#and im in class... it's a long one. still more than an hour left :'( my head hurts

[silenthillbunni]

🏫🍃🌥️

[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.

[midnightmoonytales]

hey can I ask Slytherin x reader what if the reader got into detention with Mattheo and Theodore and like in the first episode the detention was to help hagrid do something in the forbidden forest and the reader got lost and they all panic just to find tomorrow morning that the reader was peacefully eating breakfast at the campfire she build and be like "look guys I found a unicorn hair " sorry if it is to long I just can't get it out of my head

A/N: Uhm first off...I love this. Ya'll are feeding me, and I'm supposed to be feeding yall. It's also not too long, my dear; great ideas come at great lengths. sometimes. I started writing this at work and continued it in class - I totally have my priorities straight lol. I also apologize if it aint that good - I felt bad for how long it took to get this out

CW: Animal abuse, friends being sarcastic assholes to each other, death?. Lmk if I missed anything.

DON'T HURT ANIMALS - IF I FIND OUT YOU HURT AN ANIMAL IM COMING FOR YOUR KNEES

Summary: Mattheo and Theodore drag you into one of their little schemes, resulting in the three of you getting detention. What will they do when they seem to have lost you in the forbidden forest.

Not edited

WC: 2.8K

<><><>

It was an eerily quiet night in the castle. Too quiet, no student nor teacher in sight…not even a ghost. Halting to a stop, looking around suspiciously, straining your ears in search of a noise - maybe Peeves' vexatious schemes or Ms. Norris's beady paws- yet you heard nothing other than the wind blowing through the trees. Shifting the stack of books in your arms you continued your stroll back to the Slytherin common room. You spent the last beading hours of free time scrunched up over piles of books, preparing for OWLS. Chimes of the bells noted there were only a few minutes until curfew, most students had already found their way back to their common rooms - rather hoping to not be pulled into detention. 

You hadn’t worried about increasing your pace, seeing as the dungeon was only around the corner and down the stairs. Even if you didn’t make it inside the common room before the last chime of the bell, the prefects didn’t tend to be in the area till five after. Clocking when and where at certain times, after falling asleep one too many times in the library. The sound of rapidly increasing footsteps and the shout of inaudible yells caused you to stop at the corner, confused. Peering over your shoulder, you noticed dumb and dumber running from a fuming filch and Ms. Norris. The smell of burnt skin filled the hall as they approached, you didn’t have time to question what they did before they forcibly grabbed you by the arms and continued running, the books you had just checked falling onto the floor. 

You would think that the best place to hide would be the common room which was less than thirty feet away, and the benefit of Filch not being able to access inside. Unfortunately, Mattheo and Theodore dragged you down a different route. Up the stairs on the left, past the dragon statue, only to ascend up more flights of stairs. There was no reason that you would have to run away with these two - until the last bell of the night chimed, ringing through the halls - now you had no choice but to run from Filch. 

The boys were ready to dash left - until you forcefully grabbed them by the collars - forcing them down a different path away from the group of Ravenclaw prefects that patrolled that section of the castle. The last thing you needed was to get busted by a know-it-all Ravenclaw prefect. Your legs were aching and your chest felt like it was going to burst from running all around the castle non-stop, but Filch was still on you. That lot of you hastily made your way to the moving stairs near Gryffindor Tower in hopes of losing Filch. He might have enough joy from throwing students into detention to fill his stamina for a while, but sooner or later it would have to die out. 

You rounded the corner, the stairs were about to move and if you didn’t get on them now, you would be caught by Filch. The three of you booked it with what energy you had left, jumping over the gap created by the stairs moving. Mattheo and you landed barely just making it. Theodore on the other hand wasn't as lucky - holding on by his hands from the stairs trying to pull himself up before the stairs reconnected to another. Hastily, Mattheo and you grabbed him by his shoulder, hoisting him onto the stairs with you. Filch yelled at you all from his place on the bottom set of stairs that led to the third floor of the castle. 

As you all caught your breaths you made it into the hall, taking the long way back to the common room. Grateful for the breeze cooling you down, you didn’t realize how hot it had gotten running. The adrenaline pumping through your veins makes it feel as if your body is cold. Maybe this was the feeling Mattheo and Theodore were always looking for. The excitement…the rush. The boys were rambunctiously laughing and hitting their hands together, sweat flinging from their heads as they moved around. Already feeling gross, choosing to speed up faster to get in front of them and away from their sticky sweat. 

Rounding the corner, you immediately halted to a stop as you peered at the silvery-gray tabby cat, its eyes glistening eyes staring up at you before it morphed into a lanky woman in green robes, with pristine-pinned up gray hair. Any amusement that you previously felt earlier instantaneously drained from your body. At that moment, you wished it was Filch who had caught you and handed you off to Professor Snape, that would have been more tolerable. Maybe a little scrubbing of the cauldrons or the mopping of the dungeon floors. Mattheo and Theodore weren’t far behind, too busy messing around to notice the presence standing before them. As they approached your side, your hands quickly smacked them upside the back of their heads. Their quick remarks died out on the tips of their tongue as they finally recognized the women standing before them. You could almost see their souls physically deflating. 

“Professor McGonagall, looking good tonight,” Mattheo said with a wink, shooting finger guns at her. A swift bludger to the side would have been better than being forced to see Mattheos’ weak attempts at smooth talking his way out of another detention. She remained motionless, but her presence was still ever so threatening. Hands clasped together in front of her, quizzical brow sitting high on her face. The wind appeared to be enacting a mirthless taunt as her eyes bore into you all. 

“And what are the three of you doing away from your common rooms after curfew?” She questioned expectantly, her gaze piercing through your soul. A chill ran up your spine at her awaiting stare. There was no good lie for being on the other side of the castle during this time of night. Ms. Norris wouldn’t be the only cat you would have to watch out for in the halls from now on. It was like you were second years all over again, running into Professor McGonagall in her animagus form when you were roaming the castle - similar to tonight. 

A horsed breathing appeared from behind you, turning around slightly, you noticed an extremely out-of-breath Filch and Ms. Norris. You hadn’t heard his lopsided footsteps coming, too focused on the trouble you had gotten dragged into. If your fate wasn’t sealed before it would definitely be now. “T-they were,” Filch started, leaning over to take a breath, “They were setting things on fire, burned the end of poor Ms. Norris’ tail in the process, ma’am.” It felt like you had hit a brick wall. Of course, that's where the smell of burning flesh came from. Not even wanting to know how they managed to get Filch's mangey snitch involved. Leave it to Mattheo to set things aflame. 

With that, the professor requested that you all followed her to her office as she decided your fate. Maybe you would have to clean all of the animal droppings from today's Care of Magical Creatures class. Maybe she would have you scrub the great hall, or have you organize the entire library with the librarian. That would be a bore for sure. She sat at her desk silently, gazing up at the three of you every couple of minutes. Taking it upon yourselves to sit and relax before you found out your fate. Mattheo and Theodore took it upon themselves to start flicking pieces of paper at each other, not caring if it hit you in the process. It was a bad idea to decide to sit in between the two. “I’m surrounded by bloody idiots,” you groaned as you rubbed your temples, slipping further into the chair. 

“Hey, at least we’re hot,” Theodore barked out, flicking a piece of paper straight at the side of your head. Mattheo laughed in the background, giving Theodore a high-five. Maybe you could get away with their deaths, that sounded more appealing than sitting with them. 

“The only thing hot in here is the heat radiating from the lanterns,” you shot out with a laugh. Earning a ‘Hey!’ from the two boys sitting next to you. They weren’t going to be the only ones having fun tonight, especially not after dragging you into this. Mattheo and Theodore weren’t bad looking, but you would never confess that. It would go straight to their already small heads. They shared a singular brain cell most times for crying out loud. 

It didn’t take long for McGonagall to shush you all.  Standing up from her desk, pulling her glasses off to hang from her wrinkly neck, “Enough, tonight you three will be helping Hagrid in the forbidden forest.” She continued, gesturing to where Filch was standing in the corner, “Mr. Filch will guide you all there.” Filch's grimy smile spread across his face at the news. Groans left all of your mouths, going into the forbidden forest was a death wish. While Hagrid was never rude to anybody, unless they deserved it, being around him could be a bore. That was all left for Weaselbee, freak brain, and four eyes. You would think they were a gamekeeper like Hagrid with how much they hung out with the giant. 

<><><> 

The whole way to Hagrid's hut, Filch was going on and on about how he wishes he could punish students like he did in the old days. He even wished the lot of you a fake ‘good luck’, along with a ‘we’ll see if you're even alive tomorrow. His sickening laugh filled your ears as you pushed past him, ready to get this detention over with. Hagrid warned everyone of the danger promptly before rushing you all into the forest, complaining that it was us against the poachers. Whatever that meant, he didn’t elaborate until a while into the search, remembering that you didn’t know what you were searching for.

It had been an hour since you entered the forbidden forest with Hagrid, searching for an injured unicorn. Poachers had been on the rise and news got to Hagrid that an Unicorn managed to escape from their capture. Everyone was on high alert, between the acromantulas and dungbogs and the other creatures that resided in the forest, it wasn’t particularly the safest. Using your wands wasn't an option either, Hagrid was keen on it. Saying, ‘We don’t wanna get their attention,’ or something along those lines. Your attention is focused elsewhere. It was hard to see through the thick trees with only Hagrid's lantern. 

The forest was dense and never-ending, fog covered the grounds making it hard for you to see where you were stepping. You swore you stepped on a pile of bones at one point, the crunch under your heel leaving you disturbed. That poor unfortunate soul. The further you walked into the forest, the harder it became. You swore your ears were playing jokes on you, a distant wailing ringing in your ears every now and again. It almost seemed to be beckoning you away from the group. 

<><><> 

Mattheo had lost count of how long you all had even been inside the forest. He wasn’t really paying attention, to begin with. To him, this was just another unfortunate detention. The poachers had to get the unicorn by now, their “attempts” at saving the creature were slim. It was the cycle of life anyways, there would be more unicorns in the future, but it's illegal so gotta go save 'em he guessed. He rolled his eyes at the idea, shoving his hands into his pocket. 

Theodore and he tried messing around - whacking each other and jumping around - but were immediately stopped by Hagrid. Told that if they messed around they would scare the unicorn or attract poachers. Not that he cared much, he knew spells to easily get away from them or kill them. But he couldn’t mess up his father's plans, so getting away was the only option. Opting to mess with his wand in his pocket to entertain him. 

After a while he started growing hungry, having missed dinner. He knew you typically carried snacks in the pockets of your robe, turning around he was bamboozled to see you were no longer there. Smacking Theodore, he prompted him to turn around, becoming equally confused when he noticed you were gone. “Oi, where is she?” He quipped, stopping to look through the dense trees for any sign of you. 

“No idea mate, she was there a few minutes ago,” Theodore commented, walking back to where you were less than five minutes ago when he checked. He searched the bushes for any sign of struggle or broken branches but saw nothing. It was as if you vanished into thin air. There was no way in hell you would have gotten away from them without making some sort of sound. 

Hagrid turned around at the sound of their voice, “What are yer’ talkin' bout?” He questioned, raising his lantern so he could get a better view of the boys. “And where's yer’ friend?” He searched around the area, worried that someone might have snatched you up from behind, but he was sure he would have heard footsteps. “We ought to find her, let's go.” He grumbled, not only was he searching for a unicorn, he was now searching for a missing student. 

They had spent hours searching for you. The boys offered to split up to find you but were shut down. Hagrid couldn’t have more students to go searching for, finding you now was already hard enough. They had run into an acromantula nest at one point but luckily weren’t spotted. That was the last thing they needed. Theodore was unlucky as he had fallen into a hole, Hagrid spent five minutes pulling him out as Mattheo was dubbed over in laughter. That would be the highlight of his night. There was no way in hell that he would ever let Theodore live that down in his life. At this rate, they were lucky if they were to find you by daybreak. 

The sound of laughter filled their ears, the three of them going on to high alert. Or, well higher alert, their shoulders tensed with stress as they were already searching for you. Believing it ought to be a poacher camp nearby. Mattheo and Theodore grabbed their wands out in preparation, worried that if they stumbled upon a poacher camp, so could you. Hagrid was getting ready to sneakily guide them away when they heard your voice.

Stopping, Theodore pushed the bushes apart ever so slightly to try to find you. Hagrid and Mattheo stood over his shoulder to see. They all sighed when they noticed you sitting on the ground, a small fire lit in front of you with an injured unicorn sitting at your side. They stepped through the bushes, “We’ve been looking for you everywhere,” Mattheo spat in disbelief, “and with a bloody unicorn at that,” He was absolutely exhausted from searching damn near the entire forest for you, and you just happened to be with the one thing they came in here for. 

“Awh, you guys do care about me,” You gushed, tightening the fabric from your robe around the unicorn's injured leg. “And all this time I thought you were just heartless children with parental issues,” you laughed. You had broken off from the group when you heard the distant wailing. Normally you wouldn’t be bothered to look, but something in your gut told you to. When you reached where you heard the wailing, it happened to be the unicorn you were looking for.

 Her leg had a large gash in it and she couldn’t walk anymore. She looked exhausted. Approaching her slowly, you made sure to put your wand away and walk towards her with your hands where she could see them. She was a sight to behold, her coat shining as if it was moonlight. You understood why her coat was so valuable. It took her a while to trust you but eventually gave in. Ripping the end of your robe, made a makeshift bandage around her leg, having to tighten it every once in a while when she moved. Pulling out a baggie of mixed nuts, you offered some to her, while you didn’t know about unicorn diets you hoped she would eat some. Luckily she ate away, and when she didn’t leave after a couple hours you made a small, unnoticeable fire to keep you warm until morning. She snuggles up to your side, safely.

“Maybe we should have left you to die,” Mattheo grumbled, ready to smack you for making them worry. But they would never tell you how worried they were, they wouldn’t hear the end of it if they did. At the end of the day, or well morning, they were just glad you were safe. This would definitely go down as one of their most eventful detentions. 

