he palmed his dick over his boxers. “look what you do to me?” he groaned as he continued his actions, pleasing himself while pleasing you. you moaned as jake’s fingers moved slowly over your clit over and over tortuously. “cmon baby, speak.” he begged, wanting nothing more than for you to quit being mad with him.

your eyes fluttered shut as he kept stimulating you. you felt his fingers falter as he was trying to multitask by pleasing the both of you. you couldn’t take it any longer as you moved your hand to place on his cock replacing his own. he audibly moaned louder at your actions. you pulled away and then reached your hand inside his boxers to properly wrap your hand around his cock. you twisted and pumped his hand up and down. “you’re mine?” you asked, your tone laced with something he couldn’t identify.

he tried to move his fingers to continue pleasing you more but the way you were handling his dick had his actions faltering. his dick twitched in his hand as you spoke again, “you promise?”

he nodded aggressively as he felt his lower stomach tighten. “promise, i’m yours.”

you smiled loving when jake was compliant. you jerked him off to the point where his legs were shaking and as soon as you felt his dick twitch once — you pulled away.

he opened his eyes at the loss of touch. “n-no, cmon baby. please.” he begged, his dick painfully hard and sticking out of his boxers; staining them with his precum.

“beg more, baby.” you stood up removing your shirt and shorts. you felt your arousal in between your thighs. “i’ll give you what you want if you ask nicely.” you batted your lashes

“please please please baby.” he whimpered, the angelic sound going straight to your core. he was gripping the duvet he sat on leaning his weight back onto his arms. you went ahead and straddled him purposefully grinding your core on his cock earning a low groan from his lips. “fuck — baby, please make me cum. make me feel good.”

you nodded feeling a bit bad that you let him wait long enough for his orgasm to slowly start slipping away from his grasp. “i’ll make you feel good baby.” you grabbed his jaw pecking his lips multiple times.

you reached into his boxers one more time bringing out his red irritated cock. you then moved your underwear aside and lined him up with your entrance. you didn’t hesitate before sinking down onto him letting out a moan in relief followed by a whine coming from jake.

you were quick to move up and down, grinding down on him to try to stimulate your clit again. “God…” you moaned letting your head drop forward. jake thrusted up into you causing you to jolt as he nudged your g-spot. “fuck yeah…” noises fell out of your mouth we you felt his tip hit that spot that drive you crazy. “you’re mine right jakey? all mine?” you asked him as he made his home inside you.

“fuck — all yours baby. all yours. this dick, my mouth, my body. every part of me is yours, truly.” he rambled on, dumb-fucked by how good you were taking him.

his words egged you on until you felt your own legs shaking. “mmm — so close. gonna cum, baby boy? be a good boy for me and cum; let go.” you wailed as you felt your own orgasm rushing toward you. you finally released as you felt jake’s thrusts stutter and a spurt of moans escape his pink lips.

his arms buckles as he fell onto his back on the bed while you were still straddling him. he had a lazy smile plastered on his face. “love it when you ride me.” he spoke up. “maybe i should flirt with other girls more huh?” he joked, earning a playful slap to his chest. “ow! i’m kidding im kidding.”

© slxtarchive

[artdcnaldson]

ok i am coming in hot with my last thought on patricks sister au for the day, because it is bedtime lol. but here it is. (also gonna start signing these off as an emojicon, because i lowkey need validation and credit for this au actually lol)

i feel like at first he would be lowkey confused why youre getting turned on when youre being called pathetic??? but you really are just depraved and so desperate for him. anything he says to you is music to your ears. so you keep rubbing yourself in his bed. he tells you that you can think about him all you want, but you can never have him. it cant happen. you can never have his cock. patrick is too important to him, he would kill the both of you.

he gets kind of lost in it, forgets to keep that distance, he ends up sitting at the opposite edge of the bed. looking right at you. but never touching you. god you're so pretty like this. he asks you how often you do this, touch yourself to the thought of him. he really shouldnt be indulging you like this. he shouldnt be playing into your hand. he just cant help it, your sounds are so sweet, moaning his name so lightly. he really cant help it when his hand falls to his lap. its totally out of his control when his hand starts palming himself. how could he not be hard? youre as good as naked in his bed, touching yourself, moaning his name and begging, pleading him to touch you, to fuck you, to do anything at all.

and when his hand slip into his boxers? he tries to convince himself not to, to put an end to this. it really isnt right. but on the other hand... its not like hes touching you. is it really that wrong if hes not even touching you at all? surely not. he lets himself indulge, just a little. but to outweigh, he tells you to stop touching yourself. maybe its a punishment for you, maybe it just for his own pleasure. he watches you as you pull your hand back up, eyes fixed on his own hand stroking himself under his boxers. he sees the excitement flicker in your eyes, you think youre getting what you want. you think hes finally going to fuck you. youre wrong.

he tells you to get off the bed, sit on the floor, between his legs. kneeling right in front of him, big puppy eyes, desperately flickering between his face and his hand moving slowly beneath the fabric. he cant help but laugh to himself when he sees youre grinding yourself on your heel, anything to get some friction. he swears he sees drool spill out of your mouth as you stare at him.

maybe he just makes you sit there for a while, staring at him, begging him. maybe it just ends with that, he keeps you there long enough to ensure he'll be able to picture it later when hes alone. maybe thats all, he tells you to go to sleep, you whine and almost cry, until he threatens to send you back to your own room.

or maybe.... just maybe.... and hear me out on this... maybe he makes you sit on your hands to make sure you wont touch him, because that would be breaking the rules. and maybe he tells you to beg him to let you see his cock, beg him to take it out, tell him just how bad you want to see it, need to see it. maybe he is so intoxicated on the feeling of being so desired that you would do anything he asked. maybe he pulls it out, he lets you watch as he stroke himself. ugh maybe he makes you spit in his hand so he can jerk off with your spit :(((( maybe he tells you to move closer, still no touching, but he wants your face all up close. you're not letting this opportunity slip away, you follow his every word, every movement. maybe he makes you thank him, thank him for letting you watch him get off. maybe he even lets you lick his cum off his hand when hes done.

or maybe not, maybe he just tells you to shut up and go to sleep. :)))

-🐞 (if it's not taken by anyone)

GODDDDDD you deserve all the definition credit acclaim bc this is some good fucking food

It’s unfair how good you look in his bed. It’s unfair that you’re laid out like a fucking meal for him, rubbing your sensitive clit and moaning like a pornstar while he’s saying shit that should be making you run away.

He sits down on the bed— his bed— and he can feel how you’re moving through the mattress. It makes him think of those commercials where they jump on the bed and the wineglass doesn’t move, except his shitty dorm bed is the opposite.

You’re panting, mouth open so he can see the pink of your tongue. A constant stream of moans and whines and gasps of Art and Please falling from your lips.

He shouldn’t ask. Patrick would fucking crucify him. Would flay him alive for even thinking it. But he does. “How often do you think of me when you’re fucking yourself?”

You meet his gaze, only briefly before your eyes flutter shut and you’re bucking against your fingers. “Every time. Just need you so bad, Art.”

“You don’t need me, you want me. And you’re so fucking spoiled by your rich parents that you think you’re entitled to it.”

His cock aches in the confines of his boxers, the hard line of it clearly visible through the plaid fabric. Your eyes are trained on it, hungry and wanting. You’re practically drooling for it. He just looks so big, you want to feel.

He has to muffle a groan when he goes to adjust himself, feels the heel of his palm press against his cock just right. It was your fault he didn’t get to bring anyone back to the dorm to fuck, your fault he didn’t have a nice, warm mouth wrapped around his dick.

God, you’re just so fucking selfish. Why should you get to get off twice when he can’t even do anything? So he slips his hand beneath his sweats, beneath the waistband of his boxers. He groans, eyes squeezing shut as he wraps a hand around himself.

And then you moan, all pretty and needy. He opens his eyes to see your hand working faster between your thighs. He narrows his eyes, pins you in place like a bug with just a look. “Stop touching yourself or I’ll call Patrick.”

It’s easy to bring Patrick into it. You straighten up, pout, and obey. But for Art it’s almost a reminder of why he really fucking can’t.

Your hand stills, but he doesn’t move until they’re both above the blanket, slick and wet and sticky. A smug smile spreads across your lips as you slip your fingers between your lips, cleaning them off. And god, you’re so brazen. You’re just like Patrick, and it’s going to fucking kill him.

“Sit on the floor. Right in front of me.” You’re practically scrambling to obey— peeling off the blankets and settling between his legs. And you are pretty, honestly. Even prettier when you want him this bad, when you’re on your knees and peering up at him with wide, eager eyes.

Your mouth is parted, just slightly as you look at him. He watches as you dart your tongue out to wet your lips, eyes darting between his hand moving beneath his boxers and his eyes.

“Art, please, I just want to touch you,” you practically beg. Your eyes are all watery, in the fake way he’d seen you play at when you wanted something to go your way.

