#that usually makes me angry already lol

[mourninglamby]

I don’t know if you’ve seen it or if you’ve already talked about it but do you know that one video “Dream isn’t the villain dream smp” from like two years ago. You’ve probably have talked about it but it just popped up on YouTube for me and I’m reading the comments and some said and I quote “Tommy is the reason everything went to shit” and I about I LOST MY SHIT. Anyways, your thoughts? (Side note but I feel some people didn’t watch the same dsmp that I watched)

I will never waste any of my precious, finite time on earth to watch something so stupid. I don’t care to debate or engage with something or someone so harmful and obtuse. It’s not worth my time and frankly makes me panicked because I feel a wave of hopelessness for my fellow man and peers. Sorry if that’s dramatic but I literally refuse to entertain those people because they are so aggressively missing the fucking point that I don’t even know if they understand what theyre saying. I’ll elaborate on why in the following paragraphs.

Victim blaming is serious, even in the context of fictional characters, and affects the real world. People who believe that a teenager is responsible for their own abuse, stalking, torture, and murder doled out by an adult are fundamentally wrong. Point blank. I lack the skills or patience to fully convince someone who is conscious of this and still approaches it with a victim blamer mindset to think any differently. You have to not see children as developmentally and cognitively different from adults to think this way. You have to deny a power dynamic that is inherent to the child-adult relationship. Which is something that child abusers use to excuse their abuse. So fucking watch it.

C!tommy was abused. C!dream is the main antagonist because of his incessant, malignant desire to cause him harm over anything else. These are truths that are undeniable unless you are completely delusional or lying about the events of the story. Or you are in Clayton ray huffs cult where apparently he himself comparing his character to JOE GOLDBERG from You doesn’t mean anything. God help your absent minds.

Just because the word “abuse” is not said aloud to explain this dynamic (which might be covert victim blaming in itself) does not excuse apologism. I urge anyone still “on the fence” about this to read about abusive relationships, the signs of abuse, and how it affects child victims. Please. And also get the idea of a perfect victim out of your fucking heads - abuse, especially in childhood, alters your brain chemistry and interrupts your development. I’m essentially just saying you HAVE to be sympathetic when discussing the power dynamics of dsmp and you have to be somewhat informed on power dynamics and the dialectics of trauma when discussing the dream and tommy shit or you WILL say something that is a talking point in abuse apologist rhetoric. I don’t care how many times Clayton or even Tom Simons downplays it. This was abuse, c!Dream is a serial killer stalker child abuser, and c!tommy is his victim. The end.

[pepprs]

genuinely so angry and scared im shaking. how many other times this week this month this year have i been exposed without knowing it. do people even tell each other anymore. it’s just so grim. it’s so fucking grim

[goxjo]

｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ ﾟ. 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐝 ﾟ･｡･ﾟft. gojo, choso, sukuna, toji

♡ warnings. no reader pronouns, fem anatomy! reader, technically hate fucking, reader is initially very pissed, he is too but he wants to make up, no curse au (choso + sukuna), everything is consensual. gojo cw: some reckless driving, semi-public sex, doggy, getting caught, exhibitionism. choso cw: reader is in a bunny lingerie costume, slight! pet play, suddenly popping a boner, v! fingering. sukuna cw: petty arguments, jealousy, v! fingering. toji cw: jealousy, implied size difference, kabedon!!!, cunnilingus, wall sex. 18+ only, MDNI

♡ a/n. idk if you can already tell by now - I usually make these whenever I have new banners / formats to try out. I really love that heart bubble thingy on the title lol + idk, arguments like these feel a little endearing sometimes. this was very fun to write. enjoy!

♡ links. GEN. MASTERLIST ┆ JJK MASTERLIST

[ ❤︎ ] GOJO SATORU

The car ride home tonight is silent for the most part. It’s your car, your hands on the steering wheel, and therefore your rules. Maybe you haven’t been looking at your speedometer but in case you haven’t noticed, your anger adds more pressure to your foot on the pedal, and you’re a few kilometers past the highway speed limit.

All this because of some petty argument and you barely even remember what it’s about. All you know is, it’s one that made you miss an exit, and it’s another 20 minutes before the next one.

“Baby, slow down.” He sighs with a tinge of worry and slight irritation in his voice. He’s not really keen on the idea of having to watch you flirt with an officer to get out of a speeding ticket. He’ll throw puppy dog eyes to the officer himself if he has to, but he’s putting a pin on that thought for now. There must be something that could remedy the situation (you) for now.

“Don’t talk to me,” you deadpan, lips pursing in your annoyance, eyes dead fixed on the road.

“Fine. Then, I won’t,” he hums, an idea suddenly popping up in his head. “I won’t talk to you. I’ll just…” He fiddles with the hems of your skirt, knuckles lightly stroking your plump and exposed skin.

“What the hell are you doing?” You shift in your seat, quickly taking a glance at your boyfriend.

“Not talking.” It starts with just his fingers, now it’s a full hand, and it’s squeezing and massaging your thigh, reaching higher and higher up till it’s a hair away from your clothed sex.

“That’s a dangerous game you’re playing, Satoru.” You gulp, and he doesn’t fail to notice your breath has shifted, taking deeper inhales and longer exhales the closer he gets to your panties.

And he knows it’s a dangerous game. But hey, at least you’re not in danger of getting a ticket anymore. He’s glad you’re distracted. One finger hooking on the waistband of your panties is enough to make your breath hitch. Watching you chew on your bottom lip puts a strain in his pants knowing you’re trying your hardest not to be the first to break. You’re so cute when you’re angry, focus never breaking when you reach the woodsy outskirts of your exit, and he wonders if you took the wrong turn.

“Why are we here—”

“You fucking idiot.” You’re fuming as you unbuckle your belt, making your way to the backseat.

“I fucking love you.”

….

He’s never seen you cum so fast before, never seen you more vocal, fingers raking into the leather of your back seat, not a care in the world how expensive it’s going to be to have it replaced. He should piss you off more if it means he’ll have you on all fours again in your car in the middle of the woods, begging and screaming for him to fuck you deeper and deeper a nearby town could mistake your cries for a mating call.

He finds a neat little discovery too when a light shines on your window, practically blinding you, and your insides coil around his cock he’s almost sure he was locked in knots. You’re so fucking hot when you’re embarrassed, unable to help the moans that escape your lips even when a cop knocks on your window.

[ ❤︎ ] KAMO CHOSO

“I already told you I’m sorry!”

You won’t budge, half-sulking-half pissed with your back turned to him on the bed, sitting on your folded legs. You refuse to talk to him too so he settles with hugging you from behind, bunny tail pressing against his crotch. You feel his fingers fidgeting against your stomach, clearly remorseful for what he did. Your boyfriend is the last person on earth who could forget about special dates, let alone an anniversary — or so you thought.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please forgive me.” And you want to forgive him. But you had already spent the last few weeks finding the best anniversary costume present, only to be met with questioning heart eyes at the bunny ears and frilly lingerie, wondering what’s the occasion.

“It’s fine, forget it. Just leave me alone.” You try to wriggle out of his hold, only grinding against him kn the process.

“Won’t let go till I know you’ll allow me to make up for it.”

“Stop, it’s done okay — wait, are you…” At first, you thought it was your puffy tail pressing on your ass but you realize that’s definitely not the case when the thing behind you tripled in size.

“Yeah.” He buries his face deeper in your hair, taking in the sweet smell of you despite your little tantrum. His thumb tries to graze your underboob, fiddling with the frilly wires, popping in and out of the garment, obviously trying to restrain himself. “Sorry, you’re just… so soft.”

“Bunny, I know you’re mad and you can tell me all about it.” His hand reaches for your clothed pussy, fingernails scratching your slit behind the fabric. He finally puts the garment aside, spreading your wet, puffy folds with his pointer and ring fingers before sliding his middle into your slippery hole. “Go on, I’m listening.”

[ ❤︎ ] RYOUMEN SUKUNA

“Don’t ignore me, you.”

“He’s my childhood friend! Just a friend, okay?! Why can’t you understand that?”

“He could be the dog of your sister-in-law’s neighbor, I don’t give a fuck. I don’t want you fucking talking to that guy anymore.”

“It doesn’t mean anything!”

“So? I don’t like how he looks at you — hey, don’t leave! Don’t get mad — c’mon!” He catches up with you when your pace quickens as you bolt through the door. Tattooed arms coming from behind you lock tightly around your waist, his face burrowing into your neck.

“Let me go!”

“Fuck no.” He’s still as a rock the first few seconds as you try to wriggle out of his hold. When you realize it’s futile, he begins to pepper kisses on your exposed shoulder, trailing kisses along your neck up to your temple, as if he’a getting off that easy.

“Ryo, stop!”

“Uh-uh.” He runs his nose across your ear before leaving breathy kisses on your lobe. He’s a fucking menace for knowing exactly what makes you weak in the knees and using that against you.

“If you think that’s going to work, I-I — ohh, fuck.” Your head cranes backwards, leaning on his hard chest when his hand slides down your pants. Heat rises to your cheeks in embarrassment when you realize he found you wet despite all this. Or maybe it’s because of this?

“I don’t know? Seems to be working.” Because it fucking is. And you hate that it is. But his hand — black fingernails grazing your clit sloppy, wetting it with your juices — it feels so hot against your pussy at this stupid moment. His free hand reaches for your tit underneath your shirt around the same time as when he started pumping digits into your hole.

You’re not getting out of this alive.

“You still gonna talk to him?”

“Who?”

[ ❤︎ ] FUSHIGURO TOJI

“I fuckin’ swear, I don’t know how that girl got my number.”

“Don’t care. Go away, Toji.” Standing and towering in front of you, he tries to block you in every which direction. He doesn’t budge. Sneaking past him isn’t an option either as those freakishly long arms could easily prevent you from going anywhere.

You didn’t mean to read his messages. But when an unknown number pops out of your boyfriend’s notifications with kissy emojis followed by a steamy shot of her backside, you can’t help but be… curious.

You’re not sure what to think. On the one hand, you know Toji would never cheat on you or lie to you about these things. On the other hand, you also just found out this isn’t the first time this girl has sent him anything — nor the first time anyone’s sent him anything in the whole duration of your relationship.

“Believe me. I ignore every single one of these text messages, I don’t know how they keep finding me!”

“Yeah, well you could’ve told me.” Toji sighs realizing only now that he should’ve. He didn’t think it mattered or that you would be this bothered when you found out. Clearly, he was wrong.

You take his pause as your cue to walk past him, but a big hand slams to the wall next to you, preventing you from walking any further. His hand slides higher as he leans closer to the wall, forcing you to back up and hide in his shadow.

His lips are a breath away, eyes staring at yours through his lashes. His free hand cups your chin, gently forcing you to listen to him carefully. “I never told you because I didn’t care about any of them.”