<><><>

@ghostofscarley @devilishwitchfantasies

[how-do-i-delete-this-acc]

suna rintaro here. my girlfriend, y/n, is being distant today and i don't know why. let me tell you about what happened.

we were supposed to have our separate zooms with her on my lap, but she left to a different room near the very beginning. she tried to play it off with "i have a pop quiz and i need to focus. can't have my grade drop just because i can't focus on your lap with your zoom in the background," but we all know that that is absolute bs. she could've focused on my lap just fine, and we all know that failing a 10-point pop quiz from chiahara-sensei happens to the best of us. and if you're wondering, i am the best of the best.

then, after we both finished our annoyingly long 1.5 hour lectures, (well she claimed hers was in fact a 40-point pop quiz/test but it def wasn't) she refused to cook together. she said something like, "rin, you burned yourself last time, remember? go sit down," but that, too, is bs. yes, i spilled hot water on my sweats last time i tried to make pasta, but it was on my knee, so it wasn't like it was a big deal anyways. i don't know why she kept making excuses.

then, after we finished eating the meal she cooked without me, she had the audacity to get on a zoom call when i didn't have one. and after that terrible offense, she refused to sit on my lap for it AGAIN. she said that inuzuka-sensei was always more strict about what we wore in zooms, and i wouldn't get away with no shirt on like soma-sensei let me. when i told her that her body would block mine, she said that my chest and shoulders would still be perfectly visible. then, she guilted me by saying that she didn't want other girls to see my "perfectly toned abs," as she called them. AND THEN she had the impudence to TEASE ME and LIE TO ME by telling me my cheeks and ears were getting red! couldn't believe her.

then, after all our classes were over, she refused to cuddle with me because APPARENTLY her friend's sister a block down rolled and sprained her ankle, and that it was getting pretty bruised and swollen. she also added that her friend didn't have any advil or experience in injuries, and apparently she was asked to bring some advil, a compression bandage, and a couple ice packs. when i told her that her friend could just buy some and that she could get her own ice pack, she tried to get out of it by telling me that her friend's sister was only 5, was bawling her eyes out, refused to be left alone but also screamed louder when she was picked up, and that we also had a lot to spare because we have a ton of supplies in the closet because of my constant volleyball injuries. again, absolute bs. her friend could just go grab everything herself. what did it matter that the kid was crying? fuck kids! do you know how funny those youtube videos of kids getting hurt and crying are? people enjoy them for a reason. it's because kids are annoying as hell and it's fun to watch them get injured. im subscribed to like 10 of those kinds of channels. her friend is literally getting free entertainment and y/n obviously just wants to watch the free entertainment WITHOUT ME because she'd rather be with her stupid friend than me.

all in all, please help. i don't know why she's so distant today. is she mad? please give me tips!

@.su.rin post made at 4:16pm

comments: @.y/n.l/n: HELP WHAT IS THIS @.y/n.l/n: for the record i got an a+ on that so it was worth it @.y/n.l/n: love u always rin <333 @.su.rin: reply to @.y/n./l/n- ik that u hate me its ok

[heartsoji]

suna rintaro here. my girlfriend, y/n, is being distant today and i don't know why. let me tell you about what happened.

we were supposed to have our separate zooms with her on my lap, but she left to a different room near the very beginning. she tried to play it off with "i have a pop quiz and i need to focus. can't have my grade drop just because i can't focus on your lap with your zoom in the background," but we all know that that is absolute bs. she could've focused on my lap just fine, and we all know that failing a 10-point pop quiz from chiahara-sensei happens to the best of us. and if you're wondering, i am the best of the best.

then, after we both finished our annoyingly long 1.5 hour lectures, (well she claimed hers was in fact a 40-point pop quiz/test but it def wasn't) she refused to cook together. she said something like, "rin, you burned yourself last time, remember? go sit down," but that, too, is bs. yes, i spilled hot water on my sweats last time i tried to make pasta, but it was on my knee, so it wasn't like it was a big deal anyways. i don't know why she kept making excuses.

then, after we finished eating the meal she cooked without me, she had the audacity to get on a zoom call when i didn't have one. and after that terrible offense, she refused to sit on my lap for it AGAIN. she said that inuzuka-sensei was always more strict about what we wore in zooms, and i wouldn't get away with no shirt on like soma-sensei let me. when i told her that her body would block mine, she said that my chest and shoulders would still be perfectly visible. then, she guilted me by saying that she didn't want other girls to see my "perfectly toned abs," as she called them. AND THEN she had the impudence to TEASE ME and LIE TO ME by telling me my cheeks and ears were getting red! couldn't believe her.

then, after all our classes were over, she refused to cuddle with me because APPARENTLY her friend's sister a block down rolled and sprained her ankle, and that it was getting pretty bruised and swollen. she also added that her friend didn't have any advil or experience in injuries, and apparently she was asked to bring some advil, a compression bandage, and a couple ice packs. when i told her that her friend could just buy some and that she could get her own ice pack, she tried to get out of it by telling me that her friend's sister was only 5, was bawling her eyes out, refused to be left alone but also screamed louder when she was picked up, and that we also had a lot to spare because we have a ton of supplies in the closet because of my constant volleyball injuries. again, absolute bs. her friend could just go grab everything herself. what did it matter that the kid was crying? fuck kids! do you know how funny those youtube videos of kids getting hurt and crying are? people enjoy them for a reason. it's because kids are annoying as hell and it's fun to watch them get injured. im subscribed to like 10 of those kinds of channels. her friend is literally getting free entertainment and y/n obviously just wants to watch the free entertainment WITHOUT ME because she'd rather be with her stupid friend than me.

all in all, please help. i don't know why she's so distant today. is she mad? please give me tips!

@.su.rin post made at 4:16pm

comments: @.y/n.l/n: HELP WHAT IS THIS @.y/n.l/n: for the record i got an a+ on that so it was worth it @.y/n.l/n: love u always rin <333 @.su.rin: reply to @.y/n./l/n- ik that u hate me its ok

[anzulvr]

୨୧ On Purpose Karma x (fem) Reader || Chapter: 04 ୨୧

Prev || 04 Oblivious || Next

— Since the entire student council was present and the library was notably crowded with students who had signed up for the lecture, [Name] entered the library on her own.

She felt guilty, having to ditch her plans with Karma after an unresolved argument they decided to brush over. To make matters worse, she has to sit through a two-hour session and watch Ren shamelessly flirt with every girl in the room. On the brighter side, this ordeal counted towards her volunteer hours.

"You're late. You missed my introductory speech."

"My fault, I'll make up for it by working extra hard!"

She mentally thanked Karma for convincing her take the longer route, saying, "It's not a big deal if you're 10 minutes late... or 30." It was impressive how Gakushuu's speeches managed to put her to sleep every time, missing it was a win in her book.

Koyama called him over, something about a broken printer and an angry librarian.

 ...aaand she was all alone again.  [Name] decided to go check on the group at the back table.

"Oh, [Name] made it—she can help us!" The first year, Chisa blissfully smiled.

"But I wanted Asano to help. [Name] could you please ask him to?" Chisa's friend insisted, clearly not as enthusiastic about the anyone-whose-not- Asano's arrival.

[Name] tried not to let it bother her, being the only girl in the student council came with a lot of pressure.

She’s just as helpful and capable as the rest of the group but no one seems to acknowledge it. Everyone calls them the “Big Five” even though there’s technically six of them as her scores tie with Seo.

"He's busy with Koyama, but maybe later."

The girl groaned and sulked laying her head on the table. Chisa looked apologetic for her friends dramatics. [Name] offered them a polite smile and said, "Let's get through your assignments then."

After half an hour of helping the girls turn in missing work, [Name] decided to take a short break. She left for an empty table in the very corner of the room, the short break turned into a long one when she got distracted texting Karma.

‧₊˚ Message Log ‧₊˚

[Name]: can we talk? im super bored!!

Karma: Whose fault is that?

Karma: should have ditched to be with me the whooleee day

[Name]: ugghhh don't. Can you believe I still have another hour of this 

[Name]: anyway what are you doing?

Karma: I bumped into Nagisa on my way back from the library

Karma: now were at Maehara's house with Rio and Fuwa.

[Name]: Rio?? That one beautiful, smart, sweet, blonde girl in your class?

Karma: Sounds like you like her alot.

[Name]: She makes me nervous

Karma: Hey that's how you used to talk about me before we went out

[Name]: I can hear the disappointment through the text lmaoo

‧₊˚ Message End ‧₊˚

"You haven't even been here for an hour and you’re already slacking off on your phone?"

"Gakushuu! Geez you came out of nowhere." [Name] shut her phone off and patted the seat next to her.

To her surprise he slumped down next to her instead of insulting her and walking off, like he usually does.

"Are you feeling alright?"

"I'm exhausted to say the least. This was a stupid idea no one is making progress, well no one but Ren, he managed to pick up quite a few desperate ones today."

"That's not completely true, I helped Chisa and her friend turn their C's to A's. As much as I hate being here it's not useless. Useless was the Bakesale we tried last year where the cupcakes we sold tasted like horse crap. It was funny watching people pretend to love them and hold back the throw up because they came from you."

"Could of stopped at the first half, but thanks, I think. My father said I wasn't being organized enough, that this would be a failure on my half and an embarrassment on his."

"That's a little harsh, you're doing your best and you've done more than anyone else in the council. Ren's been giving out his number more than he's been lecturing, Seo has been in the bathroom for 20 minutes, Teppei has been stuck on the same group this entire time and to be honest Koyama is hard to look at. Im pretty sure I saw the girl he was teaching closing her eyes while he was talking."

The corners of his mouth twitched upwards.

"You're right I'll go yell at them in a few. It's not a big deal though, My father has said much worse."

"To be fair, I haven't exactly kept my promise either. Hard work turned into hiding in a corner to text my b- actually I should get back to work, actions speak louder than words!" [Name] stood up to leave. Asano grabbed her sleeve, it was impulsive and the immediateness of it made it all the more awkward."

"Uh, Asano? Is there something you still need?" She crinkled her eyebrows.

His cheeks became somewhat pink, [Name] thought he couldn’t have been blushing, maybe it was allergies.

“No, just don't get distracted on your phone again."

"Yeah Ive got it!" She waved him off and went back to work, 

Gakushuu sat there slightly conflicted with his thoughts and his feelings, He faulted the all nighter he pulled last night, sleep deprivation does negatively impact mind clarity. He decided he should get back to work too.

Meanwhile ☆ ༄

"Let me get this straight, instead of asking me like normal people the class collectively decided to stalk [Name] and I?"

"Pretty much... but I was against it the entire time!" Nagisa replied sheepishly, to his surprise Karma's response was a relaxed nod.

"You're acting weirdly cool about this."

It sent a shiver down his spine, in a weird way Karma was scarier when he didn't react. Not knowing what he's thinking was an uncomfortable feeling.

"It's not a big deal- unless you guys tell people, that's when things will leak."

Fuwa's voice highers a few octaves in concern "What things?!" 

"Telling you would ruin the surprise wouldn’t it?”

Maehara, reckless as always chimes in “I wanted to go and see [Name] but I couldn't. We were almost a thing before you stole her ya know?"

Nagisa, being the good friend he is, rushes in to save him "That's not it at all! Isogai told us she rejected him a bunch of times since he's a womanizer!"

"I'm not a womanizer, I'm smooth."

"Smooth is the surface of the floor you'll be on when I knock your sorry ass out."

Maehara quickly moves behind Rio who changes the subject with a flood of questions;

"How long have you been dating? Why would anyone go out with you? Did you scare her into saying yes?"

"I’ll tell you if you buy me soba. Better question is: Why wouldn't someone go out with me? I’m tall, handsome, smart, charismatic… and I have a sick spice collection.”

“Im also all of those things.” Maehara jokes, cautiously this time, using Rio as a human shield.

[shaynawrites23]

🤭 of failing in the study aspect and so you won't be able to achieve your dream (this is so personal rn)

With Peter (parker of course) or Remus or Sirius. Whichever inspires you

You'll Succeed

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Word count: 745

A/N: it's been really long since you requested this, im sorry 😅 if you still see this, i hope you enjoy!

When Peter came back from class, he expected to find things different from how he'd left them. He's been gone a couple hours, after all, and you'd assured him before he left that you'd finish up your work while he was away and take the rest of the day off, to give yourself a bit of a break after all your hard work. You'd even discussed dinner plans, and while he'd said time and time again that he'd cook, and that you just had to sit back and relax, you'd said something about getting it started, and he had to choose between bickering with you about it or being on time for class.

What he found upon coming home, though, was not what he'd hoped for. Surrounded by textbooks, papers and a half-full cup of tea, you're still busily typing away on your laptop, as though you haven't moved since he left. He touches a hand to your cup, his backpack hitting the floor with a dull thud.

Cold.

And all this while, you don't stop your incessant typing, don't take your attention off of your work for longer than it takes you to say, "hi, Peter, how was class?"

Peter ignores your question.

"Babe," he sighs, saving your document with one hand and gently closing your laptop with the other, "I thought we agreed you'd take the rest of the day off?"

"Yeah," you sigh back, swiveling in your chair to face him, hands gesturing helplessly as you talk. "But then I looked at my planner, and I- there's so much more to do, Peter, and if I can't do it all I'm gonna fail this class and watch my dreams slip through my fingers. Like little dandelion seeds floating on the wind."

He's ready to make a joke, but you look so exhausted, so dejected and genuinely afraid of all your work being for naught, that he swallows those words and replaces them with something gentler.

"Hey, babe. Babe, look at me." His warm hand touches your chin, gently guiding you to meet his eyes as he kneels in front of you. "You're up in your head again. I promise you, one night off isn't gonna shatter your dreams. It'll be good for you, actually; if you keep pushing without a break, you'll only burn out and get sick, and then you'll lose more time. Take a break with me, yeah? Come relax, we'll make those little dessert things you like, we'll watch your favorite show and I'll give you lots of kisses."

Damn, that's tempting. Part of you wants nothing more than to say yes, but then the overwhelming guilt of not being productive takes over and you shake your head, blinking back tears.

"I can't, Peter. I can't lose this, this opportunity, this- I've dreamed about this for years and I can't lose my chance, not when I'm so close- Peter, I want this so bad, but what if I can't-"

You cut yourself off there. The thought of not achieving your dreams, not getting what you want so badly, what you've worked so hard for, is painful to think about, and a single tear rolls down your cheek as you take a deep breath and remind yourself to think about something else. Alarm flashes across Peter's face, but he tries his best to hide it and reaches up to gently brush your tears away with his thumb.