Your parents had fucking ruined you— spoiled you, turned you into an entitled little brat. And now look at where you were— on your knees in front of Art, begging for cock. It made him wonder if your dad ever spent time with you, if he was ever involved in your life beyond clinical conversations over breakfast and dinner.

Honestly, Patrick should be lucky that you’re obsessing over Art and not some random asshole. Anyone other than Art would’ve snapped already, would’ve taken everything you offered. Would’ve had you face down on the mattress while they plunged into your soaked cunt again and again and again. Or worse. Art could had a vivid imagination, and could think of a lot of things that he— no, not him, someone else— could do with willing pussy.

“You’re not going to touch me,” he said, as firmly as he could manage. “I’m gonna get my dick out, and you can fucking watch so you can see exactly what you can’t have.”

You whine, mutter something about him being mean. He needs to be mean, he needs to drill the fact that it’s never going to happen into your brain so you fucking get it.

He pushes down his boxers and his cock slaps against his stomach. He’s so hard, flushed pink and pretty. Your eyes widen and you lick your lips, leaning forward, closer unconsciously. You want to suck his pink tip into your mouth, taste the pre that dribbles from his slit.

You’re already drooling from the sight, he might as well put it to good use. He holds his hand out, tells you firmly to spit. You obey, letting drool pool in your mouth before you spit it into his palm.

Your cunt throbs as he wraps his slick hand around his cock, stroking slowly, so you have to watch every slow pass of his hand, the glide of skin. You are drooling— you feel it at the corner of your mouth, have to wipe at it shamefully.

You reach out, touch him wherever you can reach. A soft, delicate hand on the inside of his thigh. He groans, almost sounding pained as he rips your hand off and throws it back into your lap.

“I told you no touching.” His voice is weak, not as firm as he’d like to be. He wants to draw it out, make you watch him, get off on how desperate you are for him.

“Art, just let me—“

“Sit on your hands if it’s that fucking hard, or— I don’t know— walk back to your own dorm.”

You pout and tuck your hands beneath your thighs. It’s amazing, how well you listen to anything he says. He could probably tell you to bark like a dog and you fucking would. God, he’d hate to be Patrick. It must suck to have such a slutty sister.

Art doesn’t realize how loud he’s being— he’s so stuck up in his head. But you hear everything— the way he pants and moans. You watch his balls bounce as he fucks his fist, moan pathetically. Your pussy is just drooling at this point, swollen and aching with the need to be filled.

“Say thank you,” he says, meeting your gaze. His eyes are half-lidded, hazy. He looks so pretty, you just want him so bad. “Thank me for letting you watch.”

You whine softly. “Thank you, Art.”

He finishes with a desperate moan, coating his hand in thick white cum. The sheer volume of it surprises you— makes you long for it inside of your mouth, inside of your cunt. Art wipes his hand off on his ruined shirt, peels it off and tosses it across the room.

And then it’s quiet. You’re still on your knees, he’s adjusting his boxers again. You’re overwhelmed with the need to just press a kiss to his skin— anywhere, really. His ankle, his knee, his thigh, his hand. Anywhere he’d let you.

“Go the fuck to sleep. You get the floor tonight.”

“I never get the floor,” you say weakly. You want back in his bed so you can just bunch his blankets up and grind against them until you cum or fall asleep. He gives you a pointed look and you sigh, settling onto the little nest of blankets and pillows he has prepared for himself.

You fall asleep pretty quickly— exhausted as the adrenaline of seeing Art jerk off in front of you wears off. He thinks you actually look really sweet, curled up at his feet like that. Like you belong there.

[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.

[schrijverr]

Okay, straight Eddie Diaz, because - hear me out - trans woman Eddie Diaz.

Like it makes perfect sense in canon due to the fact that Eddie is repressed as hell, it can be about just sexuality, but I think adding in gender really adds to it. She does truly dream of having that traditional marriage with someone, she has just been casting herself in the wrong role, which makes it all the harder to figure out, because she is so sure that's what she wants, but it always feels wrong anyway.

It turns out, all the women she has dated felt wrong, because she wanted to be them not be with them. Plus, they never measured up as a parental figure, as a mother figure specifically, because Eddie wasn't comparing to what can be expected of an early stages potential step parent. Instead, she was comparing them to what she, Eddie, provides for Chris, and they could never be as good as a mom as her (but she didn't realize this).

((Also, Buck - bc yes, I am making this a little buddie - was able to fit into that step parent role, bc Eddie wasn't comparing him to herself, but let him organically grow into the role. Something Eddie doesn't realize until she unpacked a lot of stuff and realized her feelings for him aren't the platonic kind. She also realizes why she was so fuckign jealous of all his girlfriends, but always less bothered by his boyfriends.))

I feel like she'd be more masc (give me butch trans woman Eddie, please, fan artist out there, I'm on my little knees) and she struggles a lot with wanting to be a woman, but having 'masculine' interest and thus feeling like she can't be. Seeing Hen was both great for her and the cause of much confusion, bc she wanted what Hen had so bad, but also not entirely, because she isn't a lesbian and she had no clue what that meant when she first started working with the 118.

She has a hyper-masculine phase (mustache Eddie, why xp), really leaning into 'being a man' to run away from the feelings, because that is a mood. This isn't a great time for Eddie, because she does still like her masculine hobbies, as mentioned above, so it's confusing and she semi-gaslights herself into thinking she is imagining it. Until one day she shaves and is like, huh, I forgot how much I liked the clean shaven look and suddenly that triggers a whole set of revelations.

She keeps the short hair, but changes the shaping off it slightly so it softens her face more. She also is a jeans girly through and through, though comfy leggings definitely start making their way into the rotation after Maddie introduced her to them. Eddie does change the cut of her jeans slightly to be less tight at the crotch area, but she does like jeans that emphasize her butt, bc she has a great ass and that makes her feel good about herself. Overall, she isn't big on skirts, but wears dresses when there is an occasion.

Also, she has height dysphoria, which also upsets her, because all the heels look fun, she doesn't care that Hen claims they're the devil's shoes. ((Buck being taller makes Eddie so euphoric, before she realizes what is making her dysphoric exactly, she'd continuously be in his space, because he makes her feel a little shorter. When on dates, she sometimes can pull out heels and Buck will wear thicker soles so she can, sliding an arm around her waist and tucking her into his side so the dysphoria won't creep back in)).

She doesn't tell her parents at first, but she does tell her sisters, who are thrilled to have an all girls sibling squad now. They give her some of the heirloom jewelry they got, which Eddie missed out on, because she was still an egg at the time. She totally doesn't cry... Maybe a little.

Eddie is not a make up girl, however. She really tried to get into it, especially to cover the five-o'clock shadow, but it always looked weird and it isn't practical with her job. When they have a party, she'll put on some mascara and try with contour to add a little different shaping to her jaw and cheeks, but she never gets into it as much as she thought she would. She does not say no to getting manny paddies with Athena and May from time to time. Having nice nails is a great source of gender euphoria.

It was a little hard on Chris for Eddie to be mom too and Eddie had a whole crisis about what if this is repeating Kim, but in a different font and I am actually trying to replace Shannon? She has a lot of solo therapy and the two go to family therapy. Chris is never a dick about it, just a kid working through his trauma (don't be mean). When they have worked through it, Chris is her number one hype man, even though he's an awkward teen about it. His stumbling compliments are always her favorite and she carries them with her in her heart.

Anyway, just straight trans woman Eddie <3

[la-rougo]

*SFW*-

Beelzebub x Chaotic Diety! GN Reader

I need to see how my boy will handle with this one

A/n: I am in LOVE with him, (bc he shares the same name w my big orange demon himbo main— and shares the same va with anasui!!!!) and fear not my friends, this is pure-

-FLUFF (maybe angst but mainly fluff idk)

You’re not really a new diety, more like you’re new to him

When he first met you he just ignores you

But with your silliness and no self awareness, you follow him and tries to be ‘friends’ with him

He didn’t care so he just let you be, when you ask him anything he just answers bluntly or ignores you

But you couldn’t stop leaving him alone, not only that but you also cause troubles around him (but not to him)

He started to feel annoyed but once he completely gives you full attention, he feels warmer

Even how much stupid stuffs you have done (including accidentally ruins his experiment which he almost kills you for that) he couldn’t help but likes your company

He starts to talk to you a little bit more everyday which already makes you head over heels

He feels admired by you and it makes him feels strange, he isn’t supposed to feel any kind of affection. At least that’s what he always thought

Of course you take notice about his oddly behavior so you question him about it

He panicked slightly when he realized that his weird feelings are starting to become obvious, so he starts to avoid from you as much as possible

It’s absolutely impossible for him to run away from you since you’re his biggest fan ig/hj

He knows the consequences if he doesn’t stop his feelings, but it’s hard for him. He can barely do anything without having you around him

You decided to maybe give him a little space, or hang out with him less. Once everything is settled, you asked him a question

“Why are you keep running away from me? Did i do anything wrong?”

You asked him and he stopped mid way through his walk

Beelzebub sighed, he turned slightly at you with the same empty expression

“Here’s a better question. Why do you keep following me?”