His hand reaches for the skirt of your dress, balling the fabric into his fist as he raises the fabric till your thighs are exposed. “Why would I care about any of them when I have you,” he slides his hand into your panties, stroking stripes along your wet slit, “and this pussy.”

You all but melt into his touch, pussy squirming underneath his hold. Toji slowly kneels to the floor, taking your panties with him before throwing them aside. He pushes your knees aside, staring right at you as his hot breath fans your exposed cunt. “This pussy. Always so fucking ready for me.”

His wet muscle parts your folds, licking heavenly stripes on your throbbing clit. You lean on the wall for dear life, one hand above your head, the other on your partner’s head, shoving him closer to your pussy as you ride his mouth.

“I’m changing my number, I promise.”

♡ reblogs & comments are appreciated ♡

[dcxdpdabbles]

Oh my god, you laid out freelance inventor perfectly for the justice league to mistake Danny for Batman, especially with John Jones already making his thoughts known that Bruce wayne would be the perfect himbo for Batman lol. Does the entire league pull together to make a beach day seem intentional and end up making so many mistaken assumptions along the way? Either way, I adore what you have going. I'm kinda curious if you had any thoughts on Damians' first reaction to meeting Danny? If not, that's okay. I just love the thought of Danny bonding with Damian in a feral way or through sparing like ghosts tend to in this fandom

The first time Danny meets Damian Wayne is when he comes to the Manor for a surprise visit. He usually would have called ahead or messaged Alfred, but it was a last-minute decision to stop by Gotham on his way to Metropolis.

Initially, Danny was going to a technology expo hosted by Lexcorp, but it was delayed due to a giant fight. A robot had flung Superman through the convention hall, causing severe damage.

Since he now had a weekend free while Lexcorp searched for a new venue, he figured he would spend it with his favorite one percent. Imagine his surprise when he noticed the first thing he noticed was that Bruce had a biological son, one he had told to stay hidden.

He had told his displaced son not to venture out of the manner because he didn't want the public to know about him. Danny hadn't felt this angry in a long, long time.

The glare he sent Bruce had the man flinching, causing Damian, fresh to the Manor and not used to seeing his Father as anything but commanding, to raise an impressed eyebrow. "Kids. Bed. Now. I want to talk to your Father."

"No." Bruce cowered. "Please stay, kids."

"Sorry Bruce, I actually have to touch up some photos for this month's photo op," Tim was quick to say, jumping from his seat.

"I also really need to get started on some paperwork for the gymnastic gym." Dick laughed nervously, dropping out of the handstand he was in. Danny never understood how the young man could randomly spring into flips and handstands.

Damian did not inch from his chair, though. He meets Danny's gaze with a cool upturn of his nose and crossed arms.

"You have no control over me or my actions, Harlot," Damian hissed, but a pale Dick and Tim pushed him out. Jason had been out on some far-off island trip with his friends- Roy, Kori, Artemis, and that delightful Bizzarro who spoke like it was an opposite day every day.

He was the only person to whom he would not talk to Damian. Everyone else would look Danny in the eye and justify why they would assume that a child should be treated as a secret was the correct thing to do.

"Well?" Danny asks when all Bruce does is sit there, hands on his lap and sweating. He narrows his eyes, crosses his arms, and watches the sweat drip down Bruce's head. "Explain yourself."

"Danny, I swear I wasn't aware of Damian. His mother told me she had a miscarriage. If I had known, I would have told you-" Bruce started but was cut off by Danny marching across the room and practically snaring into his face.

"That's not why you're in trouble, Bruce. Why are you treating a nine-year-old boy like a dirty secret?!"

"um..well, that's...you need to understand he's a bit unstable-"

"Choose your next words very carefully, Bruce." Danny cuts him off, recrossing his arms. Bruce swallows before he seems to gather unknown courage and straightens out his back.

"Danny, I don't think Damian needs to be a secret forever, but he needs to adjust before he can go out. He had a hard life with his birth mother and tends to lash out in violent outbursts. Just last week, he pushed Tim off the stairway!"

That's alarming. In fact, it isn't very good to think Tim would not be safe in the same household as Damian. They talk more about it, especially the part where Damian makes clear he wishes to replace Tim and would do nothing to remove him.

Damian is a threat to Tim's well-being. He mentions this to Bruce, who waves it way like a damn fool.

"Tim can handle it."

"Just because he can doesn't mean he should," Danny growls, throwing his arms into the air. "I can't talk to you right now. I can't even look at you."

"Danny, please-"

"Nope. I will tell Tim to stay with me, and I will make plans to take Damian out and about. If you treat someone like a criminal, they will act like one. I'm going to help that young boy settle here, but I will not do it at the expense of another. Don't call or message me." Danny growls, strutting out of the room only to practically run into Damian.

The boy raises his chin as if daring Danny to tell him off for eavesdropping. For one second, Danny is reminded of Jazz, back when she had been so insistent that she was an adult.

His eyes soften, and he knows Damian can see based on his surprise blink. "H kid have you had the chance to go into Gotham yet?"

"Why would I waste my time with the peasants? I am an elite warrior, destined to rule over them."

Huh. He reminds Danny a lot of Jazz now, with her anti-social tendencies- not that she refused to be around people, more like she refused to make friendships with people her age because she thought herself too mature for them- and a little of the battle-hungry ghosts in the Zone.

He can handle that.

"You are to be a general, right? Why are you acting like a common foot soldier?" He asks, watching the boy's entire demeanor freeze over. "A good ruler is not just combat strength. They can take command and can easily step among their fighters. How can you do that if you do not understand the common folk's way of thinking?"

Damian opened and closed his mouth before narrowing his eyes. "You mock me."

Danny shakes his head, falling to his knees so Damian won't need to strain his neck. He keeps the baby talk out of his voice but only barely. He gets the sense that like his sister, Damian would prefer to be treated like a mini adult. "Never. I'm genuinely interested in your thoughts, but you must know that all knowledge is power. Know thy enemy..."

"...as one knows thyself," Damian finishes his quote, looking vaguely intruded. He considers the offer before nodding. "I shall accompany you on your outing and gain valued observations of the average American child."

"Only after you apologize for attacking Tim and tell him to his face how you will not be doing that again," Danny warns, raising a finger at Damian's clouded face. "A good leader does not want insubordination. Attacking Tim did not prove anything but how unreliable you are and how much you fear Tim."

"I do not fear Drake!"

"Then why does his presence so threaten you? Bruce told me how out of all his kids, you seemed so sure you could take him in a fight but not a battle of wits."

Damian's eyes grow cold before he lashes out a hand. Danny catches it quickly, much to the boy's shock. He clicks his tongue, shaking his head. "Not bad, but not what a regular American child would behave. You would have been singled out as a spy the second you stepped in the street."

"....I shall work on my reaction and emotional regulation." Damian yanks his arm free, striding away but not before glancing back at Danny. "You are strange."

Danny smiles. "Thanks, kiddo."

The boy vanishes from sight, and Danny sighs. He must now find Tim and help him pack to stay with him. He also needs to yell at everyone in the Manor, including Alfred. Honestly, that man enables Bruce far too much.

[theroyalyandere]

request: So what I am thinking about is Yandere prince× reader who is tge daughter of a merchant and his childhood bestie. They have a 5 year gap and when she turned 20,she was getting engaged. So he level ups lol. Its ok if you wanna write it in headcanon style or fiction style I just want to read a royal au (I am a sucker for it.) Can I please ask it to be a little longer your emperor one was really good so it being small had really made me thirsty 🤒 and can you make it 18+ I mean yk 👀, obviously if you are comfortable. Thanks for reading all of my ramblings.

thank you for the request! :D

yandere!prince x merchant's daughter!reader (smutty 18+)

your father is a wealthy merchant close to the king and it makes sense that when you were born, you were presented at the court by the royal family's presence.

when yandere!prince first saw you he adored how a lovely baby you were and was eager to hold you. he treated you like a baby sister due to him being an only child.

you spent your childhood being at the palace mostly by the young prince's side with how compatible the both of you are.

even as a child he's very possessive of you, he does not want any children being at your proximity or anyone getting your attention away from him.

being the prince he is, you always follow his orders and in return spoiled by him.

a few years later, his platonic affections turned into romantic ones as he saw you blossom into a fine young woman.

he grew into a great prince while you were known to be the gentle and sweet girl always be his side.

he was 25 and you were 20.

he started to treat you like a lover would and it baffles you.

you tried to turn him down but he became even more affectionate when you ignore him.

you can't deny how handsome and charming he is that is making you grow flustered every minute you spend time with him.

he's known to being a gentleman when it comes to treating ladies with respect mostly showing them to you.

he's similar to how a dragon would hoard his treasure.

you're his happiness and he wouldn't want anyone or anything to take you away from him.

he treated you so well he doesn't even look at the other girls that were offered to him.

he isolates you from everyone else to the point his parents and your parents became concerned with the way he always hover around you.

when he found out your father engaged you to another noble he was angry.

you are his to claim and his to love and because of that he made a plan.

first he took you out like usual and then to the garden where you confided about your betrothal.

he feels his irritation rising with every word coming out of your mouth.

you told him that you heard some of the other girls how they got their virginity taken

which sparked your curiosity and made him grow even more hopeful on making his plan into action.

so he offered to teach you how to kiss and please a man.

you were quite reluctant but you were determined to be experienced so you agreed.

his first lesson was kissing.

at that moment he took your first kiss at the garden, he was extremely handsome and although you thought of him as an older brother with him being the only boy you spend your time with.

your kisses were clumsy but he taught you how to move you lips and tongue in accordance with his.

his kisses slowly became passionate and you have to stop him before your heart flies out of your chest.

you pull away from him breathlessly.

he chuckles at how you already look like a mess but you couldn't deny how it made you want for more.

so you pulled him close and told him to shut up and continue.

he smirks before diving back into kissing your soft lips.

he became even hungry and he also wanted more.

you couldn't forget the moment how he took you to his chambers where he undressed you and caressed your skin.

the way he gropes your body like he owns you.

he sucks deep harsh marks all over your skin and his hands roaming to appreciate your beauty. his sole focus was on you.

you whine at the marks he leaves your skin but he insists that its part of love making.

he looked at you with lust and passion behind his eyes his lips wet from the passionate kiss you both had shared.

he lovingly laid you down on his bed and took down his clothes revealing his glorious body.

he looked down at you as if you're the only treasure and the most beautiful thing on the world.

his intensity made you shy away making you hide your face into the sheets while you weakly slam your hand onto his chest.

he chuckles and he only kisses your cheek sweetly making you even more flustered so you told him to hurry up.

"my my~ so impatient."

he prepares you by spreading your pussy with his mouth and fingers, eating you out like a dessert.

you can't help but arch your body as he coaxes sounds out of you.

your body is only his to control and pleasure and you love every moment of it.

when you came on his tongue and came back up with him licking your wetness from his fingers.

you clench your thighs at the sight and this goes noticed by him.