"Hey, angel, don't think like that. You really think you could lose it, when you've worked this hard? Babe, don't underestimate yourself. You've worked hard, you're still working hard, but you can't work yourself to death either. You need to find a balance, between work and rest. And get those thoughts of failure out of your head, okay angel? You're not gonna fail. Not your class, not your course, not at your goals. You'll succeed, I promise."

Peter sounds so earnest, so honest, so much like he truly believes you can do it, that you can't do much more than stifle a sob and nod, reaching for a hug he's all too happy to give you.

"That's my girl," he smiles, pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek. "Now, no more work tonight, okay? Come to the kitchen, and remind me how to make those dessert things you like before I mess it up and something completely different comes out of the oven."

Your answering giggle is all he needs to smile.

[r4vensheaven]

Loser!Ellie x Vampire!Reader

Authors note: hii guys, this is my first time posting on tumblr so please go easy on me lmaoo, also English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes, please don’t hesitate to call me out im always open to criticism!! (just don’t be mean about it lol)

>loser!Ellie who’s life is just so mundane and boring until she finds out the new girl in her class, who she has a little crush on , is a vampire but instead of being scared,she falls even more for the girl and offers to be her personal blood buffet.

>loser!Ellie that spends entire nights researching about vampires so she can know more about you but eventually develops into a hyperfixation .

>loser!Ellie that can’t help but whimper every time your fangs pierce her skin, it hurts but it feels so good at the same time (she can’t help but get a little turned on).

>loser! Ellie who would lay her head on your lap demanding that you play with her hair while she babbles about space and dinosaurs, stumbling on her words,all dizzy after you drank from her.

>loser!Ellie who would blush so hard when you tell her how delicious her blood is.

>loser!Ellie whose favorite book is now “Carmilla” (iykyk).

>loser!Ellie who gets addicted to your bites to the point she makes herself bleed around you in order to tempt you to bite her again.

>Loser!Ellie that could hear your stories of many year ago for hours. She’s so fascinated by all the lives you’ve lived (and she’s really grateful she can be part of one of your many stories).

>loser!Ellie who thinks you are the stylish person on earth.

>loser!Ellie who looks up at you with the prettiest green doe eyes you have ever seen after feeding on her.

>loser!Ellie who finally finds courage to kiss you, your mouth still stained with her blood, but she doesn’t care( she thinks it’s hot), a soft loving kiss that eventually gets more heated and aggressive, your fangs poking her lips,your blood red lipstick living kiss marks all over her face, Ellie is having the time of her life.

>loser!Ellie who’s addicted to your natural seductive vampire scent, always with her head somewhere on your neck, collarbone or chest.

>loser!Ellie that finds you the hottest when you just finished drinking from her, your mouth is covered in her blood, your chest rising from your heaving breathing, your eyes rolling back from how good she tastes…

>loser!Ellie that gets so shy and flustered because of the amount of expensive gifts you give her. She likes this new guitar? It’s hers. She needs more art supplies? You buy her the best ones. A telescope so she can see the stars and planets? Already in her room. When you have been alive for so long it’s not weird to have an insane amount of money to spend on your sweet girlfriend <3

>loser!Ellie who feels bad for not being able to buy you a bunch of stuff back,she wants to spoil you too :’)

>loser!Ellie who’s eyes water and is left speechless when you tell her that she is the greatest gift you could have.

>loser!Ellie that paints and draws you over and over again because you’re her muse. She also makes paintings to decorate your big mansion, every room has at least something made by her.

>loser!Ellie always losing card games against you, who after so many years became a master in them, but Ellie still has hope that she’ll win against you someday( when she does its because you let her win).

>loser!Ellie who’s had many sleepless nights thinking (and crying) about how she’s going to get old and die while you stay young forever :’(

>loser!Ellie that begs you to turn her because there’s nothing she wants more than to spend eternity with you.

Thinking of writing a full fic on this, i just need the time lmao

[budsofrose]

Okay uhh im having brainrot so bare with me

Modern au!Sanemi leaving the office, having finished up grading paperwork and having to rush home since he promised Genya he’d help with math.

He walks home so he could save up on money, and as he walks down the and passes by the halls he notices you in the school courtyard, sketchbook and pen in hand, doodling while simultaneously trying to focus on schoolwork.

He decides to walk up to you and ask what you’re doing out here since school hours have ended, but before he does he sees your pen drop and roll over near his foot. Abashed seeing him come into view as you try to pick up the pen, as he crouches down and gets up to give it to you. The pen looked like itd seen better days. Beat up with scratches, teeth marks, and the paint chipping off.

“Here.” He gestures, and you gratefully take it. Fingers brushing up against one another contrasting from his rough overworked fingers to your soft and delicate ones, eliciting a shiver from him.

“Im so sorry sensei, I hadn’t seen you were there.” You bow apologetically, your shirt showing cleavage and seeing it mushed up together in the process, being painfully flashed by sanemi.

He tisks with pink dusting his cheeks, he states “Well obviously. Why are you still here? Class hours ended a while ago, and the school’s closin up.”

You stammer, “Ah, well I usually stay a bit and study with friends, but they left a while earlier.” Looking down at your notebook and closing it off, as you start to pack your things.

“I’ll walk you home, its not safe for a student to be out for so long.” He offers. You try to protest but he’s already walking away, expecting you to follow him as you hastily pack your things.

As his figure slowly shrinks the farther he goes, you decided to just shove your items in your bag rather than put it in order. You can organize it later on right? Holding your bulky pencilcase in hand as you jog your way to catch up.

He glances at you for brief moment looking down at your shirt before slowing his pace so you could catch up to him.

“Thank you for offering to walk me home sensei, I really lost track of time today.” ‘Lost track of time daydreaming about you’ you internally thought.

He grunts out a ‘no problem’ before you two continue on your walk. Tension is seeping through the both of you, but its not long before the silence is broken again, but this time its surprisingly by Sanemi asking you a question.

“Whats up with your pen? Why’s it all fuck’- why’s it all beat up like that? Dont ya got other pens or something?” You chuckle at his little slip up, him having to withdraw from cursing since it wasn’t really professional, inside or outside of school campus, especially around a student.

“Oh? My pen? Well its my favorite pen ive had as a goodluck charm. I always try and stock up on refills since I like to write and draw a lot.” You say, gesturing to your pencilcase in hand.

“Im still finding a replica of it, since its really worn down now, it holds a special place in my heart. Not as special as my other pens though.” You fiddle with your pencil case, opening it up to showcase your pen.

“Didn’t know it meant that much to you.” He says before coming to an abrupt stop causing you to also stop just a few steps ahead of him.

“Why dont you tell me all about your pens, hm?” He says as he comes closer to you.

You didn’t know how long its been, but it felt like hours. God knows where you are, having to painstakingly explain to Sanemi about each an ever one of the pens you own as he slowly slides it inside you when finished doing so. Sobbing, as overstimulation hits you as he trys to bully one more pen inside your cunt from your bulky pencil case' as he rubs circles on your clit to sooth you.

You don’t know how you allowed yourselt to get roped into this, but you’re not complaining. as Sanemi strokes the insides of your thigh coaxing you to open up more.

“Good girl, such a good girl. how about just one more pen, just one more, alright? Maybe then ill take them out and give you something a bit bigger. Hows that sound?"

Genya never really got that help in the end.

I am by NO means a writer, like kudos to anyone (ao3 rizz) that writes at all, I just though abt this and said why not 🤷‍♂️

[getwhore]

Come & See Me

❀Summary : Nothing major, just loverboy connie & his girlfriend.

❀cw : None really, whooole lotta fluff (barely any smut, very subjective at the end.)

❀Notes : YALLLL...I'm back (prolly not for long.) had a long hiatus, college is no joke. decided to put something together while im on break. not proofread so ntm. like always if u enjoy plssss like & reblog. asks are always open my loves <3

“Amour, when are you finally gonna come ‘n see me? Been missing you.”

Hearing his soft, but deep voice emitting through your phone’s speaker made your stomach flutter.

Connie had been in France for a few weeks now for ‘business’. Most men can handle being away from their partners for months or years at a time. Connie does not fall into that category. He’s definitely on the clingier side, not being able to handle being away from you for longer than a couple of hours. He’d been begging you since the day he left to come with him, but every time you turn him down.

“I told you Con, I gotta wait for my paycheck.” You sighed as you curled the ginger colored hair around your curling iron. “Tickets to France are not cheap. And I’ve been missin’ you too, a lot.”

“Then lemme pay for your ticket. You be actin’ like imma make you pay me back or somethin’.”

You set the iron down and face your phone. Seeing Connie’s face in that lighting truly did make you wonder how you bagged that. Connie looked at you still, waiting for your response. You knew Connie had more than enough money to pay for your ticket, maybe even your whole family’s ticket if you wanted him to. You just hated having him spend so much money on you and you can barely afford to spoil him back. Even though he refuses to allow you to, you still want to give him as much love back as he’s given to you.

“Connie no. You already do too much with that spoiling shit. I wanna get it on my own, you know that.”

He sighed, rubbing his eyes in frustration. “Damn mami, stop being so damn stubborn. Just lemme help you.”

You picked up your curling wand again, twisting the ginger loc of hair around it. The more you thought about it, who were you to deny Connie? You knew if you said no, he’d just keep asking. That’s how you got the new Birkin hanging from your wall, and the bouquet of flowers sitting on your dining table, and the ginger lace you’re curling as you look at his puppy dog eyes. Finally, you give in. 

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yes. You can buy the ticket.”

“Merci, mon amour.”

“Just don’t buy me no first class shit Connie. I’m serious.”

He just chuckled as he booked your tickets on his computer. A few minutes later, you got an email. Looking at the message, you saw Connie had booked a ticket for early the next morning, and it was first class. You rolled your eyes and removed the wrap from your head. You fluffed your hair and fixed your edges before walking to your closet for an outfit.

“Matter of fact, iré a buscarte yo mismo.” Connie mumbled under his breath.

“What’d you say Con?”

“Lemme call you back mami.”

You said goodbye and heard the dial tone a little after. You continued searching for an outfit, finally finding one. When you finished getting dressed, you grabbed your phone from your vanity and headed out of your room.

As you made your way to the kitchen, your phone rang. Picking it up was like holding up a mirror. You saw Connie’s contact at the top of your phone, but took the time to adjust your hair a little. After a few seconds you accepted the call, waiting for the reception to pick up before seeing Connie’s face in the camera. You sucked your teeth.

“Damn, Connie. You close enough to the phone or what?”

He chuckled, pulling his phone farther away from his face. He set it up on his desk before rummaging through his room. He was out of view, but every few seconds he’d throw a pile of clothes in the opposite direction. You squint your eyes, waiting a few seconds to confirm that what you were seeing was what you were really seeing. After a moment, you saw another pile of clothes fly in and back out of view again.

“Connie, what the fuck do you have goin’ on over there?”

You damn near choked on your water as he walked back into frame. He was shirtless, sporting a pair of sweatpants that were slightly too big for him as they sagged at his waistline. He bent over to look at you through the phone, flashing a smile. Damn near blinded you.

“Regarde-toi, tu es belle, bébé.” Connie muttered, licking his lips sensually.

You didn't completely understand what he was saying, but you knew enough to know what he was saying. It made your face heat up a little. You cleared your throat, maintaining your composure.

“Merci, Connie, but what are you doing over there?”

“I said it earlier, miel, I’m gonna come and get you.”

“Come and get me from where, Connie?”

“From the airport, duh. Cmon mami, I know you aren't that slow.”

You rolled your eyes, flipping Connie off before grabbing your keys from your kitchen counter. You locked the house up and started up your car, setting your phone in the phone stand beside the steering wheel.

You and Connie went back and forth during your drive. He complained about you not letting him buy your clothes, you complained about him begging to buy your clothes, and then complained about yourself being ‘too nice’ by giving in. 

“Sabes que no quiero que pagues por nada, cariño.”

“Ingles, Connie. You know my Spanish ain’t good.”

“You know I don’t need you payin’ for nothing mama, it’s all on me.”

You rolled your eyes, turning the engine off and stepping out of the car. You locked the doors, heading to the entrance.

“What store you at, mama?”

You giggled, walking into the front door and greeting a few employees. “Well, since it's on you, I need some more Fenty. I’m at Ulta, baby.”

Connie quietly winced, packing a few buds into his grinder.

“Pace yourself, you know how you get in Ulta, and Sephora, and all these other places.”

You rolled your eyes, walking to the foundation aisle. You picked up and tested multiple bottles of foundation, finding the right shade. Dropping it into your basket, you continued to wander around. You got to the hair product aisle, looking at the hair curlers and blow dryers. You picked one up, looking at the box before hearing Connie’s nagging on the phone again.

“No lo compre. You have enough curling irons.”

“But I don't have enough blow dryers. You know what Connie, how are you gonna tell me to buy what I want, but when I do issa problem.”

Connie coughed after taking a rip from his bong. He set the glass on his table, looking at you with small eyes.

“Not a problem, baby. Just tryna teach you better spending habits, that's all. But, if you want the iron then buy it, amour.”

You finished up your shopping, moving from Ulta to other clothing stores in the mall. Once you finished, it was almost 4PM. You took a quick trip to grab some food before finally making it home. You tossed your bags onto your bed, shuffling to the kitchen to pour yourself a glass of wine. As you plop onto the sofa, glass of wine in hand, you finally let yourself relax. Connie was still on the other line (and had been for hours) but he was silent aside from the occasional background noises. You stared at him on the screen, watching as he paid close attention to whatever game he’d been playing.

You sigh loudly, making Connie’s head turn in your direction. He pauses his game and turns his attention to you. “Qué pasa, baby?”

“Nothin, Con.” You yawned, sighing again as you set your wine glass on the table before you. “Just sleepy.”

“You gotta stop stayin’ up so late, baby. That shit fucks with your head eventually.” He scolds you (but not rlly). 

You snuggle up under the blanket on your sofa, moaning from the comfort. You don’t respond to his semi lecture, just allowing yourself to relax. It doesn’t last that long though and you’re interrupted by a knock at the door.