You gulped, it feels slightly suffocating, his question makes you turn your head away from him slightly. You’re not prepared for this question, not at all. You never really thought that he would ask this and just let you follow him but here they are.

“Because I like you?”

He look at you with a *pardon?* kind of face, you turn away completely. You’re sweating like hell

“What?”

“What?”

He sighs again, turning to walk away from you

“Wait- aren’t you going to answer me? Boi! Don’t turn your back on me!!”

You catch up on him with a little pout

“Now that you got your answer, it’s my question for you to answer now”

Beelzebub rolls his eyes and fastened his walk

“Nope”

And he’s running

“Beeellll!!!!!!”

Andddd you’re chasing him, you quickly catch up to him again and grab his arm gently

“Cmon, the question is not that hard to answer ya pussycat!”

“Will you just shut up”

“I will if you answer my question emo boy”

He sighs defeat, he doesn’t even want to talk to you about the harm that’s coming to you, he feels bad, he feels sick inside, he feels scared.

“I don’t want to hurt you”

You tilted your head slightly

“What?”

Then, beelzebub became curious. Can you help him out of his hellhole? he wonders if you might be the one

“Never mind, just ignore whatever had happened earlier”

You look at him with a very confused face, but shrugs it off when beelzebub continues his walk again

The more time has pass, more affection you give him. With also, the more his feelings had grown

He feels bad deeply, he knows one day he— no, satan will kill you if he can’t stop himself so he have to stay away from you as much as he can, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so

If you actually manage to survive or break satan’s curse though

My boy ain’t gonna hold back☹️

Saying beel is shocked is an understatement, bro is absolutely flabbergasted

You somehow managed to break his satan curse and he’s shitting tears fr

After that, he didn’t immediately shows affection. He just take his time to understand affections and loves more clearly after being free, but of course you help him with that

“Now that I’m free…”

Beelzebub place his hands on both sides of your shoulders to stare at you… intensely

“Uh… beel?” It’s kinda awkward and you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him so you just look away

“I hate how you make me feel”

You looked back at him and make a confused face

“What do you mean?”

Bros kinda frustrated ngl but he takes a deep breath and thinks abt what to say

“I… how do i say this. Hm… I uhh

— I love you”

Beel is dying inside how he managed to actually said that

“I love everything about you, i love how you make me feel loved, i love how you make me feel happy. Even if you never listen to me but that’s what i also love about you”

And he continues so on, you on the other hand is dying by his words. I absolutely think that beelzebub is not good with words but he’s trying

“I love you too beelz..”

You’re on the verge of crying out tears of happiness, after you two confessed beel hugs you tightly and you felt him crying in your shoulder

“Are you crying?”

“No.”

Beelzebub feel like the happiest man ngl, he finally got to love freely like other people do. Nothing can describe how happy he is

He doesn’t change much after the curse broke but he smiles a lot more when he’s with you and become slightly clingy

Once beel is used to being free he’ll just bomb you with affections, mainly actions cause we found lovely dovely words to be awkward for him

Of course you wouldn’t mind that, he’ll thought endlessly that he doesn’t deserve you but you shut him up

“You’re too kind… I don’t deserve you to have as a lover, I can’t have you… you deserve someone else better than me”

Beel said while burying his face in your shoulder from behind

“Oh shut up! You’re the best lover I could ever ask for, I love you with my whole heart and I won’t stop loving you even after death. So stop thinking like that and enjoy every moment of us, of course without thinking about that”

Beel lift his head up to stare at you with a deep sigh, you turn slightly to him and peck his cheeks. Beel can’t help but feel the corner of his lips lifted

He overthinks a lot even after his curse had disappeared, but you kept comforting him saying that there’s nothing to worry about and he should relax more, he used to think that he has fallen into the pit of despair, with nothing to lift him up. But once he’s with you, he feels the opposite of what he used to feel, he feels like he’s the happiest man ever

He loves you dearly and so do you

[oldiesstationlover11607]

hey!! i’ve never requested before so 😢😅😅 anyways i’m obsessed w ur writing!! plus im so happy to see a fellow tøp writer still around!!:3

i’ll kind of you let you take the lead here of what you want to do, but i think the idea of “my brothers best friend” is sooo🥰

like josh is the readers brother, and of course tyler is always around & maybe you can do something fluffy where tyler was sleeping over at the house, and reader gets home late from an AWFUL date & they converse about it & reader admits that maybe these dates aren’t working bc her mind is on someone else..🤗

or something a bit “angsty” where josh teases his sister all the time, but tyler joins in as well and it really upsets the reader because she adores him

up to you!!!! i just like the concept^^

Bad Date - Tyler Joseph x Dun!Reader

Relationship: Tyler Joseph × Dun!Reader

Warnings: mild language, the date being weird and uncomfortable to reader

Word Count: 2659 - it's a longer one so ur welcome :)

A/N: Welcome new anon! Hope you like this one! It was super fun to write :) Definitely feel free to request another fic and if you become a regular we can assign you an emoji just like 💛 anon!

“So… did you like the movie?” My date asked as he pulled into the driveway of my house. He’d been begging me to go see some action movie he’d already seen twice before with his ‘boys’, because apparently ‘I was gonna love it.’ I’d met Matthew at work and he’d flirted with me for months before asking me out. Yeah, he was cute but not enough for me to be head over heels yet–I barely knew anything about him other than the fact that he was into movies and videogames. 

“Yeah,” I lied, staring at the front door and planning my escape route. Matthew turned to face me, a soft smile growing on his pale face. 

“Am I gonna get to see you again?” he breathed, the smell of the spaghetti he’d eaten for dinner wafting into my face. “Maybe I could meet your brother?” He reached out to stroke my hair like I was some domestic animal he could touch. I wanted to slap his hand away, the warm dampness of his palms waving over me. 

“Josh? Why would you want to meet him?” I scoffed. None of my other dates had ever talked about Josh and I was 90% sure I’d never even mentioned that I had a brother. Don’t get me wrong, I loved him more than anything but my dates were supposed to be about me. 

“He’s in that band that was playing Ichthus a few months ago right? Twenty one pilots?” Oh. It was about the band. It was about twenty one fucking pilots. 

“You know what? I’m gonna go,” I said, peeling his hand off me and getting out of the car. The lights beamed from the car, pathing the way for me to get into the house. 

“Y/N! Wait!” he shouted after me but stayed in the car. If he really wanted me to stop then he would’ve run after me. He was still shouting my name when I got to the front door. I knocked frantically on the wood, trying to get inside before I further embarrassed myself in front of the entire neighborhood. No one was answering and the lights inside were turned off as far as I could see through the window. I dug through my bag desperately trying to either find my keys or phone–anything to get into the house and out of the burning headlights of the car. The door in front of me creaked open before a hand pulled me inside and out of the cold night air. Tyler. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, leading me further into the house and into the lounge. It wasn’t rare that Tyler would spend the night at our house–he was Josh’s best friend and bandmate which meant after many late nights working on music he would just sleep over instead of going home. 

“Yeah, I’m okay,” I nodded, taking off my coat and hanging it on the rack in the hallway. “Has Josh gone to bed already?”

“Yeah, you know him,” he chuckled. “What was that about?” he pointed in the direction of the front of the house where Matthew’s car had undoubtedly already left. He moved to sit on the other end of the couch, resting his feet on our coffee table. 

“Just a bad date,” I attempted a laugh but failed to hide my embarrassment. 

“What made it bad?” he asked. I didn’t think he would care about his best friend’s little sister’s date. 

“Honestly?” He nodded. “I think he wanted to get to know Josh more than me–because of the band,” I sighed. Tyler’s mouth opened as if to say a silent ‘oh’. He looked upset, his face falling into an introspective visage that broke my heart. 

“Wait really?” he muttered and I nodded. “I’m sorry, that’s not fair at all.” He was right, it wasn’t fair at all. Clearly Matthew wasn’t for me. I got up to grab myself a drink from the kitchen and Tyler moved so he could see me from where he was sitting. 

“It’s okay though. I think I just haven’t found the right person yet, you know?” I grabbed Tyler a Red Bull from the fridge and poured myself a glass of ice cold water. His face lit up at the sight of the Red Bull can and I didn’t have the strength to hold back my own smile–his smile and laugh were just too contagious. I couldn't go longer than 10 seconds without bursting at the seams. 

“Yeah, I guess so. I’m just worried I’ll never find the right person,” I sighed. Tyler chuckled, taking a sip of his ‘liquid death’ as I’d called it almost every time I caught him drinking it. “What’s so funny?”

“I–I’m just thinking about it. What if you’ve already met the right person but you just don’t know it yet?” he hummed. I scoffed as if what he had said was ridiculous. Tyler was that person to say things no one else ever thought to say out loud–most of us just kept it inside out of the fear of being seen as ‘weird’. Tyler wasn’t afraid to be called weird. 