"ready my dear?"

you nod and he slowly pushes into your wet untainted cavern.

the prince claimed you as his the moment his hard cock penetrated your wet pussy.

the moment he entered you he went feral at the feeling of your pussy enveloping his member.

he takes it slow until the pain subsides and the completely destroys you.

"fuck~ you take me so well my darling~"

he keeps pounding into you that you almost couldn't breathe.

your beloved prince doesn't dare to leave your pussy with the way it's clamping down on his cock.

he keeps fucking you until you orgasm intensely and he spills his hot load into your womb.

you immediately fall asleep after but he pulls out to watch cum leak out of your cunt.

he kisses your forehead whispering you did well and cleaned you up before cuddling you.

after that he was determined to cut off your engagement so he studied hard to the point of neglecting you but he apologized by sending gifts to your way.

with his harsh presence gone you saw how people gravitate to you and you became popular for who you are.

but you also noticed how some of the closest ones to you disappeared

you also met your future fiancé but in the back of your mind was your beloved prince.

time passes, days before your wedding the king suddenly fell dead and the prince was immediately coronated as king.

you watch him look at you within the crowd as he was hailed as the new king of the kingdom.

at the day of your wedding he was invited as an honored guest.

he watched your every movement and you felt his eyes staring holes at you.

he smiled for your sake but on the inside his anger is bubbling up especially the way your fiance now husband kissed you. he clenched his fist and clapped along everyone else, oblivious to the plan he was brewing.

at the reception, everyone was happy until your husband suddenly falls dead infront of you causing chaos.

the feast then became a funeral with the prince consoling you.

the next day, he offered to engage you to him infront of everyone even your parents.

your answer shall determine your fate.

A/n: the ending is kinda meh but I hope you like this!

[retroaria]

SOMEONES JEALOUS!

summary: (Sakura, Suō, Kaji) when they’re jealous seeing you with another guy!

WIND BREAKER M.LIST | enjoy 🥀 -aria

ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩

Sakuras jealousy is a recurring issue. Once you’re his and he’s accepted that fact, he hates when anyone else gets more attention from you than he does. It makes him question everything, feels like he’s having a mid life crisis.

He sometimes get jealous of the way you interact with the other Bofurin boys as well. Is afraid you might think one of them is nicer than him, or that they could protect you better than he could. you constantly have to reassure him, which makes him feel even worse.

If he sees someone actively flirting with you right in front of him, he goes into fight or flight mode

Acts like you’re about to be murdered and his only way to save you is obnoxiously interjecting himself in the convo. “hahaha right MY PARTNER is soooo cool! you guys friends? Never heard of you before hahaha strange.” “Hey BABE, you seem to be having a lot of fun over here…WITHOUT ME.” The guy would just awkwardly walk away lol

Once he’s gone Sakura goes back to normal and tries to act like what he just did wasn’t borderline insane. “What do you mean? I was just talking to you how I always do.” Yeah suuuuure.

Just make sure he knows you love him and no one else. Appreciates when you include him in convos with strangers while you two are out, hates being left out of the loop.

Ren definitely feels like you are the light of his life, his sunshine on a cloudy day, the only pure thing about him, keeping him sane and at bay. Deep down he’s terrified that you’ll find someone more gentle than he is, someone less angry and tense all the time. So when something threatens to take you away, he gets rather aggressive

He prefers if you don’t see him that way. So anytime someone seems to be a little too flirty, or trying to get a little too close to you, he stalks his pray and waits it out. Once the interaction is over (you obviously rejected them), he’ll wait until you leave, head off to the bathroom, or just aren’t paying attention to shoot them the most devious glance imaginable.

Eyes of a killer as he bites down hard, cracking the candy in his mouth. sending them a signal of what might happen to them if they don’t back off. If you aren’t around, “you shouldn’t go for someone so far out of your league” “back off”.

Suo doesn’t tend to get jealous. He’s got you whipped (just as much as you have him) and he knows it. A confident king.

On the rare occasion he does feel threatened by another man, it’s usually by someone of his same stature, coy and nonchalant. It almost makes his blood boil to see someone teasing you the way he does just to see that cute flustered face.

Thinks its disrespectful for other men to bother you when they should already see how fruitless it is. In his head, someone like you is surely taken. (Though he still finds it hard to believe that he was the one who was able to take you)

He’s likes to let it go on for a little, wanting to see what tactics the guy might employ. He also wants to see the look on this persons face when they are inevitably rejected by you.

If they keep pestering you even after you’ve declined their advances, Suo will step in. “Hey darling, do you need my help here?” “How bold of you to assume you’d have a chance.” (He’s saying all of this with the most devious smile on his face, probably giggling too. Cheeky bastard.)

[nadvs]

I'm really sorry to request this for sleeping with the enemy but I'm a sucker for angsty fics.

But what about their first fight as a couple? Maybe they're fighting over a stupid thing and they are both petty and don't want the other person to be right?

(or they have makeup sex and everything turns out fine lol)

OMG I LOVE IT SO MUCH. DON’T BE SORRY. angst will always be my fav 🙂‍↕️ (the length of this blurb is proof)

they got into arguments as friends but as a couple, they get way more emotional. they’re both confrontational and stubborn and have commitment issues that come out in different ways so it gets ugly 🫣

based on this fic

they’ve been official for almost a month now. as friends, their arguments were silly and usually short-lived, but this fight is nothing like those.

it was a saturday night at a house party on rafe’s college campus. they split off at one point in the night and when she went searching for him, she found him in the backyard, standing with a group of guys she hadn’t seen before.

the smell of weed hit her instantly. panic set in. if he gets caught doing drugs, his future is shot. one random drug test and he’ll be kicked off the team.

she approached him, resting her hand on his bicep, and said to him quietly but sternly, “what are you doing?”

rafe was drunk but caught the sharpness of her tone, looking down at her with a scowl.

“what’s with the attitude?” he muttered.

“are you serious? you can’t smoke. don’t be stupid about this.”

one of his friends overheard, letting out a dramatic hoot as he held a lit joint to his lips, clearly taunting rafe for being scolded.

“just go back inside,” rafe snapped.

his buddies jeered, chuckles scattering over the group.

“what?” she said.

he wriggled out of her grip, looking away from her. she huffed in disbelief before storming off, anger rushing through her.

it’s tuesday afternoon and they still haven’t spoken. all over a ten-second conversation. it’s how their arguments would always go as friends. both of them get mad, fast, then don’t talk for a few days.

but this is different. it hurts way more.

rafe went looking for her at the party later on and realized she left. he was her ride there so he called her a few times, worried about how she was getting back.

when she didn’t answer, he texted her: at least tell me you got home. she replied: home.

now, she’s sitting at a cafe on her campus, working on a paper. she opens their text conversation a few times a day, hoping maybe she just missed a notification from him. but all she sees is their last bitter exchange.

and even though she’s pissed beyond belief that he disrespected her, she’s following his home game today. she watches every game she can.

it’s been a close one for three quarters now. she has the stream playing, taking up half of her laptop screen. when the fourth quarter starts, she watches rafe continue to dominate the court.

but her stomach drops when she sees him fall after a collision with another player. because he doesn’t get up.

she makes the stream fullscreen, watching with wide eyes. he limps off the court. he doesn’t come back out for the rest of the game. her heart is twisted in a knot.

even though she’s angry and hurt that he hasn’t looked past his pride and called or texted, she already knows that she’s going to go over to his place later to check up on him.

it’s almost sunset when rafe parks his car, her campus blanketed in a warm orange glow. the past few days have been hell. now his ankle is throbbing in pain. and he still hasn’t talked to his girl.

he hates this. the way he’s always the first to make contact after an argument. it makes him feel like he has no backbone. he should stay mad at her. she assumed the worst. embarrassed him. she should be running after him.

he’s parked in front of her dorm building. he pulls out his phone and stares at his call history for a moment before tapping her name.

it rings a couple times. then he hears her voice.

“hello?”

“come downstairs,” he says sternly. “i’m in front of your building.”

she pauses before she answers.

“i’m not home. i’m at your house,” she tells him. “i just got here. liam told me you went out. you should be resting.”

rafe rakes his hand through his hair. even though their tones are terse, his stomach flips knowing that she probably still watched his game today. that she came over to see him after his injury. she sounds worried.

“stay there,” he says.

she hangs up, looking at liam from her spot on the house’s front step.

“i’ll just wait in his room,” she says. rafe’s teammate nods and steps aside so she can come in. after she asked him if rafe was home, her next question was what happened.

apparently, he sprained his ankle. she’s glad it’s not as bad as she imagined.

as she climbs up the stairs, liam calls her name.

“not my business,” he says when she turns to look at him, “but please figure this shit out. he’s been extra bitchy lately.”

she chuckles despite herself.

“did he tell you what happened?” she asks.

“no. he just keeps sulking. a bunch of us tried to get him to talk about it, but we got told to fuck off,” liam says with an indifferent shrug.

“i’ve never seen him like this, so i hope you guys fix whatever’s wrong. i know he can be…” he doesn’t find the right word. “but i can tell he really likes you. for what it’s worth.”

“thanks,” she says.

when rafe enters his room and sees her sitting in his desk chair, his body goes warm with a mixture of anger and longing. he missed her. looking at her. hearing her voice.

“you went to my dorm?” she asks.

he shuts the door behind him, leaving his keys and phone on his nightstand before sitting on his bed.

“yeah,” he says flatly. “to talk.”

he almost says something about how of course he’s the one who reached out first to try to mend things, but she must’ve come over with that same intention. or maybe not. maybe she came over to break up with him.

her eyes dart down to his ankle, her face crumpling with sadness.

“liam told me it’s a sprain. how bad is it?” she asks.

“bad,” rafe says, mostly so she’ll feel bad for him. when he sees her frown, he realizes it worked, and then he feels rotten for trying to manipulate her.

she has that effect on him. she makes him want to be a better person. he doesn’t want to be manipulative or cruel or angry. not with her.

“it’ll heal in a few days,” he adds to ease her worry. “i’m good. it’s nothing.”

“okay,” she says, clearly relieved. “i brought some ibuprofen in case you don’t have any.”

“why?” he says, still on edge.

“i’m still gonna worry about you. no matter how much you hurt me.”

she looks down as she rifles through her bag, pulling out the pill bottle and tossing it on his mattress.

“i hurt you?” he mutters, his tone sharp. “you think this is on me?”

“are you for real?” she matches his intensity immediately, her voice going louder. “you basically told me to get lost in front of your friends. they laughed at me.”

“you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” he scoffs with a pissed off, disbelieving smile. what she did was way worse.

“do you have any idea how humilating that was?” she snaps. rafe stares at her with a tight jaw. “i was worried. they do random drug tests all the time. what if they found it in your system? and you fucked up your future just because you wanted to get high at a random party?”

“you think i need you to do that for me?” he shouts. “think back. did you see me smoking? did i look high?”