Grumbling curses and complaints, you shuffle to the door and open it. You look around but nobody’s outside. Instead, a box sits on your welcome mat. You grab the box and close your door. Flipping the lights on and making your way back to the sofa, you see Connie’s back on the game. You call him, putting the box in the camera.

“Connie, did you send this?”

He squinted his eyes at the box, his eyes widening immediately. He smiles and leans back into his chair, one hand combing through his hair while the other nurses a neatly rolled blunt.

“I bought that like two months ago. Was supposed to be for our anniversary, but it'll definitely come in handy for tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” You try to piece together his hints. You’d honestly forgotten all about your flight the next morning.

He chuckled, taking another inhale from his blunt. “Don’t stress out about it, mama. You’ll find out tomorrow.”

“Yeah alright, Connie. Don’t make no promises that you can’t keep.”

He scoffed, ashing his blunt in the tray. “What exactly does that mean, baby?”

“The last time you were talking about some ‘tomorrow’ you passed out as soon as we got to the hotel. Talked allllat shit and spat all that game, just for me to not get no dick.”

“Ah, that’s what you’re worried about? Ne t'inquiète pas, bébé. Je te baiserai bien demain. You won’t even know what to do with yourself when I’m done with you.”

It was your turn to scoff this time, rolling your eyes. “Aight, if you say so. But when I have you begging for me tomorrow, I don’t wanna hear nothing.”

He laughed, mocking your words while you looked at him irritatingly through the camera. You took the gift box, wine, and your phone to your room to begin packing. Connie ended the call shortly after for a meeting. You took this time to listen to some music and pack your suitcase. The multiple glasses of wine had you feeling extremely relaxed. You’d find yourself distracted, singing along to whatever song was playing or dancing to the beat (or both). It took you two hours to thoroughly pack your suitcase, having to take many dance breaks and trying on multiple different outfits. 

Once you knew what you’d packed tightly into your suitcase was what you were taking, you grabbed the box cutter from your desk. Carefully, you slice through the thin tape over the box, setting it aside afterwards. You open the box slowly, your eyes widening as you look into it. Before your eyes was a somewhat elegant white lingerie set. It included the one piece lingerie and a silk robe to match. You picked it up out of the box, admiring the frilly pieces attached. Under the robe was a pair of heels to go along with the ensemble. Finally, you picked up a small pouch. You opened it, finding a note inside.

‘Feliz aniversario, mi corazón. Can’t wait to see u in this later. -Con’

You packed everything into a small bag, which matched with your suitcase. You’d finally finished packing. It was almost 11pm, so you decided to put your bags in front of the door for tomorrow. You placed a pair of sweats and a hoodie out for your airport outfit tomorrow. Finally, you turned off all the lights in your apartment, scheduled your alarm, and curled up under your blankets as you fell asleep to the soft murmuring of the tv.

Early the next morning you’re up an hour before your 4am alarm. You use this time to do some last minute arrangements to your luggage, fix your hair if necessary, and do a little makeup.

Your flight was at 6:45, so you needed to be out of the house by at least 5:30. You didn't leave until 6, meaning you’d have to speed to the airport and try your best to get through and on your plane. Luckily, you made your flight on time (only because of a delay) and took off safely. You sent a text to Connie before turning your phone on airplane mode before drifting to sleep.

You woke up to the flight attendant softly nudging you, letting you know you’d be landing shortly. You thank her and get yourself together. When the plane lands, you make your way to the baggage area. You text Connie, confirming your arrival before you grab your bags and head to the front to wait. As you made your way to sit in a nearby chair, you heard someone call your name. You looked to your left, then to your right, but you didn’t see anyone. You heard it again, but this time it was closer. You turn behind you to see Connie jogging towards you. Immediately, your bags are abandoned and you meet Connie, finally getting to feel his touch and inhale his scent after weeks of going without it.

Connie pulled away, kissing your temple before stepping back. “Damn ma, you look so good. Tu m'as manqué, bébé.”

“I missed you too, Con.”

“Your French is getting better I see.” He teased. You smacked his chest, walking to grab your bags. Connie tsk’s as he takes your bags and carries them himself. The gesture was just bare minimum behavior, but it still didn't keep the butterflies in your stomach from forming quickly.

When you stepped outside of the airport, you didn’t expect to see the night sky mixing with the near setting sun. When you asked Connie for the time, you didn’t expect to hear him say it was 4pm. You were still adjusting to the time adjustment so your brain was somewhat foggy. When you made it to his car, he opened the door for you first and allowed you to get comfortable before putting your bags in the trunk. When he gets in the car, he can't help but to lock the doors and kiss you. He missed you way more than you knew, but you knew that he’d do anything possible to make it up to you.

“Cooon, not here..” You whispered breathly in his ear. He just groans and pulls away from you.

He kissed you one more time, then turned on the car. The drive to his hotel was somewhat silent. You’d think he’d be more talkative because of how badly he missed you. Instead, he kept a firm grip on the steering wheel, only speaking a few times the whole ride. 

When you arrived at his hotel, he opened your door again. You fought with him to carry your duffel bag up to the room while he carried your suitcase and the room key. The hotel was beautiful to say the least. When you walked into the room, your heart fluttered and thumped in excitement. The room was dark except for the candles flickering. When you flipped the light switch, you inaudibly gasped. He had petals on the ground leading from the walkway to his bed, where a few boxes laid on top.

“Connie..you didn’t.” You felt tears brimming your eyes, looking up at him. He held your duffle bag, urging you to go inside. When you get inside, he closes the door behind you (and makes sure to hang the ‘Ne Pas Déranger!’ sign on the door handle).

You waited until he stood in front of you to open the biggest box (as he instructed). Inside was an assortment of toys and a set of handcuffs and a blindfold. You looked up at him with a ‘really?’ look. He simply shrugged.

“Don’t act like you don’t love when I use toys on you. Open the last one now, baby.”

You rolled your eyes, but picked up the box. You unwrapped it and looked at the small, black box. Hesitantly, you open it. Inside was the most beautiful ring you’d seen. When you went to look up at Connie, he’d already been kneeling in front of you. Your face scrunched up, trying your hardest not to cry as he holds one of your hands in both of his. He inhales, swallowing tears of his own. 

“Do you remember the day we met, baby? You were working at that coffee shop on campus.”

You giggled, wiping your tears with the back of your hand.

“Yeah, and you asked me some stupid ass question about-”

“How many grams of protein was in the bagel and the cream cheese you’d just given me.” He interrupted, laughing with you. “You gotta give me credit, baby, it was the only way I could think to talk to you. You were way outta my league.”

You scoffed. “Nah, you were out of my league. But you still got my number though..after waiting like two months.”

“Yeah, you’re a stubborn one.” He looked away from you for a second to collect himself. “But that’s what I love about you.”

“You know what you want, and you make it known that you’ll do whatever to get it. When you said we could be friends, you have no idea how excited I was. I made sure to text you every morning, between classes, and before bed. I knew you were busy, but I wanted you to know I was gonna be there for you always. When I broke up with my last girl, you were there for me. When your ex cheated on you I was there for you. Even though you stayed longer than I’d like, I still showed my support for you.”

“Through all that, I saw how much trust you put in me and how much you let me into your heart. Two years after we met I asked you to be my girlfriend. Of course you said no, because you’re so damn stubborn.”

“Connie you asked me to be your girlfriend in the Wendy’s drive thru, of course I was gonna say no.”

He held his heart as if he were hurt by your comment. “It wasn't even about allat. I loved you and I knew if I didn't at least try I wouldn't be able to live with myself.”

“But I eventually said yes, didn’t I?”

He nodded, kissing the back of your hand. “Si, you did. And now I’m asking you to be my wife.”

“In a hotel.”

He rolled his eyes. “Oui, but a hotel in France.”

“I’m joking, Con. I’ll marry you. Doesn’t matter where, when, or how. I love you.”

“And I love you, cariño.”

You handed him the box and watched as he slipped the ring on your finger. He stood to his feet, embracing you tightly. When he pulled away, he wiped the tears from your cheeks, sighing at your complaints of him ‘ruining your makeup’. 

“You think it’s ruined now? Just wait until I get you naked on this bed, mami.”

You roll your eyes, wrapping your arms around his neck. “You can’t not make a sex joke, can you? It hasn’t been 2 minutes since you proposed and you’ve already got sex on your mind.”

“It’s what I’m good at. Besides making you scream..”

“Connie..” You walked away from him, walking into the bathroom to touch up your makeup. He followed, letting his hands grab at your waist.

“Baby, can you grab that box out of my suitcase?”

“What b-oooh that box.”

He smirked at you through the mirror, leaving a kiss on your neck before walking away to rummage through your luggage. Through your peripheral vision, you could see Connie tossing article after article of clothing out of your suitcase and behind him onto the floor. You rolled your eyes, poking your head out of the door to scold him, but it was almost as if he felt you staring daggers into the back of his head as he muttered a quick ‘désolée’ before finding the box. He stood to his feet, walking back to you with a smile on his face. You give him a sarcastic smile back, pushing him out of the bathroom before shutting the door and locking it.

No longer than 10 seconds and he was already complaining on the other side of the door. 

“Mamiiiiii, do you really have to have the door closed and locked? Tu es si dramatique”

“I’m not dramatic, Con, you just can't control yourself.”

You rolled your eyes as he sighed dramatically on the other side of the door. You slipped into the lingerie set, not quite being able to reach behind to tie the string. Grabbing two towels, you wrap one around the top half of your body and one around the bottom, leaving only your back exposed. Unlocking the door, you open it to find Connie leaning against the doorframe. Sighing, you turn back around, facing away from him.

“I need you to tie the string.”

He tilted his head in confusion. “Why all the towels?”

“You can’t control yourself.”

He scoffed, taking both pieces of string in his hand to pull them and tie them tightly and properly. Turning you back around, he looked in your eyes, then down to your stomach, then back up to your eyes. You watched as he basically eye fucked you before closing the door again. Sitting on the lid of the toilet, you slip your feet into the clear heels he’d also gifted you, tightening the strap on both. Slowly, you stood up, walking over to the mirror to fluff your hair a little and adjust your breasts. Finally, you slipped on the robe, tying it around your waist. 

Flipping the switch, the bathroom quickly lost light. You took a deep breath, feeling your anxiety bubble up in your chest. 

“‘Kay, I’m coming out. Close your eyes, Connie.”

He giggles, covering his eyes with both palms. “They’re closed, baby. Amène ton cul sexy ici, bébé.”

You twisted the knob on the door, slowly opening it. You walk over to Connie, your heels announcing your every step as they knock on the floor. Connie knows when you’ve stopped walking. Not just because your heels stopped hitting against the floor, but he could smell you. Keeping his eyes closed, he removed both hands from his eyes, pulling you closer between his open legs. He smooths his cold hands over your body, groaning softly as he tugs at the silk fabric. You shudder at that, trying your hardest not to moan.

“You can open 'em now, Con.”

Quickly, his eyes shot open, taking in everything he saw before him. The sight of your hair pinned back, just to keep the strands from in your face, the way your tits sat up beautifully through the see-through silk robe you had on, your painted toes peeking through your heels. Everything made Connie insanely hard. He knew he should take his time, but it was hard seeing you so…nude, but not even nude. He brought his hands up to your waist, toying with the ribbon. Your silent whines let him know all he needed to. Slowly and calculated, he unties the ribbon, letting it fall. The robe opened up just enough for him to see your belly piercing in front of his face. Placing a soft kiss on your belly, he pulled the robe open, exposing the rest of your front. He could finally see those thighs on full display, wanting nothing more than to mark them up and make you cry. 

“Take it off, mami. Go ahead, don’t be shy. You was talkin’ all that shit yesterday, what happened?”

“Shut up, Connie.” You slipped your arms out of the robe, letting it drop to the floor behind you. Connie looked you up and down again, licking his lips seductively before turning you around. Roughly, he placed both palms on your hips, squeezing them enough to have you groaning. The sounds that left your mouth made him twitch in his pants. As much as he wanted to tease you, he was tired of waiting to have you. It was so much easier when you weren’t standing in front of him.

Quickly, Connie stood up from the bed, cupping your face in his hands. The way he towered over you made you feel so small…so submissive. Softly, he moved his hands from your face to your shoulders, softly pushing down on them. You quickly received the hint and got onto your knees, placing your hands on top of them. You watched intently and quietly as he slowly unbuckled his belt, removing it completely and tossing it on the bed behind you. When you reached up to unbutton his pants, he softly slapped your hands away.

“Almost forgot. Go ahead and grab those cuffs in that bag next to you.”

You reached into the bag, grabbing the matte black handcuffs and handing them over. Once you set them in his hand, Connie moved behind you, cuffing both of your wrists behind your back. Once he had you confirm the cuffs were tight, he moved back in front of you. He held a slight smirk, placing his hand on your head while he looked down on you. He lightly tapped the side of your face with his other hand, sighing heavily.

“You know what your safeword is, right?”

You nod. “It’s __.”

“And what’s my name for tonight? What are you gonna call me when I’m digging in it?”

“Daddy.”

“Or…?”

You bite your lip in concentration, fingers fidgeting behind your back while he looked at you impatiently. His intense look made your eyes twinkle with realization.

“Papi…or sir, but you don’t really like sir like that Con, do you?” You ramble. He chuckles lightly, shaking his head.

“And in the event that you’ve got my dick or sum in your mouth, what do you do when you wanna stop?”

“Three taps, pinches, or slaps on whatever I can reach."

He didn’t respond, just nodded. Finally, he kisses your forehead, unbuttoning his pants. He keeps them at his waist, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

“I’m gonna beat that pussy up, baby. Gonna make you cum until you cry.”

[weretheones]

All You Got | Part 7

Part 7: Burning Out

Plot: Daryl Dixon hadn’t known much beyond anger and loneliness his whole life, until he found family at the end of the world. Everything he grew to care about was ripped away the day the prison fell; so when he recognized you, an enforcer of his loss, hiding in that cabin, he almost pulled the trigger. But after you end up saving his life, he couldn’t find the indifference to leave you for dead, even if you’d been on the Governor’s side. (Mid-Late Season 4) 

Series Masterlist | AO3 Version

Paring: Eventual Daryl Dixon x Reader Word Count: 5k Warnings: description of injury, infection, and other typical twd content. mentions of death. A/N: oh hi <3 im happy to be back with a new part for you guys. definitely needed that break. I had my last class of university this week and I've just been a bundle of feelings lately. thank you for being so patient and for all the lovely comments lately :) mwah! enjoy

These last few years, the fight had been constant— to find shelter, to defend a friend, to get your next meal. Each day was like a knife at your throat, leaving you to wonder when the blade would finally pierce and bleed you dry. 