“That’s a bit unrealistic isn’t it? Surely if I had already met that person then I would know,” I responded. He pulled a face at me, as if to say ‘are you sure about that?’ “I don’t know Ty.” I shrugged. He scooted closer to me on the couch, moving so he was sitting right up against me. He reached up to curl my hair behind my ear in a much more genteller way than Matthew had earlier. I wanted him to keep his hand there, resting against my face–I really hadn’t realized how comfortable I was around him until tonight.  

“Listen, I think you’re going to find the perfect person for you in life. They’re gonna care about you so much and know every little fact about you–like how your favorite color is (insert favorite color here), or how Josh used to hide candy under your bed so no one other than you two could eat it. They’re going to love you more than anything and want you around 24/7,” he proclaimed. I really couldn’t hide the grin on my face, especially since it was now accompanied by a warm blush. 

“Have you met that person?” I asked. 

“I think so, yeah,” he breathed, placing the can in his hand onto the coffee table. 

“What’s she like?” 

He let out a loud breath before thinking. “She’s cool. One of the smartest people I know, beautiful and talented–though she doesn’t think she is–and she makes me love life more than anything. I haven’t told her how I feel though,” he dragged off. 

“Why not?” I questioned, taking a sip of my water and placing it next to Tyler’s can. I was invested now. 

“I think it’s just never come up before you know? It’s not like I can just blast my feelings at her when she’s off doing her own thing or it’s out of the blue.” 

I nodded, completely understanding. “I get that. I’m sure she likes you too, you’re a pretty great guy Tyler,” I smiled. 

“Pretty great huh?” he boasted. Tyler never really talked about his life outside of the band, Josh and I. I knew he worked at a church nearby and helped out with their music but other than that I had no idea what he did in his spare time. He smiled back at me and I found myself staring into his cinnamon brown eyes. I didn’t want to look away, in fact, I would stay here all night staring into his eyes if he’d let me.  He slowly and cautiously moved his hand back to my face, gently touching my cheek before speaking. “Can I ask you something?” I snapped out of the daze he’d caught me in. 

“Yeah anything,” I nodded. 

He took a deep breath before speaking again and looked away for a moment, curling a very short strand of his hair around his index finger and tugging it slightly. “If I tell you something, do you promise not to get mad?”

“Tyler, it's me. I’m not going to get mad at you,” I stated. I’ve never really been the type of person to get mad easily. His shoulders rose and fell as he chuckled quietly.

“And you won’t tell anyone? Not even Josh?” 

“That depends on what you’re about to tell me,” I answered. Josh and I didn’t really keep secrets from each other, ever. If he was going to tell me the band was breaking up of course I would tell Josh but if it was personal and didn’t affect my brother then of course I’d keep it a secret. He started to pull his hair a bit harder which I noticed as he became anxious. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. Just tell me what’s going on,” I reassured, taking his hand in mine and holding it gently. 

“I’m not sure how to say this but.. I… just… please promise me you’ll try and understand what I’m about to tell you…” Tyler was good with words, always knowing what to say so if he didn’t know how to tell me something then it had to be a big deal. He took another shaky breath, his eyes closing and opening again as he continued to look between me and our hands. I felt like I was about to pass out from the anticipation. What on earth would he want to tell me and not Josh? He squeezed my hand and swallowed before speaking. His voice was gentle and shaky, the most vulnerable I’d ever heard–even in his music.“I think–I think you’re my person.”

I’d never really thought of Tyler like that before. Sure, he was famous and talented and handsome and kind and actually interested in my life, but he–we weren’t supposed to–god he was pretty wasn’t he?

“Huh?” Damn it Y/N! What kind of a response is fucking ‘huh’. The awkward silence was growing rapidly with every second and I was beginning to panic. Tyler’s eyes were locked onto mine, his face conflicted but retaining the little confidence he had. “I–uh. Does Josh know?” He shook his head, holding my hand closer in his hand and rubbing his thumb over my knuckles. He let out a short chuckle, his eyes darting away for a moment in embarrassment. It was a quiet chuckle, one that let out some of the shakiness he had before. 

“No, he doesn’t,” he muttered. “And I’d rather he didn’t know until… well until I’ve talked to you about it,” he continued, glancing up at me again and meeting my gaze. I nodded, trying to bite back the delusional smile growing on my face. He undoubtedly had noticed my poor attempt because his nervous demeanor softened as he cupped my face. “Can I do something that I’ve wanted to do for a really long time?” I hummed a yes, looking up at him through my eyelashes. He let out a shaky breath, his heart racing as he moved his free hand to gently rest against my chin. He tilted it up so he could meet and hold my gaze. He could feel his own eyes staring into mine as he almost lost all train of thought. There was so much I wanted to say. My brain was speeding like a bullet, endless trains of thought rushing through a mile a minute. He leaned forwards slowly, his hand still holding my chin and his other hand gently gripping my fingers. He was so close I could see every single detail–every tiny imperfection and scar, every eyelash, and every crease. There was something about him that made me feel like my life depended on this one moment and I absolutely could not mess this up. His thumb brushed against my lower lip and my eyes fluttered closed. He pulled my chin so he could meet me face to face, my neck tilted up to look at him directly. His cheeks had reddened from the intimacy of the moment. His eyes were staring into mine again, his gaze flickering between my eyes and my mouth. He was so incredibly close to me, his lips millimeters from my own. I could feel his warm breath against my face, my own coming out shakily. His fingers moved from my chin to my jaw, his touch feather-like against my skin. His thumb continued to gently brush back and forth across my lower lip and I found myself leaning up to him without even thinking. I didn’t think he could get any closer, but then he started to move his head down towards mine, and my breath got caught in my throat. I was absolutely, one hundred percent, completely and utterly screwed. My heart stopped as he pressed his lips to mine. I didn’t realize until now just how much I wanted this. How badly we had wanted each other. I breathed in sharply, trying to control myself and the flood of emotions that were trying to swallow me whole as I reached up to cup his face with both my hands. He pulled me closer to him, so that there was no space left between us. He let every single piece of love he had for me pour out of his body and into the kiss. And he made sure I felt it by pulling me so that I was almost in his lap, my legs on either side of his as he ran his hand up and down my back and through my hair. Everything he was doing was perfect, the kiss and the way his hands felt against my body. He was everything. I broke the kiss to take a breath, pulling back and getting my hair out of my face. “I’m guessing you probably want to give us a go then?” Tyler laughed, his hands moving down to my waist. I nodded, cupping his jaw with my right hand. “I’ve waited so long to do that.” He breathed out. He was smiling, a genuine smile. He gently gripped my hips, shifting me a little so I was fully in his lap. “You have absolutely no idea just how long I've wanted to kiss you.” 

“Well I’m glad I’m not the only one who was thinking about this,” I laughed. “At least now my dates aren’t going to ask me about Josh or the band.” Tyler’s chest rose and fell with each breath. 

“That’s true. Now you’re with the lead singer,” he sarcastically bragged. 

A quiet shuffling noise sounded through the hallway causing me to dart my head over Tyler’s shoulder. 

“Shit.” I climbed off his lap and grabbed my glass, running into the kitchen before the shuffling reached us. Josh. He was wearing his red plaid pajama pants and was shirtless. 

“Hey,” he croaked, rubbing his eyes. 

“How was your date?” he asked, filling up his water bottle in the sink. I looked at Tyler who had his arms folded behind his head and a smirk covering his face. I flashed a warning his way before answering my brother. 

“He was asking about you and the band,” I muttered, “we’re not having another date.” Josh looked apologetic, a hint of regret tangled in his voice. 

“I’m sorry. You’ll find someone–I’m sure of it,” he sighed, pulling me into a hug. 

“Yeah I have a feeling you’ll find someone soon. For all you know they could be right in front of you,” Tyler chimed. 

“Yeah, they could be right under your nose,” Josh yawned, pulled in into a hug before disappearing back into the hallway and away to bed, leaving Tyler and I alone once again. I waited a bit before jumping back onto the couch next to him, falling into his embrace. 

“You cannot do that again,” I scoffed, shoving him playfully. 

“You know you love it."

//

Requests open!!

[leclsrc]

hey! congrats on 1000 💓

need some angst so could you do a drabble of carlos and reader already broke up for a year bcs of some problem (but not cheating pls) and they finally met again and realized both still have feeling towards each other so they decided to start the relationship again, thanks!

saving grace — cs55

genre: angst, drabble, 1k celebration. title from this

There’s a sticky note tacked onto your living room corkboard, buried now under fresh reminders and receipts and grocery lists. You sometimes pass it by and forget it, but when you catch the orange peeking out from underneath the bits of life you’ve stuck atop it, you pause and remember. Tonight is the first time you seek it, fish it out from a trove of daily memories—coffee receipts, coupons, birthday cards—and hold it in your hand. You stare.

June 17, it reads. Anniversary dinner.

The memory of writing this out refuses to purge itself from your brain, along with many other memories of years past. The bad and the good ones stick themselves inside your brain like stubborn mildew, unrelenting, even a year after you stopped making them.