“you were standing in a circle of guys who were passing a joint around,” she says. “it’s not crazy of me to assume.”

he shakes his head and scoffs.

“rafe,” she says evenly. “you disappeared. you looked like you were on something. i got freaked out.”

“and then called me stupid.”

“i didn’t call you stupid,” she counters. but she knows her argument is flimsy. her impulsive words were harsh. telling him don’t be stupid was basically calling him stupid.

“oh, my god,” he mutters angrily. he stands up, hands on his hips as he paces over to the door and back to the bed, trying to cool down, even on his sore ankle. “imagine i came up to you like that in front of your friends. you’d lose your shit way worse than i did.”

“please sit down,” she says. “you need to keep your weight off your foot.”

he doesn’t listen.

“i didn’t find you to fight with you that night,” she continues. she takes a deep breath, anger rushing through her veins. “i was just worried. and then you were mean to me, saying something about my attitude-”

“yeah, because you came over with a stick up your ass,” he says. “it was so embarrassing that you talked to me like that in front of people.”

“what, because i’m a girl?” she scoffs.

“because you’re my girl,” he snaps.

she stills, staring at him as he stands in the middle of his room. a few moments of tense silence sink between them.

“i had a few drinks,” he says. “that was all. i know about the drug tests. i’m not an idiot. i’ve been playing since freshman year. i was hanging out with some guys i know from one of my classes. they were smoking. i wasn’t. that was it.”

she lets his words wash over her.

“please sit down,” she finally says again, tears pricking her eyes. “please. i don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

she sniffles. he gives in and sits back down, elbows on his knees as he sits hunched over.

rafe swallows the lump in his throat, his gaze on the floor. he’s not used to someone caring about him this much. he’s always only had himself. even when he’s yelling at her, she’s pleading for him to rest.

he hates the feeling of being told what to do. but when it comes from her, it’s because she gives a shit. and that makes it feel almost okay.

“i’m sorry,” she says, her tone wobbly. “i shouldn’t have used that word. i shouldn’t have embarrassed you. i don’t think you’re stupid. i just hated the thought of you losing everything you’ve worked so hard for.”

she sighs shakily.

“but when you talked to me like that…” she says. “it made me feel so… small. they were laughing at me and you weren’t on my side. it reminded me of how those idiots started treating me after we started seeing each other.”

rafe’s lips twist tightly. so many of the guys on the team she cheers for and even some of the girls on her squad started alienating her, treating her like she was a traitor just for hanging out with rafe.

he knows how much that messed with her head. then the person she went through all that for embarrassed her in front of some guys who don’t even matter.

finally, his gaze meets hers. her stomach sinks once she sees that his eyes are glossy. she’s never seen him cry. he’s this affected? she thought he was just mad at her for being a bitch to him in front of his buddies.

“you told me before,” he mutters, “that you expect every relationship to crash and burn. you expect the worst from every guy you date.”

she blinks back tears. she did tell him that, word for word, back when they were just friends. it was a moment of drunken vulnerability when she was talking about how every man she’d ever been with just let her down. she didn’t think he’d remember it. that he’d apply it to himself.

“it was like you made your mind up,” he says. “you were already sure i was hiding something from you, already fucking something up.”

her forehead crinkles. she didn’t think that he’d see it like that.

“listen, i…” rafe exhales slowly. his anger has almost completely dissolved now that she actually apologized. now that she said it, he feels like he doesn’t deserve the sorry. she was just looking out for him. “i’m sorry, too. i was an asshole.”

she bites her lip. he doesn’t say more. she waits. and waits. and waits. but that’s his entire apology.

“okay,” she finally says, unsure of how to resolve this. she’s still carrying the weight of pain he caused her. he doesn’t seem to get how badly he hurt her.

“okay what?” he asks. his mind is racing. “okay like, this is over? you’re done?”

“no,” she says, her brows furrowing.

rafe looks miserable, sorrow etched into his features, and even though she’s still hurting, still mad at him, she seals the distance between them, moving to settle on the bed across from him.

“you know how shitty these past few days have been?” he says. “hoping you’ll text me but at the same time, hoping you won’t because what if the message says you want to go back to being friends? or just never want to see me again at all?”

the ache in her heart doubles.

“it didn’t cross my mind once to break up with you,” she says.

“really?” rafe meets her eyes again. he looks genuinely shocked by her words. she had no idea he was so afraid of being left. so sure that she’d give up on him so quickly.

“of course,” she whispers.

the tension in rafe’s chest slowly loosens from her reassurance. he comes closer, his guard crumbling. her hand is on his knee. he puts his hand over hers.

“this has been rough on me, too,” she says, sniffling. “i kept waiting for you to call. i hated that you brushed me off like that. and now it’s like you don’t even get how much you hurt me.”

this is a punch to his gut. but he deserves it.

“i was pissed. i wasn’t thinking straight,” he says. “and i… i called that night, remember? like five times. you only texted me that you were home and you never called back.”

her breath shakes again. he didn’t do enough. he can see that now.

“i should’ve kept calling,” he says. “i’m sorry, baby. i am. you were just looking out for me. i fucked up.”

his words make her anger lose its sharpness.

“so did i. i don’t expect the worst from you,” she mumbles. “i know how hard you work. i know you’re serious about basketball. i just… panicked.”

rafe needs to kiss her, to have the tangible evidence that she still wants him as bad as he wants her.

he leans forward, giving her the softest kiss he’s ever given her. he doesn’t have it in him to pull back. not when he’s missed her so bad that it hurts.

he gently presses his palm against the back of her neck, guiding her to nuzzle into him. he kisses the top of her head as she rests her cheek on his shoulder.

“i miss you so goddamn much,” he admits. “you have no idea how much i think about you.”

he feels her nod against him.

“me, too.”

“i’m sorry, okay?” rafe says.

“me, too,” she echoes.

they stay like that, curled into each other, hearts starting to beat in unison again.

as she breathes rafe’s scent, a warmth that she’s committed to memory now, she realizes they’re carrying more baggage than she would’ve expected.

maybe she does assume he’ll lie to her and disappoint her. it must be a knee-jerk reaction after so many failed relationships.

and he clearly has a fear of being left. he looked like he didn’t even believe her when she told him she wasn’t considering breaking up with him. maybe he never let anyone in before because he was sure they’d eventually bail on him.

but she knew they were both stubborn. both explosive. both their own version of damaged. it took three days and a long, tense argument to get here, touching again.

beneath the ache they share, she has hope. they came to each other to resolve this. this was their first fight as a couple and they made it out to the other end.

it might be hard sometimes. but as she feels his arms encircle her, heavy and warm and comforting, she knows it’s worth it. he’s worth it.

she lets out another shaky breath and he kisses the top of her head again. he can’t lose her. he won’t survive it if he does.

[wonwoonlight]

when he finds out you're sick through the internet

A/N: idol!au. OC is also a celebrity though I don't explicitly say what. tiny teensy angst bc cheol is a worried Boyfriend💔 1.5k words! another random word vomits bc that's the only way i know how to write now lol idk why but everytime i write this kinda fic it's always seungcheol looooooooooooooool. not proofread, but enjoy!

[part 2]

Seungcheol doesn't really get angry.

For the three years you've known him in which you've dated him for two, you've only seen him actually get angry a total number of three times. None of them was directed at you, and all of them are for reasons that you would've exploded upon way before he did.

Seungcheol is patient and rational.

Seungcheol is normally patient and rational.

But he's never normal when it comes to you. And even though the patient bit still stands, nothing about his feelings towards you is ever rational. He's a little too emotional, a little too rash, and a little too worrisome when it comes to your wellbeing.

So when he's relaxing in the practice room during a break with his members, for once not on his phone because he's charging it somewhere on one of the tables, and he hears Seungkwan gasps a little upon his phone, he thinks there's another scandal blowing up upon the industry. But when the younger guy's blown out eyes meet him, colors drained from his face, Seungcheol hates that he knew it could mean one thing: something happened to you.

He shoots up almost immediately, not registering any words that come out of Seungkwan's mouth. His hands shake a little when he unlocks his phone, and his heart drops when he reads the official post from your company's twitter account that states your current condition, that you might need to pause your activities for the time being due to health reasons, apologizes for the worries, and asks for the fans' understanding.

He wants to get angry.

At who, he’s not sure.

At your company, for pushing you even though they know your schedule is practically inhumane? At your manager, for not making sure that you have decent rest in between schedules? At you, because he’s been telling you to fucking stop running towards whatever goal you have in mind but you insist that you know your limit and you’ll know when to stop?

Apparently, no you fucking don’t because else this wouldn’t have happened.

The rest of the members look at him in worry, and Jeonghan silently walks to their manager and the other staff to let them know about the situation at hand, that Seungcheol would probably not be in his best state to continue practice at the moment. The leader would probably insist that they continue anyway, but they’ve practiced for almost five hours already anyway and they could spare an hour or two for the leader when it’s clear that he’s worried beyond measure.

Seungcheol bites his lip as he tries to call you, his concern skyrocketing by the seconds the longer the beeping sound goes, no sign of you picking it up. He tries one more time, but you still don’t answer and he’s about to hurl his phone at the wall when your manager calls him instead, tells him that he sees his name flashing on your phone, informs your whereabouts, and that he should just drop by your place in a few hours if he wants to see you because right now you’re still sleeping in the car and he’s taking you home.

He finds it hard to say anything, a lump growing in his throat until he manages to swallow it down and ask how you’re doing right now.

“She’s… exhausted.” Your manager says quietly. “I know it’s my job to take care of her but… you know her. She didn’t tell me that she’s been having a hard time sleeping at night the past few weeks and it finally took a toll on her.”

It’s hard to suppress his anger, his breath heavier than usual though it’s not too noticeable unless they know Seungcheol. He wants to scream at your manager, but he knows it won’t do anyone any good and it’s really not the time nor the place for that. So he mutters a quiet ‘thank you’ before he hangs up, his members looking at him with a mix of worry and understanding when he looks up at them.

“Go.” Soonyoung says. “We’ve practiced enough today. Take care of your girlfriend and tell us later.”

Seungcheol nods and sprints out of the room, beyond thankful that his members always have his back.

Seungcheol is glaring at you when you wake up, though the way his thumb is still softly caressing your head and the worry in his eyes clearly tell you that his anger is nowhere near his distress. 

You offer him a weak smile, unable to defend yourself because you know what his eyes are scolding you for.

“Sorry?” You whisper and immediately cringe at how dry your throat feels.

He doesn’t say anything as he helps you sit down and hands you your favorite mug. Taking in the moment, you frown at how weak you feel, though you really only have yourself to blame because you genuinely thought you’re okay and you can take it.

You know it’s on you for taking as many schedules as possible, practically everything that your company offers you even when your manager says he doesn’t think it’s physically possible for you to do all that in such a short span.