It was an oddly empty feeling when there was nothing left to do. A gnawing in your gut, like you'd been doing to the raw skin of your thumb the last half hour, as if there was an answer you were forgetting. 

You ran through the list for the ninth time. The last of that antibiotic cream. Dressings coated in a layer of honey— Daryl taught you that one. A damp cloth over his forehead. As much ibuprofen as you could give him. You’d done it all. Now there was nothing left to do but wait for the fever to break. 

It was miserable. 

The room was dark, lit by a single candle. Sometimes it flickered with your occasional sigh. Otherwise, it cast a gentle glow across the small bedroom. You sat in a cushioned chair by the door, five feet from Daryl’s bedside. It had been in the living room until you dragged it in here yesterday, falling into the same routine as you did now. Chin resting in your palm and a lazy stare at the sick man ahead. 

It’d gotten bad since that first day. Infection came— of course, it did— and without much more than that antibiotic cream and the rest of the drugs you'd used for your leg, Daryl was forced to fight through it. That meant long, feverish nights like this one. 

Waiting. 

“Ya jus’ gonna stare at me all night?” 

You sat up. His eyes were narrowed into a slit, but open. With only the low flicker of the candle beside you, they almost looked black. 

“You’re awake.” 

“Guess so,” Daryl mumbled. “Hot as hell in ‘ere.” 

He was already stripped of his vest, that flannel he wore on cold nights, and his boots. Yesterday, in one of his steadier moments, you’d dug a simple black t-shirt from the dresser and made him change. It took him a couple of minutes, his shoulder still stiff and swollen with infection. It gave you time to wash his usual sleeveless button-down as best as you could, though a litter of blood stains still dried across the fabric. 

As you stepped closer, flickering candle in hand, you could see the damp mark of sweat around his collar, but if anything, the room was cool. 

“Your fever’s getting worse.” 

You grabbed the cloth from his forehead. It was tepid on the edges, warm where it rested against his skin. Puffy eyes met yours, scanning your serious expression. He’d been asleep for hours. You’d only managed to get a few with that anxious pit in your stomach waking you up, over and over. 

“Feel like shit.” He adjusted his spot, sitting up against the pile of pillows behind him with a low groan. You passed him his bottle of water and placed it back after he’d had a few sips. 

“How long I been sleepin’?” 

“Most of the night.” You sat by his legs. The bed was bare of its thick blanket; you’d torn it off him when his skin started to burn. The top sheet was thin enough that you let him keep it when the chills hit. He kicked it down when the first hot flash came. “You woke up a couple of times.” 

“Don’t remember tha’.” 

“I figured. You’ve been pretty out of it.”

Daryl nodded, eyes as tired as they’d looked at sunset. Yours must’ve been similarly drained. 

“Ya got any sleep yet?” 

“A bit,” you said. “I’m fine.” 

“Ya don’t look fine.” 

You gave him a playful, lopsided grin. “You sure know how to make a girl feel special.” 

Daryl huffed, eyes falling to his lap. But your tease had done what it meant: to distract away from the bloom of purple that was, no doubt, forming under your eyes. Those sickening worries about Daryl’s health were already suffocating. You didn’t need the weight of your well-being piled on top. 

“You hungry?” 

He hummed yes. That was a good sign, you thought, before drifting out of the room. 

Dawn was still a few hours away. You walked the dark halls of the house you’d come to know, and a few minutes later, that same candlelight welcomed you back into the bedroom Daryl stayed in. You had a bowl of steaming chicken soup and a half-eaten package of crackers in hand. It was a good thing you’d gone for the bag, after all. If you hadn’t, it would’ve been just another thing to worry about.

His appetite was low, but better than it’d been the last couple of days. There were still three crackers he hadn’t touched and a quarter of soup left, but he seemed adamant about having the rest later. Food was often in such short supply that he wouldn’t dare waste a bite. 

“Thanks,” he muttered. 

You placed his bowl of leftover soup and the half-eaten package of crackers on the dresser you’d raided for cloth, towel, anything that could be boiled sterile and made into a bandage when that roll of gauze finally ran out after his second dressing change. 

Back at his side, you gave him a small smile. “Still feel like shit?” 

He chewed his lip. “Shoulder’s throbbin’ somethin’ awful. Head too.” 

There was a small bump in his hairline left from that day. He hadn’t caught a concussion, but the fever had been giving him a wicked headache. 

“There’s another hour until you can take the next round of painkillers.” You dipped the cloth back into a small bowl of water. Rubbing your thumb along the inches that had become warm, you waited for the fabric to cool. Droplets trickled down as you rang it out, causing ripples to catch in the faint light. It was the only noise in the air, save Daryl’s slow, heavy breaths. 

Until you turned and he caught that dispirited expression across your face. It must’ve been particularly obvious; the candlelight barely reached your face at this angle. As you stepped closer, the glow curtained you in delicate gold. An easy warmth that looked quite special painted across your gentle features, even if they were hinted with regret. 

The closer you got, the harder his head pounded. No, his heart. Which seemed to echo in his head. 

His eyes shifted away when you found that spot next to him again. 

“Should save ‘em anyway.” 

“No. This is what they’re meant for.” 

He huffed as you placed the cloth on his head. As your fingers inched closer to his skin, he blinked rapidly. It wasn’t quite a flinch, but you felt the resistance all the same.

“Still. Might need ‘em later.” 

“You need them now,” you challenged. “We’ll have time to find more when you’re better.” 

When. 

“Guess you’re the boss.” 

You scoffed. If anything was in charge, it was that fever. 

“Is there anything you can think of that could help? Another pillow or…” You shook your head, not even sure what else you could offer. 

He rolled his good shoulder back, biting back a groan as he found a comfortable spot against the bed. “‘M alright.” He nodded, even sparing you the smallest curl of his mouth. 

You gave him a bittersweet smile back, fighting the urge to brush his bangs behind his pinkened ear. His cheeks were flushed too, even if he seemed to be retreating back into the warm bed. Perhaps the hot flash was nearing its end. 

“You should drink some more. It’ll help.” You handed him the water again. 

He took small sips. 

It wasn’t until a few minutes later when a distant thump came from the other side of the house, and Daryl didn’t jump up, that you realized just how out of it he was. Thick in the fog of fever and pain, his senses were dull. On the contrary, the twitching in your muscles had started hours ago, a cruel mix of exhaustion and restlessness. It made you more jumpy than sharp, but demanded your attention for every small creak in the house the same. 

Your shoulders tensed, and your head snapped to the side. 

Daryl noticed that. 

“Wha’?” He grumbled. 

A gun sat on the small table next to your chair, next to the book you couldn't read well enough under only candlelight. You stood up and grabbed it, weighing the heavy handle in your palm. You made a mental note to keep your twitching finger off the trigger. 

“Stay put. I’m serious,” you told Daryl with a quick stern glance and closed the bedroom door behind you. 

The wooden floors whined even under the slowest, steadiest steps you could manage. The hallway was thin, drywall stained with cigarette smoke. There were two doors ahead, one on the right leading to a small linen closet and one on the left that passed into the kitchen. Quietly, you made your way to the general area where the noise had come from, near the kitchen, while raising the gun Ross gave you. The exit to the back porch was there and, fuck, what if someone had snuck in? What if they had a gun and cruel intentions and what if you had to— 

Deep breath. 

You hovered in the same spot for a second longer, waiting for the drum of your heart to slow. It wasn’t much, but at least you were able to open your eyes without that dizzy fog suffocating you again. 

It was only a few more steps to the kitchen’s doorway. With your back to the wall, you reached the hallway’s end and peeked around the corner. 

Good thing you only peeked. 

A figure caught under the moonlight. It shuffled past the small window, looking out to the side of the house. Shadows cascaded onto the cheap tile floors. Two— three— four walkers stumbled past the wrap-around porch. It reminded you of that first night after the prison fell. How Daryl stood watch all night with nothing but his bow as a herd of the dead moved through the street, surrounding the house he'd dragged you into. All night, you sat on that couch, nursing your hurt leg, watching the dance of their shadows along the walls, and avoiding Daryl’s abrasive stare. Waiting for the moment they finally knocked down the door and took you into their cold fingers first. 

This herd didn’t seem as big. Maybe a few dozen. You could only guess from the noise of bodies thumping carelessly into the house’s siding. 

Carelessly— that was good. It meant they hadn’t realized you were here yet. Best keep it that way. 

Delicately, you snuck back to the small bedroom. The thick curtains were already drawn, and that single candle was soft enough that you weren’t inclined to race back and blow it out. 

You opened the door again, and, well, should’ve guessed Daryl would’ve been out of bed, knife in hand and about to open the door himself. The gun slipped into the holster at your belt, and your eyes sought out his. They were uneasy, red-rimmed with dilated pupils.  

“It’s just a group of walkers passing by,” you said in a hushed whisper. “Get back in bed.” 

“How many?” 

“Maybe a couple dozen.” You gently pushed him back toward the bed, twisting the knife out of his grip as you did so. “They didn’t see me, so we can just wait it out.” 

“Ya can’t take ‘em all on.” 

“That’s why we're gonna stay here and be quiet.” 

“You should go.” 

You blinked. 

“What?” 

“If those assholes get in ‘ere, you run,” he said. His voice was hoarse and his accent thicker. “Don’t worry ‘bout me.”

Your brows furrowed. Your whisper was soft, even if pitched with confusion, “Daryl, they don’t know we’re here. They’re not coming in.” 

There was a fog in that usual bright blue. It wasn’t from the dim lighting, either. He was dazed. 

The back of your palm landed against his forehead. Hot. Then dropped to his chest, just below his collarbones. Your hand laid flat against that black cotton, stretched over the broad expanse of his chest, and felt that same burning underneath. Daryl hadn’t flinched, he seemed to give up that impulse when the fever took control, but his eyes did flicker down to your touch. 

You shook your head. “You’re burning up. You don’t know what you’re saying.” Your hand hadn’t fallen off him yet, a lingering touch as the rhythm of his heart became a soft pulse underneath your palm. Gently pressing him back toward the bed, you hushed, “Lie back down. Relax. We’ll be fine.” 

He listened. Whatever that outburst had been about seemed to slip away with the cushion of an old mattress underneath him. It felt like a new weight lifted off your shoulders; you weren’t sure if you could sit through a lecture about how you should leave him for dead. After all he’d done, all you’d done, that just wasn’t an option. 

You sat beside him again. “Here.” You held a pill in the same palm that’d landed on his chest. 

“Thought it was too early?” 

“One more isn’t gonna kill you.” 

The fever could.

He glanced down at the small blue capsule. “How many left?” 

You almost laughed. Feverish, incoherent, and still stubborn. 

“Enough. You need them.” 

If you told him there were only three more pills in that bottle, he’d refuse. You held your tongue and he tossed them into his mouth. Swallowed, leaned back, and groaned. 

“Water?” 

“Elderberries,” he muttered. Your brow furrowed, and he gave you a weak shrug. “Hershel used ‘em for the fever, ‘fore we got back.” 

Hershel. 

You remembered that name. Of course, you did. The Governor had called it out right before he used him as a bargaining chip. Hershel, the man with the long white hair. He’d kneeled in front of that fence, tan shirt damp with sweat and hands tied behind his back. Even tried to reason with the Governor. It was his neck that poured blood, him that inched his way around the cars you were hiding behind when the bullets started flying. 

Until the Governor cornered him. Chopped into his neck three times before his head finally rolled across the bloody grass. 

The memory made your skin pale, your breathing pause. 

A second later, when your vision focused again, Daryl’s eyes were closed. His chest raised and fell with deep breaths, his heavy exhales tickling your clammy skin. 

After you’d had a moment to regain your composure, you asked, “‘Got back’?” 

You weren’t following his train of thought. It seemed to go beyond the weeks the two of you had shared, reaching into his time spent at the prison. That part of his life had been mostly out of bounds for you. Blocked from the casual conversation you sometimes fell into. 

The fever seemed to tear those boundaries down.

“The vet college. We had to— to get the meds for the sick ones,” he muttered under his breath. 

The cloth sitting on his forehead had fallen onto the bed, presumably when he’d gotten up to follow you. Your boundaries seemed to slip away, too; you finally brushed away the damp mess of bangs on his forehead, tucking a few strands behind his ear. 

There was a part of Daryl that never seemed to let up. It went deeper than stubbornness. He was strong, innately, even when his body was failing him. You knew it took a lot out of him to try and follow you out, and had probably brought on some kind of dizzy spell that was making him spill his guts now. 

“Elderberries,” you repeated. “I think I remember. If you make tea, they can help bring down a fever.” 

“Mhm.” 

“Smart man,” you said under your breath. 

He still caught it. Fever and all. 

“He was.” Daryl nodded slowly. His eyes seemed to glaze over again. “He was a good man.” 

A lump caught in your throat, stealing your voice. That old feeling of guilt sunk into you again. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “He didn’t deserve it. None of you did.” 

“Should’a kept lookin’.” 

It was overdue, you thought. Daryl didn’t seem the patient type, not when it came to his own body, at least. Give him a long hunt, he’d be fine. A wound that kept him bedbound? He was itching for something— anything— to do. The worrisome fact that his family was still out there couldn’t have helped. 

You sighed, “We will—” 

“For the Governor.” 

Oh.

“Maybe if I wouldn’a gave up…” 

He sunk deeper into the pillow, mouth moving as incoherent whispers slipped past. 

It dawned on you that Daryl was perhaps his most vulnerable right now. Maybe even more so than when you first cleaned his back. In this moment, that surly, reserved man slipped away to leave someone who… who seemed lost. Guilty, like you. His words left you confused, filling in the gaps in his story, his regrets. 