Lewis’ wedding reception is colourful, vibrant, and you’re half sure it’s Drake at the DJ booth—all telling of the kind of fun, sociable person Lewis is. You’ve gone around greeting and kissing people in a half-daze, having been stupefied by the sticky note earlier today, drowning the loudness of the thoughts with wine. It’s dark outside the venue, populated by cars and some staff, when you dip out to smoke a cigarette.

Your heels crunch against the gravel as you light yourself one and press it to your lips. And, as if conjured by your inexorable thoughts of him, Carlos’ voice penetrates the quiet midnight air. “You never could kill that habit,” he says, a few paces in front of you. You puff out a billow of tobacco smoke and smile.

“It’s gotten a lot better,” you say. You’re right: post-breakup, smoking was one of the things you turned to the most, and in an effort to make a change, you’d stopped doing it regularly. “I only do it when I need to.”

He nods, walking slowly toward you. “Why do you need to?”

When you see Carlos up close, you find nothing much has changed in the past year of his absence. His face is the same, chiseled, so very Spanish. His voice is the same, distinct and, when with you, comfortable enough to slide into occasional phrases of his own language. His hair is a bit longer, and he combs it back with his fingers, waiting for your response.

You pause, weighing your options. You could go the polite route, steer this conversation somewhere different, but that’s not what’s pulling at you. Yanking, almost, begging you to say what you wish to really say. So you do, in a breathless confession. “It’s June 17.”

Briefly, Carlos looks surprised, but it settles into a neutral expression. “I didn’t think you’d remember. Hace mucho tiempo que no hablamos.”

“I found a Post-it from two years ago. I wrote our anniversary dinner reminder on it.” 

“We…” He pauses. He could use a cigarette, if he’s being totally honest with himself. “We made a lot of good memories.”

You’d be lying if you said he was wrong. Together, the memories feel like home, even when they’re of bad or forgettable moments. Your memories are waiting for the coffee to brew in the morning, washing race suits and getting bubbles of soap on your nose, mockups of a house you planned to buy together, faded photographs that went from being on the fireplace to being in a box, date night dresses, hungry kisses when you’d been apart for weeks, loud fights that are monitored by Pinon.

Carlos’ memories are folding laundry so you have extra time to sleep in, designing a nursery (red, he said, for Ferrari, and you claimed you would find another father if it went that way), warming up to cats, couch sex when neither of you wanted to get to the bedroom, cooking competitions that, despite his best efforts, you always won, tackling you onto the carpet when he finally got to be with you again, family dinners where nobody asked him anything and were too busy focused on you, realizing you were moving out.

Both of you realize that these memories, no matter how good, how concrete, how bad, are memories. They’re things gone. “Why did we stop making them?” He asks quietly, a follow-up to his own sentence. 

You drop your cigarette and kill it. “I think we needed to, if just… for a while.” Sometimes, you think you’re tied to Carlos, fingertip to fingertip, a string always keeping you tethered. Loosely tied, infinitely long, stretching from New York to Spain, Rome to China, wherever to wherever. A totem of your connection, your relationship; a thing of the past, something lost. Something gone.

“For a while,” he echoes. You’d both been so caught up with work that the relationship took the backburner, and eventually, neither of you felt like putting out anymore. Domestic life was no longer a priority once work became more demanding, gave you both more success, and in the end that’s what you chose. Both of you. Work. And so you lived days out alone, and in clumsy moments, you’d say something intended for Carlos. It took weeks for the habit to die. For you to realize that, however much you wanted a reaction, it wouldn’t come.

But a while is just a while. A blip. A learning period. There’s a stretch of silence and the leftover tobacco. “It was nice talking,” you say with finality. Your brain swarms with these memories still, imperfect and impulsive ones.

As you turn, he speaks again, even more quiet. It stops you in your tracks. “I’ll call you.”

You smile. “I’ll pick up.”

[florallylly]

side b: steve harrington

side a side a: eddie munson

side b

explanation post

FORGET THE FORMATTING!!! PLS BE QUIET!!! anyways into steve harrington. his playlist is SAUR bubblegum lesbian pop. and tbh i really tried to kind of blend new/old in side a with eddie and make it smth MAYBE he would listen to? but steve, i automatically pegged him as 80s pop and lesbian music like. you probably listen to bruce springsteen but in my heart u know who rina sawayama is. anyways yes steve harrington coping through partying and then falling in lurv.

YES he admits it as soon as it happens bc he's emotionally intelligent and he knows himself thank u for coming to my ted talk

“Perfect Places” Lorde; “Have another drink, get lost in us/this is how we get notorious” “Every night, I live and die/meet somebody, take ‘em home” YEAH…. steve harrington coping post season-2 and stancy break up by  partying and drinking and sleeping around. like i see it…. i was there and it’s so. desperation to find peace and eventually settling for oblivion bc nothing is better than everything 

“Heaven/Hell” CHVRCHES; this song is so steve harrington to me i can’t even describe…. like it’s so disillusionment with his former sense of self and what he used to attach importance to. and he feels like a fraud and also an imposter, surrounded by people who he’s outgrown. and somehow it also feels like no one has truly realized that vital shift. it’s SAUR “is it right if i’m a perfect actress/playing the princess in distress?” “is it alright if i save myself and/if i clean up my own mess” IDK. why is that so steve to me. 

“Stand Back” Stevie Nicks; like LIKE this song is so everyone wants me except for you/you’re the only one i want. idk…. steve harrington this is so you to me. he is so pining he is so what if he is so i built our future in my head and now everything is crumbling down around me. you have changed me so deeply that i can never go back to the same person i was before i met you. and the world around me stays stagnant and stuck in time, with me out like a sore thumb. like i’m sobbing crying frothing at the mouth…. 

“Head Over Heels/Broken” Tears for Fears; a classic… a classic… but also like a little mashup moment to make it narratively appropriate in my head. also the applause at the end is giving the curtains are down the performance is over… king steve lays down his crown… AM I INSANE IN THIS MOMENT… 

“Honey Understand” Noso; to me this is a little bit of a moment like if i’m misinterpreting this song wrong SO embarrassing. but literally?? i think it’s so steve… bc it’s like in any break up it’s always going to be him at fault because he’s the ladies man and the popular jerk. he’s always going to be made out to be a villain in certain people’s eyes. like what am i even saying but you get it right… and it’s like how can i even keep fighting when i’m already crumbling apart. but also you’ll never know bc i’ll never let anyone know how bad it is … i’m unwell 

“Deliverance” CHVRCHES; i think this is actually about religion (maybe?) but i’m thinking of it as more of a general framework or life view that steve held before the upside down. he’s had to rethink what’s important and what matters like fr…. and now that he’s spending more time with eddie and realizing things about… naur it’s like this moment is his watershed moment and he’s being set free of smth like… his king steve persona?? his guilt over barb?? any other head canon ??? or maybe it’s like his fucked up coping viewed as something that’s bringing him back to his “normal” self… like back 2 parties back 2 alcoholism 

“Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (A Man After Midnight” ABBA; like YEAH of course this song is on here. and it’s so hello steve harrington are you on the prowl are you looking for something so you can actually feel something

“Take Me Home Tonight” Eddie Money; pretty self explanatory like… steve harrington you are turning to sex to distract yourself and chasing the way you felt before. also in comparison to gimme gimme gimme, this is a more self aware reflection like. post nut clarity. but also in my head this is steve harrington meeting with eddie munson s2 and making the impulsive decision to follow him literally anywhere, kick starting everything that follows. 

“Yours” Now, Now; attraction bantering cockiness like it’s all there like it’s everything… it’s everything…. 

“Untouched” The Veronicas, I DON’T CARE IF IT DOESN’T FIT … this song is so important to me and it’s saur…. steve harrington you are getting attached steve harrington you are falling in love. to be clear this is before they get together or do anything like…. this is the pining this is the wanting 

“Don’t You Want Me” The Human League; so basically added for vibes, didn’t pay much attention to the lyrics and meaning. IT’S JUST SO …. 80s pop and 80s pop is so steve. HOWEVER i feel like i can use this as my little soap box bc “you were working as a waitress in a cocktail bar… turned you int someone new/now five years later on, you’ve got the world at your feet” is saur nancy and “the five years we have had have been such good at times, I still love you/ but now, i think it’s time i lived my life on my own” is SAUR steve. like nancy wheeler in s4 reflecting on steve’s changes and the fandom’s reflection of pushing this narrative that nancy was the main reason and the greatest influence on steve’s change. my pet peeve…. let’s not forget the trauma he went through that could have shook his entire worldview. also ??? he’s a big boy with his own thoughts let him have a little ponder. i would add more but i’m not capable of totally explaining this at all JUST !!! ugh but yeah steve harrington you are attracted to eddie munson song

“Forever Tonight” Kelechi; “love me like there’s no tomorrow/kiss me like we’re out of time” DO I EVEN NEED TO SAY ANYTHING??? I AM IN REAL PAIN!!! 

“I Was Made For Lovin’ You” KISS; KEYSTONE SONG. yes they fucked yes they fucked. and OKAY idc if it’s cheesy YOU try to fit in a semi-metal song into your 80s/lesbian pop playlist

“Lay All Your Love On Me” ABBA; OMG …. it is so necessary. that is all. LIKE SO NEEDED. 