Thinking about it now, you realize that your manager and the rest of your team also gets the short end of the stick through your decision. Him, your make up team, and your stylists would all need to be with you and your ambition forgets to consider their wellbeing even when you wrongly claim you would be able to handle it.

Guilt starts to eat you inside out, and it grows even larger as you see Seungcheol in front of you–didn’t he say he had practice today?–his face screams distressed and his shoulders tense since God knows when.

“Hey, talk to me.” He says softly when he notices you’ve been spacing out and you’re nibbling on your lip like you would when you’re anxious, taking away your mug before enveloping your hands with his.

You tear up almost immediately, and he moves to sit on the edge of your bed to usher you into his chest, patiently listens to your nonsense as you try to talk through your tears. He gets the gist of it: sorry–manager–company–wellbeing–my team–didn’t think it through–made you worry–overestimated myself–sorry–and the list goes on. He exhales as he hugs you tighter, both understanding and upset at the turns of events.

Being in the same industry, he gets what you’re trying to do, understands that you feel the need to keep on running while you’re able to, relates that you’re doing everything for yourself and your fans. But still, it’s hard not to be upset to know you’re pushing yourself too hard when he’s been telling you there’s no need to run as fast as you are without resting; that you’ll only hurt yourself one way or another and he hates that the one time he needs to be right, it’s this.

You end up laying down against his chest on your bed, hiccups and sniffles filling your bedroom along with a random song he’s humming against your head. You pull away to properly look at him, the first time you’re doing it since you woke up earlier, and his hum stops in question.

“Thank you.” You manage to whisper, your fingers grasping the front of his shirt without even realizing. “For being here when I woke up.”

He shakes his head like he doesn’t understand why you’re thanking him, simply leans down to plant a long, chaste kiss against your forehead before he pulls up your blanket so it’ll cover you properly.

“Just… don’t surprise me like that again, okay?” His breath is warm against your face, pleasantly so, and you nod as you promise him that you’ll take better care of yourself moving forward. 

“Are you staying the night?”

“Yes, I’ll return to the dorm the day after tomorrow. They’ve given me a day off.” You cringe at his words, though thankful that he’s been in the industry long enough to attain that kind of privilege. But still, you feel bad that you’re obstructing his practice and his members just because you’re foolish enough to– “Hey. Stop. I know what you’re thinking. No need to feel bad. I’m actually glad I get to rest with you.”

“But–”

“No buts. The kids can do without me for a day.” He playfully bumps his forehead against yours, his lips hover above yours merely centimeters apart.  He doesn’t meet your lips, though he kisses their corner sweetly and wraps you back into his embrace to the point where there’s no space between you two. “Sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Good night, Cheol.”

“Night, baby.”

“See you in my dream?”

“I’ll see you anywhere you want me to be.”

He hugs you tighter, and you try your best to return the gesture despite the awkward position of your arms. It’s uncomfortable and you’re sure your arms will be sore the next morning.

But you wouldn’t have it any other way. Not when you succumb to sleep and find Seungcheol smiling at you on the other side of your dream, as real as he can be.

cont.

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

m'starting to get my groove back no emperor so here's a lil valentines day piece i wrote, hope yall enjoy ♡ ! ( a lil bit more love for the hopeless romantic singles like me, ppl in a relationship yall can get that from your s/o's..still love yall tho ♡)

fem reader, katsuki is a nervous lil thing, his friends don't help( they do end up helping him out tho), just pure fluffyness, bksquad boys are sassy towards each other but all in good fun, bkg is a softie, kirimina kinda hinted but eiji shuts it down take it how u wanna, food n takeout mentions,dude talk written by a girl trying her best, kirishima's sheets smell bad lemme know if i missed sum else ♡ !! (no friends to lovers mentioned in this one btw..starting to feel myself goin thru withdrawal already..), not rlly reader oriented like usual but i thought this was cute lol i like the idea of katsuki caring about us so much he goes out his way to ask for help from others (despite hating doing so)teehee (also i like the idea of these silly guys interacting and i like hc-ing them okay okay i'll stop rambling okay-)

the last thing kirishima expected at 9.34 pm was someone basically busting down his door with how hard they were knocking on it.

eijirou opens the door urgently and is even more suprised to see his foul mouthed best friend on the other side of the door.

"woah, bakugou, man !" he exclaims seeing the state his friend was in. his eyes looked droopy and his clothes were wrinkled up like he had done a lot of moving around. usually, he would've assumed his friend had just awoken from a good nap, but his restless expression said otherwise. "what happened to you ? you look—"

" 'm fine." bakugou gruffs hoarsely, taking a deep breath at his friends widened eyes, softening up his demeanor just slightly " i'm good," he rephrased "just—you gonna let me in or what ?"

eijirou sputters out an "of course, of course" only for his friend let himself in before he could even move aside. though he immediately freezes when he sees-

"woah, kacchan's gone nutso ! " denki exclaims, face turning red from laying upside down on kirishima's bean bag for way too long.

"and he's up past 8 ? must be the apocalypse or somethin' " sero chuckles from his place on the floor near the dresser.

bakugou groans has he flops onto eijirou’s bed "of course you losers are here" his complaint is muffled against the pillows, but not muffled enough to where the rest of the boys can't hear.

"hey ! we were here before you ! 'f anythin', you're the one intruding—!" denki gulps, eyebrows furrowed. he quickly spins around to lay right when he feels the blood rushing to his head, taking a deep breath afterwards. sero chuckles and bakugou deadpans at kaminari for a good fourty seconds before slamming his head back down and groans even louder.

kirishima decides he's at a safe enough distance to sit down on his own bed, without making any sudden moves so as not to anger the beast that is an angry, sleepy bakugou. he places a hand near his friends leg, where he deems he's at safe to ask "what's up man ? you're usually in bed by this time.." he hears sero make a noise in agreement.

"yeah, or he's havin' kissy-kissy time with his giiiirrrlffrrieeeend.." kaminari sings, kicking his feet in the air jokingly. bakugou, to everyones suprise, flinches at the mention of you, then slams his head against kirishima's pillow harder and groaning even louder.

all three friends share a curious-somewhat worried look. kirishima nudges his head in bakugou's direction, silently begging his friends to say something. said friends adamantly shake their heads, as if synchronized, making a cross motion with their arms. kirishima sighs to himself, some friends.

yet again, he is the first one to speak up " did..did something happen between you two, didja fight or something ?" he asks carefully, his entire body is strained and the air in the room is so heavy, everybody present ready to get a big portion of the great lord explodo-bomberkill's anger.

only to be met with bakugou turning around to lay on his back eyebrows strained slightly and eyes absent, thinking about something they don't know "what ? course we didn't fuckin fight, idiot." he answers simply.

the three friends all let out an obnoxious sigh of relief, to katsuki's slight confusion.

"hoo, okay." kirishima answered relieved. he knows you and bakugou don't fight very much (which he thinks is super manly) but he knows that when it happens bakugou get's extremely—EXTREMELY—irritable, so it's best to stay away from him while he has his heart broken for a little bit, unless he reaches out by himself, but that only happens when he feels really bad and came to ask for advice on how to get his boyfriend priviledges back. "soo.." eijirou sings "what happened then ?"

bakugou's face hardens and the group stiffens again, preparing for a latent explosion--perhaps the volcano was still dormant and was about to be set off. the three boys hold their breaths.

bakugou takes a deep breath, a sour expression on his face.

3..

bakugou huffs out a sigh.

2...

he opens his mouth to speak and—his cheeks are turning pink ?

"valentine's day's after tomorrow and i don't know what the fuck to get her."

the three boys slump over and kaminari does so so hard his face bangs against the floor. kirishima feels like he's in a sitcom or some gag anime.

" that's it ?" sero chuckles to himself "what ? you're worried for valentine's day ?" sero mocks, gladly taking the opportunity to mess with the blond "that shit's easy man." he cackles, leaning against the dresser more comfortably.

"yeah dude, all you gotta do is get her some chocolates and like—a teddy bear or somethin' girls love that typa stuff !" kaminari piped up, having lifted his head up from the floor. sero nods and bakugou lifts himself up to scoff at them. it feels like it comes from the deepest depth of his very being and kirishima feels a little hurt, despite not being the target of the attack.

"this is why you losers don't have girlfriends yourselves, so i don't wanna hear anythin' from you." kaminari chokes out an "ouch, dude !" " sides, i'm not just gonna settle for that boring ass shit for my girl. no chance in hell." bakugou concludes gruffly.

"yeah, yeah we get it you're the perfect boyfriend" sero quips bitterly, rolling his eyes. " why'd you come here to ask us if, according to you, we get none ?" he questioned raising an eyebrow.

"i came here for shitty hair, not you bastards." the blond spits, rolling his eyes as well before turning to kirishima, who jumps a little at his friends slightly desperate eyes on him.

"woah, i don't have—what makes you think i would be any help ?" the redhead splutters, waving his hands around.

"don't you have something goin' on with alien chick ?"

"what ?! no dude, we're just friends !"

at that, bakugou's eyes widen the slightest bit before he groans for what feels like the 5Oth time tonight, and flops back onto the bed dramatically, turning his head away from his friend " your fuckin' useless too, then." his friend grumbles angrily.

"hey !" kirishima exclaims "mean ! i help you with your girlfriend troubles all the time without having one !"

bakugou turns to face his friend again with narrowed eyes, before exhaling a frustrated sigh and lifting himself up again, eyebrows furrowed. "your sheets smell like ass by the way." he chides, nose scrunched slightly.

"h-hey !" kirishima reiterates " i was gonna wash 'em !"

bakugou gives him an incredulous look, before shaking his head, sighing.

"well look, how about you just get her something you know she likes, isn't that good enough ?" sero offers, shrugging to himself.

"ou ! i saw a guy on tiktok ask his girlfriend out with wingstop, you could like-" kaminari, despite getting lightheaded before has apparently not learned his lesson as he flips around on his back again "—ask her to be your valentines with some fast food chain she likes, and those cute pink heart balloons they sell at the mall, y'know !"

the boys all hum at kaminari's suprisingly helpful idea. kirishima doesn't wanna say it out loud but he really hadn't expected such a cute idea from his electric friend.

"y'know, i was gonna say you were just hungry with the wingstop thing, but that's actually not a bad idea kaminari." sero hums absentmindedly with an impressed expression on his face. kirishima sweatdrops at his lack of tact but isn't really suprised.

"fuck you, man ! you guys never trust me with this stuff." kaminari whines mostly to himself. "yer track record isn't really the best when it comes to scoring girls, is it ?" sero retorts.

kirishima shakes his head seeing his friends start to bicker. he decides to ignore them and turn to his spiky haired friend, who seems deep in thought "well, what about it ? that sound like a good idea ?" he asks.

"s'not half bad.." his friend mutters in response " it's a good start, i guess."i if he notices how kaminari presses a hand to his chest with a heartfelt look on his face, he doesn't comment on it.