He’d been looking for the Governor. If you had to guess, which you did, you’d assume after he killed Merle. Daryl had issues with his brother, no doubt, but he’d proved time and time again to be fiercely loyal. To his brother, his people, even you. Why he’d give that up, you couldn’t say. But Daryl didn’t seem irrational, or disinterested. There had to have been a reason— something— to pull him back. 

There was an undeniable part of you that ached to hear more, to let him bare himself to you in ways he hadn’t dared before. Curiosity could prove to be a dangerous thing. The trust between the two of you was fresh. Delicate. Leading him on with questions or letting him ramble in the midst of a daze, could rip it to shreds. 

You refolded, then placed the cloth back on his forehead. 

“Elderberries,” you whispered again. “I’ll look in the morning.” 

The walkers outside were still too close. 

It was quiet for a while. Daryl drifted off to sleep quickly and the dead passed thirty minutes after. You curled in the chair again, chin perched in your palm, leaning over the armrest. There was still that gnawing feeling in your gut. Still that worry that you could be doing more— should be. 

But exhaustion had dulled caution when the dead passed that half hour ago. Your blinks slowed, moments of darkness stretching into seconds, then minutes, and it became nearly impossible to keep your eyes open. 

The last thing you saw was a thin ray of early morning light, slipping between a gap in the curtains. Barely noticeable, until it had landed across Daryl’s face.

It seemed as good a sign as any, you thought, before drifting to sleep.

— 

The fever broke the night of the herd. Cups of elderberry tea helped subdue the few symptoms that lingered, and the stream of puss from his wound seemed to reach an end, after all. Four more days passed by and with them, the constant stress and anxiety that plagued you those late nights. 

A few more hours of sleep under your belt and life had become calm. Idle, even. 

The wind was lazy, its soft huff could barely rustle the fallen leaves. Hues of red, yellow, and anything in between scattered the woods, stretching into the backyard. A sharp crunch under your boot. There was a bite to the air, but the new berries you found had lasted through the weather’s turn. 

All those chilly mornings and early sunsets were not in vain; autumn was here, and winter was nearing, too. Though the cottage had been good enough while Daryl healed, it wasn’t suited to become a permanent stay. Certainly not a home. The surrounding trees were too dense, the walls too thin, and it didn’t matter how many strings of cans you set as alarms since the herd passed that night, you couldn’t sleep without one eye open. 

Even if it hadn’t been for his people still being out there, you’d have to leave. 

With the small bag in one hand, you pulled the first alarm string above your head. It chimed in the wind until it steadied again. It was an effective system; Daryl was opening the back door before you even had a chance to break through the tree line. 

You passed into the backyard with a smile. 

“Hey,” you said.

“Hey. Find anythin’?” 

“Just some berries.” 

The morning’s sun had drifted away within the last ten or so minutes. It wasn’t much of a shock to find the sky had darkened with heavy-looking clouds. 

“We should go in, looks like it's gonna rain,” you said, sliding between his frame and the door. 

It didn’t take long to place those buckets around the porch, just past its cover. A couple of empty, uncapped water bottles sat next to them. It didn’t take long for the rain to start, either. 

Inside, the small table in the kitchen was homemade. Shoddy work, but it could balance the few candles you’d found in the basement when night came. You picked the berries clean of their stems while Daryl confirmed the findings of your foraging were, in fact, edible.

Maybe at the start, when your brother had found that survivalist book, you would’ve been able to tell. But that got lost a mere month after he found it. Since then, you’d only stuck with the basics. What you knew was safe, without a doubt. That meant you spent a lot of time scavenging abandoned buildings instead of the woods. 

Daryl, on the other hand, seemed to know the forest better than anyone. You could assume from that deep accent and the fact that he never cringed at mud on his skin that he wasn’t a city kid. No, he probably grew up in the sticks. The middle of nowhere. In this world, that kind of experience was invaluable. You’d spent many hungry nights, staring at a bush of unrecognizable berries, wondering what could’ve been if you’d had it, too. 

By the time the two of you were done, a damp cold settled along the walls. The rain had been pouring down for some time. It wasn’t as harsh as it had started, but the cool, moist air was sinking in. The temperature of the usually feverish sun dropped, hidden behind grey clouds. 

Daryl started a fire with that wood you’d found a couple of days ago. The pile was dwindling faster than expected; the nights had been cold. The short flames reached up to the bottom of a pot you’d positioned. You poured some rainwater inside, then tossed in a couple rags to sterilize, and waited for it to reach a boil. 

By the time Daryl heard those bubbles begin to break the surface, you had wandered back to that back door, standing with the heat of the fire to your back and the cool breeze brushing across your face. 

You heard his steps approach behind you. 

“I like the rain.” 

Daryl stood at your side, quiet. 

“I always loved that smell, too.” You inhaled a deep breath, staring beyond the porch. “Do you remember what that’s called?” 

“Nah.” Daryl shook his head. “Jus’ called it rain.” 

You grinned. “Well, regardless. I always liked it.”

He watched the rain come down. It soaked the fallen leaves and dampened the soil. The breeze was slow, weaving its way through dripping trees. The roof was a weak material, something cheap and old, and echoed a low patter of rain. It made everything feel softer. Muted. 

“Me too.” 

You glanced over your shoulder, that grin slipping into a tender smile, kind and sweet. Daryl met your look, felt that bloom of familiarity in his chest, and gestured you to come back in. The cold would become bitter again and inside was warm, so you followed. 

He sat by the fire, arms wrapped around bent knees. He’d peeled off his vest, then his flannel, and finally pulled down the left sleeve of his shirt. Just like the first day you checked his wound. You sat behind him, a small pillow under your knees and the freshly boiled rags sitting in a clean bowl to your left. 

That little routine the two of you had fallen into— you’d come back to Daryl, who’d help deal with whatever you scavenged that morning, before you cleaned his wound, then ate— came easy. He’d gotten less tense every time you had to face his bare shoulder again. Which was frequent, unfortunately, since the exit wound had proved more troublesome than the smaller entrance. 

That heavy pit in your gut at the thought of those scars and their cruelty hadn’t alleviated much though. 

“How’s it feeling today?” 

“Better.” 

You nodded and unwrapped the bandage. The fever had been the height of that infection that hit him a few days ago. During the worst of it, his wound had swelled and reddened, leaking a trail of puss that reminded you why you could have never been a nurse like your brother. Today, the swelling was gone and the redness cleared. It was improving.

“It looks better, too.” 

“About time,” Daryl huffed. 

On the other hand, his attitude hadn’t improved. 

You sighed, “It’s only been a couple of days.” 

“’S been a week.” 

“You were shot.” You passed the rag along the few dried bits of puss, careful to leave the growing scab undisturbed. “It takes a while to heal from that.” 

“We don’t got a while.”

“I know.” Your jaw tightened.

Daryl was becoming more agitated with his rest as the days dragged on. Cabin fever, maybe. It must’ve been especially bothersome for a man like him, someone who seemed to feel more comfortable in the woods than four walls and a roof, to be trapped here. Especially when neither of you had forgotten the whole point of running house to house in the first place— finding his friends. 

“But we agreed. You need to let this heal as long as it can before we leave.” 

“Trail could’a gone cold by now.” 

Even with your eyes on the back of his neck, drifting down the outgrown strands of dark brown hair reaching to the cuff of his shirt, you could almost see him chewing his lip. It turned out that Daryl’s unease had become mixed up with yours some time ago. By now you could feel that stiffness in his muscles, as if it was in you, too. 

“It could’ve.” You dropped the last strip of clean cloth back into the bowl. “It could be fine, too.”

Daryl glanced back at you over his shoulder. It made you freeze— he hadn’t offered any attention other than the small talk you shared while you patched him up. Not until now, when those narrow blue eyes burned into you, demanding your attention. 

It was almost instinctual, that warm smile you offered. Still, you were sure he could notice that somber look in your eye. The one that remembered the fear and urgency you felt while in pursuit of your brother— before it ended the way it did. 

He seemed to notice every hint of emotion that slipped past your grip. 

“Dwelling on it won’t help us find them any faster,” you said. 

You glanced over his expression, almost leisurely in your inspection. His lips were parted slightly, jaw slack. Though he wasn’t angry, there was a heaviness in the pretty blue of his eyes. Lately, you were realizing that might be permanent. 

While it was sweet, your smile didn’t do much to soothe his urgency or frustration. He turned back. 

“I can’t keep doin’ nothin’.” 

You swallowed, bandaging a clean strip of cloth around his shoulder as the tone shifted. 

“Four days ago you could barely get out of bed.” you firmly stated. “And two days ago, you could barely lift your bow.” 

“‘M fine now,” he snapped. 

“You’re still healing.” 

“Yeah, well, I don’t care.” 

The cloth reached its end and you paused. Going in circles with him was exhausting. It made your stomach flutter with anxiety, too. This routine the two of you had fallen into, something idle and restful, was comfortable. He was comfortable. 

Maybe even a friend. 

“Well, I do,” you replied. “I guess I like you too much to risk you getting hurt worse.” 

Daryl glanced at you from the corner of his eye. Subtle enough that you almost hadn’t noticed. 

“Thought we didn’t have to like each other,” he retorted in a lighter tone from his previous. 

“It makes things a lot easier, don’t you think?” You smirked. “And if you can’t aim that bow, you’re kinda stuck with me anyway.” 

You, like anyone else nowadays, knew what it was like to lose a friend. You certainly didn’t want to lose Daryl— whatever it was you had with him— from perhaps a curse of your own overprotectiveness. It was hard to let someone go back into that dangerous world after you learned how bright their blood ran, but this thing you two shared was fragile. Trusting. If Daryl said he was ready, you had to be willing to give him a chance. 

So, with a cautionary glance at his new bandage, you gave in an inch. 

“One more day.”

His mouth opened, but you snapped before he could, “It's bad enough we’re leaving while you’re still hurt. I’m not doing it in the middle of a storm, either.” 

The rest of the day Daryl was still tense. Emotionally, at least. He practiced picking up his crossbow, balancing the weight in his hands. You packed both bags, boiled and bottled all the water you could carry, and hoped this was the right thing to do. The rain didn’t let up until long past sunset. 

When morning finally came and the sun broke through grey clouds, you followed through on your word. Backpacks stuffed full, your boots landed across that empty road and the two of you finally left that little house for good.

-> part 8

A/N: slower part, but I think they need that right now. it can't all be fighting and running and shooting and blah blah. I love these little interactions between them as they grow closer <3 I hope u do too!

if you’re reading this, thank you! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. please feel free to leave feedback, it helps so much and I love to read it. have a lovely day <3

[thatonelightyear]

Piston Cup Racers Hcs (i lost track which part alr... Travel edition!)

Ill just do the cars 1 trio first because i am sleepy and this is too long but i havent done hcs in so long and id rather do this than any work so.

Strip Weathers

Honestly? Wants to take Lynda out to a fancy restaurant and just spend time with her, or even go admire the scenery together.

Very chill. Does not over or under pack at all, somehow.

Will, however, end up talking for a couple of hours to some random strangers about racing, somewhere.

This normally happens when Lynda is shopping- but only on occasion

Sticks to his wife like his life depends on it (because it does. he sucks at navigating)

Tries to experience as much of the culture as possible!

So. damn. polite. No one can get angry at him for trying wrong.

Can probably master an accent within a week with some unseen talent

Likes the freedom that comes with not being recognised a lot (im going off this that like outside of usa ppl don't know much about nascar and so this applies in carsverse to the piston cup like everyone knows its there but like. not intimately familiar)

Makes the most of it, but hates the plane rides

Chick Hicks

Shopping. Bro can never get enough of shopping and it is an issue (for his finances? yes. for his ego? nah.)

Will probably get drunk at least 3 times while sampling the local alcohol (not so much of 'sampling' more of taking shots :skull:)

Preens at every opportunity he gets recognised, probably- (yes.)

lowkey brings the 'other countries are cool but my own country is better' vibes. but only because he hates being left out of conversations and god damn it is annoying when he can't understand jack shit of what everyone else is saying

therefore he tries to go to english-speaking countries as much as possible

would taste-test the cuisine and make a rating for every. single. meal.

gets lost in the airport, nearly misses his return flight. barely makes it though

business-class traveller. will probably start talking to the person next to him VERY loudly and with no regard

Lightning

I mean come on we've all watched cars 2

As polite as can be (i have to be a good representative of USA racers-)

Still manages to get at least 2 speeding tickets every time he travels

Packs too much, paranoid something will happen he's not prepared for like you never know

souvenirs!! and definitely buys doc a fridge magnet from every trip. doc keeps them all on the fridge, but never talks about it unless forced to

'oh sally would like this'

if he buys anything, it'll probably be some nice clothes for himself - man's got a decent fashion sense

makes a joke and realises everyone else probably don't understand. whoops.

visits archeological sites if there are any! (a huge history nerd. especially for his dinosaurs hehe)

[green-typewriterz]

Some hurt/comfort with sam please?

When the Sun Hits

Sam Winchester x gn!reader

summary: set in 2001, you and Sam finally get the chance to go to prom together

Ask: Some hurt/comfort with sam please?

Warnings: injury, mention of blood, sam is pining and awkward

Author Notes: thank you for this ask my love! Sorry for disappearing for so long, i got a new hyperfix im sure many of you can understand! Also I took what I had an ran with it so sorry if this wasn’t what you imagined!

word count: 2135

SOMETIME IN 2001 - FEBRUARY

Sam sat across the room from you, his chair far in the back and to the left whereas you sat to the front…you had pulled the short straw. You found yourself turning around every now and then, locking eyes across the room, trying to get him to laugh. He was in one of his bad moods today, hair in front of his eyes and hood up. You and Dean had pretty much accepted the fact that you’d be moving around alot, your families working together as hunters but Sam wasn’t as happy about it. He didn’t want to leave again.

“Y/N,” the teacher began and you spun back around, eyes wide. “Eyes on the front please, Sam doesn’t need you distracting him.” You nodded and got back to work, though you could feel Sam’s gaze burning on the back of your head.

You had known Sam for as long as you could remember, the two of you used to share toys while your parents were out hunting with John. He was always a shy kid, but this year seemed to be the worst of it. Maybe he was going through a phase.

Class finally ended and you packed up your books before heading to the back of the class, kneeling down and leaning against Sam’s desk. He looked up and smiled, muttering a quiet, “hi.” you grinned and grabbed his bag, watching as he pushed the hair away from his eyes (it had been longer than usual lately).