“Hungry Eyes” Eric Carmen; it’s literally from dirty dancing like what else can i say… steve harrington is having his little romcom moment. honestly he’s practically one of the brat pack. he’s LIVING it he’s living it

“Keep on Loving You” REO Speedwagon; okay they were killing on anniversaries i just know it. like this is so my parent’s wedding. it’s so puffed sleeve dresses and slow dancing at prom and steve is a ROMANTIC. steve is a ROMANTIC in a small midwest town like. where was his prom king moment 

“Seven Wonders” Fleetwood Mac; lowkey a filler song but yes can anything compare to the beauty of this moment something very romantic. this is on the mixtape for sure 

“(Don’t Fear) The Reaper” Blue Oyster Cult; ONCE AGAIN I KNOW IT DOESNT FIT THAT WELL… but this is a keystone song… a metal song forcefully inserted into the playlist. this is supposed to mark the point where steve falls in love love. but what i got from the song is basically like. we’re going to die anyways let’s just fall in love. i’m sure that’s way simplistic but vibe… 

“Horses” Maggie Rogers; sorry I’m…. gay….? and it’s like it’s like it’s like i wanna be free i wanna be free with you do you wanna be free with me. in a more romantic and AHHHH way but like how do i even begin to try and describe how this song makes me feel like… unreal. but it’s also like a little stop for steve to doubt and think about what he’s feeling and deciding to do ??? idk where i was going with that. but yes my little interlude for pondering

“Black Butterflies and Deja Vu (Acoustic)” The Maine; keystone song keystone song. when steve admits he is in lurv of course. chose the acoustic version bc i feel like it fits better and also i think it’s more of a soft realization for steve rather than the absolute car wreck that is eddie. please understand my thoughts immediately 

[minheelovelee]

how do you think epex members would confess to their crushes ? 👀

LOVE thanks anon!!!

epex confessing

warnings: cute.

wish

- would buy you your favorite food or drink. or both. he read somewhere that you can condition someone to like you by associating yourself with their favorite things. he’s a little crazy.

- mutes the conversation a bit. he wants you to know that he’s serious and he really wants you.

- “seriously, i’ve been attracted to you for a long time now. id really like to take things further. care to go on a date with me?” he’s professional. you’re business partners now.

- if you say yes, he’s super happy and smiley. would take you on a date later that week. his members call you their step-milf and he gets mad.

- if you say no, then he’d accept it and would think about you for a long time. still wants to be friends bc he likes the relationship you had before.

keum

- comes to your house on a whim. just texts you like “hey can i come over :)” he’s already outside so please say yes. doesn’t bring anything besides his pretty face. wants you to see his sincerity.

- sits himself down bc he’s lowkey scared. turns his body toward you. looks you right in the eyes.

- “i’ve been thinking about this a lot. not just today, but every day before that. i like you a lot. i cant stand the thought of missing out on being with you. would you give me a chance?” really doubts himself, but he’s proud.

- if you accept his confession, he is over the moon. big, big, eye smile coming your way. might even grab your hand because he’s so excited. everyone celebrates bc he has getting a gf soon.

- if you say no, he’ll just turn himself away from you and take the L. he needs a little space now. i don’t think you could be friends after that because he was so sincere and his little heart got broke.

mu

- SO SCARED. he would ask donghyun what to do. he gives terrible advice btw. he would text you and be like, hey let’s go for a walk. he wouldn’t take you somewhere he’s fond of. if you say no he’ll have bad memories there. you can go to his second favorite place.

- would tell you while you’re walking. cant look you in the eyes just yet, it would become too real. so he just kind of lets it slip.

- “i just want you to know, that i’m really starting to fall for you. id like to know if you have any similar feelings.” doesn’t outright say that he’s head over heels for you, but let’s you know that there’s a little somethin’ somethin’.

- if you tell him you like him back, he’ll finally be able to look at you. he doesn’t have much to say. he lets you both think about the exchange for the rest of the walk. when he looks around, he realizes this is his new favorite spot to go walking.

- if you say you don’t feel the same, he would feel pretty bummed. he wouldn’t get too down on himself though, because he can’t control what you feel. but he wouldn’t move on for a while. could still be friends with you, but not as close.

amin

- thinks he has it in the bag. you’re pretty close friends. the two of you love to tease each other and there’s definitely a little sexual tension. he’d get you alone during a group hangout.

- pulls you aside when you come to the dorms. your friends are all there, but he can’t wait any longer.

- “i think it’s pretty obvious that i have some sort of feelings for you. id really like to act on them if you’d let me. i think we could be pretty good together.”

- if you agree, then he might just have to kiss you. you’ve basically been together for months, and you’re no stranger to going on “dates”. but that’s only if he doesn’t fall to his knees and thank you. he was secretly so worried.

- if you disagree, he’s really confused. he’ll try to press you on what you’re thinking. if you don’t budge, then he’ll drop it. would still be playful with you. thinks back to what he might have said wrong. might ask you again when you’re a little drunk.

baekseung

- his members hype him up so hard. he’s still really nervous though. he’d probably invite you to his place so he can tell you to gtfo if he wants you gone.

- he’s a playful guy, so i don’t think he’d want anything too serious. would watch a movie with you and ask you then.

- “so, i’ve been thinking about us. i really like you. we act like a couple already. if you like me too, i don’t see why we shouldn’t make it official.” the pause after he says that almost chokes him.

- if you agree, then he’ll be like “seriously?” and get all smiley. he came off as confident, but he was actually terrified. tells his friends and they give him the biggest pat on the back.

- if you disagree, then he would be a bit awkward. he’d finish the movie with you but ask you to leave. he has to think about what he wants now. if he wants to be close to you again, or keep himself away from any potential pain you might bring.

ayden

- he knows that you treat him like a younger brother. he’s tried to change that, but you’re pretty stubborn. he’s actually come to like your dynamic and like you too.

- wants to prove to you that he’s really in it for the long run. he’ll ask to come over and hang out. maybe watch a show you like or play video games together.

- “noona. for a long time, i’ve been thinking about how much i want you to be mine. i really like you. seriously, i think you should give me a chance to show that you can think of me differently.” he’s serious. really wants you to agree bc otherwise that hurts his man ego.

- if you agree to give him a chance, he’ll be so happy. is a total gentleman. takes you on dates, waits until the third one to kiss you. and on the fourth one he asks you to be his gf <3

- if you tell him no, then he might get a little upset. he’s done nothing but show you that he’s worthy, but you still rejected him. he’ll be mad at you for a while. you tell him that just proves your point. he gets mad again.

yewang

- he’s the type of boy your parents want to stick around. he’s funny and caring. he’d take you somewhere at night. he wants to set the mood~ might do a nighttime picnic.

- brings his guitar and plays for you. also sings if you want to listen. he’ll stop playing for a bit just to stare at you while you’re stargazing.

- “hey, look at me. i like you. a lot. i’ll take you on more dates like this. whenever you want. but i want you to be mine.” he does it in his own wang-y way. let’s you know that he has feelings for you and will treat you so good.

- if you agree, he’ll be so happy. cuddles up to you under a blanket to stargaze. asks you where you want him to take you next. the sky is the limit. when you get cold, he’ll take you to the car and might play for you if you’re not ready for the night to end.

- if you say no, he would be upset. he would want to talk about why you said no. he would get a little salty. wouldnt want to be friends either. he gets over it eventually. reuses the same idea with another girl tbh. it was a really good one and it can’t be wasted.

jeff

- invites you over for his epex family dinner. the other members make dinner while you two play video games. he was planning to tell you he liked you that night. the words almost slip out before dinner. he doesn’t want to make it awkward so he waits until after.

- he’d take you to his room and beg no one to come in. needs this moment to not be sucky. he’ll watch youtube or something with you before asking.

- “there’s something that i want to say. i’ve really started to like you. for a while now, actually. what do you think about going on a real date sometime?” he’s very proud of himself. told you he liked you AND asked you on a date. two for two.

- if you say yes, he’ll smile and look down. you just have to pinch his cheeks. add on to that blush. the second you leave the dorm, he tells the members what happened. you can hear them cheering from outside.

- if you say no, he’ll accept it and move on. he doesn’t want to ruin what you have. he’s still happy he asked, because he didn’t want to miss the chances. might apologize, but when you tell him he doesn’t have to, he’s totally fine. you can still be friends.