"oh, maybe try the take-out and a movie, i'm assuming you're not trynna have a whole celebration, yeah ?" bakugou grunts in response, his nose scrunches as he cringes thinking about the idea. he shakes his head "no, want it to be..about just the two of us, y'know ?" he utters honestly, in a way that sounds way too out of character from him.

a symphony of awwwss resonates around the room and katsuki feels his cheeks heat up hard as he harshly tells his friends to shut up.

" but seriously i'm curious, you guys are already together right ? why would you need to ask her to be your valentine anyway—shouldn’t that be a given ? " sero wonders.

"i don’t fuckin know, my old hag says it’s about the principal or some shit like that." bakugou sighs, flopping back onto the bed and throwing an arm up over his eyes, it seemed like being up so late was affecting him.

"no way dude, you called your mom ?" kaminari asks, jaw practically reaching the floor (or the ceiling..?) in shock. bakugou flushes and splutters as he hears his friends reaction to this apparently shocking news.

“shut up.” he growls “she says it’s important to show i care.. my old man does it an' they're still together right now so he must be doin' something right.

"woah man.." kirishima uttered in awe " you're goin so far to make your girlfriend happy.." he clenches his fist "s-so manly !" bakugou simply grumbles to himself in response.

"honestly..i didn't expect that from you..like at all."

"fuck off !"

"like genuinely, at all. or maybe like, 0.00003 percent cha-"

" i'll fuckin' kill you tape arms !" bakugou barked, small sparks shooting out of his palms as he kneeled at the foot of kirishima's bed in pursuit of the black haired boy. kirishima swiftly swoops in and grabs his friends arm, quickly putting his finger over his mouth

"shhhh, man !" kirishima shushes. " if we're loud, class rep's gonna hear us !" he hisses.

"or worse, mr. aizawa..." kaminari whimpered.

all four boys share a shiver.

afterwards, bakugou sighs, acting as if him almost literally blowing up at his friend a minute ago hadn't happened and gets up to sit on the side of the bed.

"well whatever, i'm satisfied." he says, a little yawn leaving him "my folks gave me some ideas so i'll use those too." his eyes zip around the room and back to the floor, then he closes his eyes and speaks so quietly kirishima barely catches it

"you guys' idea isn't horrible either so i'll keep it in mind..thanks." he utters a quick " 'r whatever." before suddenly getting up and practically sprinting to the door.

it's quiet in the room as everyone sits stunned and kirishima is the first to speak again "o-oh yeah, no problem man, anytime !" he beamed, though still slightly shocked.

"yeah, no problem..!" kaminari can't seemed to decide if he wants to smile or be stunned. his mouth stuck in an awkward half-smile-half- '°O°-' face.

" course." sero raises a thumbs up and a small smile.

bakugou grunts to himself, graces his friends with a simple "night." then pulling the door open quietly, looking around the hallway quickly before swiftly creeping out the room, closing the door behind him. the boys quickly reciprocate the goodnight quietly before he can fully close it. he stutters at the door for a second longer and kirishima knows he heard them then, so he's satisfied.

it's quiet in the room for about 5 seconds after bakugou's left.

"dude, for some reason that made me feel all warm inside..is that just me ?" kaminari hummed, pressing a hand to his chest.

"nope, me too" sero admits, sighing to himself.

"yeah, same here" kirishima says as well, smiling to himself " he really cares about yn, huh ?"

"i can give him that, yeah" sero stretches, getting up so he can jump onto kirishima's bed.

"dude" he lifts his head up "your sheets do smell like ass." sero snickers.

" I- AM-GONNA-WASH-THEM !! "

afterwards valentines day comes around. the boys don't have valentines of their own but when they see you and katsuki hand in hand, with you holding onto those cute pink heart balloons from the mall, wearing a sweater a little too big for you and a valentines day gift bag in your one hand, with bakugou holding onto a bag of take-out and offering them a single side glance and a nod with a half smirk on his lips, they feel extremely proud of themselves. bakugou reminds himself to tell his friends he owes them one.

[eatzyuu]

this is just nonsense crack, but i think it would be funny if jason was an angry crier. like- before all the red hood stuff when he was still robin, if dick made him mad (sibling things, of course), he'd just sort of stand there in all of his anger and start sniffling with tears running down his cheeks. and dick, not having expected his little brother to start crying after messing with him, just sort of watches in a kind of baffled worry. and i imagine, in this same circumstance, bruce walking in and automatically turning his half disappointed and half annoyed gaze to dick, assuming that he'd done something horrible to little jason (they had been bothering each other, dick was just better at making jason angry).

and maybe, even as red hood, as grown as jason is, sometimes, when he gets especially angry, he still does cry. but most of the time, it's hidden with his helmet.

it's never really me posting if i don't add some sort of batfam angst: so i think when jason and bruce have their usual arguments at the manor, after an especially difficult argument, tears start to fall from jason's eyes. at first, neither bruce or jason say anything about it. they just stand still, angry glares locked onto one another. but bruce's eyes soften as tears continue to stream onto jason's cheeks. jason, seeing bruce's worried change in expression, turns away from him, wiping the tears from his face hastily, wanting to avoid looking weak or showing emotion in front of bruce. he doesn't want bruce to see him like this.

but all bruce can see at the sight of jason's tears is that little boy who loved to read in the manor's library and would get in playful arguments with his older brother; who he looked up to greatly. and bruce wonders to himself in that moment. did he do something wrong? had he said something that made jason upset? had he done something that would envoke such emotion from jason? from his son?

and bruce would put a hand on jason's shoulder in an attempt at comfort, but as always, jason shakes off the expression of care and walks out of the manor. avoiding any attempts by bruce to get him to stay and talk about it.

as he drives off on his motorcycle, the tears don't stop. he's angry. so horribly angry. at bruce. at himself. at the fact that arguing with bruce could get him so angry he'd cry the same way he would when he was younger. then his angry tears would turn into tears of an unfamiliar emotion when he thought about the look on bruce's face when he'd seen that jason was crying. it was a look that a father would give to his child. an expression that held both affection and distress at his discomfort. did he manage to surprise bruce? was jason... sad?

(i might've gotten a bit carried away with this one lol. half way through, i was definitely tempted on just turning this into a fic instead. but i suppose i prefer short form content like this, since i am already working on a few personal works at the moment. perhaps i will consider making a fic based off of this post when i am feeling up to a break in my current writing.)

[sarafangirlart]

Debunking some misinformation about Hephaestus and Aphrodite’s Marriage

I’m so sick and tired so I’m making a thread, enjoy. I’ll break it down into several points.

1. Hephaestus demanded Aphrodite’s hand in marriage in exchange for Hera’s freedom and Aphrodite was forced into the marriage

You’d be surprised by how this isn’t even attested in ancient sources, rather it’s just a theory made by modern scholars bc of how spotty and limited our knowledge about this marriage is, let’s look at the actual sources:

Notice how Aphrodite isn’t even mentioned mentioned as the “prize”? Hephaestus does ask for a goddess in exchange for freeing Hera, but it’s not Aphrodite, it’s Athena. The usual course of events is this:

Hephaestus is angry at Hera for her mistreatment and sends a golden throne that traps her

The other gods try to persuade him to free her but he refuses

Dionysus convinces him by getting him drunk

Again the theory that Aphrodite was the prize for whoever gets Hephaestus to Olympus is just that, a theory. Not a really good one either bc wouldn’t Aphrodite be married to Dionysus instead? It’s a really shallow portrayal of all figures involved tbh, why would Ares only be interested in freeing his mother if it meant he gets to marry Aphrodite? Why would anyone on Olympus not be worried about their queen being chained up? Believe it or not but Hera isn’t as disliked as one would think lol

Now even if Aphrodite wasn’t a prize how did she end up marrying Hephaestus? And was she forced into doing it? No actually (Lucian’s Dialogue of the gods):

That’s not to say this wasn’t an arranged marriage (it most likely was) but arranged marriage and forced marriage are not the same thing. If you think this is a forced marriage then what about Cadmus and Harmonia? Heracles and Hebe? Both these marriages were arranged by Zeus but no one would claim they’re forced marriages.

2. Aphrodite hated Hephaestus

Now this is more open to interpretation, after all love is subjective, but to say they outright hated each other would be incorrect, there is this myth that Aphrodite cursed Lemnos to have the men abandon their wives and female family members, usually bc they neglected on worshipping her (tho a late Latin source says it’s revenge for exposing her affair).

Apollonius of Rhodes' Argonautica:

However this bit seems to be rather… genuine? Almost as if she might have truly felt bad for what she did and wanted to reconcile, sounds like someone with a deeply messy and complicated relationship with their partner, but not outright hate.

Also there is this moment in Lucian’s Dialogue of the Gods which is pretty funny:

3. Hephaestus only saw Aphrodite as property

Ok I don’t like using the “it was a different time” card but like… it really does apply here lol

Now we’ve already established that Aphrodite was never a prize for Hephaestus to begin with so what about the betrothal gifts he gave to Zeus? Obviously that means he was buying Aphrodite right?

Well, no actually this is a normal part of Ancient Greek marriage (obviously it varied between cities and time periods but it usually goes something like this), the father of the bride and the groom exchange gifts with each other to establish a bond between the two, the bride herself wasn’t the “gift” Zeus’s gift to Hephaestus was most likely his place on Olympus.

To say that Hephaestus bought Aphrodite would mean that Odysseus bought Penelope, or Hector bought Andromache, both are ludicrous claims.

4. Hephaestus is an incel and Ares is this big feminist icon

No, just… no.

Ares was never considered “the protector of women” in Ancient Greece that’s tumblr fanfiction and plenty of other ppl have made posts debunking this (including me) so I won’t repeat that here. Now about Hephaestus being an “incel” all the male Olympians have at least one story where they harm an innocent/defenseless woman, all of them, yes including Ares who persecuted Leto while she was heavily pregnant by Hera’s orders.

5. Aphrodite cheated to “regain her sexuality”

No Patrick, cheating on your disabled spouse with his brother in the bed and palace he made for you is not a girlboss move it’s being an asshole (all the gods are flawed, how thought provoking). Hell, even Zeus wouldn’t pull shit like this with Hera.

Aphrodite and Ares most likely did this hoping it would be the last place anyone would suspect an affair, since Aphrodite could’ve had sex with Ares in his own place or some meadow somewhere but that might cause ppl to be too suspicious.

6. Ares is a big dumb brute who can’t take a hint and only saw Aphrodite for her beauty

Believe it or not, just bc I criticize Aphrodite and Ares doesn’t mean I hate them lol. Now look, all the gods care deeply about looks but that’s not the only thing that Ares and Aphrodite love about each other. Here is Ares being a total simp and actually listening to her:

Iliad book 5

Thebaid book 3

7. Aphrodite felt neglected by Hephaestus bc he’s too busy at the forge

No lol, she straight up works with him at the forge, why wouldn’t she? If anything this claim makes Aphrodite even more shallow than she actually is.