“Are you still upset about moving again?” You asked, walking alongside him, his hand gently holding yours. Sam sighed, shaking his head as you made your way out of the school and toward the same motel you had been staying for the past few months.

He ran his spare hand through his hair. “It’s just…we’ve just got comfortable here. I’ve actually made friends that aren’t you or Dean. I just wish we never-.” He stopped himself short. It was a stupid thing to wish.

“I know,” You replied. He wished his family weren’t hunters. You both stopped in front of his door, staring at each other silently. It wouldn’t be long before Dean got back and started his relentless teasing, so with one final goodbye, you went your separate ways.

That evening was wholly uneventful, an hour or two of homework, some research for your dad then the sweet and familiar feeling of zoning out while listening to Deftones on your hard motel bed. ‘Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want.’ had just faded out when there was a gentle knock on the door, one you recognised. You opened the door and took in the smiling sight of your best friend. He was wearing an oversized tee with a blue dog on it that you had given him and a pair of pyjama bottoms. He looked much more comfortable than he felt.

Sam had been building up his courage since the beginning of the year and, knowing the both of you would still be on the case when it rolled around, he wanted to ask you to prom. Even if it were just as a friend.

“Hey Sammy,” you smiled and stepped to the side to let him in, noticing how he was fiddling with the strings of his pyjamas. He was nervous. “You ok?” It was a simple question, but from the look on his face you would’ve assumed you had asked him to marry you.

He laughed slightly and scratched the back of his neck, replying, “all good, just wanted to come chat!” He smiled awkwardly. God, he thought, he was already blushing. He sat across from you, slightly wet hair brushed to the side and fluttering eyes locked on yours.

You laughed at his nerves but pressed play on your music again, turning the volume down so ‘when the sun hits’ could gently sit underneath your conversation.

“Y’know,” he began, hands fidgeting, “We’re gonna be in Oregon until spring, which means we’ll actually graduate this time.” he spoke, voice soft and wavering. “So um-”

He cut himself off, not knowing how to ask. He had wanted to do something nicer, get you flowers or something, but it hadn’t exactly gone to plan (that and Dean had told him to do it now before he got too nervous). You put your hand on his to stop it from shaking and urged him to keep talking and he smiled so softly you could’ve imagined it.

He breathed out before speaking again, “I was thinking we could go to prom? Together?” You went still. That’s what he had been nervous about.

“As friends?”

He seemed to shrink. “Uhm, yeah, if that’s what you’d want.” Sam was downtrodden, though he had expected you to take it this way, it still stung.

You smiled gently. “I’d love to go with you, but maybe not as just…friends.”

He looked up, confused for a moment. You had said yes. Blush bit at his ears as he fought the urge to get up and physically jump for joy. “I’d like that.” He managed to get out before standing again, you joining him by the door.

“I should probably head back, dad will be wondering where I am.” Though you both knew the statement wasn’t true at all, you agreed and let him walk out the door.

“Sam.”

He spun back around on his heel and you stepped closer, placing a kiss on his cheek. To him, it felt so gentle, like the breeze gently brushing his face, but it still brought up a blush so aggressive it felt like he was on fire.

SOMETIME IN 2001 - PROM

It was a few weeks before graduation, which meant it was prom night. You were sat in your motel room, in the nicest outfit you could find for cheap, waiting for Sam to finish getting ready. Since asking you to prom, the two of you had spent every waking moment together though you weren’t, as Dean would say, official yet (despite being only a label away from it).

Eventually, he walked out of the bathroom in a simple navy suit, one that matched your own outfit almost perfectly. You had both found them by chance in separate thrift stores and found yourself extremely lucky when they not only fit, but matched. “You look so handsome.” you said as he fiddled with his tie, trying to get it to sit right. Eventually, he gave up and gave you a look of desperation, asking you to do it for him with his eyes alone.

His gaze never left you as you fixed the tie, gentle hands righting the knot. Sam had planned tonight out to a tee: Dean was going to drive the both of you in their dad’s impala and then he’d get permission to take three (which was masterfully negotiated down from ten by Sam) photos. Then, he’d link his arm in yours like a gentleman and walk you into the gym. From there, his dancing skills took charge.

Each part of the plan went well and it was the middle of the night before either of you took a break to get a drink. There was a tired flush on both of your faces and a glint in Sam’s eyes you hadn’t seen since you were young. It was there, the two of you were sat when ‘your song’ came on. The song Sam had asked you to prom with (though it was more of a coincidence).

The boy took your hand gently and led you to the dancefloor again, his hands finding a place on your hips. You wrapped your arms around his neck and swayed gently, humming along to the song and staring into Sam’s eyes. The night was perfect.

Or would’ve been.

There was an impossibly loud crash and both you and Sam stared at each other in a split-second of recognition before the gymnasium went dark. Screams erupted from the crowd but the two of you stayed calm, quickly retrieving your respective silver blades that John had forced you to keep that night. Sam was furious. John had promised he would chase the monster in the opposite direction. The man had lied. In the panic, the two of you had been separated and you knew better than to call out for him in the dark school corridor.

You had prepared for this, trained. But you had never actually fought a monster before. Your hands shook from fear and tears glistened on your cheeks as you gingerly made your way down the hall. Your only lightsource was the large, dirty skylight that sat at the far end of the hallway and you found yourself glad - for the first time ever - that it was a full moon. Light trickled through the glass, fragmenting when a crack or some growing mould got in its path.

There was a growl from behind you and you stiffened, chills running down your spine. You turned slowly, eyes shut tight. You weren’t meant to be scared, you had been taught to not be afraid - so why couldn’t you find it in you to be brave. Your eyes opened and locked with the werewolf that was a mere centimetre from you now.

You gripped the blade with a sweaty palm and shoved it forward, piercing through the monster’s heart, though not before it could bring its claws down across your face. You both cried out and fell to the ground, you clutching your face and the werewolf growing still. “Y/N!” Sam called out as he sprinted over. Within a second, his hand was under your head and he was cradling you close to him.

Sam was hurt too, grazes littering his skin and a cut pulling at his lip - though he found that unimportant compared to the overwhelming amount of blood that seeped from your face.

“You’re ok.” He whispered, “You’ll be ok.”

THAT EVENING

You leaned against Sam as he got the first aid kit ready, having previously cleaned his own injuries as quickly as he could. Tears mixed with the blood on your face and Sam had to fight not to cry too, he hated seeing you hurt. “This is going to hurt, Y/n/n,” He began, eyes wrought with sympathy and a dusting of tears, “I’m so sorry.” he whispered and you nodded, preparing yourself. He moved his spare hand to the least injured part of your cheek for both control and comfort then gently let the alcohol John had provided trickle over your injuries.

You let your hand rest on his forearm, his mint breath fanning your face as you held in your tears with sharp breaths. “I killed them.” You whispered and Sam looked at you in empathy. He knew exactly how you felt. He didn’t want to shush you, (he didn’t know why people did that) he knew you needed to cry - but at the same time he didn’t want you to feel guilty.

“He was going to kill you. You did the right thing.”

You sighed, breathing shaky from the tears that stuck in your throat. “It doesn’t feel like that.” Sam stopped what he was doing and pulled away, eyes meeting yours.

He smiled gently. “You saved so many people, Y/n. no one in there would have been as brave as you.” Sam whispered and you nodded, finally finding it in yourself to agree with him. He gave you a break from cleaning the injury for a while and you got a better chance to look at him.

There were rips in his tux, some tinged with deep red stains and his previously white shirt was littered with mud stains. Cuts littered his arms and face while a particularly vicious bruise was slowly forming on his jawline. Despite all of this, he still looked handsome - you found it difficult to look away.

He knew what he was doing well enough, sanitise everything, clean the wound and then pray you didn’t need stitches - still, he couldn’t stop the anxiety from filling his mind. Sam was gentle, it was just who he was. Soft, caring hands worked quickly and lovingly while he muttered words of comfort. You were incredibly lucky, the wound was mostly superficial.

Both you and Sam sighed in relief as he placed the butterfly closure tape to each major point of the scratch mark. “See,” he whispered, “Told you you’d be ok.”

You smiled, careful not to tug at the cuts and leaned in, wrapping your arms around him. Sam’s hands found a home in your hair and he gently ran his hands through it as he sighed in comfort. “I’ll always be here for you, Y/n/n.” he whispered, voice strong, honest. You found it easy to believe him.

[vinecradle]

11 OMG - the sudden meeting (✿)

scaramouche x fem!reader

masterlist | previous | next

red for kazuha, blue for scaramouche!

you groaned as you thought of school, "nilou, layla, i'm gonna go to class first. i may or may not have forgotten my book at class 2C.." you sighed out.

"are you sure you're gonna go alone, right now? there's still 2 hours before school starts... don't you dislike it when you go to class without either kaveh, layla and i since there's a lot of people you don't know?" nilou questioned.

you sighed and stood up, "i'll be fine, i hope.. i just need to get my book quickly since there should be no one right now.. i'll get going now!"

and with that you waved at nilou and went on to go to sumeru class, 2C. not wanting to meet absolutely anyone.

i guess that'll change without you knowing, right?

┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　°

walking, walking, and walking.

you don't know how long you've been walking.

it's so empty, so quiet, and so dark.

just a little more.

you thought to no one, but yourself.

..and you've reached class 2B.

you sighed, and finally got the book you needed with no one in sight. "i should seriously get going."

walking outside with your head down, you nearly bumped into someone.

"oh- i'm sorry." you let out, without sparing a glance at the person in front of you. and the said person chuckles and suddenly pat your shoulder, and spoke. "who would've thought this is what our first meeting would turn out like?"

and with that, you swiftly looked up. only to be met with the face of scaramouche- the pretty eyes guy. "wait, i'm sorry! i didn't think it would be you- is this your class?"

"mhm, i always get here early. what are you doing here? i mean, if you were in my class, then i would've noticed you long ago."

you just pushed the lingering thoughts of his last words to the back of your head, "i kind of.. may have, accidentally left my book here.." you sweatdropped.

"what's up with you and leaving books? anyway, class is starting in about a few minutes. don't want you getting stuck here now, hm?" he said and pat your head.

you just nodded at him with a smile, trying to push the feeling of flusteredness inside you. "-yeah. again, sorry for nearly bumping into you.. and i'm glad we finally got to talk in person. i'll get going now!" you said at him, and waved your goodbyes.

and with that, you left to go to your own class with your thoughts. i thought there was way more than 1 hour before school starts..? fuck, i didn't even bring my phone.

kazuha stared at the two's interaction and snickered to himself, "well. you two are cute together, aren't you?" he teased his fellow friend. scaramouche just scowled at him, "not. a. word."

• IM SO SORRY FOR THE LATE UPDATE 😭😭 i had to go to the mall for a school project yesterday and fell asleep while writing..

• and finally a real life, actual conversation between you and scara 🥹🫶🏻🫶🏻 things will finally pick up from here!!

summary :: wanting to go back to your dorm from the library, and accidentally leaving a friend's book there not knowing she has the intention of making you give it to someone she's trying to set you up with, a note inside with your number. without anyone realising, the book is in the hands of someone else, and you then wake up to a message from an unknown number.

author's note :: i kind of.. may have.. ran out of ideas for this chapter because it all came up in school and when i was nearly asleep 😭 and the explanation for why the time went by so fast for reader, it's because she spaced out.

taglist (1/2) :: @aeongiies @hrtswinter @zyilas @cofijelli @stuckinadreamland06 @elyionaa @thenightsflower @ohmyfinggod @mikctp @cherrybeomgyu @raideneiari @sakiimeo @xiaosonlybeloved @simp4bakuh03 @kunikuzushiit bolded cannot be tagged!

[lambertdiary]

hey i love your work so much! im so glad there’s people writing for this lovely character

i was wondering if you could write about him meeting one of Chris friends, he is very intrigued by her but can’t find her anywhere after that brief encounter, one day Dalton is supposed to pick up Chris after class but since he arrived quiet early decides to explore the area since he doesn’t come to that side of the school often, one of the classrooms is open and there’s piano music coming of it and is the reader. They have a proper introduction and Dalton tries to be brave for once and ask for her number, little did he know chris was watching him and let’s just say the way back to the dorms she was teasing him about the girl.

A/N: i can't tell you how much i loved this request! sorry it took so long to write but i hope you like it! as always please let me know what you think <3 (also in this fic chris and dalton are still roommates)

Word Count: 1.9k+

Warnings: pure fluff

MASTERLIST     ✩    SEND ME A REQUEST

Music To My Ears

Meeting new people never came easy for Dalton. He was very shy and reserved, but so loving and kind to his friends. Which is exactly why the most outgoing and confident person he’s ever encountered adopted him almost immediately after they met.

Right now, he was hanging out in his dorm with Chris, his best friend. They were currently watching dumb scary videos on her laptop with a big bowl of popcorn between them. They had been doing that for about an hour, an hour they were supposed to use to do their homework but whatever awful and fake scary video they could find on youtube was surely more entertaining than that. Most of the time they were not scary at all, sure there were a few screamers here and there but the rest of it was just a bad story, bad editing and even worse acting.

Their focus was 100% on the screen, until Chris’ phone made them both jump. She paused the video and picked up her phone, typing a few words before putting it down again.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just waiting for someone”

“Oh, so you double booked me?” He asked, acting offended. 

Chris rolled her eyes and pushed herself off of the bed “Your acting is worse than the guys on the videos” Now he was a little offended “No, she’s just here to return something” 

Chris walked across the room and opened the door, not all the way but enough for Dalton to see someone standing outside. A girl. 

“Hey” Chris said, and Dalton could see the girl smile “How did it go with the presentation?” 

“Hi! Really good actually, piano skills really do transfer over to this thing” She was holding Chris’ Melodica before giving it back. 

“See? Told you, if I can do it you for sure can”

“Yeah, thank you” She smiled again and looked at her hands while she played with them “I cleaned it too so don’t worry”

“Oh I’m not worried” Chris joked and both of them chuckled.

“Alright, thanks again. See you on friday!”

“Any time, see you!” She said before closing the door. Dalton quickly grabbed his phone and pretended to pay full attention to it “Now what? Should we keep watching or should we be responsible students and do some work?”