[subsequentibis]

could you please talk more about the metal gear pro wrestling au? i’m obsessed with the concept

okokok. you might be a wrestling fan already but for accessibility’s sake i will be defining my terms here. baby face / face = good guy, heel = bad guy, kayfabe = anything that is true within the wrestling storyline but not necessarily real life. also this was written with my boyfriend @accursedapothecary who did a LOT of the heavy lifting on the plot details ily babe

any group like foxhound, dead cell, diamond dogs, outer heaven, etc, these are all wrestling factions & stables, groups of wrestlers who are allied together and train together and might tag team or show up at each other’s matches to help out or cheer their compatriots on.

solid snake is an up and coming babyface who’s training under the tutelage of kazuhira “hellmaster” miller, an old retired veteran who had like a babyface turned heel turned face again kind of arc, and he’s training him up to take down big boss who is THEE champion, took a title off miller ten years back and has still hung doggedly onto it since. snake beats him, but the title is stolen by liquid snake, a new heel trained by ocelot, who had an on-again off-again tag team thing with big boss when they were in the diamond dogs faction together also with miller, but that whole faction imploded bc big boss and miller had a falling out and went their separate ways, but ocelot was just sort of following big boss around like a lost puppy for a while til boss took the title and then sort of disappeared for a really long time before surfacing again like two years back. that was such a long sentence. ANYWAY. ocelot also challenges kaz to come out of retirement and have one last match with him… A HAIR MATCH. which if you are not familiar the loser of a hair match has to shave their head. kaz loses, VERY sad, his version of dying in this universe is losing his pretty long hair…

SNAKE GOES TO AVENGE HIM THOUGH. takes on foxhound, defeats ocelot with the help of a mysterious masked figure who later challenges him to a match (i can’t stress how extremely Wrestling everything going on with grey fox is.), gets help from meryl in the fights against mantis & wolf, then defeats liquid and gets the title from him BUT then it turns out the big boss he defeated for the title in the first place WASN’T EVEN BIG BOSS. which is also, i cannot stress enough, SUCH a wrestling plotline. also at some point in all this liquid has been impersonating miller on the sidelines and does a whole vince mcmahon IT WAS ME! IT WAS ME SNAKE! IT WAS ME ALL ALONG SNAKE. otacon’s been in like a semi-manager role as well and after the reveal shifts to full time managing. also after the fake big boss reveal venom retires and goes to live with kaz <3 i think at one point there was a really bad botch with a turnbuckle that ripped his actual head open and now in kayfabe they say he’s still got part of it lodged in his skull. venom also used to be a ringside medic and then one day when he was patching up ocelot after a blading incident gone wrong ocelot was like dude. has anyone ever told you you look EXACTLY like big boss. someone call up the big guy i got an angle for him. and venom had always wanted to be in the ring so he was sooo happy when he got the chance… but he’s like a total softie when he’s out of character and talks everyone through the best way to take his moves without getting hurt, it’s like a complete 180 from his in-ring persona. i love him.

also foxdie is a kayfabe thing they use to explain it when someone gets a real bad injury and has to retire early i think… snake gets it which is Sad. so he starts training raiden to take over for him…

that's all i have right now. kisses you gently on the forehead thank u for asking

[chailoserr]

BLEACH HEADCANONS

just a bunch of silly little headcanons

characters included: shinji, rukia, urahara, kenpachi, uryuu, yoruichi, and aizen

warnings: a few sex jokes, but that’s pretty standard content from me

SHINJI

• eats peanut butter and jelly with goldfish on them probably

• he’ll stir macaroni aggressively to recreate bad sex noises

• this man watches spongebob squarepants religiously

• i think that if he were to try on clothes he’d be the kind of guy to say “do these yoga leggings make my ass look fat? please please please tell me my ass looks fat”

• i feel like he’s really bad at flirting

• the kind of guy to say “hey girl are you an elevator cuz you look like you could raise a child”

• someone has probably forced him to recreate the iconic evangelion shinji chair pose

• his blood stream is probably like, 89% mcdonald’s sprite

• i think he’d get really dramatic when listening to music and ichigo and rukia would just walk in on him and start bullying him

RUKIA

• probably has worn platform heels to grow taller than ichigo out of spite

• her favorite disney movie is probably brother bear, which is a top tier film

• if she were to have a full ass bedroom she probably get a bunch of cute stuff for it and organize everything

• when swimming she probably gets on renji’s shoulders while ichigo’s on chad’s shoulders and they play wrestle

• loves shopping with orihime probably, it’s like a whole new experience for her and she’s probably really amazed by everything

• definitely takes more than one sample from the samples table on accident

• when at the mall with orihime she wants to know this victoria and her secret

• orihime would probably have to drag her out of the place with a hand clapped over her eyes and the other holding rukia’s leg

• probably likes wearing rings

• she’ll try bonding with byakuya by reading about normal sibling things and be all like “brother! to bond we should try wearing a get along shirt together for 24 hours!”

• it’s stupid but byakuya wants to be a cool and nice older bro so they wear the shirt and look really proud while doing it

• rukia probably goes nuts for juice, especially if it was a juice flavored slushie

URAHARA

• this man probably goes dumpster diving for his clothes and there’s absolutely no shame in that game

• he’s definitely found a dumpster baby or two during his search

• looks like he eats subway and jersey mike’s religiously

• i think he’ll play like uno or poker with the kids

• probably stays up late talking to yoruichi about dumb shit like “what if pasta was purple—we should make pasta purple”

• i don’t think this man has cleaned his bucket hat in y e a r s

• he’ll claim that the smell is just his natural musk

• probably watches bad reality tv, stuff like love is blind

• he watched the entire twilight saga and had a blast doing it

• has probably pissed in a pool

• in fact, he probably makes it his mission to piss in every pool he enters

KENPACHI

• probably can’t cook

• idk how yachiru survived with him all those years bc i feel like he would try cutting up stuff to make food but it was cut TOO aggressively and it’s inedible

• probably let’s yachiru play with his hair

• he eats bowls of nails for breakfast…without any milk

• i feel like he’d run into a mannequin at a mall and then try to fight it bc it was “challenging” him

• sleep fights

• like it’s a natural thing for him, he just thrashes around and fights shit in his sleep

• when he gets too aggressive it’ll take a lot of people to hold him down and tell him “NO YOU CAN’T FIGHT THE BEES”

• has probably said “i don’t talk about feelings, i don’t have any, i’ve never seen one, i’m a night stalking, hollow fighting vigilante and a heavy metal rapping machine, i don’t feel anything emotionally except for R A G E, 24/7, 365, at a million percent, and if you think there’s something wrong with that, you’re crazy”

• but then he turns around and dresses up with ikkaku and yumichika for yachiru’s tea parties

URYUU

• i like to think that he enjoys collecting something weird, like garfield themed phones or paper clips

• he probably goes nuts in the office depot store

• he’s kind of awkward so i imagine he’d be the kind of person to just talk about his special interests to people and be like “ha, they should love me by now for knowing so much about this thing”

• canonically good at sewing and such so i think he actually enjoys making clothes for everyone like silly little hats and purses

• i think he does laundry for fun

• he’s probably the designated picture taker/quote book peep and he really enjoys it

• the man probably has organized BINDERS of quotes from the year, month, and d a y they were said

• i think he’d listen to lofi and bedroom pop kind of music while he worked on sewing or something

• has probably memorized the entire dictionary word for word

• i feel like he hates bugs

• like, terrified of them

• probably took up making friendship bracelets with orihime

• i think he’d enjoy aquariums

• he’d probably start giving everyone in the group specific facts about the fish they were seeing

• was definitely a lego kid, i can f e e l it

• if ichigo or someone was to bring a bag of skittles to share with the group, he’d probably stop them from eating, dump the skittles on a clean surface, and start organizing them by color before anyone could even touch them

• probably wasn’t allowed to watch spongebob growing up, twas only veggie tales

• his favorite veggie tales character was definitely archibald

• overall he’s a sweet boy

• his daddy needs to be nice to him

YORUICHI

• she seems like the type who is exclusively awake at night

• probably does dumb shit with urahara while she’s being nocturnal too

• karaoke? yes. shots? yes. talking about that aforementioned dumb shit? absolutely

• i feel like she’d wear dumb shirts like “this fisherman has a fat cock and he’s not afraid to use it as bait”

• they’re definitely gifts from urahara, but she loves em

• she probably likes going out to eat a lot

• i think she’d enjoy hooters, but in a respectful way

• probably enjoys being lazy and just breaking into urahara’s shop to crash there

• definitely enjoys pranks

• “guess who just walked the prank, kisuke, you’ll never guess who” she says as urahara barfs up the kimchi, milk, sprite, and pickle juice mixture that she tricked him into drinking

AIZEN

• staring off strong: he doesn’t know that women can g e t head

• you’d think he’d have big cock energy but that is simply not true, he’s just tryna compensate for his small pp

• sex jokes aside

• probably likes kale salad except kale is the only thing on the salad and it’s not a salad at all it’s just kale

• this man thinks eating ice cubes is fun

• “mmmm scrumptious, frozen water”

• he probably likes taking freezing ass showers

• and when asked how his sleep was he’s like “i don’t sleep, i only dream”

• his hair has enough product in it to put evil oil barons to shame

• they want his h a i r

• has a “natural musk” that’s akin to the smell of a bad danimals drink you spilled on the carpet of your car three months ago

• probably doesn’t actually know real spanish and he thinks that “las noches” means something super emo like “wolf rose full midnight sky kingdom🐺🥀”

• could be easily defeated if only ichigo and rukia had tried to sing CPR by cupcakke while they thought ONLY about the “hey ya” music video while ALSO doing the “hey ya” just dance choreography

• the chaos would surely throw him off his rhythm

[corinthianism]

gold rush | thor

pairing: thor odinson (mcu)/f!reader additional tags: fluff warnings: none

note: super short cutesy fic about thor!! he's so cute i love him! anyway, i might just make this acc my main acc bc posts on my other acc literally just won't show up

“Come on! Just this once, sweetheart!” 