8. Aphrodite and Ares didn’t care about being humiliated in the golden net and Ares straight up brags about cucking his brother

Yes I’ve heard such claims and no Ares and Aphrodite are actually capable of feeling shame lol, almost as if they were in the wrong. Also why would Ares actively antagonize the guy who makes all his stuff? Maybe that’s why Athena keeps beating his ass, bc Hephaestus purposely gives Ares shitty weapons and armor lol

Anyways umm… I think that’s it? Maybe I missed a few things bc I’m frustrated af rn

Just so y’all know, I’m not a scholar I’m just autistic and read a lot lol. I hope I didn’t miss something or get anything wrong.

Have a good day (or night).

[niki-phoria]

I WILL ALWAYS BE BY YOUR SIDE / ALWAYS, ALWAYS STAY

pairing: shen ricky x gn!reader genre: fluff word count: 621

notes: i adore ricky sm and i love the friends to lovers trope so here's my attempt at it lol, idea was inspired by this prompt list from @urfriendlywriter, barely proofread, pls forgive any mistakes !! title from zb1 - always

“have you ever kissed anybody before?”

SHEN RICKY’S heart nearly stops in his chest; his breath catches in his throat and his eyes widen in surprise as he shifts to look at you. “what do you mean?”

you turn, rolling over onto your side to face him. your features seem to glow in the silver moonlight. sliding your hand underneath the pillow, you use your elbow to prop yourself up on his bed. “have you had your first kiss?”

ricky pauses. your questions are being asked in earnest. there’s no hint of malice in your tone, just genuine curiosity. swallowing his anxiety, he finally murmurs. “no, i haven’t.”

you seem to relax at his answer, smiling softly across from him in the darkness. the blanket feels soft against your hands when he reaches out, hesitantly intertwining his fingers with your own. you flinch slightly in response before you relax, gently squeezing his hand in return. 

ricky’s touch sends electricity down your spine. you sink your teeth into your bottom lip, relishing in the feeling of his thumb gently stroking against your knuckles. “do you want to? kiss someone, i mean.” 

he hums, pausing in his ministrations for a moment. an agonizing moment of silence lingers as he debates his answer before finally whispering, “i want it to be at the right moment, with someone special.” 

his response hangs heavy in the air. you nod slightly before hesitantly asking, “do you have anyone in mind?”

“you.” the word falls from ricky’s lips so casually you almost think you misheard him. your entire body goes rigid in surprise as you stare at him, wide-eyed. 

the butterflies swarming throughout your stomach feel more like an angry swarm of hornets. your heartbeat grows louder with each passing moment. just before ricky can pull his hand away and apologize, you whisper, “me?” 

“y/n.” your heart lurches into your throat. you can feel the way ricky’s fingers dance along your cheeks, hesitantly tilting your face upwards until your gaze meets his own once again. his voice is quiet - nearly inaudible over the sound of your frantic heartbeat and racing mind. “i like you. i’ve liked you since the day i met you.” he nervously chuckles, gingerly brushing his fingertips against your cheek. “can i… can i kiss you?”

“please,” you whisper. 

ricky’s lips are - somehow - even softer than you had always imagined. his hands hesitantly rest against your cheeks; his thumb traces along the edge of your jawline. your bodies move together in tandem, working together in an unconscious but very welcome dance. you can vaguely taste the hints of strawberry chapstick he had grown so accustomed to wearing. 

ricky is softly smiling when he pulls away. his cheeks are flushed a deep pink as he reaches up to brush a stray strand of your hair back into place. his lip tint has transferred across your lips, making him chuckle softly as he rubs the pink hues away from your skin. “was that okay?” 

you smile brightly. ricky catches your gaze slip back down to his lips once again before settling on studying his deep brown eyes. they look almost black in the darkness, the usual honey-like colour hidden beneath a blanket of darkness. “it was more than okay,” you reply.

ricky’s lips curl into a soft smile. his eyes crinkle up ever so slightly in the familiar way that makes your heart beat just a little faster. “i don’t want to be friends anymore,” he murmurs. his words send shivers down your spine. “i want to be yours.”

you lean in, pulling him into yet another sweet kiss. you can feel the ghost of his smile when your lips meet his own. “you already are.”

if you liked this fic, please consider leaving a like, comment, feedback, or rebloging !! and if you want to support me, check out more of my fics here <33

[accio-victuuri]

bobo the piggy. 🐽 + cpns

i think it’s about time to make some kind of compilation about this aspect of the fandom. mainly because xz seems to be attached to it lately. this characterization of him is more of good natured teasing and endearment — nothing derogatory. i know there is a negative impression when someone is a “pig” but that’s not the case at all with yibo. it’s more of the cute side, and to represent that “soft side” of yibo when he’s not on lion or panther mode.

a huge part of this is mugui laoshi’s bobi character that everyone loves and why it’s really stuck with the fandom. who wouldn’t love that cute character? in the same way that yibo also has that cute side to him we all adore.

let me start first with yibo and his connection to the “pig” title. with him being known as the Little Golden Pig in c-ent. i’m getting this one from Baidu:

"Little Golden Pig" is a nickname for entertainment star Wang Yibo. This title comes from his extremely high popularity in the industry. With great influence, he is regarded as one of the top artists. The commercial value is so high that in the activities he participated in such as Weibo night or YH Family concert. Using his name the prices of related products will rise rapidly. Therefore, he known as the "Little Golden Pig" in recognition of his achievements in the business field.

TOTALLY AGREE. <3

other instances of this association:

• videos of him with pigs for your pleasure ( trying to be friends with one and this show actually had him rapping to this pig lol and feeding a pig at DDU )

• the miniso collab doll that is supposed to be yibo is a cute pig.

• he once wore Nike shows that’s called Pink Pig.

• the fact that we associate Pink as being his other favorite color and how he seems to associate that with romance.

• that viral pig meme that danced to Wugan 😂😂

• meme/expressions of him sometimes used by fans where he looks like a pig.

i bet there is some more, but i will stop here cause i know people ( and me personally ) want to move to the cpn side of things already! the first one will have to be PEPPA PIG. something that started within the crew and has somehow evolved into being about wangxian — and by extension — yizhan. ( some cpns here here and here )

• this video by BYS ( by your side ) of a behind the scenes clip when xz called wyb a pig. that’s it, in the video he calls his attention by shouting “pig” and then asks him to catch the sword and then they proceed to their usual banter.

• there is an lrlg rumor where xz was talking about a piggy nose. i think he really fixates on that. and the way xz says it, you can see that it’s good natured teasing. then wyb compares him to a black pig.

• his pig drawing, but it is doing a finger heart sign. a pose wyb was fond of at some point.

• the book xz was photographed with “The Maverick Pig” by Wang Xiaobo. i mean, look at the cover and the name of the author. tho we know that xz loves to read a variety of books and this one seems interesting.

and there was an lrlg rumor where it looked like wyb was reading a letter by xz to him. he started with “i give you my whole soul..” and xz cuts him off. like he is embarrassed and doesn’t want wyb to continue on. cpfs thought it’s from a poem by the same author called loving you is like loving life.

I give you my whole soul, along with its quirks, tantrums, flickers, 1800 bad habits. It's really annoying, there’s only a little good, Love you.

🫠🫠🫠🫠

• pig on his phone! 📲 i think this one is more telling and personal. you can explain it differently and say that since gg is superstitious, he believes that it’s some form of attracting prosperity. which could be true. but at the same time, wyb does the same for him. his piggy who brought him happiness and good fortune in life.

• fake rumor of them arguing as they usually do and then xz saying “the pig is angry” pertaining to wyb.

• another cute rumor:

🟢"It's cold, I'm afraid he'll freeze his head. Doesn't this look good with a hat?"

🔴"Yeah, you're pretty good at taking care of yourself."

Teacher Wang locked his phone. You're not going to reply? Hahahahaha. It's a piglet doll wearing a hat with the number "16" on it. It's pretty cute.

people are pointing at this stuffed toy as the alleged pig that yibo is taking care of. and the fact that it has 16 on it. 👀

and it’s a cow piglet!!!! 💕

just thinking about xz giving bobo a doll to take care of is making me somft!

• and another rumor 😂😂😂

XZ: There is a pig here wyb! [There is a pig sticker on the side of the makeup mirror. I don't know who put it there. ]

then xz was saying it’s cute, wyb then says “don’t say it looks like me!” to which xz replied: “I didn’t plan to say it! Why do you always think about yourself?” 🤣🤣🤣

they are so chaotic!!!!

there is something funny in all of this because with all the symbolism we have associated with them like the moon — xz chose the pig. maybe it’s because there is no room to misunderstand the meaning or association. you can explain what the moon, stars and umbrellas are for in a non-cpn way when he posts about it, but this leaves almost no room for escape. xz is really out here going on vacation and relaxed but leaving us stressed out with the candies he drops!

source.

[sandwitchstories]

Fools Rush In

Hello and welcome once again to story hour featuring, you guess it, more filthy Rengoku brain rot!

(I can't help it, he just makes me feel things. lol)

This was supposed to be pure smut but then it caught feelings at the end. Damn stories have a mind of their own!

If you would rather read on AO3, please click here!

Summary: Angry and frustrated by a bad day and dealing with his alcoholic father, Kyojuro goes for a drive to clear his mind. He winds up at your house and in your arms, where he belongs. CW: Smut, MDNI. AFAB reader, AFAB terms used to describe reader's sexy areas, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, rough sex

Kyojuro Rengoku was not  in a good mood. Shinazguawa had pressed every single one of his buttons today. His history students had been more unruly than usual. And he had come home to have yet another evening of arguments with his alcoholic father. 

Once Senjuro had gone to bed, Kyojuro had left. He got into his car and just drove. He didn’t even really think about a destination but he was not exactly surprised when his autopilot mode led him straight to your door.

He was out of the car and knocking on your door without even caring what time of night it was. He knew you would be home. It was a weeknight, you never went out on weeknights unless it was for dinner with him or with one of your families.

You opened the door in a bathrobe, having just got out of the bath. He was on you before the door could be shut. He used his foot to close it behind him as he pulled you into his arms, his mouth descending on yours, tongue pushing past your lips and dominating the kiss as he fumbled behind him for the lock. 

You had no idea what had gotten into him, but you didn’t mind at all. You buried your fingers in his hair, kissing him back. You moaned as he pressed you against the wall. His mouth left yours to move hungrily to your neck, hands damn near ripping open your robe (that you were suddenly glad had only been tied loosely).

“You good baby?” you asked, biting your lip and tilting your head back to give him more access.

“Bad day,” he said between sucks and nips of your skin. He lifted his head to meet your gaze. The fire in his eyes burned hotter than ever before. “I do not wish to speak about it right now. I only wish to lose myself in you.”