“There’s only 11 minutes left of this video, we’ll stop after this one, I promise” Chris agreed and went back to bed, where they ended up staying for another 2 hours.

Dalton couldn’t stop thinking about the girl. He wanted to ask Chris about her but he couldn’t possibly, what was he gonna do? Talk to her? Probably not, but if she and Chris are actual friends then he would for sure run into her again, right?

A week went by and there were no signs of the mysterious girl, not even on Friday, when she and Chris were supposed to see each other. But Dalton figured he would rather stay curious than be embarrassed.

It was Taco Tuesday and it was their special tradition to eat a lot of tacos after class. Dalton’s class was dismissed early so after dropping his things off in his dorm, he made his way to pick up Chris from the Math building. Once he got there, he checked the time and realized that he was a little early. He's not really familiar with that part of campus, going there every once in a while and only for a few minutes to wait for Chris, so walking around exploring for a bit while Chris’s class was over seemed like a good idea. He started wandering around, peeking at a few different open classrooms but not seeing anything interesting, he deduced it was just like any other part of campus. Plain and boring. 

He was about to turn around and return to his original spot, Chris was about to come down anyway, but before he could start walking, a beautiful melody caught his attention.

He looked around for a moment, trying to figure out where it was coming from, finally seeing an open room he didn’t see before, a sign with the words ‘Music Room’ above the big doors. As he got closer, the piano melody got louder. It was like a force was dragging him to that room, it was like his soul needed to see who was playing the piano so beautifully.

He stood outside, going in carefully as to not disturb whoever was playing there. The song kept going and Dalton could almost recognize it, it was so gracefully played it made him understand why someone would dedicate their entire life to music. As he got closer, he identified the person behind the large piano, he saw the girl that made him go crazy just last week. He felt his heart rate go significantly higher, debating on his mind if he should leave or talk to her. 

When the song ended, Dalton decided to go for it. I mean, who knew if the universe would give him another chance to talk to her? It was now or never.

She was about to start playing a different melody but was interrupted by a voice she has never heard before “That was beautiful”

She looked up at the person standing in front of her “Thank you” She was used to strangers complimenting her talent, it happened to her all the time, but thinking that he was listening to her play made her really nervous. 

“I’m Dalton by the way” He introduced himself and found his way next to the piano.

“Right, I remember you” She smiled “You’re Chris’ roommate”

“I am, yeah”

“Y/N”

“Y/N” he repeated her name, slowly. Almost as if he was tasting every syllable “Nice to meet you”

“Nice to finally meet you, Dalton. Chris tells me a lot about you” Dalton knew his face was burning, there was no hiding it, and he was a little embarrassed by it “I take it your artistic self draws you to music”

“Well, I was just walking by and I heard you play so-” He didn’t wanna sound like a creep, the last thing he wanted was for her to think that he was stalking her. She didn’t think that, but she wanted to mess with him anyway.

“So… you interrupted my sacred rehearsal” 

“I didn’t- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you- your rehearsal uh- I guess I should get going— oh, you’re kidding. Okay” 

Y/N burst into laughter, wishing she had a camera to capture Dalton’s terrified face. Something about him made her feel some kind of way, a good kind of way  “Do you like piano?”

“My mom plays the piano”

Y/N raised her eyebrows in amusement “Do you play?”

“Just a little bit… but you’re like a professional so in your eyes not at all, I suppose” Y/N chuckled.

“Show me”

Dalton’s eyes widened, no way she just asked him to play piano for her “What?”

“Yeah, do you know any song you can play for me?”

“Uh- Just this one song my mom wrote years ago”

“Go on then, play it for me” Y/N scooted over a little, making space for Dalton to sit next to her. Dalton looked at her unsure of what to do, not wanting to make a fool of himself “You just heard me play an entire song, it’s only fair”

Dalton let out a nervous laugh, but sat next to her on the stool. He was nervous and he was having a hard time remembering the right notes, but after a minute of staring at the keys he finally started playing. He didn’t play much, he didn’t remember much of the song and even if he did, he wouldn’t know how to play it. But Y/N loved every second of it.

“That’s all I can remember”

“Well, tell your mom she’s very talented” She said, not looking at him “And if you can remember the rest of the song, I would love to hear it sometime”

Dalton paid attention to their hands, they were really close to each other. And after building up the courage he asked her “Can I have your number? You know, just in case I have to show you the rest of the song”

“Yeah, just in case” Dalton pulled out his phone and handed it to her “Text me” She said typing her contact information on his phone and then giving it back.

“I will” Dalton looked at his screen, admiring her name on his contact list. Then a notification appeared on top.

Chris: Sorry I made you wait, but I’m going downstairs right now

“Uh- sorry, I have to go, but we’ll talk later” Dalton said, standing up and walking to the exit.

“Okay, I’ll be waiting for your text” She smiled at him again.

They waved goodbye and he left that room behind, his heart was racing and his hands were sweating, he couldn’t believe he asked for her number. As he approached the building, he spotted Chris standing there waiting for him “Sorry, something came up” He said, gesturing to her to start walking.

“What? Miss music over there?” Chris said pointing at the music room. 

“What are you-?”

“Yeah, I saw you coming out and Y/N always practices there when it’s empty. Plus, I saw you eyeing her the other day”

Dalton blushed again “I wasn’t-”

“Don’t even try. I told you, your acting sucks”

Dalton sighed “Chris, please don’t-”

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna say anything… But I bet she already knows”

“What?”

“I mean, I think she can tell when someone is flirting with her. Or at least trying to”

“Hey, I’m great at flirting”

“We can ask her” She said, pulling her phone out of her pocket.

“Stop, please” Dalton took it from her hands and put it back in her pocket. He didn’t think she would actually ask Y/N, but just in case.

“Aw, you’re properly in love” Chris said with a fake british accent.

Dalton rolled his eyes and kept walking, pretending not to care about the teasing but his blushed face giving him away.

“It’s okay,I’ll keep the secret. She gave you her number didn’t she?”

“For your information, I asked for it”

“Oh, go Dolphin!”

After their taco date, Dalton went back to his dorm and planned to call his mum. First of all, he hasn’t called her as much as he promised he would and second of all, he wanted to ask about the song.

“Hey sweetie” Renai said on the other line “It’s so good to hear from you, how have you been?”

“Hi mom, I’m okay, what about you? How is dad?”

“We’re great! Busy getting his things back into the house. How’s school?”

“School is good. Uh- listen, is there any way you can teach me the song you wrote for dad?” He asked, it didn’t go as smoothly as he had planned. 

“You wanna learn my song?” Renai sounded confused, which made sense considering Dalton stopped asking questions about her music years ago.

“Uh- yeah. Well it’s been a while since I’ve heard it and I can’t really remember much” He chuckled in hopes of making the situation less awkward.

“Mhm” She hummed “I’m gonna pretend I believe you’re just genuinely curious about the song and that you don't have ulterior motives”

[musewritingsforyou]

A Normal? Day

Summary: A normal day in the life of Beacon Hills Favorite Couple

Warnings: unbearable Fluff, plot points that wont make sense just yet

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: I realized I dont have any of my Stiles work updated yet! This is just a short little oneshot to show people what my stiles writing will kind of be like. I wrote it to be included in a season rewrite that I am doing but It didnt fit great so now im just giving it to you for fun!

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*somethings that wont make sense to you will be explained if you go read my series rewrite in the next few weeks!*

A normal day in a supernatural world. 

Step one, wake up. 

Waking up is a long process for me. My lovely hyperactive boyfriend did what he always does for me each morning, wake up about thirty minutes before me, sit there as still as he can (which is not very still) to let me sleep in, give up after ten minutes and then get out of bed. Stiles woke up at six this morning, playing with my hair as I slept before he finally got out of bed. Like every morning since we started doing this, he placed his pillow and a spare flannel in my arms so I wouldn't  ‘get cold and lonely’, and then went to get himself ready for school. This was a relatively short process, throw on some pants, decide between a sweatshirt or a flannel, find the backpack and then he's pretty much done. For me on the other hand, it's a little different.

“y/n/n, I gave you five extra minutes. You gotta get up.” I groaned and moved the pillow that was in my arms to cover my face. To my disappointment Stiles took it off and started peppering me with kisses until I opened my eyes with a scowl on my face.

“I love you but I really hate you.” He gave me a classic Stiles grin as he moved backwards off of the bed. 

“I know, you make sure to tell me that every time I wake you up.” 

After walking out the door, and then back to it within seconds to make sure I was actually getting up, Stiles went downstairs to make some coffee and left me to get ready. I was running late, per usual, but by the time I made it to the car all of my things were there waiting for me, along with Stiles who held out a travel cup of coffee just the way I like it and forcibly handed me a banana.

“Eat.” I shook my head and motioned for him to drive. 

“Too early, If I eat right now I'll actually puke all over your car.” He started the car and drove with one hand as he kept the banana extended. 

“Babe, we do this every morning and every morning I remind you that-” I snatched the fruit from his hand as I finished his sentence. 

“Breakfast is important and if you don't eat it in three hours you're going to come to me during class with a panicked look on your face telling me you think you're about to pass out. I know, I remember.” 

I sound sarcastic like this every morning, but even through the snide remarks and the occasional unnecessary and undeserved insult, Stiles still looks at me like I'm the answer to the universe.

Step two, school. For this one I recommend that you don’t do what I manage to do every year, fill your schedule with all honors and AP classes, zero breaks or study halls, and more than three extra-curriculars.

I won't bore you with the rather slow details of a highschool senior. I will however give you this, classes are hard, I don't think I will ever be able to use a red pen in my entire life, and with each passing day somehow I find a way to be even more stressed than the day before. 

The day ended with me sitting on a bench with Lydia and Malia, watching our boys play lacrosse from across the field and inevitably laughing our asses off whenever either of them would look over to make a face at us and get tackled or hit with something from the field. Ah the simple pleasures, you know? As we both waited for Stiles and Scott, Lydia and I spread our various school textbooks out on the bench in front of us, in all about sixteen heavy books set open as we studied. When Coach finally blew his whistle with one ear shattering blow after another the boys ran to us, practically dripping in sweat. Stiles bound up the bleachers, skipping some of the steps and leaned down in front of me, waiting for a kiss. I didn't look up from my textbook, and neither did Lydia as she responded to the boys while hovering over her calculus homework.

“Nice try boys, but before you even think about going anywhere but a dog kennel, you need to take showers.” There were a few mumbled protests but again without looking up she shooed them with her hands. 

“Come on, off you go.” I giggled a little as they marched away in defeat, their cleats making a crunching sound when they reached the grass. 

Step three, finally to get home, only to have to go to a pack meeting. 

Like every other Friday the pack all met in Scotts living room, this time all agreeing to stay away from anything breakable. I promised Melissa I wouldn't let them destroy the house while she was out, and I keep my promises. At the moment there were no big problems. Though I still wince a little when I say it, it seems like everything in Beacon Hills is… normal. As weird as that sounds. But we still meet once a week, every week it becomes more of a group study/hangout than a real meeting, but spending time with our friends was more valuable than any solution we had come up with before. The only issue to discuss at this meeting was me. I wouldn't call it an issue exactly, but after finding out about my… species? People? Clan? I don't know what to call it, but after finding out about what I am, we still have almost no information about what that really means, for me or for them. 

“Liam, as much as I appreciate the input, I don’t think being a truth seeker literally means that I can cheat on multiple choice tests. Even if it did, morally I will tell you again, cheating is a bad thing, and also none of my classes use multiple choice.” 

They all tried their best to put Stiles and I at ease, telling us that in time we would figure it all out. But that was the thing, we didn't have time. We’re seniors just a few months from leaving this town for college, and once I leave I don't see myself flying across the country once a week just so that I can make sure I know the “truth” of Beacon Hills. The sun finally set and Stiles and I said our goodbyes, walking hand in hand out the jeep before heading to his house for the night. 

Step four, stay up until three in the morning looking for answers about what supernatural powers you have. yeah , I know, that one's a kicker. 

As soon as Stiles and I stepped foot in the door of his room we threw off our bags and changed into sweatpants. I took the flannel he gave to me this morning and placed it over my tank top as we stood in front of his clear board as if waiting for an idea to come to us by itself. The board was still blank, nothing there but a picture of me and Stiles together at the lookout in the woods. A little reminder that no matter what crazy ideas are thrown onto this board, we always have each other. We settled into our usual spots, Stiles standing and pacing in the middle of the room while I spread books and papers out over his bed, laying on my stomach and staring into the pages. 

Finally, Step five, wait for the full frustration to kick in, and then once it's there, find a cute boy to calm you down.

I was laying flat on my stomach with four books in front of me, two from school, two from Lydia on the supernatural. I was hoping that in between my AP calculus homework and my college physics textbook I could figure out something new about my identity. News flash, it wasn't working. I groaned at the words in front of me, frustrated that for some reason the letters were swimming in and out. I took the books (all four of them) and slammed them shut before throwing them aggressively onto the ground in front of Stile’s bed and then taking the papers and just tossing them onto the air without any thought of aim or purpose. Stiles stopped pacing and stood still in front of his board, which now had a few red squiggles here and there along with the photo and a horrible attempt at drawing a wolf. He turned slowly to me with a marker in his hands.

“You good?”

“Not really.” He nodded and walked over, sitting beside me on the edge of the bed and putting the marker down. While I was still lying on my stomach he placed a hand on my back and rubbed it slowly.

“baby, do you know what time it is right now?” I placed my head in my hands and responded. 

“No. Do I want to?” 

“No, but I'm going to tell you anyway. It's three in the morning.” I said nothing and just signed into my hands. Stiles ignored my angry sighs and continued. 

“Babe do you know what that means?” I shook my head. 

“Well first of all it means that you are probably exhausted, which is why you're getting so frustrated with yourself, but more importantly it means that we have two hours before that night time diner downtown closes.” I looked up fast. 

“Are you talking about the one with the pie, and the fries and the shakes.” He looked at me very seriously and nodded. Without another word I popped up on the bed and threw on a pair of crocs.

 “Stiles, no matter what I say in the mornings when you wake me up, I love you so much I think you might even be higher on my list than eating pie at three in the morning.” He gave me a broad smile and kissed me on the cheek. 

“Say no more, love.”