“No!”

“It’ll be good for you!”

“Good in what way exactly, Tony?” you raised your brow at him. Looking back at you was a grown man attempting puppy dog eyes. If you weren’t so annoyed by him, you would’ve laughed. When he didn’t respond to your question, you thought you were free to go but as always, there’s no winning against Tony Stark.

“Thor will be thereee,” he sang. “I’ll be sure to tell him to wear those extra-fitted gym shirts you like so much.”

“You’re a bitch, you know that?”

“Yup.”

That morning interaction left you in a daze for the rest of the day. The party was later at night, which left you with only a couple of hours to decide what you were going to wear.

It wasn’t uncommon for you to see people fawning over him. It didn’t mean that you were ever going to get used to it, though. But, as always, you understood. After all, how could anyone resist him? He towered over everyone. He was funny, kind, sweet, and smarter than people gave him credit for. And you swore his golden hair and blue eyes shone under the light. He was literally inhumanly perfect. It was simultaneously endearing and infuriating. 

You nursed your second (third?) mojito and tried to get your attention off of him. This was supposed to be a celebration. You’d been working for Tony Stark, or more accurately, Pepper Potts, as his new glorified babysitter. Your job ranged from reminding Tony to not die of sleep deprivation to reminding all of the Avengers to also not die of sleep deprivation. Naturally, you were invited to another big party Tony threw to celebrate the team’s latest successful mission. From what you heard, the situation was getting pretty bleak before Thor showed up.

Thor. The most beautiful man you’d ever laid your eyes on. He smiled so easily, like he didn’t have the weight of the world on his shoulders. He quite literally beamed like sunlight. 

“Snap out of it!” you blinked as you scolded yourself internally. This was getting ridiculous. It was at that moment that you decided to just ditch the party and get comfortable at home. You’d have to make up an excuse though. The Jimmy Choo heels Tony gifted you last month, as comfortable as they were, could be blamed for your sudden disappearance. “Yeah, that works,” you hummed to yourself.

Before you could leave the scene, however, you heard the familiar rumbling voice of a certain god of thunder, “Leaving so soon, my lady?” 

Shit.

You turned around, surely looking like a child caught in the act, and smiled awkwardly at him, “Uh…”–you laughed nervously–“yeah. Uh, my feet were starting to ache so I think I’m gonna just. Um. Dip. Yes.” 

“Dip,” he repeated, his lips curling up into a kind smile. “The more I think I know Midgardian culture, the more I’m proven wrong. You sure do know how to keep things exciting, my lady.” 

You could only manage to nod as you tried to suppress the dizziness you felt from his compliment. How does he even manage to do that? 

He cleared his throat and offered you his hand, “Oh! You said your feet were aching, would you like me to accompany you back to your quarters?” 

“Oh,” you gulped. Saynosaynosaynosaynosaynosaynosayno. “Yeah, sure! That would be great, thank you.” 

MORON!

You knew this was a bad idea. Not in the sense that he’d be a total asshole; he’s quite the opposite. It’s just that–maybe–this would just give you false hope. Thor often blurred the lines of politeness and plain flirting, the latter of which you have seen on numerous occasions, used on women you considered to be far better than you. Whatever level your self-esteem was at the moment, it certainly wasn’t increasing. 

You took his hand, feeling the roughness of his palm and all its little scars and thought about, just for a moment, how many battles he’s fought. How many people he saved. Or lost. You gulped, suddenly acutely aware of how small you were compared to him, but there was no fear. You felt his eyes on you, piercing through you, and you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. 

The both of you stood in front of the elevator, seemingly waiting for the other to speak first.

“So!”

“So, um–” 

You were finally looking at him. He was golden in this light. He always was. 

“You go first,” he said lowly, urging you to continue.

“I was gonna ask how you liked the party?” you responded meekly, still in unfamiliar territory.

“How funny, I was gonna ask you the same thing,” he chuckled. “It was nice, however not as nice as the ones we hold at Asgard.” 

You smiled, “I can imagine.” 

“Perhaps one of these days, you’ll see them for yourself.” 

A beat.

“I’d like that.” 

[pinkfey]

woe charity be upon ye

ummmm char fax bc i can't keep the cringe at bay !!

i thought it would be fun to make her eyes brown since the whole game is like oughhhh iladrin ouwahhh glowy eyes so <3 brown eyes the most specialest eyes duh !! <33

um everything that’s on their tab on the oc page !! hunter-born, circle-trained, enchantment-favorer. they're v good at fucking around with the mind and they're even better at bewitching ppl and getting them to like her <33 she’s a bit of a siren of sorts?? she’s beautiful and enigmatic and she knows it (to a degree) so she excels at manipulating that strength to her advantage

but they’re also just naturally good with people!! they bleed compassion and they put people at ease—it’s easy to be soft with her, like how caine instantly latched onto her. she’s even convinced blade to let her cut his hair 🤯

she is. so fucking short. u would think having hunter heritage would gain them a few inches but alas.. watch out the 5’1” commander-legate of the shepherds is on her way and she is pissed 😤

(yes they are teased mercilessly for this)

(she does wear heeled boots to compensate and no she doesn't care that it’s impractical!!)

they and red did date bc i’m a sucker for the one-was-in-love-and-the-other-thought-it-was-amicably-casual dynamic <3 and i love DRAMA <3

she’s gone through quite a few character shifts to turn her into the person she is now. as a kid she was quiet and sort of a brat!! compassion was her earliest lesson, one she scorned until she lost everyone. survivors guilt is crazy. she became determined to be all the things she was supposed to be: kind, generous, brave, determined to live up to her namesake. but she was so scared. at the circle, she crumpled in on herself, reserved, tentative, always observing. the friendships she built there (plus her newfound love of academics!!) helped her get to a healthier place. she still chose her words wisely, still loved her alone time, but she was comfortable with curveballs, with people, with playfulness. she adapted a very positive attitude and work ethic!! she never gave up on any pursuit!! she thought she was very ready for the real world when she left

she was wrong <3 lmao. the world is cruel and it tore her down and she spent years on the edge of disappearance, years wondering if this is all there is. she got tattoos, pierced her ears, battled some substances, fell in with the few bad crowds, but nothing satisfied and nihilism was beginning to wear her softness to the bone. her village long gone and shame preventing her from returning to the circle, haven was supposed to have what she’d been longing for since childhood: community. acceptance. lucky her !!

she loves rlly feminine things!! makeup and intricate hairstyles and laced boots and the like. she cannot be trusted to spend money responsibly when she sees a pretty trinket

they love children and want some of their own one day so badly. does this have to do with her incessant ache for family and the ghost of thirteen year old zori haunting their brain at all times.. yes 😔

she also loves FREAKS ❤️ mekduk, mirmir, blade—she practically collects strays

her tattoos are a bit random and nonsensical. they’re just.. things she loves!! things she wants to be defined by!! marigolds because she was born in spring, an apple because the smell reminds them of maj, an eye with a heart-shaped pupil indicative of their gift, a sparkly book because she and red shared their best memories tucked away in the library, et cetera et cetera!!

their besties are briony, chase, red and lavinet in that order. briony is an instant friend they’re such goons together, she and chase have a strange back-and-forth and she’s more comfortable telling him certain secrets than she is red (surprisingly), and she and red (after overcoming a certain hurdle) are able to fall back into their easy affectionate dynamic from when they were kids !! lavinet adored her from the get go and their shared interests just made them click 👯‍♀️

in this universe everyone is at least a little bit in love with them because they deserve a little obsession!! as a treat!! most in love to least in love: blade > briony > ayla > red > trouble > shery > tallys > chase > lavinet > halek. riel excluded but he loves her in his own way. yeah the three initial shepherds all catch varying degrees of feelings at the same time. that’s just the way it is.

they and chase actually.. contemplated fwb but decided it would never work, which is (shockingly) what brought them closer together as friends and why she prefers going to him for certain issues. there's a unique understanding between them that she doesn't have with anyone else. to the two of them, secrets are their love language

her whole theme is compassion as a chest wound !! literally the motto i created them around. but their two other biggest traits are her liveliness and will. like they’re kind of a cringefail loser at times but despite that she never ever ever gives up. a bit stubborn? sure. but wholly earnest bc tbh that’s the most endearing trait a hero can have 🤧 she’ll push through anything and everything

i eventually want them to cut their hair into a bob. why?? bc it would be cute w their streaks of white. lich rally no other reason. how cute would she be?? so cute.

also charity is probably (???) not her real name !! it’s like a tiefling virtue name <33

if u read any of this ilysm bc i don’t know what i wrote i’m just talking 💕