“‘I’ve got you, baby, always,” you answered, pulling his head to yours. “Take what you need, it’s yours.”

He growled as he kissed you passionately, before pulling back to rip his shirt off over his head. Your hands were already at his pants, undoing the button and zipper to slide your hand inside and cup his hard cock. 

“Fuck,” he swore as you began to stroke him as he worked his pants down before kicking them off. 

You began to drop to your knees, wanting to feel him and taste him in your mouth but he grabbed your arms and stopped you, pulling you closer, your nude bodies pressed together. He gave you a small smirk, “I believe your words were to take what I need?”

You nodded, feeling yourself getting even more wet. He turned you around and bent you over the back of your couch before moving behind you. He pushed one of your legs up so that your knee rested near your body on the top of the couch. You moaned as you felt his fingers sliding back and forth in your slick before dipping inside, testing the waters.

He dragged the head of his cock back and forth before positioning it at your opening and pressing in. He leaned over you, kissing up your back as you moaned. He felt so good, you were so full, stretched, his cock so deep. 

“Tell me when you’re good,” he said, mouthing your neck. “Because we are not starting slow today, my love. I need this too bad, I need you too bad.”

You whimpered with pleasure as you felt his teeth on your skin. His hands moved, one on the back thigh of the lifted leg, bracing it and holding it in place. The other hand buried in your hair, pulling your hair back just hard enough to tilt your head so he could kiss you. 

He broke the kiss and looked down at you. Your lids were already heavy, eyes glossy, fuck you already looked cock drunk and he hadn’t even started to move.  

You lifted your head and kissed him again. “When.”

Kyojuro kissed you messy, passionately before pulling back and moving the hand in your hair down to your hip to hold you in place. He licked his lips as he looked at where you were joined, deciding to do a couple of slow thrusts, just enjoying watching the way your pussy took him. One. Two. 

The tightening of his fingers in their holds was the only warning you got before he was fucking into you hard and fast. His fingers were going to leave bruises on your skin, but he would kiss every one and worship you like a goddess later. Right now, he just needed to get lost in your sweet, sloppy cunt.

You clutched at the couch cushions, trying to sink your nails into the fabric, trying to find something to anchor yourself on as filthy noises fell from your lips, so vulgar sounding you hardly believed they were coming from you. His hips were snapping forward, his balls smacking into you with each thrust. 

His hand moved from your thigh inward to start rubbing circles on your clit. He moved his hips around until you cried out his name when he hit that perfect spot. He grinned behind you. His other hand moved to be buried in your hair, pulling your head up in a firm grip. “I want to hear you, baby. Let me hear you.”

You wailed his name as your orgasm slammed into you, covering his groin and balls in your honey, a creamy ring forming around the base of his cock. The sight of you like that… the sounds you were making… the squelches coming from your perfect pussy… that perfect fucking cunt of yours with your soft hot walls contracting, fluttering and pulsing on his cock sent him over the edge. 

Your mouth fell open and wordless sounds escaped your throat as he pounded into you even harder through your orgasm as lightning coursed through your veins and pleasure filled your being. His strokes were no longer in any type of rhythm, but all were equally deep. Filling you so perfectly as only he ever had. His fingers were still working at your sensitive clit.

“Cum for me, one more time, cum for me,” he said through gritted teeth. 

It took only another few swipes of his thumb to have you falling apart for him again, fireworks exploding behind your eyes as your pussy throbbed and gushed around him. You were a whimpering, sweaty mess.

“That’s it, that’s it! Take me with you, love, take me with you,” his hands were both on your waist as he pulled you back onto his cock over and over until his orgasm hit. He moaned your name, moving his hips as he filled you with his cum. 

He slumped over you, resting his sweaty forehead against your equally wet skin. He gave you several gentle kisses on your shoulder before he released your leg and pulled out of you, watching the mixtures of juices drip slowly out of your well used hole. 

“Stay like that, I’ll get you a towel love,” he says gently.

“That won’t be an issue,” you answered into the couch cushion you were currently slumped over. 

He returned, cleaning you gently with a warm cloth before helping you stand. He wrapped his arms around you, kissing you gently. “You okay? Was I too rough?”

You smiled up at him, sleepy from your work out. “I’m good, Kyo You were fine, perfect, as always, I promise.”

He chuckled at how well sated you looked. “Bed time?”

“Oh yeah,” you laughed, trying to step back but your noodle legs almost gave out. A chuckle escaped your lips as he picked you up bridal style and walked towards your bedroom, both of you still naked. 

You’d find your guy's clothes in the morning before you went to work. All you wanted was to lay in bed with Kyojuro and soak in his warmth. 

You smiled as he set you down on the edge of the bed before pulling down the covers and moving you up on the bed. He moved to the other side, covering you both with the blanket and scooting in closer to you, pulling you into his arms.

You turned towards him, smiling when he did the same, one arm under his head the other wrapped around your waist pulling you against him. You cupped his face and gave him several gentle kisses. “Feel better?”

“Truthfully, I did the minute I saw you. But yes, the amazing sex definitely helped.”

You giggled at his bluntness. “You wanna talk about it?”

He sighed, rolling onto his back. “Just a rough day, Y/N. Nothing to be worried about. Shinazugawa as in a horrible mood today, more so than usual. And my students were… more restless than usual. Every single class at that.”

“A Full moon must be coming soon.”

“How do you figure that?” he arched a prominent eyebrow at you.

“Easy, the hormonal teenagers are going crazy, their true demonic forms beginning to take over.”

“And Shinazugawa?”

“Oh. On full moons I just assumed he turned into a wolfman.”

Kyojuryo couldn’t hold back the laugh, kissing your head as you moved to rest your chin on his chest.

“But neither of those things would put you in that… stressed of a mood,” you prodded. 

“The fights with my father are becoming more frequent and tonight he was on a tear.”

“Werewolf?”

“I think it’s more the Sake but we’ll definitely investigate the back yard for strange prints when we return,” he shook his head, knowing you were only trying to lighten the mood.

“Maybe… it’s time you moved in, Kyojuro.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“You know what we just did out there in the living room?” you asked.

He gave you an incredulous look, “It is rather difficult to forget that, especially that quickly, love.”

You leaned in to nip his ear lobe. “We can do that… every… single… day… if you move in. Not just on bad days either.”

“My love,” he said, wrapping arms around you and rolling you onto your back so he rested between your legs, leaning over you. “If we could do that every single day, I do not think there could possibly be such a thing as a bad day.”

“So… still thinking about it?” you asked, running fingers through his hair.

He gave you a mischievous smirk as he leaned down and kissed you, pressing his groin against you, showing you his interest was already peaking again. The man had been blessed with stamina, there was no denying that. “I may need a little more convincing, my lady.”

You grinned up at him, trailing your eyes and your fingers down his neck, over his shoulders, and down his muscular upper body. Your exhaustion suddenly dissipating as renewed interest pulsed between your thighs. “I would be happy to assist.”

“Good,” he said, leaning down to capture your lips again. 

He knew damn well he had made up his mind, but he would never turn down a chance for another round in pound town with you. He was many things but he was not a fool. Except for when it came to you. 

Your lips met once again in a much slower, more sensual kiss and in the back of his mind he heard the melody from that old American 1960’s song by Elvis.

Shall I stay?

Would it be, would it be a sin?

If I can't help falling in love with you

[moonsaver]

Good day moon! Okay I normally don't do asks when it comes to yandere cause it's not my usual thing but seeing the last post you made of Yan!Sunday and his darling, that one where he just desperately wants to have that normalcy in their relationship but couldn't ever have it because of what he's done, made me think of something rather angsty; like how the darling's backlashes against his affections would probably go turn for the worst as time passes on, they don't hate him in a sense because he's really trying hard to not make them hate him and they can see that his love is real (just really fucked up) but that deep urge to hurt the person who took their freedom away is still there, it wouldn't just go away just because he loves them so much that he wouldn't dare to break them. Oh that satisfaction on seeing Sunday looking so hurt after yelling at him, they know it doesn't make them any better than him but at that point, what else is there for them to lose? Maybe in hurting him so subtly, they may find some pity in themselves for him to actually give him some semblance of love but until then, all Sunday ever receives from them are either silent treatment or backlash

Such relationship could only thrive in the worst way possible and maybe Sunday knows that but even then, he still holds out that little (delusional) hope that maybe his darling will still love him someday

Sorry for the rant, it's just that I feel for Sunday but his method will never work and it'll just deeply hurt him and his darling in the end asgfjgsfg also if it's alright, I'd request this but I'll leave it to you with how you write it, be it an imagine or anything else since I'm fine with it!

- Elys

Hello Elys! Im so sorry it took a long time for me to get to your request lol, tons of things got in the way but I remembered this request for a while.

In any case, I feel you've summed it up quite well!

Sunday isn't harsh or as brutal as I imagine him. Unlike my [i have to self advertise here, sorry HAHA] soft yan!blade, Sunday most likely wouldn't even need a bit of working around to be a softer yandere.

He's so loving, it's painful. His love is like despaired poetry for a lover who is still alive, just further than their reach. I imagine his love to be very tender, even as a yandere, if he doesn't become even softer.

And it's hard to convince him he's wrong – mainly because he already knows. But rather that's a bit distorted in his view; instead he thinks it's a wrongdoing against your nature as someone who wants to be free, but correct in the context of the situation rather than actually understanding it is absolutely wrong in general. And he doesn't budge. He's stubborn, almost infuriatingly. And instead of getting angry, I imagine he rather looks disappointed or disgruntled, which somehow does more damage/strikes more fear than anger.

And it's still heartbreaking; frustratingly for both of you, not just yourself.

You lash out, you scream, cry, wail, argue, relentlessly push and resist against him. it's your only way of getting back at him, you're sure as hell you're going to strike the hardest that way. And you relish the hurt you see in the eyes of your captor, but something more sympathetic tugs at you when you see his lovingly sad eyes. It's this cacophony of guilt, frustration, anger, and utter despair at the loss of your freedom. Sunday feels all of it, aswell, and you want to be relieved that he does – if it weren't for the fact he still wasn't letting you go.

He continually withholds your freedom from you. That single injustice to you is enough to weather your patience over time – your anger only burns hotter and hotter, pushing away any semblance of sympathy or reasoning, and it only hurts Sunday more, until you realise what you're doing, and quietly give in to sooth him for the time being. Just a little. Until that little injustice starts bothering you again. It's a toxic cycle.

And it hurts even more when Sunday tries to find normalcy in your relationship; he's trying so hard to be your lover, to hold you gently and bathe you with care, to dry you off and still love you after seeing you bare. He wants to come home and see you smile, be happy, elated that he's there, just as he feels when he sees you. But that's not what happens. His delusions and flimsy expectations are shattered the moment he steps into the dimly lit room, your form refusing to even look at him. The silence is strangely stronger than his hopes.

Anyways, that's all i can think of at the moment. I love angst yandere sunday time.

[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.